Chapter Eight: Resolution

The hospital room was stuffy and the air had an undertone of bleach. The walls were magnolia and scraped in places from the hundreds of trolleys that had bumped into them. The pictures on the walls were cheap benign prints of uplifting scenes and above the double doors was a large blue plastic sign with the area of the hospital that Camille was in.

The officer had always despised hospitals. She avoided them like the plague, only ever allowing herself to go when others begged her to. This time she hadn't been given a choice. Arthur had dumped her there to get her ankle treated then left without so much as a second glance.

The Doctor was nice enough, as were the nurses, but after having over a dozen stitches sewn into her skin Camille was more than ready to leave. They wouldn't let her though. Apparently being attacked by a 'shark' warranted more than a few hours in the hospital.

On the bedside table a buzzing sound vibrated the wooden surface. Camille, with a sigh, reached towards her mobile and slid the highlighted green symbol. The instant she lifted the phone to her ear a familiar voice spoke on the other end.

"Hello, bubbles." Her grandma's loving tone soothed her of any previous irritation. "How are you feeling?"

Camille's grandma, Deborah, had called earlier that day. A little more panicked than she was now upon hearing about the shark attack. Camille had managed to calm her down, and this time she sounded more clear headed. "I'm doing fine, nana. Just a little sore."

Her grandma gave a worried exhale that Camille could hear through the speaker. "I wish there was something I could do. Are you sure you don't want me to visit? I'll bring you your favourite potato bake. I'm sure it will be better than what they're feeding you over there."

"Thanks nana, but I'll be alright. I'm hoping to leave tomorrow anyway. It's not worth travelling ten hours just to see me for a few minutes."

"Oh, don't be silly. Of course it's worth it." The elderly woman said sweetly.

"Please, nana, it's really not that serious." Camille pleaded. Her grandma was too old to be travelling for that long, especially whilst suffering with ongoing Rheumatoid Arthritis. Even walking was becoming too painful for her now. "I'll come see you instead when I get the chance."

"And when will that be, Bubbles?"

"Soon. I promise." Camille said guiltily. It had been a while since she visited, or even called. She'd just been so busy of late that she lost sight of the people she cared for. "I've just got a lot on my mind right now."

"Like what?" The elderly woman asked, eager to help ease her granddaughter's doubts.

"It's not something that I can explain in too much detail." Camille replied, shifting further into the stark white mattress and feeling the sheets of the same colour begin to fold awkwardly around her form. "I've just been feeling a little useless of late."

"Useless? My granddaughter?" The woman's voice said, feigning outrage. "Now that's the farthest thing from the truth that I've ever heard."

"There's just been a lot going on. I want to help, but it seems like I just keep getting in the way."

There was a brief static sound that insinuated that her grandma was switching the phone from one hand to the other. "You only truly become a burden when you start believing you're already one."

"I don't know, nana. I think I should just call it quits for now. Maybe I'd be more useful by just staying out of the way."

"Now, that doesn't sound like my Cammie at all." This time her grandmother sounded concerned. She had never known her granddaughter to simply quit anything of major importance. "You can't help anyone by giving up, Bubbles. Even the act of being there is sometimes enough; showing your support can make a world of difference."

Camille bit her lip, feeling as if a large weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her grandma was right, as usual. Turning a blind eye, and deciding not to help, was almost the same as causing the problem. She was reminded of the day of the bank robbery...how she had done nothing. It haunted her all over again, making her feel as if she herself had been the one that pulled the trigger on that old bank worker. Camille had promised herself to never allow herself to watch bad things happen without trying to do something ever again.

Suddenly, Camille was relieved it had been her grandma who called. She lacked the intensity of her mother, and the fixation of Amelia. Deborah loved her but had enough distance not to seethe Camille with anxiety every time she screwed up. She would always smile first, then unlike the rest of her family who would fill any silence with their own mental monologue, she would listen, ask a few pertinent questions and gather all the information she needed. Then gently her words would guide Camille to her own conclusion, a decision she could feel like she owned, or at least had a part in crafting. Camille always felt more centred and at ease with herself after a conversation with her grandma.

"You're right." Camille said sincerely. "Thank you. I don't know what got into me."

"Of course I'm right." Deborah teased. "I'm the one that raised you, I know that you'll do the right thing."

Camille couldn't help but smile at her words. Her grandma always held too much faith in her capabilities, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Deborah had taken care of her since she was very young - she had never known her father who had disappeared the moment he found out her mother was pregnant, and her mom simply wasn't ready to have a kid. She couldn't take care of her, and due to her young age, she was more interested in narcotics than her child. Camille still managed to have a positive relationship with her mother when she got a little older, around nineteen to be exact, but her grandma was the only parent she had known. Camille wouldn't have had it any other way. She was proud to have been raised by such a wonderful woman.

"I'll let you rest now, Buttercup." Deborah said lovingly. "But don't forget that I'm praying for you, and that I love you."

"I love you too." Camille responded without a second of delay.

When the call had ended Camille's mind was made up. She would leave in the morning and return to the ship. Even if she was just there for moral support, that would be better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself. As soon as the first remnants of light had started shining through the window, Camille had forced herself up and limped to the front desk.

Her ankle was bandaged, but every step sent a wave of pain jolting up her leg. She'd have to be careful and make sure her stitches didn't come undone. That wasn't going to stop her from leaving though, and apparently the hospital staff could see that. They tried to convince her to stay, but ultimately, it wasn't their decision to make.

The next step was finding a way back to the ship. Her first and only chance was John. Thankfully, he was never too hard to find. He spent every day at the police station just half an hour away from Amnesty Bay. This routine never changed so Camille wasn't surprised to find him exactly where she had expected.

"Oh god..." He had muttered the moment he saw her slump into the building. "What happened, Hanson?"

"That's a long story." Camille sighed. "Right now I need to know if you still have that pressure suit Black Manta gave us."

"Well...yeah." John replied, obviously a little bewildered by her interest in it. "I didn't really know what to do with it. I tried not to think about it, honestly."

"Mind if I take it off your hands?"

John blinked cluelessly but nodded regardless. "Sure. I don't have any use for it."

"And, while I'm at it, do you remember where you left the submarine that brought you back?"

This question made him think a little more intensely than before. Still, he nodded once more. "Yeah, I think I do."

Camille breathed a sigh of relief, trying to take as much weight off her injured ankle as possible. "Great. Take me to it."

"A-Are you sure?" John questioned, staring at her injury. It was apparent that he too thought she should be resting in a hospital ward not stumbling around looking for a submarine.

"Yes." Camille answered immediately. She didn't need to say any more than that. John had not only been kind enough to drive her to the submarine, that was located in a fairly empty and shallow area, but to also pick up the pressure suit on their way.

He watched in slight confusion as the woman limped towards the submarine, pulling the pressure suit over her clothes and feeling it cling uncomfortably to her skin. She looked a little insane, honestly. She had a tight fitting pressure suit clinging over a loose fitting outfit, all with clashing colours. She had a bandage covering the length of her foot, and her hair had been reduced to a ball of frizz from its earlier encounter with the water. Every curl had come undone and it stuck up in every direction imaginable. That wasn't to mention the cuts that scattered her all over her body.

"Are you gonna be alright?" John asked with obvious scepticism. "I mean, you look a little beaten up."

"This is nothing." Camille said in an attempt to soothe his worry. She smiled and shrugged. "There's nothing to worry about. This thing has an auto-pilot feature anyway, I won't have to do any work. I just have to activate the homing beacon and it'll lead me to where I need to go."

"Well...if you're sure." The man conceded. "Just be careful. There aren't many other cops that want to take your post in Amnesty Bay."

Camille chuckled. "That's no surprise."

She gave her fellow officer a small wave then disappeared into the metal hull. It took a few moments to figure out how to reactivate the auto-cruise option, but when she did it sent a burst of fear directly to her chest. After an ordeal like the one she had just experienced, no one could blame her for being a little scared of the ocean. She didn't let this stop her though...she just closed her eyes for most of the journey back.

The submarine swayed extremely often, and each time it brought a gasp whistling through Camille's teeth. She was relieved when she finally made it to the ship, and that it hadn't left yet. The idea of wandering the pitch dark sea for any longer than she had to wasn't a pleasant thought at all.

When she finally exited the small vessel she was met with the shocked faces of Kaldur'ahm and Mera. Arthur, on the other hand, just looked angry. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a frown tugging at his lips. Made all the more intimidating by his messy mane of a beard.

"What are you doing here?" Kaldur had asked in a breathless voice. "Were you not attacked by The Shark?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a shark..." Camille joked, leaning against the submarine in an attempt to relieve the pressure on her foot. "It was more like a man-shark."

"No, The Shark is what we call him." Kaldur said lowly. "He was a Tiger Shark that was exposed to radiation that accelerated his evolution. He caused quite a bit of trouble for Green Lantern when he first appeared, but now he has taken to skulking around near Atlantis."

He has the same general instincts as any other shark - to feed." Mera added. "Only he gains power from the electrical impulses in human brains. We were worried when we heard that you encountered him..."

"Wait...he eats brains?" Camille questioned. "Like a zombie?"

"He eats brains along with every other part of a person." Mera replied, apparently not finding this as ridiculous as Camille. "We're glad to see that your mind's still intact though."

For the first time in a while, Arthur spoke. It was in a deep, husky voice that ensured that he was still annoyed at this entire situation. "You never should have come back. You'll just slow us down."

"Are you forgetting who found this ship for you?" Camille said with a new confidence in her own abilities. She may not have possessed super strength or speed, but she had ways of finding what she needed without powers. "I'm the one that found a way in. I may not have been much help in the battle, but there wouldn't have been one at all if I hadn't discovered Manta's hiding place."

Mera raised a flaming red eyebrow and smirked. "She's right, you know."

Arthur scoffed. "A ship we can't operate."

Camille pushed herself off the submarine, hissing at the pain that throbbed in her wound. "You may not be able to operate it, but I can."

This initiated surprised glances from all three of them. They had been trying to figure this ship out all night, but it was land-dweller technology, It was nothing like they used in Atlantis. Even Arthur didn't know how it worked. He said that people had to be specially trained to understand vessels like this one.

"I joined the navy for a year after high school. I was just part of the general crew but I, at one stage, wanted to be a helmsmen. I obviously gave that up to join the police academy but I still remember how basic controls work on these things."

Kaldur nudged Arthur's arm with a mocking smile. "I suppose she is a little more useful than you gave her credit for."

Arthur's piercing, silvery eyes flashed in Camille's direction. They glared at her as if sharp blades were about to form in those metallic orbs and speed in her direction. Camille sighed. She had almost had her leg ripped off, she wasn't in the mood to be looked at like that.

"Stare at me all you want, I'm not leaving." Camille said stubbornly. "And, apparently, you aren't either without my help."

Arthur scowled but said nothing on the matter. He wished she'd just leave and never come back...but her determination was strangely endearing. It was rare to see this kind of resilience in a land dweller, or in anyone for that matter. Arthur still didn't want any part of this resistance, he wasn't even sure that he wanted to be a king again, but no one could deny Camille's resolve.