Fic: My Own Hands Imprison Me
Title: My Own Hands Imprison Me
Fandom: Count Cain/Godchild
Characters: Jezebel and Cassian
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 565
Summary: Cassian wants to save Jezebel. Jezebel has opinions on that.
A/N: Written for comment_fic, for the prompt "The power of love and friendship and rainbows and shit isn’t going to change this. It's not a fucking band-aid and 'learning how to love' won't make me any different" Sort of a message to fandom fic, as someone who's really tired of people portraying Jezebel like a poor little innocent woobie, and forgetting that he's a serial killer with a penchant for emotional torture and a tendency to blame innocent people for his problems.
Cassian wasn't surprised when he heard the crash. He had almost been expecting it. That didn't stop him from rushing into Jezebel's laboratory.
Jezebel looked up and glared at the interruption, something mad in his eyes. He noticed Cassian and managed to rein himself back in. "Oh, it's you. I was just finishing up."
Cassian looked around. A blonde woman's corpse lay on the table. Her stomach had been ripped open and intestines hung down like macabre streamers. She had clearly been the target of Jezebel's rage. A broken jar was also on the table, Jezebel had placed his hand over some of the pieces and blood was seeping out, a violent red stain. In his other hand he held a bloody scalpel. Part of the blade was digging into his skin, but he didn't seem to notice. Cassian sighed. "You're a mess. Sit down over there." He opened a cabinet and pulled out bandages, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol. It wasn't the first time that Cassian had had to do this. Jezebel frequently injured himself. He simply couldn't be bothered to care. At least, that's what Cassian hoped. He didn't like to think that Jezebel's carelessness might be less than accidental. He pulled over a stool and sat facing Jezebel. "Hold still," he instructed as he began to pull the glass out of Jezebel's hand.
Cassian worked in silence for a while until Jezebel spoke up. "How many times have you done this? Tidied my mess, fixed me up, then sent me on my way?"
Cassian shrugged. "I'm not keeping track."
"Why do you do it?"
"It's my job."
Jezebel laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Your job is to fetch and carry and to run errands. This is something else." He looked thoughtful. "What are you trying to accomplish? Do you hope to impress me with your diligence, thinking that I'll recommend you for a better position?" He shook his head. "No, you know me too well for that. Are you worried that you'll be given a worse assignment should I die? That can't be it. Most people in Delilah are much easier to deal with than I am."
"I'm just trying to help you," Cassian told him.
Jezebel smiled, but it was a dangerous, unkind smile. "How sweet," he said with biting sarcasm. "That's it, then. You want to save me. Oh, Cassian, you do amuse me. Do you think that you can fix my mind the way you fix my body?" Cassian said nothing, but he did start yanking the glass out with more force than was strictly necessary. "It's not going to work," Jezebel continued. "I was made to be what I am, shaped by far finer hands than yours, and the experience taught me to see through lies like love or loyalty. There's no such thing as unconditional love." He looked at Cassian. "Well? Aren't you going to defend yourself?"
Cassian stood up. "I've got all of the glass out. You can do the bandaging yourself, right?"
"Yes." Jezebel nodded. "I don't need you."
"I guess you don't." Cassian turned away.
"Cassian," Jezebel called. Cassian looked back. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved." There was something not quite like regret in his voice. Cassain left the room without another word. Jezebel stared at the door for a few seconds, then shook his head and returned to work.
Fandom: Count Cain/Godchild
Characters: Jezebel and Cassian
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 565
Summary: Cassian wants to save Jezebel. Jezebel has opinions on that.
A/N: Written for comment_fic, for the prompt "The power of love and friendship and rainbows and shit isn’t going to change this. It's not a fucking band-aid and 'learning how to love' won't make me any different" Sort of a message to fandom fic, as someone who's really tired of people portraying Jezebel like a poor little innocent woobie, and forgetting that he's a serial killer with a penchant for emotional torture and a tendency to blame innocent people for his problems.
Cassian wasn't surprised when he heard the crash. He had almost been expecting it. That didn't stop him from rushing into Jezebel's laboratory.
Jezebel looked up and glared at the interruption, something mad in his eyes. He noticed Cassian and managed to rein himself back in. "Oh, it's you. I was just finishing up."
Cassian looked around. A blonde woman's corpse lay on the table. Her stomach had been ripped open and intestines hung down like macabre streamers. She had clearly been the target of Jezebel's rage. A broken jar was also on the table, Jezebel had placed his hand over some of the pieces and blood was seeping out, a violent red stain. In his other hand he held a bloody scalpel. Part of the blade was digging into his skin, but he didn't seem to notice. Cassian sighed. "You're a mess. Sit down over there." He opened a cabinet and pulled out bandages, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol. It wasn't the first time that Cassian had had to do this. Jezebel frequently injured himself. He simply couldn't be bothered to care. At least, that's what Cassian hoped. He didn't like to think that Jezebel's carelessness might be less than accidental. He pulled over a stool and sat facing Jezebel. "Hold still," he instructed as he began to pull the glass out of Jezebel's hand.
Cassian worked in silence for a while until Jezebel spoke up. "How many times have you done this? Tidied my mess, fixed me up, then sent me on my way?"
Cassian shrugged. "I'm not keeping track."
"Why do you do it?"
"It's my job."
Jezebel laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Your job is to fetch and carry and to run errands. This is something else." He looked thoughtful. "What are you trying to accomplish? Do you hope to impress me with your diligence, thinking that I'll recommend you for a better position?" He shook his head. "No, you know me too well for that. Are you worried that you'll be given a worse assignment should I die? That can't be it. Most people in Delilah are much easier to deal with than I am."
"I'm just trying to help you," Cassian told him.
Jezebel smiled, but it was a dangerous, unkind smile. "How sweet," he said with biting sarcasm. "That's it, then. You want to save me. Oh, Cassian, you do amuse me. Do you think that you can fix my mind the way you fix my body?" Cassian said nothing, but he did start yanking the glass out with more force than was strictly necessary. "It's not going to work," Jezebel continued. "I was made to be what I am, shaped by far finer hands than yours, and the experience taught me to see through lies like love or loyalty. There's no such thing as unconditional love." He looked at Cassian. "Well? Aren't you going to defend yourself?"
Cassian stood up. "I've got all of the glass out. You can do the bandaging yourself, right?"
"Yes." Jezebel nodded. "I don't need you."
"I guess you don't." Cassian turned away.
"Cassian," Jezebel called. Cassian looked back. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved." There was something not quite like regret in his voice. Cassain left the room without another word. Jezebel stared at the door for a few seconds, then shook his head and returned to work.