AN: Hey! Sorry for the extremely long wait. Lots going on lots going on... Well I hope this makes up for it. I bet it will ;D
When Quinn woke up she was in her own room, wrapped in her blankets, the only light coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. She groaned quietly and she rolled over untangled herself from the sheets. It had to be later into the evening, maybe even night depending on how long she had slept. She couldn't believe Mark had brought her up to her room.
She trudged out of her room, rubbing her eyes, and headed down the stairs. She could hear the TV playing in the living room – some top twenty countdown about music she didn't know – and the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen. Hoping that it was Caim in the kitchen she headed there, blinking several times to get her eyes to clear. Then she heard Mark's laugh and she stopped in her tracks, grumbling. With a sigh she entered the room and stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Mark passed Kitchie a mug of something – hot chocolate or tea or something – before pouring one for himself. He smiled and leaned against the island, facing Kitchie who's back was to Quinn. "Oh." His eyes met hers and he stood up. Kitchie turned around to face her. "And the beauty finally awakens," Mark said, smiling. Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah whatever."
She walked over and stood at the end of the island, looking at Mark and Kitchie. They stared back and Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for telling me about Caim," Kitchie said after a pause. "He apologizes for scaring you, that wasn't his intention, but he wants to say that what he said about fighting still stands." Quinn bit her tongue slightly and nodded. Mark looked confused as he glanced between his two friends. "Ok," Quinn replied. She looked around. "Where is he? I want to talk to him." Kitchie pointed out the back window and took a sip from his mug. "He's outside. Mark, him, and I were just outside skating. It was fun." He smiled and Quinn took a breath, relaxing herself. Kitchie had seemed tense since she walked in.
"Want to bring him this?" Mark asked, holding out a mug.
"Do I look like a waitress?" Quinn replied with a smile.
"Not in your scuffed jeans and t-shirt no," Mark answered. "But we could fix that." He smiled deviously and Quinn rolled her eyes, taking the hot cup from him. "Not even in your dreams," she shot over her shoulder as she walked towards the back door. She grabbed Mark's jacket and pulled it on, the bottom of it brushing near her knees. With a quiet sigh she stepped outside and found the makeshift ice rink. What she couldn't find was Caim.
Walking towards the edge of the rink she realized that it must be a pond when the good weather came. She bit her lip and took a step back. She glanced up and looked around, trying to find the usually black clad boy amongst the shadows and darkness of the winter night. It wasn't late, only about eight according to the kitchen clock, but the sun had already set and the moon was covered with clouds. The only light came from the lights from the house but that still didn't help to penetrate the shadowy trees and dark spots.
"Caim?" she called out, even though she didn't expect an answer. She set the mug down in the snow next to the rink. "Alright. Fine," she snapped. "You'll have to talk to me at some point though." She narrowed her eyes as she looked around. "Better now than later. Mark and Kitchie are in the kitchen and could stop me from beating you up if I had to get my answers."
"You wouldn't hit me. You couldn'thit me."
Quinn whirled around to see Caim standing right behind her. He was barely an inch away, a tall black mass leaning over her. Quinn stumbled back and just managed not to slip on the ice she stepped onto. He stood up straight and Quinn watched him blink his large brown eyes once before looking away. "Sorry," he said softly, the ice melting from his voice. "I'm not in a good space right now…" He stepped around Quinn and onto the ice. "You wanted to talk?" he asked, starting to skate in slow, lazy circles.
Quinn watched him skate around and stuck her hands in the pockets of Mark's coat. She didn't actually expect to talk to him, and there were so many things she wanted to ask, but she didn't know how to start.
"You seemed upset… scared a little even… when I found out about you and Alex," she said simply. Caim nodded in reply. "Why?" Quinn pressed.
"I didn't know how you felt about homosexuals."
"Let's put it this way, if I didn't like them Mark would be dead in a ditch in Washington State." She caught Caim's eye as he passed by her and she noted a hint of amusement in its depths. Then he turned away and broke the connection.
"Why don't you like people fighting for you?" Quinn asked, stepping out onto the ice a bit more as Caim skating farther away.
"Because they're distractions. I worry too much about other people so when I'm fighting I can't have others around." He stopped a couple meters away from her and when he spoke next his voice was barely audible. "And because they always end up getting hurt." Biting his lip he ran a hand down his arm, his left arm, down his sleeve that was now mended.
Then the ice cracked.