xp_logs | Callie and Fred: Kitchen Disaster

In her nighttime wanderings, Callie comes across Fred in the kitchen, and things go less than well.

Fred sighed heavily as he moved through the halls of the Mansion. It had all gone to bunk so fast. Now, Jules was conked out in Med, and Callie was actively avoiding him. He'd tried to get her to talk to him, but she had definitely not been in the mood to talk to him, and had gotten more than a little miffed when he'd pressed the issue. Fred had decided to let her be for the moment; she'd talk when she wanted to talk.

Still, it didn't mean he had to like his aforementioned decision, and with Jules out of commission, he really didn't have anyone to talk to about it. As it was, he was in the kitchen, having just finished a large pot of chicken soup from scratch. 'Just cause she feels bad doesn't mean she could go without food', he'd thought, and knew she'd probably skipped a meal or two since the incident. He stirred the pot as he added more chopped carrots, fairly oblivious to the world around him or the movement of people...

Although it was summer, Callie was bundled up. She had pulled her hoodie out from the back of her closet, and was using it to cover her arms and face. She felt empty wandering around trying to avoid running into anyone. It had become too much sitting outside the medlab thinking about Julian. It was unbelievable that this was even happening, and she knew it was all her fault. Her hands clasped her rosary tightly as she mumbled another Hail Mary under her breath. She had already gone through two of the mystery sets, so there were two more before she could start over.

As she passed by the kitchen she could smell something cooking, and although it reminded her of how hungry she was, it also made her feel like throwing up. She hadn't been able to keep anything down since she put Julian in a coma, so it was fruitless to eat. But now that she was nauseous she needed something to calm her stomach, so she set out into the kitchen to grab make some tea. It was to her shock and surprise to see Fred there standing over the counter. She wanted to turn around, to run away, but her feet weren't receiving messages. Instead all she could do was stand there in the doorway, paralyzed.

"Hi."

Fred knew the sound of that voice anywhere. He looked up from the counter and simmering pot to see the bundled Callie. He smiled reassuringly and waved a hand toward the table, where a bowl, some crackers, and a large glass sat "Chicken soup? Homemade. Always good for what ails you." he said and held up a ladle full of the aromatic soup for inspection.

Callie shook her head, but did not budge from her spot. "I'm not...," her voice was a whisper, "I'm not hungry."

Fred nodded, and looked sadly at his large pot of soup, before moving to the fridge and pulling out a large bottle of Ginger Ale, "Want some? Helps the stomach..." and held the bottle out to Callie...

She could feel her eyes watering up, and reached up wiping them on the end of her sweatshirt. "Thanks Fred, but I was just going to make myself some tea and go do... something."

Fred's brow furrowed, and he took a cautious step toward Callie, holding his hand out towards her, "Cal? What is it? You can talk to me...is it about what happened with Jules?"

Her instinct was to flinch and step away as Fred approached her, his hand outstretched. When she was little and upset, her mom or dad would hug her and hold her tight until she calmed down. The pressure of their hug would help release the emotional pressure that was built up inside of her. But now, she had to deal with this a different way. She couldn't hurt anyone else. "He's in there because of me..." she bit her nails, something she never did. Her eyes were turned to the floor. "He's lying in that medlab because of me Fred. There's nothing to talk about. Merda."

Callie threw her hands up in the air, and after letting out a string of swears, began muttering to herself in Italian as she paced the spot where she was standing.

Fred took another step, and placed his hand, extremely carefully, on to Callie's covered shoulder, "No, Cal. He's there because of an accident. A slip. And you know what? After a spell, he'll be right as rain. Not even a scratch to show for it. You just gotta keep that in mind..."

"~*Don't touch me,*~" she screamed as she felt the hand on her shoulder and violently jerked away. "~*Don't you get it? I put him in there. Because I touched him! If you touch me you'll get hurt.*~"

Fred's ear twitched and he winced, not really sure what she was saying in Italian, but the body language was loud and clear. Fred held his hands in front of him, "Callie, it's alright. It only works skin to skin, right? See? I'm okay..." and held a hand out for inspection.

Callie stared at the hand for a moment, debating what to do. She glanced down at the gloves Marie had given her, turning her hands to examine them. "I touched him...," she said making a fist then releasing it. The words were slow in coming. They had to fight through so much to be able to come out in English. She wasn't thinking straight. "I touched him and he's in a coma. He's in a coma. I put him there. He's...," she sniffled, "I don't know what to do."

Fred, as gently as he could manage, put his hand around Callie's, "You don't have to do anything. He'll be just fine, and it'll all be okay. Gettin yourself riled up ain't gonna help nobody..."

All he was trying to do was to comfort her, to let her know that everything was going to be okay. But as much as she wanted to believe that, she still couldn't shake the image of Julian collapsing from her touch. And the memory that was burned into her brain. She kept replaying the scene in her head over and over again. "I have to go Fred," she said finally as she yanked her hand away. "Thank you for the offer of soup. I'm sure it'll be delicious."

Fred let the hand go, "Callie..." but couldn't get another word in edgewise before Callie had already left. He sighed, and moved back to the soup. He looked at the simmering pot for a while, and then, silently, poured it down the sink.