Cammie and Jean-Paul (backdated to Monday)

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul checks in on Cammie.



Cammie had buried herself in her room lately. She had quite a bit to feel guilty over, even with Angelo’s car polished and him stocked up on more Ben & Jerry’s than one man should rightfully have there were things to feel guilty over.

A laundry list of them in fact. Starting with falling for the ruse to get her out of the mansion. And everything from there on. And then there was everything her birth mother said to chew on. Mommy’s little biological weapon didn’t like everything she found out. Up to and including her ‘real’ name. What type of name was Thanasee anyway? What the hell did it even mean. Cammie looked up at her ceiling, Mindless Self Indulgence not even carrying her out of the funk that this had put her in. She thought about going out, but then she was just what her Mother wanted her to be, a weapon.

The bitch had managed to take away one of the few things that made her happy, a good fight. The thought alone made her want to punch something. Someone should just kill her now. It’d be easier than trying to deal with all this shit.

A knock at the door broke into her darkening thoughts. Cammie rolled over and ignored it. If it was another train wreck, they'd keep knocking or say something. If not, they'd go away. That worked. She could stay in here until someone needed to take the weapon with the sociopathic mom out for a walk and do-gooding. She couldn't hurt anyone while she was on a leash. At some point the knocking stopped. Good.

The next sound Cammie was aware of was that of her window scraping open.

Cammie sat up instantly, the sound starting a bit of panic in her stomach but that died when she saw who it was. She went over and opened the window the rest of the way, “Can I help you?”

Jean-Paul was hovering outside of her window with a stack of tupperware containers in his arms. "Ah, so you are alive after all. I was cleaning out my fridge and you came to mind."

“Yeah. I’m alive,” in a manner of speaking. She could smell the food, which for everyone else was a bad sign, but for her it just made her hungry. “Nice to know mold brings me to mind,” she said. “I can take those then, I mean, since no one else will touch them.”

"Good to hear." Accepting the food did not necessarily mean accepting the bearer of said food, but Jean-Paul decided to be generous with his assumptions and slipped into the room while Cammie had her hands full. "In case you were curious, I was the one who found Sefton. I do not know how you put up with the man. He is forgiving to the point that it makes me suspicious."

“Yeah, Kurt is something else,” Cammie said, “I told him I was sorry,” she said with a shrug, opening one of the containers and stealing a bite of something fuzzy to the point of perfection. Other than that conversation after the fact, she hadn’t spoken much to anyone about the whole thing. “And I blame religion. Religion makes people pushovers sometimes.”

"Though not always in any positive sense." Jean-Paul closed the window behind him. "How are you holding up?"

“I have no fucking clue,” Cammie said, taking another bite of whatever had been in the container. “So I thought I’d do everyone a favor and just sort of stay away from people right now.”

"Very selfless of you. It doesn't seem to be doing you much good, however," Jean-Paul pointed out. "So I thought I might stop by and make sure that you are fed, offer to take you out for some fresh air, and see how long I last before you kick me out." He considered, trailing her to the kitchen. "Of course, the fresh air business might get me kicked out under normal circumstances anyway."

“I don’t randomly hit people, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Cammie said, “And I have nothing against fresh air. Glad though you see my selflessness for what it is,” she said, her tone a little dry.

"I am not 'getting at' anything," Jean-Paul replied. "I confess, the thought had crossed my mind, but I decided not to dabble in hypocrisy. It is a bad habit and I do not need to relapse."

“Well, okay then,” Cammie said, “But if you’re curious it’s because I got some fingers in a box. I mean, not to go around and start rumors or anything,” she said, getting herself a bowl for food. “You know, you cheated, using food to get into my bedroom.”

"Jake gave me the broad strokes." Why did everything sound so filthy when he attached Jake's name to it? "What can I say? I have the worst qualities of pit bull and mother hen, and I worry when life decides to fuck over my friends sans lubrication."

“And would that be Jake that it did that to? He is the one that got tazed, which looked like it hurt,” Cammie said, though she was grinning when she did. The way things seemed, Ballless had more friends. Which was because he was actually a decent person. Cammie wasn’t. “And you said broad stokes,” she said with a laugh. That was funny in a wrong way.

"I assure you, he was all man at the time," Jean-Paul deadpanned, though his eyes belied his humorless expression. "But I think you got your fair share of going over courtesy of the universe, hence my illustrious presence. If nothing else, I feel better to know that you are fed. I, you see, have never claimed to be selfless. I can do all of the doting and hovering I like and still maintain my reputation so long as I claim that there is utter selfishness at the root of it."

“Ooh, illustrious,” Cammie repeated, spooning whatever it was into a bowl. She wasn’t even going to bother to heat it up. It wasn’t often food came to her and she was hungry, “Feel free to dote, I just don’t know when I’ll feel free to grace the rest of the universe with my presence. If this seems like a complete and total crime of nature you can call up my birth mother. She seems to have a degree in Crimes Against Nature.”

"If it makes you feel any better, having Mengele as a mother kicks you up to an eleven-out-of-ten on the Xavier's Scale of Fucked Up Family Life." Jean-Paul leaned on the kitchen counter. "I wish I had something deeper to contribute than pointing out that just because your mother is an evil excuse for a human being, it does not follow that you are the same."

“Hey at least I win at something. And I may not be, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean she didn’t try to make me that way,” Cammie said. “I know it all seems really fucking emo, but yeah. I have to wonder if it would’ve been this bad if she hadn’t taken it upon herself to fuck with it. This might not be the best thing to say about my own mother, but I hope they find out where she is and beat her within an inch of her life with Jake’s missing arm.”

"Blood only brings with it designations -- mother, father, sister. Words. It does not entitle a person to loyalty or respect. Your mother has certainly done nothing to merit yours. For what she has put you through, I would say that a good beating is the least of what she has earned." Jean-Paul wore an evil little smirk; he was allowed to think vengeful thoughts of the bitch who kept torturing his lover. "After that, get creative."

“I could bust up her lab like a Starbucks. Somehow I think she’d consider that a crime against nature,” Cammie said shaking her head, “As far as what I always imagined when I thought about my real parents I have to say that’s so not what I was expecting. It also means mom and dad spent years lying to me whenever I asked about my real family.”

"It tends to happen that way," Jean-Paul said quietly, his expression sobering a bit. "But are you so sure that your parents -- your real ones, not your birth mother -- knew about all of this?" He found it hard to believe that the people she had described to him on shopping trips had any knowledge of what Cammie's mother had meant for her.

“They didn’t know the mad scientist juMonicank,” Cammie said, “I asked. All Mom and Dad knew was that Mom and my birth mom were friends in college and that Monica could be a ‘little odd’. Both of them ended up in a lot of the same classes. They were under the impression that the job she was working when she was pregnant was just a high paying research job and that Monica was worried she’d get canned or something. That and Mom and Dad apparently had been trying forever when they adopted me.”

"And I presume they told you differently when you were growing up."

“Yeah, but that was because Monica wanted them to. She gave Mom and Dad the impression that what she was doing was dangerous and she didn’t want anything happening to me because of it,” Cammie said rolling her eyes. “So, it was supposed to keep me safe. In the middle of nowhere. Where I ended up killing my boyfriend in front of my entire school,” she said dryly.

"I suppose they get credit for good intentions, but not much else." Jean-Paul sighed. "Are you going to keep in touch?"

Cammie shrugged, “Yeah, I think I will. I like Mom and Dad, even if they were both about as dumb as rocks when it came to what happened. I won’t be going home anytime soon, but I’ll email and stuff. I don’t know.”

"Forgiveness doesn't have to happen all at once. You have let them know that you're alive and that you give a damn. That is not the worst place to leave things for now."

“Yeah, I suppose not. The whole things a big damn mess,” Cammie said, “But that’s a given.”

"It could be worse. Until it all gets sorted out, at least you have people who care enough to bring you their fridge scrapings."

“I suppose someone has to feed me,” Cammie said with a laugh.