“of course they want to help us.”
they don’t. he knows they don’t. and something this large, this destructive… could have only been manufactured by one person that he can name. a name that he has cursed over and over - before those things - before his MEMORIES - had been stolen from him. and she was the thief. regardless - she was a liar - he wonders how long it might take her to figure it out. that her ‘husbands’ sweet words of dedication to that immeasurable ‘estate’ that was edens government ( not elected, rather a totalitarian dictatorship… ran by a singular individual ) were nothing more than scathing mockery. but he assumes, that she’s uncertain. doesn’t know of the fault in his circuits, the fracture in his programming –
–the ghost in his machine.
and of course, he has no intention of telling her. as open and forthright as she had been with him. and he wonders - now - that there’s some kind of clarity to his mind, whether she ever actually saw him as unique. as an individual. or as nothing more than an expensive, slightly more complex toaster. – as ‘just’ a machine.
he smirks internally. he knows damn well that if she’s been hiding a clone, with the full and clear knowledge that he - is - a clone, then she’s not the sweet and innocent little thing she likes to pretend. just how deep does that rotten core seep? how over her head is she? how – afraid – of being caught out in the open - is she?
but right now, he has his hands on a wounded person, blood slick between his fingers, trying to stem a gaping hole before the life blood drains out of them. immortal or not, there wasn’t a lot could save a person if they were hacked to pieces and bleeding out –
“i am helping - i’m helping THEM.”
not her. she seems to have forgotten already - likely in her panic - the little intricacies of the charade she helped to construct, to maintain. the life they’d given him, the role they’d placed him into. perhaps it was time for a poignant reminder.
“i’m a doctor, ava. i think you’re the one who should be helping me. now, come here and hold this until help arrives.”
she doesn’t need to. he’s staunched the wound as best he can under the circumstances. but he’s interested to see just how far he can push her into this. is she willing to risk her own exposure if she thinks that someone’s life is on the line? is there an ounce of genuine compassion anywhere in that wretched, lying shell?
“ They just don’t, alright? ” She gives with a certainty yet her voice wavers as she speaks. Is not because she is wrong or wish to change her mind on the chosen words but simply because of the other. The clone words and behavior are oddly different. And she can’t tell how or how does she even know why but she does. And is enough to frighten her. Does he know something? Has he learned the truth and was lying and pretending he didn’t...? That couldn’t be right.
Ava takes a look at the body between the two and where Noah is pressing against the wound before looking up at the clone. By now he should have done something about it, something more than just pressing an old cloth against the injury. He might be living a lie of life but he’s been given the information necessary to do these things, to work with cases like this and the fact that he’s doing nothing more than just apply pressure on the wound, adds up to her fear that he might be knowing more than he leads on.
“ No... Help is not coming, Noah. ” Her voice is loud and clear - a mistake because if anyone from the garden was near and heard her, she would get in trouble. But she can’t afford to let this person die and let Noah here believe that someone else is coming to help them when no one is. Ever. “ I’m the help here a - -- and I say we move them, now you either help me or stay here, I don’t really care. ” Words that shouldn’t be spoken leave her lips as she locks her gaze with the other. This would get her into a lot of trouble and if Noah after all didn’t know a damn thing, then it would only make things worse. Because what kind of wife speak that way to the love of their life? A fake one, clearly.