Cammie & Jean-Paul

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul stops by to visit Cammie in the medlab. And it's jokingly discussed just how despondent he would be if she turned up dead.

Cammie had actually awake for awhile. Kurt had brought by her lap top, but she made sure he got out for a bit. He didn’t need to spend his whole day at the bedside of a wounded teenager. When Dr. Vought wasn’t walking by, Cammie was sitting up, surfing the web and poking at the latest wound which seemed to be a lot nastier today than she remembered it being when she had stumbled into Jake’s apartment.

Maybe Kurt was right, and shock had been a big part of getting her there. She still couldn’t remember and figured maybe it was for the best.

There was a knock at the threshold of her room a few moments before Jean-Paul walked up to the bed, hands in his pockets.

"Jake told me you got into a fight," he explained. "I thought I would come check on you while he makes plans to elope with my car."

Cammie looked up and grinned sheepishly, “Well, got into a fight infers I started it. I honest to Bob did not start this fight.”

"'Implies'," Jean-Paul corrected automatically. He managed not to wrinkle his nose as he drew closer, but Cammie's wound left a faint pungency in the air this close up. "What do the doctors say?"

“That the cut was deep, but thanks to Jake not passing out on me pretty clean and will heal up and leave yet another funky scar. I’m quickly becoming a patchwork quilt,” she said, cheerfully.

"I think they are supposed to build character. Or something. I still have a hard time believing Jake stitched you back together," Jean-Paul confessed with a laugh. "He gets 'ew, gross' on me with me if we press hamburger patties by hand."

“I don’t remember much of it, but I think he almost passed out a couple of times, because there was still glass in there,” Cammie said. “I remember that part.”

Jean-Paul's smile vanished. "Would suggesting something as utterly irresponsible as hunting down the fellow who did start the fight and teaching him better get me smacked?"

“No. But only because I’m not supposed to tear the stitches. I’m sure they all felt sorry for tangling with me the second they smelled my blood,” Cammie said with a tight grin.

"Here now, stop being the reasonable one." Jean-Paul perched on the edge of her bed. "When are they letting you out? Do you need anything in the meantime?"

“Whenever Dr. Grey is okay with letting me out. I hope it’s tonight, I really would rather sleep in my own bed and bleed on my own sheets,” Cammie said. She would’ve shrugged but it still hurt to move her shoulder. “Kurt brought the anti-freeze by, but you can sneak me food. And I’m hardly reasonable, I did expect Jake to be able to do stitches.”

"Desperate times, desperate measures. You have lived to know better." Though barely, it seemed. The girl was very pale compared to her usual color. "I think the smell of anything I try to sneak in will give us away, but I have a half dozen eggs that have been waiting for me to get back. I promise you the most rancid omelet I can put together once you're back in your room."

“Excellent,” Cammie said, putting a bit of a Mr. Burns twist on the words, “I’ll be looking forward to that. And yeah, there really weren’t many options. Given how bad it would be for me to take myself to a hospital. That would’ve made the evening news.”

"I am glad that you managed to get some help. Who am I going to mix deadly concoctions with if you vanish on me?"

“Fred says he has a strong stomach, but I don’t think he enjoys it like I do,” Cammie said. “So, if I turned up dead somewhere with a bunch of accidentally poisoned people you’d miss me?” she asked sweetly.

"I might well throw myself onto the funeral pyre," he deadpanned. "Assuming all of my grades had been turned in first. I would at least wail over your bier before tossing myself into the lake."

“Would it even be safe to burn me?” Cammie mused, “’Sides, you don’t want to do that, who will lovingly smack Jake when he’s being stupid when I’m gone if you do that?”

Jean-Paul began counting off names. "Wanda. Jubilation. Amanda. I think Nathan would do it even if he was behaving himself, just not so very 'lovingly'. And I am sure I could hire people to do it posthumously."

“Well, okay then. You’re allowed to jump on my funeral pyre. So long as you make it overly dramatic and flashy. I won’t have anything less or second rate,” she said with mock seriousness. “In the mean time, I seriously need a new hobby.”

"One thing at a time, hm? Get upright, mobile, and able to laugh without wincing, then decide what you are going to do with your spare time." Jean-Paul gave her good shoulder a squeeze.

“And watching drunk people was so amusing,” Cammie lamented, “But yeah, I’ll work on getting Dr. Grey to discharge me first. And then I’ll go from there,” she promised. “Thanks for stopping by.”