[If. If, and Cami already knows--or rather, she's terrified that Faith won't. She's a strong and stubborn woman, someone who carries deep guilt and shame alike, who has been hurt, probably even broken--and who even before this danced around the idea of talking about all those things. Danced around the idea of trust. Now she's died, been horrible murdered and if Peter's right? It's going to strike at every one of her vulnerabilities by piercing the shield Faith has been able to pride herself on: her physical prowess.
Or maybe Cami doesn't have a clue what she's talking about. Maybe Faith will be fine, and all of this is an exercise in pointlessness. Maybe what Cami's looking for is the same thing she's thinking Peter needs: a way to help. A way to make this better, to believe that these horrible things don't have to continue to rule over people. That it might not take Faith the better part of a year to get over her death, the way it had Cami.
(Something she'll have to explain to Klaus now, too. She hadn't meant for him to learn of her past like this--or at all.)
She swallows, and once again asks herself what she's honestly doing anymore--what else she even can do, if she can't offer a place to listen for the people around her that they'll accept? Back home, she'd gotten dragged into the role, her kindness and her understanding and her empathy all making her perfect to be that support. Maybe those experiences made her arrogant in a way.
She looks towards Faith's covered form with Peter's words echoing in her mind. You're not listening--God. When was the last time anyone accused her of that?]
You're right. [Cami looks down, speaking to Klaus and Peter both. She can't keep trying to force open the wounds, as much as she might see them bleeding. Her arms crossed over her chest, she takes a slow breath before she looks up at Peter, the ghost of an apologetic grin across her lips.]
I'm sorry. [To Peter, for letting her own grief get in the way. To Faith, for making a terrible, undeserved, unwarranted death somehow worse. To Klaus, for her earnest efforts wounding him. She swallows, unable to stop the tears from falling any longer. None of them should have to go through this. It isn't right. It isn't fair.]
You are doing right by her. It may not feel like it, but you are. [This is all she can offer, and it isn't enough.] Someone named Angel will be in touch when he sees your message. Please--let him take care of her. They're from the same world, and they're like family.
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Or maybe Cami doesn't have a clue what she's talking about. Maybe Faith will be fine, and all of this is an exercise in pointlessness. Maybe what Cami's looking for is the same thing she's thinking Peter needs: a way to help. A way to make this better, to believe that these horrible things don't have to continue to rule over people. That it might not take Faith the better part of a year to get over her death, the way it had Cami.
(Something she'll have to explain to Klaus now, too. She hadn't meant for him to learn of her past like this--or at all.)
She swallows, and once again asks herself what she's honestly doing anymore--what else she even can do, if she can't offer a place to listen for the people around her that they'll accept? Back home, she'd gotten dragged into the role, her kindness and her understanding and her empathy all making her perfect to be that support. Maybe those experiences made her arrogant in a way.
She looks towards Faith's covered form with Peter's words echoing in her mind. You're not listening--God. When was the last time anyone accused her of that?]
You're right. [Cami looks down, speaking to Klaus and Peter both. She can't keep trying to force open the wounds, as much as she might see them bleeding. Her arms crossed over her chest, she takes a slow breath before she looks up at Peter, the ghost of an apologetic grin across her lips.]
I'm sorry. [To Peter, for letting her own grief get in the way. To Faith, for making a terrible, undeserved, unwarranted death somehow worse. To Klaus, for her earnest efforts wounding him. She swallows, unable to stop the tears from falling any longer. None of them should have to go through this. It isn't right. It isn't fair.]
You are doing right by her. It may not feel like it, but you are. [This is all she can offer, and it isn't enough.] Someone named Angel will be in touch when he sees your message. Please--let him take care of her. They're from the same world, and they're like family.