Those Camsten One Shots (Stitchers)

Hypothermia

Before we begin, I have a very lengthy pre-note. Please skip to the end of the bold text if you wish to get on with the story. And, if you begin to think this has to do with the death of Cameron or confessions of love, you are entirely and most notably wrong.

First off, I would like to say that, albeit small, I have the most wonderful fanbase I could ever wish for. I wouldn't replace a single one of you, every single one that votes, and comments, and adds to reading lists. You guys are amazing, and I couldn't ask for more.

On a less serious note, I was thinking about starting a blog book. That way, instead of piling my never-ending thoughts of terror into this fluff book, I could create something specifically for it. Comment down below.

Speaking a creation, I thought about something today. My damn luck, I wrote this book for a fandom that at the time was quite small. Had a written something for Doctor Who, or maybe PLL, how many of you would have found me? Even if I had written this exact collection of one-shots just a month later, how different could it be?

In the end though, there will be almost exact copies of this. In the end, Stitchers is just a sub-genre of a sub-genre of a sub-genre. All our stories, even our true ones, will be nothing more than a copy. But that isn't what matters, is it? If you've ever read Isle of the Lost, it's the same basic starting point of Ever After High. They're the same thing in a different context.

It's like the saying "nothing is impossible." If you think about it, the saying has two contexts. You can nothing is impossible, which refers to the fact that everything is possible. Or you can say it to mean that nothing is truly unobtainable, therefor making it impossible.

In the end, there will be thousands of book with the same title, the same point, the same everything, just with different words. But it won't matter; if you're a reader, you read because you enjoy the writing, at least that is what I would hope. You wouldn't read Divergent because it was "in." You would read it because the simple words written on a white page fit you in a way you cannot describe.

I read because writing is an art long forgotten. It was never meant to be a central point about a girl who faces horrors we can't possibly imagine. Writing was always meant to be a reflection off glass; it was meant to show us who someone is through a way we understand.

Because in the end, every piece of art, every song we sing, every book a write.  .  . well, it was all for something, wasn't it?

It was a power outage that forced the damn confession out of him. Cameron would have never admitted it, he had even trained himself to never tell Kirsten in any situation they found themselves in.

But it had slipped; he had told her that he feared dying from hypothermia.

~~~~~

Kirsten had just come over for their latest case. It was around a month after he woke up, meaning it was around two months since he had "killed" himself. Neither had talked about what Kirsten had seen, and they hadn't made any attempt to.

They worked, they did their jobs, but it wasn't like it was before. Kirsten wasn't extremely tough like she had been when she first joined the program, but she wasn't opening up like she had been.

She was somewhere in the middle.

Cameron really missed his Kirsten.

So now they were sitting here, looking at a computer screen. Kirsten was talking about something, most likely something of extreme importance. Cameron, however, wasn't hearing her. All he could focus on was the way her lips moved, and the way her eyes seemed to be focused on something that wasn't there.

This was how he had always seen her. Beautiful, in her own beautiful way. When they had walked in, he'd seen her like this. Snow dotting into her hair, landing gently on her clothing. The way the cold wind slightly pushed her hair to the left.

Cameron was stuck in his thoughts until the entire apartment went black, and there was a noticeable sound of machines clicking off.

Kirsten was up around, most likely trying to figure out what happened and how to get the power back on. But all Cameron could think about was how cold he was, and how he only seemed to be getting colder. Kirsten turned around to face him. She could see that he was worried in some way, but she couldn't see why.

This was just a power outage. Power would be restored in a few hours at most. "Cameron?"

"Sorry, sorry- I- I just-"

"It's just a power outage."

And then it came out, Cameron's fear of-

"Hypothermia."

Kirsten looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"I'm scared of dying to hypothermia."

Kirsten let out a sigh. He was scared - that was all. She could fix this. Forcing Cameron up, she took him into the bedroom. She went around the small apartment, grabbing every blanket she could find. Kirsten then placed almost every single one around herself and Cameron.

She naturally settled into Cameron, and the brunette wrapped his arms around her. They stayed like that for a while, but Kirsten was starting to feel Cameron shivering.

"Cameron."

"What?"

"Body heat helps warmth grow."

"Kirsten if you are suggesting-"

"I am."

"No."

Kirsten wasn't taking no for an answer. Without removing the blankets on top of the two of them, Kirsten shrugged off her top, which was quickly followed by the pants she had been wearing.

"Kirsten I'm not-"

"Shush. And take your shirt off."

Although hesitant, Cameron unbuttoned the flannel he was wearing. Kirsten watched him, her temporal dysplasia shining through. This didn't and never would embarrass her, but Cameron couldn't say the same.

"Pants too."

Cameron gave her an aggravated look, but did as he was told. The both of them were now only in undergarments, and pressed to close for Cameron's liking. Of course, he'd didn't quite mind it in that way, but Kirsten deserved her privacy; this was hugely violating it.

Neither spoke for a lone while, the both of them intent on just keeping warm. Some time later, the power came back on. The heater started up again, and the two sitting on the bed let out a breath. Kirsten started putting her clothes back on, Cameron doing likewise.

When they were both fully clothed, Kirsten turned to look to her partner. "I'm going home. You'll be alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Bye icicle."

"Nicknames are my thing, frosty."

"Whatever you say Cameron."

With that, Kirsten was out the door. But Cameron knew; he knew that the small barrier between them was now cracked, one step closer to how they were before.

A/N

I'm not quite sure what this was. Sorry if it is bad. I just kinda wanted to write something so I would have updated by Monday.