"By the way, tell the other lepers that their absence has been noted."
"Cameron didn't come by?"
Funny how those words were the first ones on Thirteen's lips when he was talking about their team. Not, "Where's Foreman?" or "You mean you haven't seen Chase?" She assumed it would be Cameron.
Hell, he'd assumed it would be Cameron. He'd known that his CURRENT team would come looking for him at some point as soon as Wilson told him that Foreman took over. He was bound to drive them all nuts eventually. But he'd figured that as soon as Cameron heard he was home, and that he'd quit, she'd come rushing over to make sure he was okay. It was like she couldn't help herself.
Only apparently now she could. His little co-dependent, as he'd so affectionately called her, was married and all grown up. Whatever had been between them, however little there was in the end, was apparently done.
It was normal, he knew. These types of infatuations didn't last. She'd been bound to move on eventually. 'And you certainly gave her enough pushes to move her on her way, didn't you?" mocked the voice in his head. (Which, thank god, no longer belonged to Cutthroat Bitch.)
He knew she'd finally moved on from her little crush. He knew, intellectually, that it was a good thing. She was married now, and while it was bound to go up in flames the way any good relationship built on a foundation of crystal meth should, she deserved to be happy. As he'd told Amber, he didn't want Cameron. Not really.
Except…there were days. Days his phone would ring, and he'd catch himself listening for her voice to pick it up. Days when the rev of a monster truck engine made him smile. Days when he'd walk through the ED, supposedly to annoy Cuddy, with his eyes peeled for a shock of blonde hair. Days he'd deliberately come in a little early so he could steal a drink of her coffee or piss off one of her nurses or…something. Because somehow, fighting with Cameron made his day feel…right.
Days he'd remember Chase and that strawberry lotion and wonder if his subconscious didn't know something he didn't.
No, he didn't want Cameron. Didn't want her here, in Wilson's house, eating his food and nagging him to feel. Didn't want her to have anything to do with the man he was trying to become, a man that couldn't have anything to do with PPTH because it would send him sinking back down to the bottom of the river like a pair of concrete shoes. Didn't want her smile and her compassion and that joie de vivre that always drove him nuts.
He didn't want Cameron. Except when he did.