#stitchlabnetwork

Fisher wandered over to the living room, flipping the TV on and quickly found a football game.

“This is a nice TV.” Fisher commented, flopping back onto the couch.

“Thanks! It’s 4k LED. Top of the line.” Cameron turned off the stove, moving the pot to the sink to drain it. “Do you want a beer, buddy?”

“…sure,” Fisher stood and went to the fridge to check the options. “So what’re you making?”

“A fresh tomato, sausage and pecorino pasta.” Cameron muttered.

“Pasta? Really? We’re having pasta and beer?” Fisher looked at him, twisting the top off his beer. “Is that what’s going on here?”

“I wanted to thank you, okay!” Cameron blurted. “You saved my life in the restaurant and I wanted to say thank you, without having to, you know, actually say thank you.” He looked back at the vegetable sauté and stirred it vigorously.

“So you decided you were going to lie to me and cook me dinner instead?” Fisher asked slowly.

“Not the best plan, I realize, but it’s not like I have a lot of people to go for help apologizing.” Cameron ducked his head, remembering that this meal was actually Kirsten’s idea because apparently Camille had done it once and it worked for them right? “And I just figured it’d go over better if I didn’t try to make a big deal out of it…”

Fisher sighed: “I didn’t save you because I wanted to hear your thanks”

“I know but—“

“I also didn’t save you so you could go and literally get yourself killed on purpose hours later.” Fisher set his beer on the counter and gave Cameron a serious look. “I know you think I don't like you, but that’s not true. You were willing to die to protect your team. But please don’t make a habit of it. You’re too important to the team to permanently die.”

Cameron stood speechless, staring at Fisher for a long moment before stuttering: “Really? Okay, so are we like friends now?”

Fisher gave him a skeptical look: “Maybe. But we’re definitely not at whatever level this is yet,” he gestured between them, “and if you mention this conversation to anyone, you won’t like the results. So can we go back to drinking beer and watching football?”

“Yup, absolutely!” Cameron nodded enthusiastically. “But one question: If we’re friends now, does that mean I can call you Quincy?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, fair enough. We’ll work on it.” Cameron shrugged nervously, turning back around to continue working on dinner. Fisher picked his beer back up and returned to the couch, where Cameron joined him a few minutes later with the food. Cameron couldn’t help but think how this had gone so much better than he’d originally thought it would. He’d figured his plan was going to backfire, and it did, but it ended up turning itself around in the end and now he knew that Fisher actually respected him and thought he was important to the team. That was probably the biggest compliment he’d ever been paid (aside from when Kirsten thanked him for not being a nobody, but that was totally different).

They were eating the Oreo ice cream Cameron had made (which Fisher seemed to really enjoy) and watching an old Western movie because the football game had ended when Fisher spoke up again, not taking his eyes off the TV:

He’d been cold when she ran to him in the restaurant after the gunfire. Not ‘dead’ cold, but cold enough that it had still shaken her to her core. Cameron wasn’t supposed to be cold. He was always warm, which she knew because while she didn’t have any particularly strong desire for touch, Cameron did. He was constantly putting a hand on her arm or standing right behind her, so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

Even now, he wasn’t as warm as he usually was, but it was still an improvement from the restaurant so she took comfort in that he was at least improving.

But with that comfort came anger at who did this. Who had put both Fisher and Cameron in the hospital, along with killing the waitress? Who had it out for the Stitchers program? What were the clues Ed left her for?

She knew it was unfair of her to feel so relieved that Cameron was going to be alright when Fisher wasn’t even ‘out of the woods’ yet, but, much like her desire to touch Cameron’s hand, she couldn’t help it.

As she looked at his face, relaxed in his sleeping state, she felt an additional wave of anger hit her: she was tired of being lied to or only told half-truths, of being a pawn in what was clearly a much bigger game that she had no interest in playing, of following trails of breadcrumbs that didn’t seem to be leading anywhere.

All she really knew for certain is that some of the bigger forces at play were trying to get to her and were willing to hurt whoever it took on their mission. She was done with not having answers, especially now that the lives of the people on her team, people she cared about had been threatened.

She heard Linus and Camille come into the hospital room and turned to meet them, deciding that the mysteries needed to be solved and that she was going to need help to get to the bottom of this.

———

When Cameron stepped off the elevator at the Stitch lab, Kirsten almost ran to greet him. She knew he was getting discharged from the hospital today but wasn’t sure when or even if he’d feel up to being at the lab. He was getting dangerously close to surprising her.

She stood next to him with Linus and Camille but suddenly, just standing next to him wasn't enough proof that he was alright. She reached out and put her and on his arm, again relaxing at how warm he was because it meant he was okay.

It meant she could refocus on Stitching, on solving the mysteries and on finding out who wanted to hurt the team. Her team.