Cain & Lorna

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Thursday afternoon, Cain comes up to fix Lorna's faucet and she rewards him with cookies.



The incessant drip drip drip of the faucet was slowly driving her mad and she was beginning to understand why Chinese Water Torture was indeed torture and not just a damp skull. By the time Cain knocked on her door, she had the stereo up loud enough that the plink of water into the sink couldn't be heard and a towel over it to be sure it couldn't be seen either. Nevertheless, she still looked a little frantic when she pulled the door open and gestured in him. "Hi, make it stop."

"And a bright and sunny morning to you too," Cain grumbled, but smiled as he glanced towards the bathroom. "Oh, looks like you just need the gaskets replaced. Lucky for you, I brought the whole kit." He held up a large red toolbox, setting it on the counter and removing the towel. "Yep, nothing major. Shouldn't be but ten minutes."

Lorna nodded in deep gratitude, feeling a bit stupid to be this stressed over something so minor, not just plumbing-wise but life-wise. "Thank you," she said, wringing her hands and glaring balefully at the dripping water. "I'll just...let you do that then. Come into the kitchen when you're done?" It was supposed to sound casual but it turned out a little more plaintive. Not having Alex here was giving her too much time to herself. Which wasn't really a good thing these days.

Cain nodded, withdrawing a screwdriver and wrench, handles oversized for his large hands, and getting to work.

Fifteen minutes later, new fixtures were installed, the dripping had ceased, and a peculiar amount of green hair had been removed from the drain trap. Washing his hands and closing his tool box, Cain perused the shower, laughing to himself when he remembered the time Bobby had frozen the water in the pipes during an ill-fated practical joke. Oddly, he'd put Angelo to work fixing the tile for some infraction or other.

Appropriate that after more than a year, the tile looked just fine, and Angelo was all well-groomed, dignified, and gainfully employed.

"Hello the kitchen," Cain called with a laugh, sticking his head around the corner.

Lorna straightened, trying not to jump as she pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven. Must be calm. Must not be twitchy. "Hello the handyman," she responded, trying not to make it too terribly obvious that she was annoyed with herself. She had so little patience for her own issues these days. "Cookie?"

The look of adoration on Cain's face rivaled that of Miles' when offered the plate of large chocolate chip cookies. Taking one graciously and leaning over the small kitchenette counter, Cain's eyes rolled back in his head as he chewed. "Mmm, wonderful," he mumbled, wiping his face with the proffered napkin. "I gotta tell you, forget mutant powers, you could take over the world with cookies and pastries."

Lorna smiled and put a new tray into the oven. "Yeah, me and my dessert minions. No one can resist their sugary temptations." She broke off a tiny piece of a cookie for herself. "Did you want anything to drink? I have...well, coffee and milk, at the moment. I need to ask Dani for supplies."

"Coffee's fine," Cain remarked, looking around at the kitchenette. Given everything Lorna had been through, it was no wonder this little corner of her world looked absolutely ship-shape, everything immaculate and organized.

The cupboard, when she opened it to get a mug out, was just as rigidly organized. Taking a guess, Lorna poured the coffee and handed it to Cain black, on the assumption that he wouldn't be the type to want cream and sugar. "Thanks again for coming up to fix that. It was driving me a little crazy. Which is the last thing I need right now since I just got finished being evil."

Cain gave that a good long thought as he drained the coffee in one long sip. "Ain't the way I hear it. But I ain't going to argue semantics and morality with you. I know when I'm walking into a battle of wits only half-armed." He gave his best smile, setting the coffee cup in the small sink. "Point is, you ain't evil now, and if you're crazy? Folks get better from crazy."

He'd barely taken his hand off the mug before Lorna had picked it back up and washed it quickly before setting it aside to dry. "Everyone argues with me, why should you be any different? I'm surrounded by people who don't want me to feel guilty for having done horrible things." She gestured at the plate of cookies, "Have more. I have a feeling there's going to be a lot of baking in the next few days and someone needs to eat it."

Cain just shrugged at that. "If you're gonna feel guilty, you're gonna feel guilty. I ain't going to tell you not to. You're Catholic, right?" He looked briefly down at his hands, suddenly quite self-aware. "So you know all about penance and absolution, making up for the stuff you did. I always say, ain't no one got a right to judge you but the person who's been there in your place and been through what you have. And right now, the only person who can say that about you - is you."

Looking up at Lorna, Cain's expression was one of restrained contriteness. He knew what it was like to spend a lifetime - possibly a neverending one - trying to make up for one bad choice. "If you think you've done wrong, then I suppose what you've gotta do is figure out a way to make it right. And if you can't do that, well, you find a way to stop it from happening again. I ain't sayin' you ought to go running back to put on the leathers, but... just think about it."

Lorna nodded, "I quit, actually. I'm not on the team. I didn't want them to have to decide if they really believed that I was ready to come back or when or...if they even wanted me still. So...yeah. Going back to leathers isn't going to happen. I really don't know what else to do. I could, I don't know, go to the police or something...but well, I might feel guilty but I'm not that brave." She sighed and leaned against the counter, "and as understand as Father Liam is, I don't know that I can manage a 'forgive me for I have sinned' on this one."

"Up to you," Cain said with another shrug. "If you ask me, I ain't scared of you. And I ain't just saying that being two feet taller and invulnerable." He hunched down a bit, pointing at Lorna. "Even if you were in control, like they say you weren't, even if you were - the stuff you did don't damn you forever. 'Cause if it does," he stood up straight, looking down at her. "Then we've got a whole lot of us with hell to pay."

She tilted her head way back to look up at him. Cain was among the few people that she'd even considered allowing into the suite precisely because she knew that she couldn't hurt him. The comfort in that--in knowing that if they were all wrong and she really wasn't shed of the pathways Malice had made in her brain--was immeasurable. "It might not. But it sure as hell deserves some kind of payment. I just wish I knew what that was."

Cain opened his mouth, just as his pager went off. Glancing down, he mouthed an expletive and rolled his eyes. "Looks like one of the little kids tried to flush a pillow down the toilet on the first floor, and now they're all in half an inch of water." Smiling down at Lorna, he grinned. "As for redemption, I ain't got the first clue. Just do what you think is right. Because hey," he said, snatching one more cookie from the plate on his way out the door, "I don't know if I'm willing to go to Hell for these cookies."

"I'd send care packages. The ovens are always warm down there at least." Lorna gave him a little half wave as he left then slumped against the counter with a sigh. She was really tired of not having answers and fighting with all this inconsistency. On the bright side, she reflected wryly, the dripping noise had stopped.