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There was absolutely no control over their chaos. Like a storm he propelled her body through his barren, empty flat, the rushing murmurs of her breath in his ear raising his skin into prickling goosebumps; like a storm did his skin, moist from the sweat beaded at his brow, heat up but feel cold all at once.
They hardly ever talked when they were in the eye of the storm, like this, her body leaping for his, her legs securing around his waist and their lips locked- but they both knew better. Or maybe there was just nothing to say between them, sparking newfound lovers battling at odds with the high stakes and increasingly stressful workload. They were both selfish and all-consuming, Cameron nudging her body into his to get more of a good feeling, Joe running big hands all over her as if memorizing the shape of her.
Because nothing ever lasted for him; he was all smiles and all congeniality and all twisty with his words until he got what he wanted out of people. Inspired people. Hurt people. It didn’t stay at the forefront of his mind, nor did it consume his entire being, but it was a subconscious dread that tugged at his heart as he looked at her, sweaty and hair raggedy and lips parted underneath him, and realized it: he already liked her.
The COMDEX convention felt like an unending twisty corridors of mazes. Wild, betrayed but certainly not broken, she wouldn’t give them the dignity to think that she was broken, Cameron stalked through the building, avoiding anyone who deigned to even look at her as heat boiled to her skin and her bangs swept over her seemingly permanently furrowed brow; like a storm did her skin, tear-streaked from the jarring revelation, heat up- but her heart felt cold at the same time.
He’d betrayed her. She had remembered his face, when she watched him test out the BIOS, and it responded as if it was talking to him. He had lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, deciding with a clarity that this was it. The heart of their project—the thing that’d make their carbon copy IBM clone stand out from the rest. It spoke. It reached out to users and in a single, swift move, he’d severed the connection. Everything she had worked on, swept away as if it had never existed all along. Flat lined.
Because Joe was like that; he approved of her work, praised it and even seemed to think it ingenious until he was tugged just a little too thin. Then he unravelled, and brought everyone down with him. She never thought about it directly, nor did she let any of the introspection consume her entire being, but it was a subconscious disappointment that tugged at her heart as she saw him, cool and collected and his lips slightly parted before her, and she realized it: she couldn’t trust him.
The elevator doors shut, his face but a sliver until finally gone, and only then did she allow herself to crumple up her face, slam the wall, and slide down into a sit, small and scared in the corner of a descending elevator.
He figured leaving would fix it. Fix him. Everything always started out so promising when he rolled into a new city—he was a blank canvas. Joe had reconnected with Sarah, he’d gotten a job via her father and then, slowly, things began to crumble the way they always did. Something always painted an ugly streak on him, something always made people hate him, and something always brought everything crashing back down again.
He didn’t know what to do when he found himself miserable again, when he found himself staring into Sarah’s face and realizing that while he cared for her, he loved her, he wanted to marry her, there was something nagging at him that darkly asked him if he was sure. It was selfish and all-consuming, telling him this wasn’t it. There was something more out there. Something that echoed faintly of the overkill buzz of music leaking from headphones and the crafty string attached to a quarter. Something that made him uncertain, made him backtrack.
Because he remembered her. Cameron. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron, the name coming to his lips awkwardly but fondly like a schoolboy’s badly kept secret. He ran away but was nostalgic for her all at once, the way her stare bored into his in the parking garage, the way she towered over Sarah but was still smaller than him. She was before-last in a string of victims of trust-murder, but the way she looked at him sometimes made him second-guess that, as well. She didn’t seem it at all, looking as prickly as when they first met but different, too, strong but more open.
He didn’t want to see her go- the dread of it worse than the dread of Sarah’s face when she looked at him, something vulnerable in her gaze.
She figured creating would fix it. Fix her. Everything always started out so promising when she had started up Mutiny—she could do whatever she wanted. Cameron had partnered up with Donna, gotten a solid business up and running, and then, slowly, things began to pile up; almost reminiscent of Joe’s sabotage. She hated it. Hated him—hated how when disaster struck, she thought about him by association. Thought about when he’d left her dangling for the BIOS, when he had destroyed her idea, when he had disappeared without so much as a word. Not like she wanted to see him anyway, she thought bitterly, but it would have been nice to know.
She didn’t know what to do when she found herself antsy again, when she found herself assuaged by Tom’s presence and input and realizing that while she really liked him, she enjoyed him, she wanted to hang out with him, there was something nagging at her that darkly asked her if she actually loved him. It was uncertain—consuming her thoughts, telling her this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be love. Wasn’t love supposed to be an explosive feeling, like fireworks, like taking an ax to a car just because? Wasn’t it something that tore your heart up and made you feel all the more intensely, an awesome but terrifying thing like fire? Something that could be warm? Something that could burn?
Because she’d been burnt. Fucking Joe Macmillan, the name spat out of her lips like a poison, wondered about in private, and she didn’t want to bring him up- not to Donna, not to Bosworth, not to anyone lest she let her pride bruise. She’d wished him a good riddance but the sight of him made her heart wrench all at once, the way he spoke to her softly under his breath at the hospital, the both of them looking in on Lev. Mutiny was everything—and Joe knew it, seemed to know that it’d be ruined, and for the brief flicker of a moment, Cameron felt she maybe really understood him. He didn’t seem like he wanted to ruin everything he touched, looking tired, accepting of something she couldn’t entirely name as he told her just how special she’d been to him.
She didn’t want him to go- the dread of it worse than the dread of realizing she didn’t want to sell, not for Tom, not for anyone—watching his chest rise and fall slowly as he slept.
All of this time, they’d thought Joe the hurricane- but maybe it was something about their crash course for collision, something caught between their kisses and their arguments, their guardedness but vulnerability—maybe it was something entirely different, not totally unlike a virus that slowly burnt Joe’s new world down as he watched, tight-lipped but relieved all at once; not totally unlike the calm before the storm that eased Cam as she let the blades of grass tickle her skin and her hair spread in the dirt.
They’d collide again—and again—and again. Maybe it wasn’t meant to happen. But maybe it was.