Lupine Dreams Pt. 06 Ch. 18-21

Author's note: You definitely will need to have read the previous chapters first, FYI. Enjoy (:

~~~

Chapter 18

Andrew stared at the ceiling, just like he had the past two nights, unable to fall asleep even though it was nearing 2 a. m.

Monday morning coffee with Paul and Heather had been a chore. He didn't tell them what happened with Mal. He didn't intend to ever tell them what happened with Mal.

The buzz of his phone on the nightstand jolted him out of whatever trance the ceiling had captured him in. It kept buzzing -- a phone call, not a text. He almost didn't pick it up, assuming it was spam... but what else was he doing. Definitely not sleeping.

He blinked and sat up when he saw the name.

Cameron.

"Hello?" he said, expecting to hear her steely, morose greeting on the other end. Hoping, even.

But it wasn't her voice.

"Hey... is this Henry?" said an unfamiliar woman. There was some kind of activity in the background, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Yeah...."

"Hey, this is Kendra, Cam's friend? We, uh, sorta met a couple weeks ago."

"Oh-oh yeah, right, sure," he said. Must've been the roommate I waved to when Cameron was making coffee? That's the only other person I remember being there. "Is, uh, everything okay?"

"Well... no. I just thought you'd wanna know Cam's -- Cam's okay, but... she's in the hospital."

He swung his feet off the side of his bed, turning on the lamp as if that would somehow help him hear more clearly or understand better.

"What happened?" he asked, speaking quietly even though there was no one in the house to wake up.

Kendra sighed. "How 'bout you just come down here and I'll explain. We're at St. Luke's."

"I'm... not so--" but she'd hung up.

He stared at the phone in his hand, resenting it a little bit. He was pretty sure Cameron wouldn't want to see him. She could've seen him anytime she felt like it, and she hadn't, so she certainly wouldn't now.

And frankly... he didn't much feel like seeing Cameron either, partly for the same reason. But also because he didn't really want to see anyone.

Can't I just wallow on my own in peace?

He snorted at his selfish, self-imposed misery, and rested his face in his hands.

It was his sister's voice he heard in his head next, though, not his own. And he knew why, as much as he didn't want to admit that he could be so easily manipulated by circumstances.

How come nobody puts on a lamp costume for me? How come when I feel like shit, apparently the solution is to go make somebody else not feel like shit? How's that fair?

But he groaned, knowing full well he'd already made up his mind.

It's not about you, asshole.

That was all it took for him to shake off his self-pity and instead send his mind racing by the time he got to his car.

What happened to Cameron? And why the hell would her roommate want me to go there? We barely know each other. What can I even do?

***

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Cameron's hospital room. It was open and he recognized Kendra sitting inside, looking exhausted and disheveled. Then he saw Cameron on the bed next to her.

A breathing tube was attached to a beeping machine by her side, feeding into her mouth, along with a few other tubes and wires stuck in and around her. Her eyes were closed.

Andrew's heart started beating faster at the possibilities. What happened?

Kendra looked up when he came in and let go of Cameron's hand to greet him. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she'd clearly shed more than a few tears already.

"She's okay," Kendra said again, drawing his eyes from Cameron back to her. Her gaze didn't meet his though, not for what was next. "She... took too many Xanax and washed it down with too much tequila."

Tears started up in her eyes again and Andrew recognized the look on her face -- one that was running through all the ways it was her fault.

"Hey," he said, putting a hand gently on her arm, "I don't know you, and honestly, I don't know Cameron that well either. But... I know her well enough that I'm pretty sure she was gonna do whatever she was gonna do -- no matter what."

Kendra looked up at him, her eyes flicking across his face like something was making sense for her now. She nodded. "Yeah. Maybe."

They both turned to look at Cameron, even though there was nothing new to see.

"They think she's gonna be okay," Kendra said. "She ain't woke up yet though. When she does, they'll take out the tube."

For a few minutes, they both just stared at Cameron in the bed, sharing an unspoken concern. Kendra turned to him again, speaking quietly, as if they were trying to not wake up the sleeping patient.

"It's good you're here," she said. "She's gonna wanna see you."

Andrew cocked an eyebrow, but didn't bother turning to Kendra.

"Yeah... I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Henry?" She put a hand on his arm, getting him to turn and look at her. She was young, around the same age as Cameron, but had a world-weary confidence that made it seem like she was a decade older than him instead of the opposite. "She wants you here. Trust me."

She paused for a second, letting him know with her eyes that she knew better than Andrew did. "But if you don't wanna be here, then you shouldn't be here when she wakes up. Get me?"

Her expression wasn't a warning, it was a request. He understood. That was the last thing Cameron would need.

He nodded. "I understand. I wanna be here." And he was confident he was telling the truth.

She smiled at him and let go of his arm. "Good."

But... I want some pretty stupid things. So I still don't know if that means it's a good idea.

Kendra slumped into one of the two chairs next to the bed, looking even more exhausted. Andrew wondered if this was the first night she'd spent without sleep looking after Cameron. Is it even the first one spent next to her hospital bed?

He took a seat in the other chair, and they sat in silence for a while again, waiting. Intermittent beeps from the machinery connected to Cameron were the only sounds, save for some occasional bustle outside the closed door. One bank of lights above them was off -- to help Kendra, or whoever, get some sleep, he imagined.

Xanax and tequila?

Andrew looked at Cameron more closely now. She did seem like the anxious type, from what little he knew. And the tequila didn't surprise him one bit.

Under an ill-fitting hospital gown, she looked smaller, her skin even softer than usual. What he remembered as being pale now looked more like a sickly porcelain. All her piercings had been removed, leaving her face looking not quite right -- naked without the silver rings and other jewelry that had lined her ears and dotted her brows.

There was no stud in her nose. That was the one that really made her look like she was some factory-reset version of Cameron -- waiting for her personality to be uploaded.

For the past few days, he hadn't really thought about Cameron. He'd been too fixated with everything that had gone on -- and gone wrong -- with Mal.

But he knew it was only a little over a week since it'd been the opposite, since Cameron had made him feel... well, he wasn't quite sure. He was sure it had been something new though, and that was a welcome feeling. Especially now.

His mind called up their morning together -- the last time he'd seen her. She'd already been awake, watching him. And before that, when he was falling asleep on a mattress next to her in the pitch dark of her room, he'd felt her watching him then, too. It put him in mind of one of the wolves etched onto her body, keeping watch over her pack.

She always did a lot of looking, of watching -- her eyes always darting around.

And in all that looking, all that watching when I was at my lowest... I never felt like she saw something broken.

It was the thought he hadn't allowed himself to have in the shower a few days ago. Now, though... now he figured the least he could do was acknowledge to himself why he'd abandoned his self-imposed misery to come to the hospital in the middle of the night for a woman he barely knew, and who had made it clear to him she didn't want to get to know him, either.

Or maybe I'm just a sucker for somebody crying outside my door.

He turned to Kendra, not sure how to phrase the question he wanted to ask.

"So... was it... on purpose...?"

Kendra seemed equally unsure how to answer, thinking through a pained expression on her face before responding meaningfully. "She buried her mom today."

Maybe she didn't know more, maybe she did. Either way, that told him enough, and they both knew it.

Andrew sat forward and reached for Cameron's hand. It was limp, her fingers a little cold. But the few times he'd felt them, they always felt a little cold.

"I can't figure her out," he said quietly after a minute or so, finding an unexpected lump in his throat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kendra give him a tired smirk. "You doin' fine, teacher boy."

He turned to her, scrunching up his face at teacher boy, but she didn't seem to think it was weird.

"Really," she continued, looking at him earnestly now. "Just..." she seemed to really be trying to come up with a... comprehensive theory of Cameron, or something, "... just don't pay so much mind to the shit she says. She don't say a lot anyways. Gotta watch what she does." She winked at him, as if sharing a secret.

Andrew felt like his sister had just made a closing argument and he was the jury, but he wasn't really sure how it was supposed to land. He looked back at Cameron.

Why'd you really ghost me? What did I do wrong? And why does Kendra seem to think--

"Can I ask you a question?" Kendra asked quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

He shrugged. "Shoot."

She looked like she was trying to figure out the right words. "What'd you... do for her?"

He let the confusion show on his face. "What do you mean?"

"She told me you... did something for her. When you first met."

His mind flashed back to that night automatically, running over the evening on fast-forward. But he still didn't know what she meant.

"Umm... you mean like... err...."

Kendra's cackle lit up the room, shattering the dim quiet that had hung over them since he'd arrived. He got the feeling she was the kind of person who could be relied upon to do that sort of thing regularly -- at least when she wasn't at her best friend's hospital bedside.

"Nooo, I already know you ate that pussy! You got an A by the way, teacher boy," she winked and he made a face like he was both a little embarrassed and a little flattered -- which he was. "But nah... had to be something else."

"I... I didn't really do anything, I don't know. I offered to make breakfast, but she just about ran me over on the way out the door." He tried to think of anything else that happened. "She talked to me a little about her mom, I guess, and we... we went to sleep, that was it."

He'd gotten the feeling that Cameron wouldn't want him to talk about the details of how she'd cried in his arms, so he left that out. If Kendra knew already, then she didn't need him to say it, anyway.

Kendra's eyes softened and her expression made it seem like Andrew was some kid who kept repeating a new word he'd heard without any idea that it meant something funny. A warm smile spread across her exhausted face, then she looked at Cameron like she was learning something new about her best friend after all this time.

"Yeah. You doin' all right, Henry," she said, pronouncing her verdict back in the low voice that reminded them why they were meeting in the first place.

He wasn't sure how to take that, so he just sat back in the chair, choosing to trust that Kendra knew what she was talking about. That wasn't too hard. He was pretty sure Cameron was lucky to have a best friend like her. Deserved a best friend like her.

"Can I ask you something now?" he said cautiously.

Kendra looked back at him with some curiosity. "Sure. Don't be thinkin' I know all of Cam's secrets though. Gotta talk to Gram for that." She smirked at him.

He almost changed his question to ask who that was, but he let it go. There were some things he'd rather learn from Cameron. If she let him.

"How did you and Cameron become friends?"

Kendra laughed that contagious cackle again, leaving the hospital room in her mind's eye to go back to a fond memory.

"Well, I was 18," she said, a reminiscing grin on her face, "she was a couple years younger, and she was trying to get into this club." She smiled wider and shook her head. "I was fuckin' the bouncer, naturally, and so I went over to this little girl tryin' to get in, and I dunno -- she just looked like she was gonna fight this guy who had like, 200 pounds on her, easy."

Kendra laughed again. Andrew had no trouble imagining that.

"So I tell him, 'hey, nah, she's with me, don't worry about it.' And he was like whatever -- because you know, he ain't done tryin' to tap this," she gestured suggestively to her body, getting Andrew to smile with her. "Then, not two minutes in, our girl starts a fight and gets us both kicked out."

She burst into another round of laughter, looking over to Cameron wistfully. Gradually, the laughter dissolved into a sigh. "Anyway... I made her buy me dinner and we been best friends since."

It was kind of a relief to hear someone else talk about how inscrutable and frustrating Cameron could be, Andrew thought. He'd been starting to think maybe it was just him.

"That's... exactly the kind of story I'd expect about Cameron," he said with a grin.

She nodded in agreement. "Oh yeah. That's her."

They both returned to watching Cameron breathe through the machine, letting time slip by while they waited.

His eyelids started to get heavy.

Is this really a good idea? You're already in a shitty headspace. Are you just dragging Cameron into your mistakes by being here when she wakes up?

It had been two days since Mal broke him -- again. No, Andrew didn't feel like he knew what he was doing. Rather, he felt just as much like he knew what he was doing as he had when Mal had shown up at his door. So, he knew he couldn't really trust his feelings, anyway.

Still, the feeling he had inside around Cameron was so different than the... unsustainable euphoria?... that Mal always made him feel. With Mal, it was all electricity and excitement. With Cameron?

He focused on how he felt when he could look into those steel-blue eyes, how she made him feel with just one smile. Not exactly excitement, per se, more like...

Calm. Just in the few times I've been around Cameron, that's it -- I always feel less anxious than I did before. More... secure.

He was satisfied with the word, and even more with the feeling.

Though he'd barely slept in days, he fought it now, propping his eyes open to keep watch over Cameron while she slept.

He didn't know her well, and she probably knew him even less.

But Andrew knew she would do the same for him.

~~~

Chapter 19

[vibe track: under stars - aurora]

Cameron's eyes were harder to open than they should have been.

And there's... there's... holy fuck there's something down my throat.

Her eyes went wide in alarm, but they were looking into a bright light, obstructed by something that was sticking up out of her mouth. She was panicking, trying to get her hands around the thing, but her arms... her arms weren't... they weren't quite working right.

Kendra's face appeared over her. Cameron couldn't quite process the words... but she knew she was trying to get Cameron to calm down.

She stopped trying to rip out the tube, even though her arms weren't moving to do it anyway.

Another face appeared as Kendra's moved out of her vision. She could only look right above her. Her head wasn't moving like it was supposed to, either.

It was a nurse. She could tell from the outfit. The nurse smiled at her and said some more words.

I think she wants me to stay still. That I can do.

Cameron felt a bizarre sensation as the nurse started slowly removing the tube. She tried her best not to freak out as it kept getting longer than she thought it had any right to be coming out of her mouth. Then finally, it was out, and she took a breath, immediately coughing and sputtering.

The nurse was trying to get her to... maybe not do that? Cameron felt herself tilting up, sitting more upright.

I must be on a bed.

It finally clicked as the rest of the room entered her vision.

I'm in a fucking hospital. Fuck. How did I get in here? How bad am I hurt? What happened?

The nurse was fussing with her, checking things that were sticking out of her arm. She was smiling. That was either good, or maybe really bad. Cameron just couldn't keep up with what the nurse was saying, even though she could hear the individual sounds.

There was someone behind Kendra. Cameron moved her eyes -- she had to do it deliberately -- and saw Henry standing there, holding a Styrofoam cup.

Must be morning. Can't start it without a coffee.

Wait. Why is Henry here?

Kendra had said something, she was pretty sure. Cameron turned -- her head was working now -- focusing on her friend. It looked like she was waiting for the answer to a question or something.

"Wh--" Cameron coughed a few times. "What?" Her voice didn't sound right. Weak, raspy.

"I said, how you doin' babygirl?" Kendra said, slower, evidently repeating the question.

"You... you both look like ass," Cameron croaked out, moving her eyes between the pair of them. And they did.

They looked at each other, trading smiles.

"Girl, you wish you looked like my ass," Kendra said with a grin for Cameron. Had Kendra's hand always been on hers? She wasn't sure, but she could feel it now.

Cameron tried to sit up a little more, but things still weren't working quite right. She couldn't pinpoint where the problem was. Kendra reached behind her and readjusted some pillows. That made things a little more comfortable at least.

Kendra kept looking at her with that expression Cameron had been trying to avoid for days. That look that said she was trying not to look at her friend like she was liable to shatter if somebody looked at her wrong.

Just can't escape that look, can I.

This time, though, Cameron wasn't sure what she'd done to earn it. She couldn't remember how she ended up in here.

I was at the burial--fuck. The burial. Then...

She couldn't recall exactly, but she knew she'd been in her room at some point.

Xanax. Tequila.

The rest filled itself in, even if she was fuzzy on the details.

Fuck.

"You're gonna be okay, Cam." Kendra had been saying something, but she only heard the last part, which she found debatable.

Kendra held Cameron's face in her hands, making sure she focused on her. It actually was a little helpful.

"I love you Cameron," she said. Kendra kissed her forehead and hugged her as best she could in the hospital bed. Cameron felt her own hands come up enough to get them on Kendra's arms, at least. Kendra gave her another squeeze then pulled back, wiping away some tears.

Fuck. I must've... I must've been pretty bad, huh.

That triggered a wave of shame inside her, for putting Kendra through whatever it was she'd gone through that led to Cameron waking up here.

Did she find me on the floor or something? Was I choking on my own vomit? Was I breathing? Did she call an ambulance? Did she... fuck. Did she see the note? I didn't mean it as... it wasn't supposed to be a....

Tears welled up in the bottom of her vision.

"I'm sorry," she wheezed out before Kendra could step away. Cameron wasn't certain exactly what for, but she was sure there was plenty.

Kendra's eyes just got wetter and softer as she took Cameron's hand one more time. "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, babygirl."

She wiped away the tears on Cameron's face and gave her hand a last squeeze. "I'm gonna leave you two alone for a while, okay?" she said, gesturing at Henry.

Cameron's eyes drifted to him. He wasn't looking at her like she might break. Or... maybe he was. She could never read exactly what was going on in those bottomless brown eyes.

Kendra patted him on the arm as she left, closing the door behind her.

Henry got closer.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he said.

"The fuck are you doing here," Cameron rasped, barely above a whisper. She was more curious than upset, but everything her voice said now sounded more ominous and accusatory than she intended.

He smiled though. That smile. The smile that made her feel like it was just for her. And right now, it was. Maybe he took her being kind of a bitch as a sign that she was herself. She wasn't totally sure how to feel about that.

"Oh, you know," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "I just heard about this place that had worse beds and shittier coffee than yours, so I figured I had to come and check it out."

She coughed, trying to chuckle. He smiled at her as if she'd managed it.

Cameron was too drugged up to lie to herself -- she was glad he was here.

When was the last time I even saw--oh. Right. Why...?

She realized she'd already asked him why the fuck he was here, but she was viewing the question from a different angle now that she remembered how she'd left things.

Resting her gaze on his eyes, she didn't feel the familiar urge to dart hers away like she usually would. Maybe that was the drugs, too. Either way, she felt a little more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. Or maybe it was that the tube was out of her throat. There was a lot she was unsure of.

It always seemed quiet when they were alone. It was here, too -- just the beeping of the machines next to her.

"Buried my mom," she heard herself say in a rusty croak. She hadn't been thinking about it. It just came out because... she wanted to tell him.

Shit. I'm crying again.

Cameron could feel more tears building up inside her, soon to join the ones dribbling down her cheeks.

Henry's face scrunched into a pained expression, like he didn't know what to do.

They came quickly now -- she couldn't stop them, couldn't stop herself from starting to make the noises she hated so much that meant she was out of control of her own emotions. She wiped her face with her arm, finding she was able to move it much more naturally.

He had put down the coffee cup and was fiddling with the railing of her bed, rattling it again and again. "Dammit," he said in frustration. He was trying to get it down, she realized, and her coughing little cries turned into a gravelly laugh.

That made him look up and smile at her with one of those self-deprecating grins, but didn't help him actually get the thing down.

"You should see if you can get one of these for your car. It'd fit right--ah! Got it!" It collapsed below the side and she smiled at him, her face still streaming tears on its own.

He slid onto the bed next to her, and she scooted as much as she could manage -- which wasn't much. He was definitely still hanging off the edge.

Lying on his side, Henry put his arms around her as best he could, and she leaned into him. The way he smelled seemed familiar now. It wasn't a good smell, exactly, but it reminded her of the way she'd felt when she'd been close enough to smell him before -- comfortable. Secure.

He just held her there, as the tears kept streaming down her face. She clutched him tighter as she felt more coming.

"I-I didn't try to... to..." she said before the tears came. She couldn't get the words out, but he had to know what she meant. She needed him to know it, for him to know she wasn't that pathetic -- that she didn't need that kind of pity, of attention, of concern. Or maybe she needed herself to know.

She felt him nod. "I know," he whispered into her ear.

"I just... I just took too many." Cameron didn't think he believed her.

"You're gonna be okay," he said instead, kissing the top of her head.

She snorted in response. Now she didn't believe him. "Why start now?"

If there was a good reason, Cameron couldn't see it. Her mom was dead and buried, and everyone close to her she constantly pushed away. She'd written out a whole list of her fuckups, of all the things she wished she would've done differently. Her life was an unfixable mess. Not because she couldn't do things better in the future -- but because deep down, she had no faith she'd ever be strong enough to actually do what it took to really be better. She'd just keep doing the same shit over and over again.

She started to cry in earnest, and managed to turn on her side without unplugging anything attached to her, pressing closer into Henry. He was on the list, too. So was Kendra. Maybe she'd seen her own name on there if she'd noticed it when she found Cameron.

Everything Cameron had been keeping inside for the past few weeks and the past 20 years was flooding up to the surface, and she had no way to stop it. She wheezed, convulsing into a full-body sob, spilling her tears into Henry's shirt.

She was sobbing for everything now. Everything she'd tried and failed to make better, every night that didn't happen, every moment that made her feel so vulnerable and fragile inside -- all of it was coming out now in each heave of her body.

Cameron wasn't sure how long she cried in his arms. He didn't say a word.

She just noticed that some time later, she wasn't crying anymore. But she was still in his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head, holding her tight in the bed made for one. Hers were around him, too, stretching cords and tubes to their limit from the other side of the bed.

A bank of lights was off above them, and everything was quiet. Except... Cameron tensed as she felt someone else in the room. She turned her head -- and relaxed again as she saw another nurse. A different one this time, she thought. The nurse was adjusting something attached to Cameron's arm, draped over Henry. She was trying not to disturb either of them as she did whatever she was doing.

When she finished, she saw Cameron looking at her. The nurse returned a kind smile, silently mouthing an apology for waking Cameron up, then patted her wrist gently before leaving the room, turning off the other bank of lights as she did.

Cameron inhaled a deep breath, tightening her arms around Henry -- her body still shuddering in the aftermath of her sobs as she exhaled -- and closed her eyes again.

Maybe now was as good a time as any to start being okay.

~~~

Chapter 20

Andrew slowed the car to a stop underneath the streetlight outside Cameron's apartment building, the harsh LED leaving her half in shadow. In the seat next to him, she seemed miles away -- miles away from him, miles away from the apartment building, and miles away from the Cameron he kept expecting to see.

At first glance, she looked mostly the same. Without any styling, her hair flopped down to the eye on the lit half of her face, which wasn't unusual. And the gray tanktop was something she could've been wearing at any other time in any other place.

But a nicotine patch on her upper arm obstructed her tattoos and was a few shades too dark to blend in with the color of her flesh anyway. She'd reluctantly taken a few extra patches the nurses offered her since she wouldn't be allowed to smoke for a few days. No smoking, no drinking, and, for the first night at least, she was supposed to sleep on her side to make sure her airway stayed open.

More than that, though, every time he looked over, it seemed like she'd sunk deeper down into the seat. Now that they were parked in front of her building, she didn't seem like she had any desire to get out.

Or am I reading her wrong again?

"You could... stay with me, if you wanted," Andrew said gently. He wasn't sure how she'd react, but he took a chance that he was reading her right after all. "I can just grab some of your stuff from Kendra."

Slowly, she started to nod, staring down the glove compartment. "Yeah. Just... just for tonight. 'Til I--"

"Hey," he said, stopping her from needing to ramble out some excuse. "It's okay, Da Vinci likes the company, really."

She snorted and he smiled warmly at her, even though she wasn't looking at him.

Kendra was understandably surprised when she opened the door and only Andrew was standing there. She looked at him quizzically.

He wasn't quite sure what to say, frankly.

"I think... maybe she's not ready to face... whatever it was she was facing in there," he said haltingly, waving toward the hallway where her room was. "I told her she could stay with me tonight."

Kendra's face fell. "Oh. Yeah. Didn't... really think about that." She moved aside to let him in and she ducked into her room, coming back out with an empty grocery bag.

When he turned to Cameron's room, he was startled to see no door there anymore. Whatever hinges had been there, they were gone -- and judging by the marks in the wood, they hadn't been removed gently.

"No door?"

Kendra shifted around uncomfortably, then brushed past him into Cameron's room. "Yeah... the new one was supposed to be here today, but the landlord never came. Hopefully it'll be here tomorrow," she said, her back to him while she opened Cameron's closet.

Cameron's room looked cleaner than he'd seen it before and there was a lingering smell of detergent covering up something more acrid. Her mattress was still in the middle of the floor, a wooden sign of warning on top of it that made Andrew snort when he read it.

Very Cameron.

Kendra did the same when she turned to see what had caught his attention.

"Yeah, I didn't even touch it while she's been gone. Dunno if you've seen full-on-rage-Cam yet, but seriously -- don't fuck with that girl." He was expecting a smile on Kendra's face, but when he looked at her, it seemed more like a look of warning that could -- and probably should -- be taken in a couple of ways.

He understood.

If I were in her position, I'd warn me too. Hell, I'm in my position and I'm warning me. Only... I don't really listen to my own warnings, I guess.

He pulled out his phone and quickly tapped out a text to the number Kendra had given him while they were killing hours in the hospital.

"I texted you my address. You can come by anytime tomorrow if you want -- see what she wants to do."

She looked back from the closet, where she was grabbing a few clothes and stuffing them into the bag. She sighed.

"Yeah, I'll do that. I didn't mean nothin' by it, teacher boy. She just... can't hide away forever, ya know?"

He nodded. "So..." he said, making idle conversation. "New door gonna have a lock this time?"

"That's the idea," Kendra said without looking up. "Jacked my shoulder up on the other one."

The pieces suddenly snapped together in his head and Andrew felt like an idiot. He'd meant it as a safe, offhand little joke.

But there's no door because Cameron probably jammed it shut with the doorstop and...

He turned to Kendra with a rush of admiration.

What a fucking friend.

Apparently finished, Kendra seemed to be running through a checklist in her head, giving the few clothes on hangers and the larger pile on the floor one more survey.

"Hey Kendra," he said, getting her to turn and face him. "Look... I... I don't know her, okay? I'm not pretending I do. You're her friend. But I do care about her. So if you think she should stay--"

She waved him off and heaved another sigh, resetting her expression to one that was softer.

"Nah, nah. You doin' good, I told you. Really." She set a hand on his arm and looked up at him, relief showing from the stress that had no business being on a face that young in the first place. "She's... she's a handful. I mean, I dunno exactly what you guys are, like -- like how serious you are or whatever--"

Andrew snorted. "You think she tells me that kinda thing?"

Kendra laughed. "But... she's worth it. It looks like I'm takin' care of her, but... she's takin' care of me. Ya know? I don't know what I'd do without that girl." Her face broke into an unwilling cry and she wiped away her tears before turning to look at him again. "You know, we fell in together because we didn't have a whole lotta other people. I never woulda made it this far without her."

Andrew didn't know what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't even know her. He settled for putting a hand on her shoulder, which she didn't move away from.

"We been through so much shit," she said, sniffing back more tears from coming. Her gaze shifted to the wall -- through the wall and to the waiting car a few levels below -- then to the mattress on the floor, and the carpet beneath it.

"But I ain't never been more scared than when I saw her in here," she said in a quiet voice. She turned to him again. "Sorry. She's... she's the only sister I got. And if I ever got to pick one, I'd pick her anyhow." She sighed, looking him over. "I dunno. A lotta people can't see that. They just see... what she lets 'em see, I guess. Maybe you can, though."

He wasn't sure he could, but he kept listening.

"She's so fuckin' frustrating," Kendra continued, running her palms over her face. "But when shit goes bad, there ain't nobody else I want in my corner. I promise you. She just... don't let nothin' hurt you."

She turned to the mattress again.

"When we first moved in together, after she finished high school, we shared that shitty thing," she said with a faint smile, pointing to the mattress. "Shit was hard then."

Andrew wanted to laugh and say to her, "This isn't hard?" But he held his tongue. It only increased his admiration for the strong young woman -- and the bond she had with Cameron.

"Sometimes I'd fucking cry myself to sleep," she said, still reliving a flashback playing on the mattress. "Didn't think she'd notice. Then, I'd wake up and see her layin' there, just watchin' me. Like... like she didn't know how to help, but she wasn't gonna let nothin' make it worse."

She tore herself away from the memory and looked back to Andrew, the faint smile still lingering. "She cares about the people she cares about. She just sometimes got a peculiar way of showin' it."

Andrew snorted at that and Kendra smiled wider.

"Honestly, Henry? I'm glad you're here. Usually there ain't... there ain't nobody else to talk to. You know, about her." She pointed her chin in the general direction of the car outside. "She's worth all the bullshit, though." Kendra looked him in the eye, then patted him on the arm, wiping away the remainder of her tears with her other sleeve. "Tell me if you need anything."

Andrew just nodded. Since he'd met Kendra, in the middle of a crisis, she seemed like she could handle anything in stride. Whether it was busting through a door to get her friend to the hospital or knowing what to pack for her, she seemed completely unflappable.

But as he looked in her eyes now, struck by the kindness in them, he was reminded that Kendra was just some kid in her mid-20s, trying the best she could to deal with shit she couldn't predict. It was easy to forget that with how she carried herself -- Cameron too.

No wonder their friendship seemed so strong.

How else could you get through shit like this? I would've been a blubbering mess at their age. Probably even at my age, let's face it.

Andrew frowned to himself, though, when it was clear Kendra wasn't going to hand him the bag, but planned to follow him back out to the car to hand it to Cameron. He didn't blame her -- she only had his word that Cameron didn't want to come inside, and who the fuck was he, really? -- but he got the sense that Cameron wasn't only trying to avoid her room.

Back out into the cool evening, he went around to the driver's side while Kendra handed the bag of clothes to Cameron through the window of his car. Cameron looked a little ashamed, a little embarrassed, sinking down a little further into the seat and into herself.

"I see how it is," Kendra said with a big grin, no trace of the tears that had been there just a minute ago, while Andrew got in. "You got a taste for good coffee now, huh."

Cameron snorted, looking up at her friend hanging on the window. Kendra moved the limp hair out of Cameron's eyes. She flinched a little, but let her do it.

"All right," Kendra said more softly. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Cameron nodded and they shared an awkward hug through the open window.

She didn't look up as they got on the road, her face back to the default slight frown.

"I know you probably didn't really want her to see you," he said quietly, looking over to his sullen passenger, "but... you know she wasn't gonna let you leave without coming out."

Cameron turned and looked at him with a new expression. He wasn't quite sure what it was, so he had to look back twice in between glimpses of the highway. Maybe... surprised appreciation?

"Yeah," she said, her voice still weak.

He looked up as they went along. The thin sliver of a crescent moon seemed to outshine even the city lights trying to obscure it.

"You're really lucky to have each other. She really loves you." He wasn't sure why he said it, he just felt like it needed to be recognized out loud. He'd never had a friend quite like Kendra, he was sure. "You're like sisters, huh."

She nodded. "Yeah," she said again, but this time with more weight to it. "We are."

***

Andrew opened the door hesitantly, not wanting to wake Cameron if she was still asleep. Her eyes were closed, looking in the direction of what he was starting to think of as "his" side of the bed, closest to the door.

She no longer slept all the way at the opposite edge, looking toward the mirror. He took that to mean she was comfortable here. He liked that. It made him feel... useful. He tried not to think about the nights he'd spent there before Kendra had called him to the hospital. There were more important things to think about now.

Cameron had been sleeping for most of the time she'd been here. The first night -- last night -- that was expected. That's what the doctor had told them would happen while the Xanax worked its way out of her system.

Kendra had come over today, as Andrew had asked her to do. She brought more clothes and some toiletries, not sure how long Cameron was going to stay here. As far as Andrew was concerned, she could stay here as long as she wanted.

He wasn't sure if that was because he was just that nice a guy, or whether he was just happy to have the distraction from what he would be brooding about otherwise.

Hey, why can't it be both?

Cameron had made it out to the couch for a while to chat a little with Kendra, but was still too sluggish to really do much else.

Hours later, she was still sleeping. Probably sleeping off more than just the Xanax, he thought, catching up from hours and days of stress and not enough rest. If she was more awake tomorrow, he wouldn't be around to see it. He'd already had two days of emergency subs in his classes and really couldn't do a third in a row.

Andrew gently closed the door behind him, plunging the room back into the dim, steady light of the moon through the curtains. He could hear her soft breathing in the quiet as he pulled off his pants and socks, slipping into bed next to her.

She had no trouble sleeping without him there, but when he was in the bed, she seemed to like to be close to him. He liked that too. Unlike the couple of nights before she'd arrived, he'd had no trouble falling asleep, either, and felt like he'd finally worked off his own sleep debt since Cameron came home with him.

He pulled the sheets over himself and settled in, letting his eyes adjust, and he noticed that hers were open now. He didn't let that stop him from looking at her.

Cameron's face had the soft look of sleep to it still -- relaxed -- and was made even softer by the lack of piercings. They were in a baggie with her stuff, waiting for her to feel well enough to put them back in.

"Hey," she said quietly, her voice without any of the rasp the breathing tube had given it for the first night.

"Hey," he said with a half-smile. He couldn't help but smile at her. Her thin lips almost always made a straight line by default, with the ends trending toward a slight frown, but not quite getting there. Underneath that practiced stony demeanor, though, he knew by now that a lot more was happening.

And not all of it can be as serious and morose as she lets on.

"Feeling a little better," she offered, without him having to ask. Her pale eyes blinked slowly at him, comfortable looking into his instead of finding someplace else to focus.

"Good." He returned her stare just as comfortably. "You sound a little better, even from just a few hours ago."

Andrew scooted a little closer, close enough that he could stretch his arm over her if he wanted. He left a space between them so he could keep looking into her eyes, trying to practice reading them like he would a foreign language.

Feeling every bit the cliché, he slowly reached to the flop of hair that was hanging in her face and tucked it behind her ear, knowing it would fall back soon enough. She didn't flinch when he did, didn't move at all.

He'd had plenty of comfortable silences with Mal. But... this wasn't the same. Nothing with Cameron was. When he and Mal had been quiet, it was because they didn't have anything left to say, even if the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

With Cameron....

Her eyes are always saying something. More than she ever says out loud.

What exactly they were saying... well... he was still trying to work that out. But he wanted to try.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said out loud, her expression changing just slightly to accommodate the query.

"Of course."

She so rarely asked him anything other than "couch or bedroom" that he almost felt flattered she wanted to know anything from him at all. But it turned out not to be the sort of question he'd hoped it was going to be.

"Do you go by Andrew?"

Is this it? Is this why she ran out? Because first I was Marvin, then I was Henry, then someone comes in the front door calling me Andrew?

She didn't look like she was mad. Instead, her eyes looked like... like they were braced. For what, he wasn't sure.

"Yeah," he responded a little sheepishly. "You know my name's 'Henry Andrew Mullins?'"

She nodded.

He sighed. He didn't like talking about it, really. It sounded stupid on the rare occasions he'd been forced to say it out loud.

"My dad died when I was 8," he started. "His name was Andrew...." He shrugged, hoping he wouldn't really have to explain his 8-year-old reasoning. He was 8 and missed his dad. What better way to feel closer to him?

Cameron nodded again, slowly this time. She of all people could understand well enough to fill in the blanks.

He let out another breath. "I've just been going by it for so long that everybody calls me Andrew. Except my mom."

"And me," Cameron said quietly, keeping her eyes on his. They shined in the darkness of the bedroom.

"And you."

She paused, her eyes flicking down for just a moment before returning to his. "Do you want me to call you Andrew?"

The anxious pallor in her blue-twinged eyes made it seem like she definitely wanted one answer over the other, but he wasn't sure which. Did she feel like everybody else got the real him and she was stuck with this Henry guy?

He wasn't really sure what she saw when she looked into his eyes. But he knew Cameron was seeing something better than he did when he looked in the mirror. And when she called him "Henry"... he didn't feel like a lost 8-year-old searching for an identity of his own. He felt like whoever it was she saw in him -- the man she trusted to see her at her most vulnerable. And that was a feeling he didn't want to lose.

"No," he said, matching her serious expression.

"Good." The relief in her eyes said that was the answer she'd wanted.

Poking out from under the sheet, she reached a hand slowly to him, gently resting her palm on the curve of his jaw. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing for a moment while he reveled in the caress of her fingers. They'd done plenty of touching in their encounters, sexual and otherwise. But he wasn't sure she'd ever reached for him before. And he knew for sure she'd never been so tender with him, physically at least.

Every other touch he'd ever felt from her barely registered in comparison to the intimacy he felt from her hand now in the silence and the dark.

"I like Henry more," she pronounced, matter-of-factly, running her hand slowly along his stubble and off the side of his chin.

He smiled.

Everything about her -- her expression, her skin, her voice -- seemed soft, gentle, maybe even affectionate. It wasn't something he was used to from her.

They were both as still as the room itself, their eyes examining each other's, until Andrew sighed.

"I have to go into work tomorrow," he said, breaking the silence, but keeping the quiet. They always seemed to speak so softly to each other. He wasn't quite sure why.

"Oh," she said, her face falling almost imperceptibly. He realized there might've been more implication there than he'd meant.

"Oh, no, like, I just meant if you wake up and I'm not here, that's where I am," he quickly added.

"Oh," she said again, but in a higher tone. He was sure that meant she'd taken it initially as if she were going to have to leave. Apparently she didn't want to. That was okay with him.

Then whatever hypnotic trance she'd been in broke completely.

"Fuck," she said, blowing out enough air to dislodge the hair that had been tucked behind her ear. "Work. What day is it?"

"Wednesday night," he said.

"Fuck." She closed her eyes, like she was absorbing pain behind them. "I was supposed to work today. And yesterday."

Andrew shook his head. "Don't worry, Kendra called in for you the rest of the week."

She froze and the storm lifted from her face, uttering a third, "Oh."

Cameron looked... flattered? Like she never would have thought of doing that for someone else, but Kendra had done it for her without needing to be asked.

After letting that settle in, Andrew decided to change the subject.

"So, you work at the call center -- do you just... moonlight as a DJ?" He let a goofy grin spread across his face to emphasize the pun.

Cameron snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I don't make enough from it to just DJ, unfortunately. Maybe someday."

Her steel-blue eyes were inviting, not cold, and so he took advantage, trying to keep a conversation with her going for once.

"Umm--" he started, but she cut him off.

"Uh oh," she said with a faint smirk.

"What?"

"I'm not sure I'm up for one of your umm-dingers," she said, her expression unchanging.

Andrew's wasn't though. He burst out laughing, and to his shock, so did she, her stock expression dissolving into a bona fide laugh. Her cheeks blushed just slightly, and her smile showed her teeth before returning to something like her regular look -- but with the corners of her mouth upturned instead of drooping. It made Andrew smile wider than usual.

Could I get her to do that once a week? Every day?

He wanted to.

Cameron had propped her head up on her arm, looking back at him expectantly. He remembered he'd been about to ask a question.

"Anyway, uhh, no, I was just gonna say, like, I don't know anything about DJing. You're not just like, pressing 'play,' right? What do you actually do?"

She frowned and her eyes narrowed, but it seemed to be in thought.

"Umm..." she started, then caught herself and smirked at him. "Some people do I guess. Depends on what the gig is." She half-shrugged.

"What do you do?"

The corner of her mouth curled a little, like she wasn't sure how to express it. Or maybe just not sure how to explain it to somebody like him.

"I do what are called 'mashups,'" she said, her tone still matching the quiet of the night around them, but more engaged than he'd ever heard her. "Do you know what those are?"

He shook his head, ready for her to go on. He'd never seen her talk about anything without seeming a little uncomfortable. She didn't seem uncomfortable at all now, and he wanted to see as much of this side of her as he could.

"They're like, when you take two different songs and then, you know, mash them together," she said, using her hands to demonstrate. "It's more complicated than that, obviously. So when I'm DJing, most of the time I'll have, umm," she tried to come up with a word he could understand, probably, "pre-mashed, I guess, the songs together.

"If I'm really feelin' it though, I might do it live. Like, listen to the next tracks on my headphones, then sync 'em up right there and just kinda..." she took a sharp breath, "feel it as I go."

He smiled at her. He didn't really know what that meant, but it was clear she was passionate about it.

Her eyes moved just slightly, to a place behind his head, seeing something far off, but within her grasp. "The best thing in the world is watching people on a dancefloor feel a song I'm mixing on the fly exactly in the way I hoped they'd feel it -- and vice versa." Her eyes came back to rest on his now.

It was a whole different dimension of her, a whole different world he knew nothing about but that she was clearly native to.

"How do you know which songs are gonna be a good fit? To like, mash up, I mean," he asked.

"Hmm," she started thoughtfully before doing a one-shoulder shrug. "Just gotta listen. There's some technical boxes you gotta check -- beats per minute, stuff like that -- but... maybe one song has some vocals that remind me of some other beat that would sound good underneath it. Maybe there's one song that sorta reminds me of another, or makes me feel the opposite of another.

"It's all about feeling."

Cameron reached for his cheek again, leaving her palm there, rubbing her thumb affectionately on his skin. When she spoke again, it wasn't quite a whisper, but just above, so Andrew could still hear the low tone in her voice.

"Just gotta start by finding where two songs overlap somehow -- even if it's in some tiny way that only you can hear -- and build on it," she said quietly. "Even if they're two songs from completely different genres, that you'd think would just, never fit together... if you do it right, it's not two different songs trying to fit together anymore.

"It's just one new song -- one that feels like it was always supposed to be that way."

Her words hung in the air for a moment. She traced a finger to the corner of his mouth, where his smile started, and Cameron smiled back at him in the night. It wasn't a toothy grin, or as big as her laugh had been, but it was there -- just for him.

For Henry.

~~~

Chapter 21

[vibe track: in for the kill danger's ocean remix - la roux]

Cameron felt a weight pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe. She opened her eyes, but her vision was still dark... and... furry?

She jerked her head back, gulping for air -- and relaxed as she recognized the culprit.

Da Vinci raised his head and looked back at her, curled up on the pillow in lazy annoyance, miffed that she woke him up.

She plopped her head back down next to him, resting against the contented cat as he purred and settled -- but with her nose unencumbered this time.

The early morning sun was pouring in through the ugly beige curtains, but Henry wasn't next to the two of them in bed. The noises coming from down the hallway through the open door said he was still home, though.

Running her hand lazily over Da Vinci's fur while he fell back to sleep, Cameron felt utterly comfortable in a way she hadn't in weeks -- the stresses that had pushed her to a breaking point seemed to have melted off of her. Her mother was buried, and she was... well, maybe not ready to move on, but ready to stop dwelling on things that already happened.

Or at least, that's what I'm telling myself at 6 a. m. in a comfy bed when I have nowhere else to be and nothing else to do.

When she'd left the hospital, she still hadn't been ready to face her own room. Or Kendra, really. Nobody in the world knew her better -- which is what made the sense of shame so excruciating when Kendra would look at her like she was fragile. It made her feel fragile.

But having to spend a night in that room again... it just wasn't something she could've done.

I would've spent all night thinking about the last time I was there.

She sighed again and gently scratched Da Vinci behind the ear, inducing a twitch.

Does he think about shit like that? Does he dream about, like, the day Henry was a few minutes late to feed him and he almost starved or something?

Henry's deep brown eyes never told her he thought she was fragile. Not when he'd held her crying when they first met, not when he'd seen her in pieces at the hospital, not when she did nothing but sleep while she recovered.

She had trouble feeling ashamed when he looked at her.

He was running water in the kitchen now, maybe washing a dish or something. Everything always seemed quieter here, calmer than at her apartment.

Probably because I always end up awake at the ass crack of dawn here and the rest of the world is still asleep.

Things with Henry were moving a little fast for her liking. She knew that. But she also knew that things moving at all was always too fast for her liking.

Cameron tried to remember a serious relationship she'd had before... but couldn't come up with any.

How the fuck is that possible? Really?

She'd been close with people before. Of course she had. But... she knew herself well enough to know her pattern by now.

When things get too serious, I bolt.

Maybe it was the early morning sunshine. Maybe it was the feel of the cool sheets against her skin and the warm, purring ball of fur next to her. Or maybe it was the way Henry had so easily seen into her mind the other day when he'd apologized for Kendra coming to the car, forcing Cameron to face her -- how well he'd understood what was going on in her cluttered head.

Maybe this time I won't fuck it up. And maybe that'd be just fine with me.

A soft knock at the open door lifted her and Da Vinci's eyes to Henry, dressed in what she presumed were his work clothes: a tucked-in, checkered button-down and khakis. It reminded her of the photo she'd seen of him and his wife when they were in college -- but with a few wrinkles transferred over the years from the shirt to his face.

He gave her that little smile again, and she felt the corners of her own mouth spread just a little. She realized she'd smiled more in the past 12 hours than she had in weeks. Maybe months.

"Saw you were up," he said, sitting side-saddle on the bed and giving Da Vinci a scratch. "I'm headed out. You two need anything?"

Da Vinci looked like the only thing he needed was for everyone to stop disturbing him, though he reluctantly tolerated the attention. Cameron was usually used to that feeling, too.

The way Henry beamed down at her cemented her feelings about how he saw her.

Like... like he admires me. Though she couldn't imagine what about her there was to admire.

She shook her head.

"All right, lemme know if you do. I'll be back around 4-ish probably," he said.

Then he leaned in closer, bending over Da Vinci toward her face. Instinctively, she jerked back like she had when she'd first woken up with a face full of fur.

"Wh-what the fuck are you doing?" she heard herself say. She didn't sound angry, just surprised -- which she was. But even as she said the words, she felt stupid, and wished she could stop them from tumbling out.

Wait, fuck, no, why did you stop him? What was so weird about that?

Henry's face flushed with embarrassment and he quickly stood up.

"Oh, umm, yeah, I-I don't..." he stammered while he smoothed out his shirt nervously. "I don't know why I was trying to kiss you goodbye, sorry, just, umm, a reflex, I guess." He shrugged, his cheeks even redder. "Yeah. Sorry. Umm, yeah, well, t-talk to you later."

Fuck, should I--

He gave an awkward wave and left the room while Cameron was left trapped in her own head, unable to figure out how to recover the moment.

GodDAMMIT Cameron! You JUST fucking said you weren't gonna fuck this up.

She dropped her face into the pillow.

Fuck. What was the big deal?

Cameron heard the front door close as Henry left the house.

She just... hadn't been prepared for it, that's all. Hadn't thought about it. She never thought about shit like that.

Here I am, fucking thinking about how things are good, that I'm cool with this, that I like this... and fucking immediately fucking do what I fucking always do.

She didn't do kisses goodbye. Cameron couldn't remember ever kissing anyone goodbye. Not any of her foster parents, not Kendra, not any of her boyfriends or girlfriends she'd rotated through.

Gram, maybe. MAYBE. But Gram doesn't count.

She rolled over onto her back and groaned. Da Vinci looked at her unsympathetically -- as if she'd needed the confirmation she'd been an idiot.

Rubbing her eyes with her palms, she froze, realizing what she'd said to herself.

Oh shit. Gram.

Cameron spotted her phone on the nightstand next to her -- nightstand? Had there always been a nightstand there? -- and grabbed it. Some messages from Kendra, a few missed calls from club bookers... and one from Gram. Gram wasn't a texter, so if she knew about the hospital stay, it would be a phone call. She hadn't left a message, but she didn't need to. Cameron knew what she'd been calling about.

She sat up, holding her phone in her hand as she caught a glimpse of herself in that stupid mirror on the wall next to the bed. Her hair was flat and flopping over half her face, and she noticed all of her piercings were out.

The effect was that she looked... young. Like a kid. She sighed.

Is this what he admires?

Maybe this whole thing was too weird anyway. He wasn't as old as he sometimes acted -- he's only 36 for fuck's sake, he's not old at all -- but... as she looked at her softened face and wrinkled tanktop in the mirror, Cameron felt the age difference acutely.

Thirty-six-year-olds have carpools. Tuck in their checkered button-downs. Kiss fucking goodbye.

With a deep sigh, she got up, leaving the warmth and security of the bed behind her as she dialed Gram, who answered quickly.

"Hey," Cameron said, deference in her soft morning voice.

"Hmph," was the response. If Gram could see her, Cameron wouldn't have let the smile show. But Gram's grumpy act let her know she wasn't too mad. That didn't mean she wasn't mad, though.

Cameron's mother had never really been much of a mom to her. She was never around, and when she was, she was usually too high to take care of a kid. That meant a series of foster parents as Cameron grew up, but since she was 5, it'd been Gram's apartment where she'd always felt at home. And she still did.

"Gram" is what'd been easiest for Cameron to call her as a 5-year-old, and it didn't feel right to call her anything else -- even now.

Cameron wasn't Gram's daughter, or her granddaughter -- or her anything. Not by blood or any other official way.

They weren't related -- although other than her skin color, it certainly seemed like they could've been. Gram was small, shorter than Cameron and shorter still every time they met, it seemed like. Gram's mocha skin had started to sag on her bones now, but the same iron was inside as ever -- except for that soft spot that always let Cameron snatch an extra cookie or stay up an extra few minutes after bedtime to finish a song.

"I know... I'm sorry, Gram," Cameron said. And she meant it. She hadn't wanted Gram to know she was in the hospital. She hadn't wanted to worry her. Or at least... that's the reason she wanted to believe, anyway. Deep down, she thought it was probably more that she didn't want Gram to know how... well I just didn't want Gram to see me that way, is all. That's all.

"Mmmmhmm. You better be," Gram said. The woman was nearing 80, but could still make Cameron wish she had a tail to tuck between her legs. "Hmph." Then Gram continued in a softer tone. "So. How's my girl?"

Ever since she was an angry little kid, hearing Gram say those words out loud had always made Cameron feel warm inside -- a reminder that she did belong somewhere, with someone.

Gram had a grown daughter of her own somewhere, though Cameron had never met her. Her childhood room had become Cameron's. And through all the official addresses, through all the assholes who fucked with her at school, through all the pouts and fights and screams and tears -- Cameron knew she could always come back there. To Gram. To home.

"I'm okay," Cameron finally responded, after thinking seriously about the question. She paced idly around the bedroom as they spoke, and fiddled with a dresser drawer. Socks and underwear were inside, folded and neatly arranged.

"Good," Gram said, genuine relief in her voice. "I'm old, you know. I worry when I hear you're in the hospital and then can't get a hold of you."

There was real annoyance there, but Cameron knew it was masking real worry, too.

"I know... I'm sorry, Gram," Cameron mumbled again, feeling like she'd just been scolded for not doing her chores. She opened another drawer just a little, enough to see what was inside. This one had a few jumbled stacks of framed photos.

"Mmmmhmm. Okay," Gram said, signaling she was done with the scolding and was moving on. "So. Kendra says you ain't at your apartment. Where you stayin'?"

Cameron wasn't quite sure how to answer that.

"Umm..." she said, then snorted quietly. She was starting to appreciate the utility of the utterance. "I'm at... at a friend's house."

Cameron fumbled with the photos in the drawer -- they were all of Henry and his wife. Their wedding, on vacations, some other events. A blown-up version of the one in his wallet, the one by the tree. A drawer full of memories he was either trying to forget or to hide. Maybe both.

She looks so beautiful in all of these, not a fucking hair out of place and dressed like she's got a fucking designer.

But it was Mal's electric smile that seemed to practically vibrate out of each photo. Even without knowing her, Cameron could see that life with her was probably exciting. And happy.

She glanced to the mirror again before shutting the drawer with a thud.

"A friend's house, hmm. Some 40-year-old friend who's stashin' my girl in his bed fresh outta the hospital? That kinda friend?" Gram didn't sound playful about it. She sounded pissed, like she had the night teenage Cameron had tried to make a flamethrower out of a lighter and a can of Axe body spray. What Cameron was doing now, her tone seemed to say, was even stupider -- and more dangerous.

"It's not like that," Cameron said sharply as she walked out of the bedroom. She didn't like the scenery in there.

"No? What's it like then, hmm?" Gram retorted, just as sharply.

Cameron sighed. "It's...." She wasn't really sure what it was like. That was the problem. "I dunno.... He's...."

"... a 45-year-old man shackin' up with a 23-year-old girl who's still drugged up from the hospital??" Gram interjected. "Because that's what it sounds like to me, Cameron." She only used her name when Cameron was in trouble.

"Uggggghhh," Cameron groaned, trying to figure out how to explain it when she didn't really know herself. "If you already know, why'd you even ask me!"

"Just wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself," Gram said calmly, making Cameron feel dumb for how easily she'd gotten exasperated. "And to remember that no matter how old I get--"

"--yeah, yeah, 'there ain't nothin' about you I don't know first,'" they said in unison as Cameron rolled her eyes. She added in another groan for good measure. "I know, I know."

"Mmhmm. So. If it ain't like that, how's it like then?" Gram said, a challenge in her tone.

Cameron was in the living room now, flipping absent-mindedly through a photo flipbook she'd never noticed before on the end table next to the couch. They were family photos across years. None of his wife. They looked like they must've been Henry and his... mom and sisters? And their families?

How many siblings does he have? Do I have any idea?

It drove home to her again just how little she knew about Henry's life and how uncurious she'd been about it. He wasn't that way about her.

The last time she'd been here, that same realization had scared her so much she ran out the door and intended never to talk to him again. Now... now it just made her feel guilty. And only added to the feeling that she really didn't know what the hell they were doing, much less how to describe it to Gram.

"Well?" Gram repeated.

"Well, I mean, shouldn't you know already? You know everything about me, right?" Cameron said smugly. Inside, though, she wished Gram really could tell her what this -- whatever this was -- was like.

But Gram let the stony silence speak for itself -- then added a little more on top to let Cameron know she wasn't fucking around. "I know you better not be gettin' smart with me, young lady," she said, her voice ice.

Cameron snorted, unimpressed -- maybe only because she knew Gram couldn't reach through the phone. But it didn't help her answer the question any better.

"He's... I dunno, Gram," she mumbled again, slumping onto the couch with a sigh. "Whatever you're thinking, he's not like that."

"Hmph," Gram said, implying she could think a lot of things.

"First of all," Cameron said, "he's 36."

Gram snorted. "Oh, well, that makes it okay then! And is Mr. 36 there right now?"

"No. He's at school."

"School?"

Now Cameron knew she'd told Gram something she really didn't know.

"Yeah," Cameron said softly, stretching out on the couch and looking up at the white stucco ceiling. "He's... he's a teacher."

There was a pause as Gram processed that. "A teacher?"

"Yeah. He teaches high school English."

Gram, for once, seemed like she had no idea what to say to that. Cameron wasn't sure herself.

"He's..." Cameron continued, still not really knowing where she was going. She sighed instead, giving up midsentence.

She didn't know how to tell Gram that she felt safer here than anywhere except with Gram herself. Right now, anyway. Trying to convey that over the phone -- or in any way, really -- would just sound...

Like I'm a naïve fucking child. And maybe I am. But... there's more to it than that.

"He's... nice," she tried again. She felt embarrassed about telling Gram she wanted to be around someone who was nice to her. Like she couldn't handle reality and needed someone to lie to her about it. It was only made worse because that was why she'd come here -- because she didn't want to face reality.

Gram didn't say anything, though, letting Cameron gather her unorderly thoughts.

"I just... needed to be somewhere else. I guess. I don't know. Henry's... he doesn't... he doesn't look at me like I'm broken." The mumbled words tumbled out in a jumble. There. It was out in the open now. Yes, she felt broken. But not when she was with Henry.

There was another long pause.

"Well, okay," Gram said more gently, disarmed. "I look forward to meeting him then."

Cameron sputtered and coughed, shooting up to a sitting position on the couch. "Yeah, that's gonna happen," she said sarcastically. But Gram had already moved on.

"How 'bout you come stay with me for a while instead, hmm?" she said, all trace of annoyance gone from her voice now. Gram was like that -- when she was done with a subject, she was done with it, along with whatever feelings came from it.

Cameron liked the idea. It would give her a good out, she thought. She liked it at Henry's, but she wasn't sure how long her invitation to stay was good for, especially after this morning's awkwardness. And she couldn't stay here forever.

But at the same time, she knew she couldn't avoid her own apartment forever, either. And she felt more ready to face that than she had since the burial.

"Umm, that's okay, Gram, I can--"

"What makes you think I'm askin' for you, hmm?" Gram butted in sternly. "Maybe an old lady just wants some company, huh? Now you quit thinkin' about your own self for once and give an old woman what she wants." It was no longer a question.

Cameron laughed, smiling through the phone. "Okay. That sounds good." Then she added meekly, "Thank you, Gram."

"Mmhmm. That's better. Okay then," Gram said, then continued more softly. "Your room's all ready. You get here by dinner, maybe you'll get some mac 'n' cheese, okay?"

Cameron smiled again. Gram thought her homemade mac 'n' cheese wasn't very good -- and maybe it wasn't. But it was all Cameron would eat for weeks when she'd first come to Gram's as a wary, wiry 5-year-old with a picky palate. It still tasted like home to Cameron.

"Okay," Cameron said. "I gotta, umm, do something first. I'll see you later."

"Okay then," Gram said, pausing for just a moment. "I love you, Cameron."

"I love you too."

Cameron hung up, holding the phone in her hand for a few minutes while she thought about what she needed to do next.

***

There.

Cameron took her hands away after hooking in the last of her piercings.

The eyes looking back at her from the bathroom mirror were more familiar -- sharper, darker with her makeup on. Her hair was back in place, the jet black turning to a bleached blonde along the top of the crest that rose into a frozen wave above her forehead. The black of the wolf's jaws on her chest and neck was deeper than the tight, faded black tanktop she had on above dark green parachute pants.

The only thing out of place was the nicotine patch on her arm.

Fuck I need a smoke.

This was the last patch they'd given her at the hospital, so after this, she figured it would be okay to light up again. The ritual is what she really missed about it, the chance to clear her head.

She would've welcomed the chance right now, but maybe it was a blessing, too.

When I clear my head, I just end up cluttering it up again. Look where thinking has got me so far.

Her phone buzzed. Perfect timing.

Cameron gave one last look to the mirror -- offering the woman inside a short, encouraging nod -- before stepping into the bedroom. Da Vinci was so used to her now that he didn't even raise his head as she grabbed her stuff. She gave him a scritch behind the ear and was about to leave -- but then thought better of it. Before she went out the door, she leaned in and kissed the top of the cat's head.

"Bye Da Vinci."

He responded with a quiet chirp that seemed to say he was about as fond of goodbye kisses as she was.

Outside, Cameron tossed the few bags she had into the backseat of Kendra's car, which was nicer than the Shitmobile -- but not by a whole lot.

"Hey babygirl," she said with a grin as Cameron got into the passenger seat.

It didn't hit Cameron until right then just how much she'd missed Kendra over the past few days. They'd rarely been apart for longer than this since they'd moved in together as teenagers. Before she could put the car into gear, Cameron rested her hand on Kendra's, getting her friend to turn to her in surprise.

Cameron wasn't one to initiate physical contact, but she wanted Kendra to know that she didn't take what she'd done for granted. Kendra had found her, in whatever state she'd been in, and gotten her to the hospital. Maybe saved her life. Probably saved her life. And then hadn't gotten pissy when Cameron had wanted to stay away from their apartment for a while.

"Thank you," Cameron said, knowing that wouldn't get everything she was feeling across -- but maybe it was a start.

Kendra's face melted into a sisterly smile and she reached over to pull Cameron into an awkward hug over the console. They didn't need to say anything more.

Once they got going, Cameron asked, "Hey, school usually gets out around now, right?" She said it as casually as she could and glanced at the time on the dash as if it were just occurring to her now.

Kendra shrugged. "Uhh, yeah I guess." She looked at Cameron quizzically.

"Can we stop at Polk High School first?"

Kendra smirked, but nodded and started heading there. "Is that where Henry teaches?" she asked playfully.

Cameron could feel herself blush. She knew it was going to be obvious, but there was no way around it. Plus, why was she so intent on hiding her feelings anyway?

"Yeah," she said sheepishly. It was a hard habit to break, though.

Kendra didn't do more than smile a little, which helped.

"You... gotta give him something...?" Kendra guessed as they got closer to the school. It wasn't that far away, maybe 15-20 minutes from Henry's house through the afternoon traffic in the opposite direction of the city -- where Cameron lived. The neighborhoods out here got even nicer than Henry's, though they still couldn't touch the real rich parts of town even further out.

Cameron shook her head. "Just gotta... fix something," she said, biting a nail.

Kendra raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything else until they pulled into the parking lot that looked nearest to the high school. The elementary and middle schools were right next to it, making for a frenzied throng of school buses, parents, and kids of all ages just before 3 p. m. Not many were trying to get into a parking spot, though, so they didn't have too much trouble.

Now that they were here, Cameron realized... she didn't actually know what her plan was, exactly. She figured...

Well, I figure I'll... figure it out as I go along. What could go wrong?

Planning ahead, she knew, wasn't exactly her strong suit. So she was willing to give plunging forward and seeing what happened a chance.

"You want your hoodie?" Kendra said, reaching into the backseat and thrusting it toward Cameron as she got out. Cameron just shrugged. There was a chill in the air, even on a sunny afternoon, but she didn't mind it.

"Be right back," she said, shutting the door on another curious smirk from Kendra.

Among the crowd of parents and students, Cameron stuck out. This was definitely not her world. This hadn't even been her world when she was in school.

Shittier ones than these, that's for sure.

Nervous mommies held their precious little kiddies' hands a little tighter and gave her a wide berth as she crossed the lot and the parent pickup lane, warily eyeing the out-of-place punk with the wolf's jaws on her neck.

Hey, I've got a nicotine patch on. I'm setting a good example here.

Sneaking glances every once in a while to work out if she was going the right way, Cameron strode along, her parachute pants whipping in the wind, as if she had somewhere she had to be and was annoyed about it. She'd always found that to be the best way to avoid questions and conversations in general -- if you were in a hurry and looked like you were pissed off, people generally left you alone.

Especially if you look like me.

She was starting to get worried that her "plan" -- such as it was -- was going to fall apart quickly since she had no idea if she'd be able to actually get into the school. That wasn't something they just let people do anymore.

Again, especially if you look like me.

But as she slipped between buses waiting in line at the high school, she smirked to herself and slowed to a stop. Under the awning in front of the entrance, there was a teacher in khakis and a tucked-in, checkered button-down, jawing with a clump of students while others boarded the waiting bus. Henry.

Chalk one up for making it up as you go along.

Cameron just watched him for a few seconds. He was smiling, a broad grin that went across his whole face, lighting it up while he exchanged what looked like animated jokes with students passing him on the way to their buses. It seemed like every kid who filed out of the school had something to say to him, and he seemed to have something to say back. He was absolutely in his element.

The few seconds stretched on longer than she'd intended as she stood there, just taking in how different he seemed here. She tried to square in her mind that the guy cracking up some kid with glasses and fist-bumping some jock was the same man who always spoke to her so quietly and gently, who'd softly kissed her bruises, who'd silently cried himself to sleep on her shitty little mattress -- alone and adrift.

Cameron hadn't tried to learn anything about him before, but she wanted to change that. This was a new side of him, one that would've made this trip worthwhile just on its own. But that wasn't why she'd made the trip.

She walked slowly toward him until he noticed her, freezing mid-joke to a student who curiously looked between the two of them before realizing he wasn't going to get the punchline and stepped onto his waiting bus.

Henry's eyes were glued to her as she approached and his smile shifted, transforming into the self-deprecating little half-smile she was so familiar with -- one that seemed to be embarrassed she'd caught him being so different.

"Hey," she said, when she was close enough for him to hear her.

"Hey," he said, grinning in obvious surprise. "What are you doing here? You look great by the way," he added quickly.

She wasn't sure if he meant compared to what she'd looked like when he left, or just generally. But she didn't mind hearing it either way.

"So do you," she said. And she meant it too, though probably not in the same way he had.

Henry looked down at himself and shrugged self-consciously, not really sure what she meant. "So what brings you down here?" he repeated.

Brakes squealed as the next bus rolled up to the entrance and a stream of students flowed to it, breaking around the two of them as they focused all their attention on each other.

"Umm," she started, rubbing her hands together, maybe just because she was nervous, or maybe because of the chill in the wind. Probably both. Now that she was here, she didn't really know how she wanted to do what she'd come here to do. Especially with all these people around.

She looked back to his deep brown eyes and found the courage she'd been searching for in vain everywhere else.

"Just... wanted to say thanks. Kendra's taking me home," she said, gesturing in the general direction of the parking lot that was somewhere behind the line of buses. "I... I didn't want you to think I just, like, left."

Cameron couldn't keep his gaze for that last part since she knew it wouldn't have been the first time.

Henry's smile got warmer, letting her stop rubbing her hands together, though, she didn't know what to do with them now.

"You didn't have to do that," he said. "You coulda just texted me."

"Yeah, I know, I just, umm..." her eyes darted around again before settling back on his. "Just, like, after this morning or whatever, I just wanted to, you know... say goodbye."

His face fell, the smile disappearing all at once. "Like... goodbye goodbye?" he said, clearly hoping he was wrong.

She rolled her eyes, lead butterflies clanging around in her stomach. "No, idiot, like--"

Cameron just went for it, reaching up to his neck and pulling him into her. Standing on her tiptoes, though she probably didn't need to, she was tentative as their lips met for the first time. They were tender and gentle, just like him, and she relaxed when he got over the initial shock and returned her kiss.

She moved a hand to his cheek, feeling him giving in to the taste of her lips on his and letting her tongue tease his inside his mouth. A soft pull on the small of her back pressed her closer to him, the touch of his palm on her body as inviting as the kiss that neither of them wanted to end.

Whatever doubts she was still feeling inside about whatever it was they were doing -- whatever the it was that they had together -- they melted away, dissolved alongside all the nagging anxieties that had seemed so important just a few seconds ago.

Reluctantly, they finally separated. He wanted to let go as little as she did, she could tell.

"WOOOOOOOO WAY TO GO MR. M!!!" someone called out from the window of one of the buses, followed by a concert of whistles and catcalls for the teacher making out with the tatted-up punk right outside school.

Henry's cheeks flushed to a deep crimson, but he didn't take his eyes off of her, and she didn't take her eyes off of him.

"Goodbye," Cameron said, a little breathless.

Even though she knew it didn't -- couldn't -- match the one radiating off his face in response, the corner of her mouth tugged upward, spreading a smile across half her lips.

~~~

Whew! Well that's better, isn't it? (; This batch was pretty long again because I felt like we deserved to leave off on a high note after last time, but we sure covered a lot there huh. The remaining ones are probably all gonna be shorter than this until we get to the very end, I think, just FYI. The end of Chapter 21 is what I think of as the halfway point, so take a stretch and we'll start on the second half in a few days!

Thanks so much for reading, and as always, I look forward to hearing from you and discussing with you about what you connected with (:

Arcadia