Maybe... It could be something inside the tree, too. Not necessarily the tree itself.

[Elle is scared by the idea it'll fail. They'll try, it won't be good enough, and the hard crash from that high hope at such high stakes will make it all not worth it. Maybe he's wrong about this cores idea, or maybe the Nurse has defenses ready they don't know to counter, or maybe it isn't the tree at all, and then the Nurse's guard will be up, and the punishments will make it impossible to try again.

But it's the first glimmer of hope she's had in a long time. It's hard to see past it. The idea of letting go of it (begin again, let go) is too painful even just thinking about.

Her hands are shaking a little, rattling the notebook's pages.] If there's anything I can do to help... I'll do it.

No, I understand. There's so much we don't know... It'd be surprising if anything happened on the first shot. And... There's -- There's a big chance things will g-go wrong. But this is --

At this point, I'm desperate enough to eat week-old radroach. [A beat.] Um. I guess that's not the best analogy... But it probably makes sense without context...

[She returns the smile he gives her, her own small and threadbare but warm.] Okay. I'll find him.

This place... [Elle's hands start moving on their own, slowly bending the notebook one way, then the other.] I understand... the urge. To find a way for people to be -- in a better place in life. Happier. But this -- The way the Nurse is going about it -- I... All it's doing is -- punishing people, imprisoning them, for not... living their lives the way... the Nurse thinks is best.

[Pause.] I had... a friend here. He was from the same world as me, but the other side of the country. He was a Patient, and it was obvious why. He was... um... cranky. By default. It didn't take much to make him mad, and when he got mad, he got sharp. And mean. But he was a good person. He was a doctor, and he was gentle and kind with anyone in his care. Back home, he had dedicated his life to helping an enslaved people, who almost no one else would help, and it was very, very dangerous to do so. It made him live in isolation, always at risk, but he did it because it was the right thing to do.

But it didn't matter to the Nurse. It didn't matter that he was doing good, real, honest good. It didn't matter that his people needed him. What mattered was that he didn't behave the way the Nurse thinks is best.

[Here, Elle falls silent, her hands still and her gaze distant.] ... He... disappeared one day. He never graduated. He was just... gone. [A beat.] And you already know how the Nurse isn't willing to really let any of us go. So I... I'm scared... the Nurse did something to him. And to the other people who have disappeared, too.

[The idea of Carrington's death is a lance of utter anxiety directly to her chest. She knows what it would mean, the Institute catching up with the Railroad. Dying in fear and helplessness. She doesn't want that for him. She doesn't want it. She doesn't want it. She doesn't want it.

... He's trying to cheer her up, though. She shouldn't let herself get dragged down in those thoughts. "He might come back, it might be okay." She's tried to tell herself that before, but the loss and loneliness and fear have made it too hard to listen to it.]

I just -- I just want to make sure he'll be okay. [Her voice is thick, despite her attempts to calm down.] I want to know if the Nurse did something to him. And if the Nurse can be brought to the bargaining table -- I want to find out if it can be... undone. I'm not going to be so s-selfish as to make him come back, even if I miss him, but I need to make sure he isn't -- that something hasn't...

It's bad enough being stuck here. Knowing that the Nurse is never letting me go. And I don't... I'm not trying to -- dump all my problems on you. We just met, and it wouldn't be fair to you. But what I mean is -- why I bring it up is because... If we can put a stop to it -- break the cycle -- Then... Then, I need to do what I can for him, too. [A beat.] And everyone like him.

I -- Yeah, I -- I know. I do. Just... I -- [Alright, she'll admit this. It's easier to just admit it than to try to step around it, since she can't do it smoothly.] It... Sometimes, it feels like it's too easy to just -- to... get caught up in... To lose sight of other people. To get wrapped up in my own -- head. And I don't want to forget that... I've lost other friends this way, too. Not just him. And so have other people here. If I'm going to be fighting for him, I should be fighting for all of them, too.

I'm gonna do what I can. I do mean it. I... don't know what -- that might be. But -- I can't... I can't keep... going on like this. And I know there are a lot of others who feel the same way.

[There's a strange little moment where Elle's hands seem to forget what they're supposed to be doing. The notebook has been sitting in her lap, leaving her hands empty, and now her fingers flutter, then curl tight, palms still exposed. Her brow furrows as she blinks quickly. But then she finally catches herself, makes herself take a deep breath, and slowly relaxes her fingers again, only to splay them over the top of the notebook.

At the end of it all... Her eyes seem watery, and she somehow seems even smaller than she already is, deflated and a little lost.] I... I'm... still really sorry -- that you ended up here. All of you. ... all of us. But, since we are... I'm... grateful. That is, I mean -- Thank you. For... saying that. I know it's stupid to feel alone, even when I know that -- there have been other people who... feel similar. But... it... I don't know. It's hard to describe.