Arms -Jackson-

[camille]

Camille walked through the broken front door, the door having been shut, but never really closed because you put one hand on it and it just swung back. She just looked at the mess in her kitchen, images running through her head as her fingers curled into her palms as she forced herself forward. There were spots of blood on the floor from her nails piercing her own skin out of raw anger. She even still could see the marks on her palms, still healing from everything. There were a few bruises along her skin. One on her arms and a larger one on her back from when he had thrown her against the wall. There were marks on her wrists from where she had been chained to William’s bed as his prisoner. All of it did not heal because she had been in a horribly starved condition and she felt horrible, but what scared her more was the way Leon’s eyes widened when he first discovered her. For once, Camille did not look at all beautiful and she would only have looked more malnourished before it was too late. She was even thinner still than she was before, still slightly scary, but she was starting to grab more meals which were helping her.

She just started cleaning up the area, pushing in the chair and washing up the blood as she just walked by the door that was open. She just moved up the stairs slowly, heading into her bedroom, it sprawled wide open as she just stared in. Nothing really seemed out of place besides some of the objects placed on her dresser were resting against the wall as though they had been bumped, but that was when she backed into the object. She had just steadied herself on the door frame as though the breath had been knocked out of her. She reminded herself now to just grab some clothes and other necessities to bring to Leon’s for the time being until she could work out selling the mansion. She just grabbed a spare suitcase and began packing random outfits, her fingers gentle on everything she touched. Camille did not cry, but she felt like she wanted to. Since seeing William, she had broken down every night in Leon’s arms and she knew she could not continue to put that through him, not even herself.

She glanced over at a picture resting on the nightstand of her and Jackson and she felt something in her crumble as she just dropped to her knees, tears spilling down her pale cheeks. She had lost a friend and she was not sure if she would ever get him back. Right now, she wanted to be around a good friend who has known her and understands her. Jackson had known William and the story behind everything and he kept her from thinking about it. Right now, she needed someone to listen besides Leon, and then find some way for her to ignore the pain for a little while. There had been a change in her now, at least for the time being. She knew she was not all powerful like she desired to be and she had become acutely aware of what she needed to fix after some of the horrible things she had done. She felt a hand brush some tears away and immediately flinched away, her chest heaving as though she was panting.

[jackson]

He was crazy. Absolutely insane to be doing this. To be trying to speak with her just one more time. He loved her. He knew that. He admitted that much even. She'd thrown away his affections, of course. Treated him like garbage. But the last time he'd seen her hadn't even been a sufficient goodbye. And to be honest, he didn't even want to say goodbye. To sign off on so many years because of a mistake. It was a mistake on her part. It was a mistake on his part. They shouldn't have done what they had. They should have never acted on any feelings that they might have felt toward each other. It was, as it always was, an inopportune time. And they should have been well aware of the consequences of their actions. But they weren't and there they were now. And he couldn't lose her. He loved her and if he couldn't have her, he could at least help take care of her. Protect her. Not that she needed his protection, per se. Having more people there to offer protection just in case though? That was certainly valuable. He was still angry with her. Livid, in fact. None of the letter justified what she did. It only explained in detail what had happened in those past weeks. And then, there was nothing giving method to the madness.

On the way to the home, he was driving painstakingly slowly, about five miles under the speed limit. He wanted to see her. But he wanted just as much to never lay eyes on her again. A woman hadn't done this to him before. He normally had complete control over any romantic situation. And now, he was at a loss. He felt weak. Pathetic. Played for a fool. He took another drag from the cigarette in his free hand, the other on the steering wheel. Her home was in the distance. He felt almost compelled to slow down further and he might have had he not had someone driving behind him. Finally, he stopped in front of the mansion and stepped out of his car. Tossing the cigarette on the ground and then stomping it out with his boot, he glanced up at the residence. Suddenly, he felt a chill course through his body and he froze, the eeriness of the wide open door consuming him. There was no reason for Camille to have the door opened, as if she were waiting for him. He found the ability to move and stepped forward. The nearer he got to the front door, the more out of place it seemed. And then he noticed how crooked it was, hanging wrong, obviously beaten in.

Jackson ran. He didn't know what else to do. He moved inside and looked around, eyes narrowed, hands glowing bright orange, the flames tinged blue where they met his skin. They crackled on the sleeves of his jacket and he disregarded the ruined clothing. Another jacket, lost in the home of Camille Sanders. He had to learn to stop wearing such outerwear around her. Moving throughout the area downstairs, he found it in slight disarray. It seemed as if someone had begun to fix everything up: there was a tell tale sign of house keeping. Definitely odd if Camille was in trouble. But he didn't pause to contemplate the oddity. Hurriedly, he moved upstairs and into her room where he found her, half-packed luggage sitting opened before her. Camille herself was in a heap, crying freely and the fire in Jackson's hands was exstinguished as he moved forward slowly. He assessed the situation, looking over the bruises and cuts on her body. He didn't think that Leon had done this. Not with the way she spoke about him. He was unsure what could have happened. So he crouched beside her, reaching toward her face, fingers brushing her cheek and she moved away. "I've always had faith in karma but it seems that she's gone a bit overboard this time, I think." It was a joke, of course. Horribly timed and executed. But he and Camille reveled in twisted humor. She would appreciate the gesture and understand it as forgiveness and sympathy.

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[camille]

Camille had expected William to be the one to touch her like he had been for the past week, aside from Leon who had only helped heal her wounds, but this was neither of them. This was the one person she needed and the one person she knew she could rely on, and for a moment, she felt alive again, as though he was keeping her heart alive. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she just took in his words which were a joke of course, but there was something obviously wrong in her eyes as she just stared into his. Then, she curled into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as he gave her a gaze of approval and did not move. She could not help but have a certain amount of guilt for what she did to him and her fingers grabbed the material of his shirt, just fisting in them. “Don’t let me go,” she said as she felt slightly frightened to be here in the first place and she knew now that she would never return, could never return. She just shuddered slightly at the thought of everything that had happened and she knew that Jackson would not quite understand how she could be this bad, this weak. For a moment, she wondered if he would picture her as his weak mother, and for all she knew he did, but she did not want him to. She had already messed with his head once unintentionally and it nearly ruined them. She was lucky to have him kneeling next to her, forgiving her when she did not deserve it. She looked up at him, her eyes tired, rings still resting under them from being haunted with images from him. Even though vampires did not sleep, she needed to rest and to relax her mind from everything that happened.

“William came and took me back to Japan,” she said quietly as she did not let him go, afraid that he would leave her and not desire to be with her anymore. “I am sorry. I didn’t want this to happen to you, to me. I was stupid and hypocritical. I should have not made such a move and then turned back on it. We’ve felt this for so long and I ruined the opportunity forever. I found someone and I screwed this up bad,” she said, rambling nervously, trying to find some ground to stand on, but then she realized there was none and she just slowly let him go and wrapped her arms around herself. “I…he’s going to come back. He’s going to kill me and I can’t stop him no matter how hard I try. I tried to fight him, even until the end, but he starved me to the point I couldn’t even move. He beat me like I was a punching bag that he could throw around, like I was nothing,” she said, her voice cracking at the end as she just stared at the empty suitcase in front of her. She needed to grab her clothes and move on because she did not know how much longer she could be here like this. Part of her needed to tell Jackson like she had entrusted him with everything else, but then he needed to get her away. She needed the part of him that was not only caring, but then in some way, took her mind away from everything.

“Help me,” she simply said, hoping he would understand what that all consisted of as she stood up, her thinness much more noticeable as she stood, grabbing clothes quickly, her hands shaking slightly. She knew she was weak and not too many people truly saw her afraid, not anyone except Jackson, not truly. Not even Leon had seen the full extent of this because she had not even laid this on him. There was a certain trust that Jackson would always have, even though she was so weak right now that it probably sickened him. Not too many things frightened Camille and usually she never let them frighten her, not even William, not until after what he did to her then. She slowed down, tears streaming down her face as she gripped the side of the dresser, and then laughed, almost hysterically as she dropped to the floor, but it was a pained imitated laughter as she just winced, gripping her stomach. The thirst was still having some control over her and until she had started feeding normally again, there would be these attacks that ate at her, from the inside out. “You need to go, Jackson,” she said, almost sounding breathless, not wanting to attack him.

[jackson]

She knew. In her eyes she had conveyed the understanding that everything was okay with them. He was still mad. He would be for a good time. He wouldn't pretend to understand her reasoning behind it. But at least they were fine. Their friendship would be all right. Their love for each other, though restricted to nothing more than platonic, would be free to stay. And now that that was all out of the way, Jackson focused on the more pressing matter at hand. Camille was damaged, physically and emotionally. She looked terrible, of course, still beautiful even in her fragility. Then, suddenly, she moved and he adjusted, anticipating her action. She fit into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her questionably thin body. Don't let me go. He wanted to say something. He felt his dignity make an attempt at repairing himself. He wanted to tell her, 'I had never planned on it. It was you who pushed me away.' But he damned his pride to hell and back: he had never been one to protect his dignity thoroughly as it was. Jackson wasn't too concerned with social appearances. So he remained quiet and merely returned her embrace, waiting for elaboration, for explanation. And he wasn't disappointed.

The name William caused him to stiffen, to stop breathing altogether. What business did that monster have here in Manuka? Why would he need to return for Camille? Had he not caused her enough suffering? Enough damage? The man was a sociopathic madman. A deranged and demented soul that apparently hadn't the slightest grasp of subtly in addition to lacking something resembling mercy. Back to Japan. She had been in a whole other country while Jackson wasted away, his anger and despair being his lone companions. Camille suddenly launched into an apology, a whole slew of words and sentences spoken quickly and haphazardly. None of them had anything to do with the current situation and he was touched that she even addressed the issues at all in the state she was in. He was going to tell her so, make her shut up and speak only of matter's of importance but she seemed to catch on to his feelings on the matter, withdrawing herself from him to continue on in gruesome detail about what had happened to her in the days he had been gone. Jackson felt himself shaking, only slightly, however. He needed to remain calm. For her. To have an outburst while she was like this, even in her defense, would likely reduce her to a sobbing heap.

Finally, after having listened to her pleas for help and her final statement regarding his own well-being, Jackson moved to her, grabbing the clothing from where it had dropped and shoving it unceremoniously into the suitcase. He grabbed her quickly, sweeping her up bridal style into his arms, taking care not to apply more force to her bruised skin than necessary. Setting her on the bed, he took her fragile wrist into his hand and took care to look her in the eyes. "Don’t you dare move." Moving to her dresser, he removed what clothes were inside, hurriedly throwing them into the suitcase. If William was after her, if he was truly out to get her, they needed to leave. Quickly. Jackson was strong. He was a powerful firetamer. But even his skill did not hold a candle to William's experience. He would be able to hold the other man off for quite awhile but eventually, he would tire. And William would have, not one, but two victims for the taking. They needed to leave. "You're not going to Leon's, not yet," he told her sternly. "He'll know. He must have been watching you for at least a week, studying your habits, waiting for the perfect time to abduct you. He'll know about Leon. But, luckily," he continued, "Since you've very recently tore my heart out of my chest, I've been avoiding you. So it is less likely that he knows of me. You will be at my home, at least for today while we sort things out." He shut the suitcase hurriedly and looked up at her. "What else do you absolutely need, darling? We'll only take a little for now. I'll come for the rest of your things throughout the week. I'm in a much better position than yourself to do so."

Something occurred to him, something that chilled him to the bone. She needed blood. She was a vampire and very weak. She needed sustenance. And he was the only blood bank in sight at the moment. Moving quickly to her, he removed his jacket, sitting beside her for a moment before stretching the top of his tee shirt down, exposing one side of his neck. "Quick. Drink. Take what you need. You need it and don't you dare refuse. Leave me something to work with though: I'm not a juicebox, love." With his free hand, he cupped her chin in his palm and brought her slowly forward toward his exposed artery. He was simultaneously terrified and fascinated. But everything was right. It felt right. It needed to be done. No time for blood donors. They needed to act and quickly.

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[camille]

Camille had for a while just felt comfort while he wrapped his arms around her, a slight sense of security returning to her, something she did not feel with Leon. She had no doubt in her mind that Leon would fight for her, but he was not designed to be someone to fight. Jackson could at least thoroughly defend himself and he did not completely expect her to defend herself. Usually Camille did not have problems like this, but she was not invisible and there were definitely stronger creatures out there, including William. Finally, she knew that he was a hybrid. It was something she had only guessed at before he had returned, but now she knew. She could sense that he wanted to say something, but there was an obvious mutual love that they shared and right now she would take it. Camille would have allowed him to abuse her moment of weakness and make her as guilty as he wanted her to be. She would not even say anything back, much like a frightened child, although she did not fear him, rather quite the opposite. As she felt his muscles tighten, she knew he was upset and she wanted to comfort him, but then she had burst into that apology, those very out-of-place words that had been circling her head for the past few weeks, ever since he walked out of her house and she thought she might never see him again, but he was still here.

Camille just watched him, her tears still sliding down her cheeks as he just grabbed what she had dropped, only wanting to be wrapped up in him again. Then he carefully picked her up, feeling a small tinge of pain, but hiding it from her face, not wanting him to feel bad. The action gave her some type of comfort again as she felt his heart beating against his chest steadily. She just stared up into his eyes as he told her to not move and she just laid there, staring at the ceiling, listening to him move quickly, his heart only pounding more. When he said that she could not go back to Leon’s, she almost said something, but stopped herself, knowing she ought to listen for once because she owed him that much, even if she was forgiven. She just watched him now as he continued working while talking and then simply said, “No, I don’t, not right now. I just need you here,” she said, meaning them, not in a romantic way, but she was completely serious, her fingers curling into the blanket. She truly needed him to help her get back on her feet because Leon would not, but he would rather just comfort her which would not necessarily help her get back up. Then he moved over to her, removing his jacket and sitting next to her as her eyes grew wide at his words. “I…I can’t, Jackson. I…” but he cut her off by saying she couldn’t refuse it, just reminding her that he was not something she could abuse.

Camille did not want to because it meant so much. With any other person, she would not have taken a second to think about this, but she knew giving someone his blood had to mean something. She just stared into his eyes, these thoughts going through her head. Then her thoughts were cut short by him guiding her towards him, as she tried to lean back, but the demon inside of her took over as she smelled the sweet scent, her fingers shaking as she just gently rested them on Jackson’s shoulders, and she just sunk her fangs into his skin, puncturing his artery as she tasted the blood, her fingers tightening on his shoulders softly. She continued to drink, not feeling the emotional attachment she thought she would while this was happening, but she felt a strong urge to drink him dry to the bone, but at that instance, she pulled back, taking only what she needed, just staring at the two puncture marks on his neck, feeling much better as she just ran a slim finger gently over them and then kissed them ever so softly. That was her thank you because she was embarrassed that she needed this, that she needed him to do this and that there was no resisting the hunger that controlled her. She slowly looked up into his eyes and time seemed to slow for a mere moment, knowing the only way this could have happened was that he loved her. Actions always spoke louder than words and now he had given her something that she could never repay: life.

She stood after the moment had passed, grasping her suitcase and quickly guiding him outside of the house, completely quiet as she just was consumed by what had just happened, her mind in a complete frenzy as she tried not to let it get to her. Maybe there was a rather strong part of her that was not evil because she certainly felt guilty for taking something that was vital to his health for her advantage, and guilt was not felt by the cold hearted.

[jackson]

This was how it was supposed to be. How it should have been. Them in this embrace. The mistakes they had made within these last few weeks; they were mistakes that would last a life time. Mistakes that had changed their lives permanently. But he tried not to think about these. They would only eat away at him. He needed to learn to control these feelings for Camille Sanders. To rein them in and change them accordingly. Things could not be as they had foreseen before. Reckless and idealistic as they had been that night. They had seen and experienced the consequences of their actions. That was all. And now they were here. In a mess that could have possibly been avoided had they bypassed all of this crazy talk of loving each other. It was crazy, wasn't it? It would have never worked. Right? At this time, he believed that. Jackson believed that their love would have never thrived. That it would have ultimately ended in this heartbreak regardless of their decisions. Even if they had done everything right it just seemed that he and Camille were not meant for each other. Their love was their destruction. He saw that now.

Jackson knew that she hated this. Hated feeling weak and useless. Camille was the epitome of power. She needed control and authority. It helped her to thrive. So in a state such as this, he understood that she was fragile, mentally and physically. He had begun pocketing things that looked of interest, grabbing trinkets that might have been valuable to her and shoving them in his pockets and where ever else he could fit them into the suitcase. Leon might be a little unsure about this. He hadn't thought about that. But surely the guy understood the gravity of their situation? Leon wouldn't be able to hold his own against William: he wouldn't even come close. Jackson could at least provide enough of a distraction for Camille to get away. There was at least that. Leon was nothing to William. He was a breakable thing, something that the vampire could slap aside with just a flick of his wrist. Besides, Will would search Leon's place first. Camille would be safer with Jackson for now. Hopefully, if he truly loved her, he would understand that. He'd allow Camille to call him once they were settled in his own home.

I can't. To hell she couldn't. He'd force her if she didn't. As he had thought before, the drinking of blood directly from a body was very intimate. It was a thing that was to be respected, a gesture that meant that there had been a trust established. He shouldn't trust her. And indeed, to an extent, he didn't. But he hoped. He hoped that she felt the way that he had about her, even briefly. Enough so that they would be fine together as friends for the rest of Jackson's natural born life. She refused only momentarily and then he felt her hands, weak and slight, on his shoulders and he dropped his own hand from her face. She was reciprocating. There would be no more fighting from her. And then the pain. It was instant and momentary and he simply closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again slowly. His brow was knit, as if he were concentrating--and really, he was, trying not to jerk away from her in his wariness. and suddenly, she stopped, pulling away from him and planting a small kiss on his wounds. He smiled softly, forgetting for a moment that they were in the predicament that they were. Oh, Camille.

He returned her gaze, holding it, understanding fully what had just transpired. He didn't feel any worse off for it. A bit strange, thinking that he had lost a decent amount of blood. But it was nothing serious, nothing worrisome. Jackson followed her quickly out of the home. Grabbing the suitcase from her, he opened his vehicle and shoved it into the back seat. Moving to the passenger door, he opened it wide and ushered her inside, "Quickly, quickly," he murmured, before shutting the door and then moving over to the driver's side. In another moment, they were driving away, and Jackson felt some of his anxiety fall away. The puncture wounds on his neck stung a bit: they were take a bit to heal, he was sure. Not a problem, though. "When we get to my place go directly inside and call Leon, please. I'll you’re your suitcase and singe the scent of you off of the passenger seat: I wanted to change the fabric out for leather seating as it was, coincidentally."

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[camille]

Camille just slipped inside quickly listening to him and just nodding, still stuck on what happened as she just stared down into her hands for a moment after the door banged softly shut. The look he had shared with her did not look disapprovingly on her which bothered her because she felt like she had committed some type of horrible sin. Her hands shook slightly as she just gripped her knees after he entered and they took off as she just glanced at him, her eyes immediately finding the puncture wounds, but just looked away quickly after he spoke and she said, “Okay.” There was not much she wanted to say or quite the opposite, but she could not and knew it might come out wrong. For a long time, she just remained completely quiet, watching out the window as the surroundings blended. Part of her wished that she did say something now, but she just stayed silent.

The car ride seemed to move easily, although she could not help but feel the eeriness in the air that passed between them. She wanted to talk to Leon more than anything and hoped he would understand, plus she had to warn him to move from where he resided. “I’ll go call Leon quick,” she said, slipping through the door and too focused to notice what the house looked like, but it had the scent of Jackson. She just searched for a phone in one of the rooms, seeing one perched in the bedroom as she just grabbed it and dialed his number. He did not pick up and she just sighed out softly, “I took care of collecting some things, but Jackson wants me to stay with him a while. He’s a close friend, but you should probably find somewhere else to stay for a while. William might return and he probably knows I’ve been staying at your place. I love you.” Leon was probably busy with something, but she was not sure what and she just hoped he got the message.

She just hung up the phone quietly, just standing in there as she just ran her fingers through her hair before turning around walking back through the hallway slowly, admiring the place. Her mind was much more at ease, and she hoped that it would stay that way. She had never been in Jackson’s house which surprised her slightly because they had been rather close friends. That made her shake her head, they had always been more than close friends, but they never acknowledge it, not until a few weeks ago. This shamed her because part of her felt that if they brought it up earlier that everything would have been a bit more relaxed and would have been able to handle this better, but there was never a right time and maybe there never would have been.

As she heard a door creak open, she headed back towards him, her hair blowing behind her slightly as she just looked at him carrying in her suitcase and she just came up to him and grabbed it. “I can take this,” she said, not looking at him quite yet and then she said, “Thank you for helping me, Jackson, where should I put this?” She asked him simply, her eye contact little because she still kept getting her eyes caught on the fang marks.

[jackson]

She was quiet, uncharacteristically so. And submissive. The implications of the last observation tore him apart. William had taken her back. He had removed her from her state of acceptance and thrown her back into the world as a scared girl. She was visibly shaken. And he could tell that, although she had needed it, she felt slightly uncomfortable for having taken his blood. Then it again, she probably understood how much that kind of thing impacted him. He loved her. She had brought that out of him. Made it apparent. Had him expose it a fit of passion. Willingly, he allowed her to feed from his body. She drank from him like he was a glass of the wine that they had shared. That night had started it all. He wanted to go back. To erase it. Then again... He wouldn't have given up any second of it. It was beautiful. An admission of feelings long forgotten. A love rekindled. And it burned so brightly in that moment. It was so pure. Whole. Granted, she had thrown it away so quickly. But in that time, that night, they shared life epitomized. Beauty. Honesty. It was overwhelming. After such an experience, allowing her to feed from him seemed almost like a natural thing. He had given her his heart; what was a few drops of blood?

The eeriness that Camille felt, Jackson felt too. It was palpable. A feeling that something was off. Indeed, it was merely the understanding that they stilled loved each other, regardless of the events that had taken place. The understanding that now, there was a man who was after Camille. Out to hurt her. Kill her. And that his involvement would likely result in Jackson being injured further. He should have been angry at Camille for involving him. For tempting him, seductress she was, and then spitting in his face. For exposing his feelings to the point that when she needed help, he would put his own life on the line in order to protect her well-being. But he wasn't. He couldn't be. He loved her all along and perhaps if he had seen her in such a situation as this without that night having happened, he would have come to realize it on his own. He would have saved her anyway. They arrived at his home and she quickly hurried inside to dial Leon as he'd told her to. Good. The kid needed to know. God, he was a kid. So young... What was seen in him? Or perhaps it was his inexperience. His lack of life lived. Kind of how some women enjoyed having sex with virgins.

He grabbed her bag and moved inside to his home, a very neat and large place for a bachelor pad. The furniture was a dark wood--mahogany, it would seem--the rest of the décor in darker, neutral colors, the walls a muted beige. Jackson was greeted by Camille who had come waltzing back toward the front door in search of him. She grabbed the suitcase from him and he stood there, suddenly not sure what to do at this point. The goal had been to get her to his house but now what? Just hide her here? What about work? Perhaps he wouldn't attend any job sites; not for a few weeks. He'd wait and watch with her. Surely this storm would blow over? Until next time William came looking for her. It would be a vicious cycle. Men like him, sanity shattered to pieces, they were beyond help. This would never end. It wouldn't end until he was dead. His death would result in Camille's peace. But why should he save the woman who spurned him? What would drive him to do such a thing? "Bring it upstairs. In my room. You'll be staying very close to me for a shot while," he told her, hand moving to his neck, touching the tender spot where her teeth had been just earlier. He snorted and moved to the staircase, leading the way, "But don't worry," he continued, "Tell Leon that I'll keep space between us in my bed. It's big enough for four anyway. I just need to know where you are and how you are at all times. Even in my sleep. It wouldn't do for William to steal you away in the middle of the night.."

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[camille]

Camille and Jackson seemed to share certain awkwardness as they just gazed back at each other, wondering what the other was thinking. She just simply said, “Alright,” as he said that she would be staying in his room. Part of her wondered if that was the brightest idea, but right now, what was happening with William was far more serious and therefore a serious tone fell over Camille. She just watched him brush his neck where she had bitten him, a sudden guilt washing over her once again, just looking down. She had done so much to him these past few weeks, her hands clutching the suitcase a bit more as she just refused to meet his gaze. The realization that she was doing this did not even fully sink in because he needed eye contact and she owed him that much, but she felt like a dog who had betrayed its master. Her chest ached with a want to make everything right between them and go back in time to fix how everything had played out. Even if she did this again, the only thing she would not have done was tell him exactly what she had felt for him. She would have simply allowed him to continue being in a relationship with the faerie, Aariana, even if that relationship had been doomed to failure.

His laughter made her jump as she followed him and he made a joke, but then followed it up by a serious note as she simply knew they had to behave themselves. She did not want to betray Leon and part of her was scared that she was not strong enough to avoid the attraction and love that Jackson and her shared. “That’s fine, dear,” she said, smiling very weakly, but was a smile none the less. She felt a bit safer nearer him, even if the action appeared to be rather suspicious. She followed him into the bedroom once more, thinking it was rather nice and that she would have loved to stay with him.

---------------------------skipping ahead slightly-------------------------

A few hours had passed as she sat in his living room, running her hands through her long brown hair slowly, untangling a few strands. “May I go take a shower please?” She said as she knew he would not deny her, waiting for his approval before she made her way up the staircase and towards the bathroom nearest his bedroom. She discarded her articles of and stepped into the small shower, turning on the hot water as she just allowed it to roll over her hair and eyes, down her shoulders.

The shower had relaxed her muscles as she just washed up and stepped out onto a floor mat, grabbing a towel that was in the nearest cabinet and wrapping it snuggly around her small frame. She grasped the few remaining articles that she had discarded on the floor and stepped out, heading towards his bedroom. She turned on the light, closing the door behind her quietly and stepped over to her suitcase, grabbing some underwear, shorts, and a tank top. She scattered them on the bed in front of her as she began to dry off, her back facing the door, a mirror perched behind her. There was a particularly large bruise near her hip that wound up towards her spine, taking on a purplish color. You could see her ribs slightly, but it was better with Jackson’s blood running through her. Blood is what she needed for everything to heal and even the marks from the wooden stakes that William had pierced her arms with were beginning to fade to nothing, but still were present. She just stared in the mirror for a moment, gazing at herself, at her beautiful features that were repairing to their fullest once more. She sighed softly before looking back at her garments, beginning to dry off her hair that she had pushed off to one side.

Tag: Jackson
Words: Enough
Notes: Hope it’s alright and I know I set it up for one of my ideas of the moments where they could get all caught up in each other, but it doesn’t have to work out that way. Just go ahead and do something else if you want. ♥

[jackson]

Awkwardness. He wasn't sure if he'd describe it in such a way. It was different. That much was apparent. One couldn't expect this sort of relationship to go through what it did and not be different as a result. But Jackson didn't feel awkward about it. In fact, he felt almost empowered. No one deserved what Camille had just recently gone through. But the timing seemed so coincidental. The fact that William had returned after she had tossed Jackson aside was simply the strangest timing. Almost as if fate had conspired to make Camille realize her ways. To make her pay for the people she had stepped on in pursuit of her own interests. In her weakness Jackson felt understandably powerful. He felt like the protector. Granted, he protected her out of the love he involuntarily had for her. If he was a lesser man, he would have left her to rot. But as it was, he had a part of Camille's life in his hands. And he would keep her as safe as he could from his vantage point.

And all of the answers she was giving him. They were so short. So submissive. Yes. No. Punctuated here and there by friendly terms of endearment, words whispering and seemingly hinting, reminding him of their once shared love. The ghosts of promises. It was a little much in the current circumstance but he understood her need for it and he did not show disproval or disdain for her short words. He wished that she could do more than just look away, however. Like a beaten animal, she was a shell of herself. She wasn't Camille. And it made him uncomfortable. For a moment, he wondered if he was doing the right thing, protecting this empty shell of a woman. There might be a chance she wouldn't come back to them as she was. Would letting her pass on be doing her justice? Perhaps. But William as the means to an end was a horrifying idea. She might not be as full of life as she was. She might be a bit empty and death might be good for her. William would not be the one to kill her, though. Jackson would make sure of that. Even by his hand, Camille would not die. He'd leave her existence up to her and her alone. Everyone deserved that.

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They were sitting, scarcely talking, and Camille excused herself for a shower. Jackson would not protest; why deny the lady a shower? What good would that do? She'd been through hell and back. The least she could do was try and wash away the memories. But she had disappeared up the staircase quickly and Jackson had not had time to tell her to hurry. She had a right to privacy but it was to be brief in times such as these. She should not be alone for very long amounts of time. William was a crafty man: if he found her somehow, he would not hesitate to steal her away in these moments. When Jackson had deemed the time long enough, he pushed himself up from the couch and marched purposefully up to the second floor. The bathroom was empty, the only telltale sign that she'd been in there being the fog on the mirrors. The door to his bedroom was closed and he knew that Camille was behind it. Decent or not, she was taking much to long for his tastes, and he opened the door, bracing himself for anything that might be behind it. Camille was there, unclothed, fragile, something he expected. But the sight of her was disarming. He apparently hadn't prepared himself in everyway possible for what he would see. But what caught his attention immediately was the bruise up her spine. He knit his brows and moved forward, transfixed on her bare back. Coming up behind her, he placed a hand against her spine, tracing down the mark slowly, concern in his countenance. He felt years older in this moment. "Never will I understand his rationalization behind this. I hear his motives. I see his points. But his justification of the matter; it doesn't make sense, not in a conventional way."

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[camille]

There had been a long silence, but Camille’s ears pricked as she heard his movements, grabbing the towel slowly and pressing it to the front of her, just in case. Part of her felt far too exposed for any man to see her right now and she did not trust anyone to touch her, except for Leon and except for the man that now entered. She stared straight ahead as he approached her, taking not of his hesitance. She knew he had seen the alarming bruise on her back and her thin hands just tightened around the towel. Her wet hair fell on her shoulders as she just stood there, wondering if he had worried about her for taking this long. She needed the slowness of everything again, to find her bearings once again and surely he was understanding of that. The fact that he had entered did not surprise her, knowing that they trusted each other, but as he touched her, it was like fire and ice. The warmth of his hand sent spikes up her spine like shivers. As he traced down, she just felt that feeling of shivers run through her, but the more he continued, the more she felt like he had done this before. Perhaps she had imagined it or it was just natural because the two of them went hand in hand, until they destroyed each other. Being with him was like a blessing and a curse, like two people who were best aligned together, but in the end killed each other.

She listened to his words as she just kept her eyes off of him for a bit longer, not going to be able to say what she said now, “I betrayed him. I guess in a way I deserved this,” she said, knowing he might become angry that she just in a way justified his actions. “You know very well that in evil, there is no room for error, not even the slightest. William is the crudest of them all and he will never see that he had betrayed me in the same way. He bated and killed my mother in the same way because she was in love with my father,” she said, turning to look at him slowly, realizing how close they were as she just found her words caught in her throat. “I betrayed you,” she said, understanding that this might have been the consequence for what she had done to him. He would catch that she felt like this may have been her punishment and she just looked up at him, moving to something more sentimental. “While he tortured me, I remember thinking that I would never be able to apologize or to see you again. I could not bear it and I was inches from death itself, like I was in the palm of its hands,” she said, no tears coming, but there was an obvious ache in her voice as she just looked up at him, a silence coming between them.

Tag: Jackson
Words: 505
Notes: (:

[jackson]

He wasn't sure if he admired the way she didn't react to his advancement toward her or if he was very slightly disgusted by her lack of decency with a man who she had declared her love to and then left for someone else. Now, she allowed this same man to approach her, regardless of Leon's involvement. He should despise her. Find her easiness with him to be insulting to both him and her current lover. But he didn't. Because he understood her situation. He had been in a similar situation with her and Aariana. But he wouldn't do that to Camille. Would he? Leon would never know. He would never hear of this. If something were to happen between them, Leon might never find out. But then, where was the value in that? The goal would be for Leon to find out, wouldn't it be? So that Camille could suffer just as he did? Jackson felt his resolve crumble: he wouldn't go to Leon about this moment. He would not tell the boy that he had seen Camille in this state, naked and exposed to his eyes. He could not fathom or stomach the idea of revenge, such a wasteful and tiresome thing. Jackson's approaching Camille wasn't so that the two of them would be on even ground: he approached her because he loved her with every fiber of his being.

Her words washed over him and immediately, his temper flared. He couldn't help the sudden rise in temperature, the heat in his hands. It was only as if he had a fever, nothing serious. But he knew that Camille would feel the heat of his palm on her back. Jackson knew that she would sense his anger. How dare she make comparisons to her situation with William and her situation with Jackson? As if the two circumstances stood on even ground? He exhaled a breath that he was unaware that he was holding. The anger ebbed and flowed but was ultimately staunched. Even her last comment, as she'd turned to look at him, did little to cool the previous displeasure. "Keeping in mind your logic then, Camille, you have betrayed both William and myself. William is justified in his torture as a result," Jackson began. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, drawing her close to him. He wasn't too terribly rough about it but he wanted his statement to be punctuated. To sink in. "And so, since you've also betrayed me, I should have a go next, shouldn't I? I'd be right in doing so from what you've made clear to me." The hand that wasn't on her skin suddenly alit with orange flame and he held it up. Bringing it up to the woman, he suddenly grabbed her chin, looking into her eyes, tilting her head this way and that as if to get a reaction. But the fire didn't burn. Being an incredibly skilled tamer, Jackson manipulated the flames to only skim across the surface of her face, the places where his skin met hers being put out at first contact. "From what you've reasoned I can only assess that it's in my right to burn you alive right here in this moment. So tell me why I have you in my home instead, keeping you washed, fed and safe? Explain to me why my actions are wrong and William's are inherently right?"

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[camille]

Camille questioned this moment, if she should push him away, but surely she would not, surely there would be nothing going on between them. That was a complete lie, but it was as if she was frozen, not allowing her arms to move or her legs to shift so she would step aside. It was like Jackson was holding her their like his puppet through strings attached to each of her weak limbs, ready to crumble into some action at every tug. She heard his heart rush, feeling uneasy as how near they were. This was something she had acquired while William had tortured her, pure fear. Camille feared nothing, but right now she deserved to be thrown down the steps and out the door. She was not sure what she had been saying and now would have been the time to be quiet. She indeed quieted when he grabbed her wrist, pulling her close as she just looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. She felt like he might hit her, or as if he had hit her. She did not respond to his statements, her eyes dropping from his, jumping and backing into the bed as she thought he was about to burn her as she tugged her wrist away gently but not hard at all realizing that he was not William, feeling tears in the back of her eyes as she felt like invisible chains wound around her once again. Then, he guided her to look at him, still feeling like he might hurt her, just standing there. Flashbacks entered her mind though as her eyes were suddenly distant from Jackson’s as William drove a wooden spike into her arm.

“Kill me then if you wish. I don’t know,” she simply whispered, looking up at him, wanting to apologize but knowing it would not account for the words she had spoken a minute ago. There was no taking all her words and actions back and she just could not look him the eye, feeling as if she had taken his blood. She said nothing else, just gazing up at him, her head still an inch from his, but very close, his gaze almost unavoidable as she just felt herself go completely still. Tears spilled over her cheeks silently as she just whispered, “Kill me if it is the thing you think I deserve. I will not fight it.” At that moment, she just stepped once closer to him, dropping the towel, grabbing his hand placing it over her heart, waiting for him to burn her alive. She just gazed into his eyes, something giving into his will and only his. It made her ache that they were in this position, that she had drove them here like the stakes that William had driven into her arms. She had betrayed both of them and she needed to pay for what she had done, so wasn’t death the ultimate punishment? She would be sent to hell for the black heart that she had built herself upon.

Tag: Jackson
Words: 508

[jackson]

She was a shell. A shadow. A wisp of the woman he loved. And so it was over. He cared about her well being. He wanted her to be happy. But the woman that he had adored had left her body, her eyes. She was listless and pliant. He could say anything, do anything, and she would just stand there and take it. The fight was gone from her entirely. The self-worth, the confidence: it had been taken away completely. And he found himself freed. It was as if the chains that she had wrapped around his heart had fallen loose. He felt them disappear entirely. Camille wasn't invincible. She wasn't this strong, ever vigilant woman. She was a scared girl. The same scared girl that William had waken years and years ago. And now she was letting Jackson speak to her like this, forcing her to try and snap out of everything. Just rolling over and playing dead. He would keep her safe. He would make sure that William never had the chance to do anything like this to her again and then he would deliver her safely back to Leon. And that would be the end of it all.

And then she spoke. He was waiting for something. Waiting for the old Camille. But of course, she never came. Instead, what he got was this same scared girl, confused and spouting utter nonsense. And he was horrified. Absolutely thrown for another ride. And he looked down at the hand that she had pressed against her body, looked back up at her face and proceeded to tear himself away from her. The anger was back. He wasn't sure how to stem it, this time. Throwing himself onto his bed, he stared up at the ceiling before rubbing his temples. "So you would play games with me?" he asked her darkly. "I ask for one simple thing. I ask you to explain the difference. Why William is right for torturing you and why I'm wrong for protecting you. And you fucking choke. You'd rather take the easy way out. Tell me that you don't know and then ask me to kill you as punishment for the wrongs you've committed? You'd rather die than give me an honest answer?" Sitting up, he placed his head in his hands. "I'm not going to kill you. Regardless of how much of a monster you think I am. Regardless of how similar William and I must supposedly be, I am not going to kill you. If you want it to be so simple, do it yourself. There's rope in the basement. The balcony is the best choice: that's where my dear mother broke her pretty little neck. Swung like a Christmas tree ornament for my eyes to see. She had rather died than actually talk to me too, you know."

He looked over at Camille and she looked so fragile. Almost as fragile as he himself felt. "Why can't you be honest as you used to be? Why do you continue to drag my heart along by a string? I can't get straight answers from you anymore."

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[camille]

When he backed away from her and went around to lay on the bed she just stood there, not turning to face him as he continued to talk to her and suddenly something sparked in her. It was a combination of guilt and anger that he was talking to her like this. It was something of who she used to be and who she was now. She just turned on him finally, looking as though fire was burning in her eyes as she just gazed at him. “You are nothing like him. William was not right, but neither are you. You both are who you are and who is to define what is right and what is wrong?” She said, pausing before only more anger filled her, “I am NOTHING like your mother, Jackson. I won’t kill myself. I’ve screwed up my life with you which is why I am not sure what to say or how to act anymore. I feel like I’ve made the worst mistake of my life and realized how weak I truly am. I’m trying to gain myself back, but if you would rather have me dead, then I will not deny you the opportunity because I ripped your heart to pieces. I feel as if nothing I do will ever amend that and as if I will be here for a lifetime trying, but will never own up,” she said, trying to figure out what she ought to say right now, what she ought to reveal, but she could not think, not in the state she was in.

She felt as though she was crumbling to ashes as she stood there, her knees weak, her head light as she just felt her fingers curl into her palms. His words sunk into her like a knife, something that cut right through her heart as she just stared at him, her eyes wide. “I’m afraid that if I say something, it will only backfire. I’m afraid to hurt you or to anger you anymore than I have. I don’t know what to do anymore, Jackson,” she said just staring at him, just shifting to slip into her clothing, feeling ashamed of standing here like this while they were having such a serious conversation. She needed to leave him, afraid to cause him anymore pain. She felt tears sting her eyes, but she dare not allow them to spill over her eyelids as she just quickly dressed and stood in the doorway. She just gazed at him for the longest moment as though it was the hardest decision of his life. She began debating if this was the best way or the easier way, just feeling his blood run through her veins as though they were forcing her to stay close to him.

She just slowly came back over, sitting next to him on the bed, just staring at the white walls, wrapping her arms around herself. “I owe you my life and everything I have for the hell I have put you through, Jackson. I’m sorry for not being blunt with you like I always was. I don’t know why I can’t just move on from what had happened, and it’s as though I can feel fear with me every moment. I want to overcome it in a way that I was so strong before because this weak creature is never who I am or who I should be,” she said, truly wishing to get past the invisible wound that pried at her soul.

Tag: Jackson
Words: 588

[jackson]

There was a spark. He felt it. He couldn't explain how he had felt it but it was there. A sudden tension, like a rubber band being stretched to its limits. The moment before a match fell into a pool of gas. And then an explosion. An eruption of anger and of truth that Jackson had not expected at this point. He was suddenly met with complete clarification from Camille and he turned to face her, brows knit but not in confusion or anger. He was listening intently, nodding at everything that she had to say, agreeing with parts and recognizing intelligence where it could be found. This is what he was waiting for. Some truth. Some honesty. That's what he needed from her. Jackson was fixing her. Leon could sit around, dressing her wounds, babying her until the god damn sun came up for all he cared. But he would fix her. Make her strong again. He would give Camille her life back. Ultimately she would thank him. Right now, in this time and place, she might be entirely angry. She would call him insensitive. She would say whatever she could to ease the pain of his disapproval. Eventually, she would come to realize that he only wanted the best for her.

Jackson didn't say anything to what she had just said. He just allowed her to let it all out at once. He didn't acknowledge the fact that she was putting on clothing. He didn't pay attention to anything but her words. All of those words, every single one: they were worth so much. It was almost as if he needed to here them as much as she did. Noting what she had just said last, Jackson nodded. Of course. She didn't want to hurt him further and he should have known that. He should have realized that she wouldn't want to complicate things any more than they already were. That she didn't want to hurt him because despite her constant reassurance that she didn't have a heart--and she didn't in the literal sense; not a working one at least--she had at least enough of a conscience that she didn't want to put those she cared about in more pain than was necessary. Suddenly, she had walked over to the doorway and Jackson felt his body tense. He no longer wanted her to go. Camille was coming back and he wanted to be near to the woman he had loved. Still loved.

And then she returned to his side. He felt as if a burden had been lifted off of him and he listened to her last words. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her torso and he pulled her back into the bed with him, laying her down, him lying next to her. Jackson smiled sadly and moved one of his hands to hers, lacing his fingers through her own. He hoped that he wasn't overstepping his boundaries to an extent, although a part of him still said, in layman's terms, fuck it. "I know," he told her finally, "I know. And I'm sorry. But you can't just lay here, mentally as weak as you are physically. It will deteriorate you. I am not saying that you may not be upset. That you cannot be sad. I am merely trying to tell you that you cannot let him win. Because his actions are truly twisted, even when applied with the idea of an eye for an eye. I need you to see that. I need your goal to be to survive." He moved closer toward her, bringing their hands to her cheek, pressing his forehead against her own, "I need you to want to live. If not for yourself, for me. That will be your debt to me. Your life. Protect yourself and all of what you owe me will be a thing of the past." Jackson knew he shouldn't of. But it was just one more kiss. One simple little sign of affection to an otherwise doomed union. It had been hours ago since she'd taken his blood and she had even showered in between but a part of him still thought that he tasted it on her lips.

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