You thought I was dark before? Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet! Enjoy...
Luckily, one stitch was all they needed.
"Found the car parked outside of a rundown apartment building." Fisher told the group as they took their seats around the glass conference table, "All twelve of the girls were there, none sustaining any permanent injuries."
Except the ones you can't see, Cameron thought.
"They've been cleared by the hospital and have all returned home with their parents."
"Wonderful," Maggie said as she stood up.
Fisher recognized that as his dismissal, but hesitated to make a move for the door. His eyes landed on Camille, who was sitting closest to the exit. Just as he passed her, he leaned down so his head was almost level with hers.
"How's Kirsten?" he whispered.
Cameron didn't turn to face them, keeping his gaze locked on the table, but leaned in slightly.
"I don't know, really." Camille replied, "She's pretty much stayed in her room since we got home last night. I didn't ask her to come with, today. She deserves some space."
Fisher nodded in agreement before excusing himself and leaving.
Cameron clenched and unclenched his jaw, mulling this information over in his mind. He had wanted Kirsten to come home with him, last night. Not for that reason. He just didn't want to let her out of his sight.
0o0o0o0o0
They sat together on that bathroom floor for at least an hour, only getting up when Ayo came in. She wanted to give Kirsten an examination, just to make sure there weren't any physical repercussions from the stitch.
Kirsten followed, Cameron's arm still wrapped tightly around her. She had stopped crying, but her eyes remained red and unfocused. Reluctantly, he let her go and took a seat against the wall of the med-bay. Ayo took her into another room, promising that they would only be a few minutes.
One of the other medical staff members approached him, maternal concern written all over their face.
"We'll get her cleaned up," she smiled stiffly, "and then Ayo can take her home."
Cameron narrowed his eyes at her. The smile on her face faltered.
"Or you can, that's fine." she said, backing away.
Cameron mirrored her smile and gave a nod of his head.
After a few more minutes, Ayo and Kirsten returned. The blonde was dressed in the sweater and jeans she had on that morning only now her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Her skin was too pale, her posture too submissive. Cameron rose to his feet and reached out to touch her arm.
His heart sank when she flinched away from him. Dropping his hand, he turned to Ayo expectantly.
"Heart rate is slightly elevated, but nothing I can keep her overnight for. All she can do now is try to relax and get some rest."
"Thank you," Cameron and Kirsten said in unison- Kirsten's voice a whisper beneath his.
Ayo gave her a kind look before heading farther back into the med-bay. Rubbing the back of his neck, Cameron scrutinized the floor before finally looking at Kirsten.
"Listen," he sighed, "if you don't want to go home, you could stay at my place, tonight. Only if you want too, of course. I just thought maybe-"
"You heard Ayo." she snapped, suddenly, "I'm fine. And you're off the clock."
Leaving him stunned, she stormed swiftly out of the room. She had a few steps head start before he clicked out of his stupor and jogged after her.
"Wait, Kirsten," he said coming up beside her, "what do you mean I'm off the clock?"
Her feet hit the tile with unrelenting force.
"I mean we're done." she growled, "The stitch is over with. You don't have to keep me safe anymore. I'm fine."
For a brief moment, he didn't understand at all what she was saying. Then he recalled the disagreement they'd had over her protection a week earlier.
When you're in a stitch, waltzing around some dead person's memory, it is my job to keep you safe.
"Kirsten that isn't…" he froze but she kept walking, "Kirsten!"
She halted mid step but waited another moment before facing him. He shook his head.
"Don't do this." he pleaded, "Don't shut me out."
His eyes held hers, theirs souls searching each other's.
Let me in, his would say, you don't have to face this on your own.
Her stone gaze faltered and her lip trembled as if she were going to speak. He risked taking a step closer; encouraging her- begging her to open up to him. Instead, she clenched her fists and he watched her close herself off behind cold copper eyes.
"Good night, Cameron." she said before turning on her heel and leaving him behind.
0o0o0o0o0
Any person with adequate social skills would have taken that as a clear sign to stay the hell away. Lucky for Kirsten, Cameron was a critically acclaimed nerd with next to no people skills. He'd gone straight to her house after work. The day had been especially long. Maggie grilled him about "the unpredictability of the exit passcodes" and that they "needed to take more precautions". This resulted in him and Linus working nonstop to try and configure some sort of shortcut passed the exit codes without jeopardizing the stitcher's mental stability. Their efforts turned up virtually nothing.
Camille had pulled him aside on his way out, saying she was going to spend the night with Linus. He was about to question why she was telling him this, but the sincerity in her face told him. She understood what he wanted to do- what he needed to do- and for that he was grateful.
He was usually a by the book driver, but today he pushed the speed limit just a little. His skin was tingling with anxiety, his ears humming with daunting questions.
What if she didn't even let him in the house? What was he going to say if she did? How could she think she was just part of the job to him?
He huffed and slammed the car door shut. The gravel of her driveway shifted beneath his feet. Upon reaching the front door, his blood went cold and he let out a shaking breath. The last time he had been here, Marta had been alive, Kirsten had been in danger, and he'd been watching it all from the sidelines. He'd let Marta, a woman he'd promised he'd keep safe, deliver herself to her death.
What if I fail Kirsten?
His gut twisted but he shook it off. Kirsten was not Marta. Kirsten was alive and right now, whether she believed it or not, she needed him.
Taking in a deep breath to settle himself, Cameron raised his hand to knock on the door. His knuckles hit the wood four times, cutting through the silence of the afternoon like a blade. Floorboards creaked from somewhere inside the house but no one came to answer the door. Cameron ran an unsteady hand through his hair.
"Rapunzel?" he called, trying not to sound hopeful, "Rapunzel, open your door."
He may have been imagining things, but he was almost certain he heard a snort. Peeking through the door window, Cameron searched for the blonde or even her shadow- just some sign that she was actually in there. Again he heard the shifting of feet on the old hardwood but saw nothing.
"It's unlocked," her voice rang from somewhere hidden.
This struck him as odd, considering Kirsten wasn't the most trusting person in the world, but at the moment he was just glad she hadn't turned him away. Stepping inside, he removed his jacket and shoes, placing them next to the worn sofa. He padded softly across the carpet of the living room, playing a desperate game of I Spy for Kirsten's presence.
"Pumpkin?" he said turning in circles.
A clear groan emanated from behind a closed door in the far back of the house. The corner of his lipped twitched momentarily, but he fought it off and followed the sound. Moving down the hallway, he passed what must have been Camille's room. A pink leopard print comforter, tons of lava lamps, and a life sized Michael Jackson cut out that made Cameron jump a little bit.
Before he could ask her to come out, or even check to see if the door was locked, it swung open. Kirsten stood mechanically in the doorway, hair tied back in an unruly bun. She wasn't in her pajamas, like Cameron had expected, but in fact still wearing the sweater and jeans she'd left the lab in last night.
Violet half-moons hung beneath her eyes, exaggerated by the contrast against her pale skin.
"I didn't sleep much, okay?" she said reading his thoughts, voice hoarse with irritation and exhaustion.
Cameron pressed his lips together in a line, too afraid of saying the wrong thing to speak. Kirsten stared at him impassively for a moment before sighing and shuffling back into her bedroom. He proceeded with caution in case of any hidden fire arms or booby-traps. She folded her legs beneath her on the side of the mattress and leaned against her head board. Giving her space, Cameron sat on the very edge, body turned sideways to look at her.
"Talk to me." he said calmly.
He skipped the introductory "you okay?" because he knew it was a moot point. She wasn't, the question was merely whether or not she would admit it out loud. Kirsten bit the inside of her cheek, head turned away toward the window.
"I don't know what's..." she said after a few moments, "happening to me."
His brows knitted together in concern and confusion. She glanced briefly at him before returning her gaze to the glass.
"I think I'm feeling residual emotion from Jackson's memories," she spit his name out like poison, "the grief for his mother, the hatred for his step family, the… hopelessness from those years he spent on his own."
Cameron listened avidly, always keeping his eyes on her face.
"What about the other feelings?" he asked, remembering how distraught she'd been the previous day.
Kirsten moved her arms over her chest, covering herself live a shield.
"I can't really explain it," she said with a hollow voice, "but I feel like I'm fighting them off, somehow. Or at least I'm trying to."
She was silent again for a heartbeat before saying, "A few times I've been back in that basement. I can see how scared those poor girls are but I can't help them. Then this sick… pleasure starts to creep its way in and I have to fight against it. I have to remember who I am, that I'm trying to save these girls."
She inhaled sharply like she wanted to speak again but stopped herself, shoulders sagging in defeat. Cameron sat rigid on the end of the bed, hanging onto every word she spoke.
"And?" he coaxed.
"It's like," she struggled, "my emotions are fighting against his, and then there's this moment of… purgatory where I forget who I am or what I'm doing. I feel nothing. I am nothing."
Cameron's fist balled into the bedsheets at that word. Kirsten was not nothing, far from it. The fact that for a moment she had felt different, no matter the reason, made him want to hurl something at the nearest wall.
"I know it'll pass with time," she said, bringing his mind back into focus, "but every time I try to think about something else, I feel myself being pulled back into that basement, see the fear on those girls' faces."
Finally, she turned her head and faced him. Her brown eyes were heavy and sad, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Cameron could read them.
Help me, they said, I can't face this on my own.
Swallowing hard, Cameron stood up and paced to the far side of the room, opposite the window. Kirsten watched as his shadow grew and morphed across the carpet into something deformed. A vision flashed in her mind, the memory of Ed searching beneath her bed for monsters.
Mentally shaking her head, she lifted her eyes to meet Cameron's again. The reserve in his gaze surprised her and she sat forward, supporting herself on her elbows, ready to listen to him intently.
"When I was eight," he began, forcing himself to look at her, "my parents hired a full-time nanny to take care of me; 'keep me out of trouble' as they liked to put it."
A ghost of a smile haunted his face but it vanished quickly. Kirsten smiled briefly, too, at the thought of a young, rebellious Cameron Goodkin, but furrowed her brows when his expression fell. She could tell he was fighting for the words and moved away from the head board toward the foot of the bed.
"Her name was Joanna." his throat felt tight, "The other servants didn't like her much, she was a little unorthodox, but I thought she was great. She let me watch PG-13 movies and she made up goofy songs to help me remember vocabulary words."
"What happened?" Kirsten's voice was uneven.
Cameron grimaced and couldn't hold her gaze anymore.
"One day over the summer, my parents gave everyone else the day off to enjoy some community event." he breathed, "I don't even remember what it was. Anyway, they remembered after the fact that they'd promised our neighbor that they'd come over for a while or something, so Joanna offered to stay with me at the house."
Kirsten's palms began to sweat, an uneasy feeling trickling down her spine. No repeated in her mind like an endless prayer.
"I asked if we could watch a movie. She took me upstairs to my room and shut the door."
No, no, no, no.
"She closed up all of the windows and turned the light off. We'd done that on movie night, before; turned everything off so the only light was coming from the TV. I didn't think anything of it."
No, no, NO.
"Then she sat on the edge of my bed and started taking her pants off. I asked her why and she said everything was fine, she just needed my help."
"Cameron," Kirsten whispered, her eyes stinging.
He didn't look at her, but she could see every muscle in his body coil. She wanted to throw herself at him, hold him like he'd held her, but didn't.
"When she tried to get me to…" he hissed, "I got scared and started fighting her. She kept telling me she needed me and to stop struggling, but I didn't. Eventually I got loose and bolted for the door. "
Thank God, she thought naively.
"I started running along the banister, trying to get to the stairs, but she caught up to me and grabbed the back of my shirt. I was panicking, I just wanted to get away from her. Next thing I knew, I was climbing over the railing and woke up in the hospital two days later."
Kirsten sucked in a breath, "Did she…"
"My parents said that Joanna came screaming across the street to our neighbors' house. She told them I'd fallen and they rushed me to the ER." he finally turned around but didn't look at her, "I had a concussion and broke two of my ribs, one of which punctured my left lung."
"That's how you got that scar?" Kirsten said, no judgement in her voice at all.
"Yeah." he answered, "When I woke up, I told my parents what happened and I never saw Joanna again. Never had another nanny, either."
Silence spread over the room like a thick toxin and Cameron realized he was breathing a little heavier. Lifting his gaze, the expression on Kirsten's face shocked him to his core. Her eyes were brimming with tears and she was looking at him like he were going to collapse at any moment.
Sitting beside her on the bed, he collected her hands in his own. Relief tugged at his shoulders when she didn't pull away, instead shifted closer to him and intertwined their fingers.
"How did you…" her voice choked.
"Move on?" he said squeezing her hand.
She nodded.
"For a while, I wouldn't go in my bedroom," he pressed his forehead to hers, "wouldn't go upstairs, actually. And every time I saw a girl with long, wavy brown hair, I started to cry. But my parents had me see a therapist and they would sit and talk with me every day, just ask me how I was feeling and what I was thinking about. Eventually, I thought about Joanna less and less until I didn't think about her at all."
Kirsten swallowed this information, feeling the hot tears escape despite her efforts. Cameron unlocked one of his hands to brush them away.
"Kirsten," his fingers lingered on her cheek, "I'm always here for you, whether you want to talk or just be with someone. I'm here. You can't deal with this alone, and you don't have to."
He whispered the last half of the sentence. He could feel his throat starting to constrict and the sting behind his eyes. Kirsten enveloped him in a hug. The movement was a little awkward on her body, obviously because she didn't give very many- if any. But he accepted it gratefully, wrapping his arms around he lean frame, reveling in the warmth of her skin.
"Thank you," she said into his neck, her breath making him shiver.
He didn't speak, only kissed her hair and tightened his embrace. There was a tether between them, now, he could feel it. Trust. It was faint, but it held them together; and stitch by stitch, it was getting stronger.
So yeah, just another Cameron scar theory. Meh. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I really hope you liked it. I've been stuck for some ideas lately, so if you have any prompts that you really want to read, please let me know!