Obscurity
T.V. Show: House M.D.
Pairing: Chase/Cameron
Author: Foxes' Dreams
Summary: Who lives and who dies is never your decision. After the specious show of cruelty and thoughtlessness, Chase is sinking in regret. Confessing his deed would bring relief, but he is stung by the splendor of her, still forgiving and patient. Vignette for 6x04 "The Tyrant".
"Cause I don't want to fall in love
If you don't wanna try
But all I've been thinking of
Is maybe that you might
Baby it looks as though we're running out of words to say
And love's floating away..."
A thin layer of clouds masked the sliver-white full moon, filling the locker room with an eclipsing blue light. The power of inky blackness seemed to be fading, the heavy aftermath of the events still lingering in the hospital perimeter. Even the outside world became more pale and neutral, the damp air suffocating, the gigantic water-laden leaves were constantly dripping, the violent storms coming with monotous regularity, the earth itself heavy and cloying after the shallowest pouring rain.
The aftermath of his action was unbearable; Chase couldn't even decide if crying would resolve anything, he already pictured himself burning in the flames of hell. The bench seemed excruciatingly uncomfortable, his mind was spinning, a thrill of loath clouding his vision. He was utterly drawn near to a desperate solution, the young surgeon actually becoming willing to sacrifice everything for a brief primal forgiveness. He flung diffidence to the winds, action which didn't ease the situation.
Chase couldn't even step in the only place he called home; he was still haunted by a chill and unearthly foreboding. He couldn't get himself moving, he was rooted into place, empty and meaningless thoughts flashing before his eyes. He was detached from life; he writhed with impotent humiliation at the image of settling near his wife as though he would contaminate her with the same demons that possessed him in that fatal moment. His eyes danced with malice, stiffened anew into a gray obstinacy, his head throbbed dangerously, and his whole body was tensed until the breaking point. He decided to move, fleeing in the only place where he wouldn't be judged. His haughty steps waxed timorous and vigilant, slightly wobbly and irregular as he tried to gather all his files in the small briefcase. His mind was beaten to the ground by the catastrophe; he just wanted to snuggle into coziness and maybe sleep into eternity.
Chase's strength was scattered in fits of agitation, he could only focus on the thought that he would literally be blazed with savage fire. He was able to endure any pain as long as he wouldn't lose the unique person who vowed to be by his side in good times and bad.
His face fell abruptly in stern lines; his gaze seemed full of unconquerable hopelessness. The ride to the apartment is oddly silent and normal, Chase felt for a brief moment secure, the old routine of driving during the late-night creeping into his existence. His dignity counseled him to be silent, his demeanors fully torn with conflict, cruel flashbacks of Dibala's last suffocated and blood-filled breaths haunting his memory.
As he climbed lazily the stairwell, he prayed that Cameron was asleep or at least drifting into slumber so that he wouldn't be forced to explain why he was apathetic or why he looked shattered into pieces. His mind was still echoing with words, Foreman's threatingly loud words ringing in his ears.
His heart was asserting itself again, thunderously beating as he spotted a dim light coming from their bedroom, meaning that all his silent prayers were vainly built.
Cameron was sitting on the bedside, her eyes shone with the pure fire of a great purpose. She was strangely stilled as though she was caged to suffer along with him. She just eyed him with stony impassivity, restraining an air of deliberate fury. Chase was poised on the verge of freezing; already building scenarios that she already knew what had occurred with their latest case. He was in an anguish of sharp and penetrating remorse, completely stricken to the soul.
He decided to speak after a pregnant pause, singing lustily the thicket of words that would hopefully comprehend the gravity of his actions.
"I killed him."
"Dibala?"
"Yes and I am hell scared of what I've done."
Silence fell. Slender experience of the facts of life actually screamed at him, condemning the spontaneity he used. The slope towards self-extinction seemed dangerously close, as he watched Cameron still soaring in a black place of contemplation. No further questions escaped her mouth yet, she didn't inquire any "why?" or "how?". She looked innocent in her exuberant thinking, balancing the bad and the good as she always did in nerve-wracking situations.
"We can get through this. Together," Cameron replied, assenting in precisely the right terms. She clearly cherished no petty resentments, her lip slightly curling upwards with defiant scorn.
"You're not mad?" Chase inquired, questioning imically her unfitting reaction. He had an undercurrent of acidity bubbling in his stomach, the aftermath still cruel and fresh in his mind.
"You were under pressure, it is understandable and I can't judge you," Cameron said, something eminently human beaconed from her eyes. She is beyond understanding, a jolt of gladness seized tyrannously upon his soul. "Come to bed?" She asked incuriously, pushing away all the confessions and doubts that settled in her mind, almost ignoring the heartless act he had committed. He was obviously stung by the enormity of the prospect, and she was more than willing to alleviate his trauma.
Chase was shocked by her outspoken thoughts, but still impatient to rest. That was such a petty chronicle, but still tempting and he was only fearful and dejective not to lose her. He crawled in the master bed slowly, not even daring to touch any inch of her skin; he was insanely scared that his poisonous and sinful touch would corrupt her innocence. Two solitary and sorely smitten souls could only unify to make themselves complete.
"How are we going to get this working?" Chase asked quietly, feeling the susceptibility to fleeting impressions leaving him trembling, panting for a positive answer. The question was suddenly snuffed out in the middle of the ambitious schemes, but it was still required to set things straight in that contradictory situation.
"We shouldn't even be trying so hard. We love each other and that is more than sufficient," Cameron explained, stirred into a true access of grief and consequential choice. "You were in an ethical contradiction, and he might have died either way. I am not going to judge you," she whispered, subtle jolts of remoteness placating her reply.
They were still considerably sitting apart, the barrier of justice foreclosing touching. Chase was trembling before her eyes, the gruesome aftermath lingering on his skin. He was broken, poised almost on destruction, and hearing a single admission that his life wasn't a thorough masterpiece of darkness was a sign that the fate might be still worthy of acknowledging. He strangely felt stripped bare to his skeleton, the shaking intercourse making him deadly vulnerable.
Sublime indifference clouded his mind, deeply analyzing her reaction, not reaching an answer to a seemingly impossible question. He looked sickly pale, the idea that the whole mess was a cruel joke sinking him back into abyss. Chase was suddenly overawed by a strange, delicious shyness and settled himself on the edge, marking a certain distance between their boiling bodies.
"I don't intend to let you go, I will stand by you even in the worst moments. I've made a promise to you and I am not going to break it," Cameron spoke insistently, submissing herself to an implied rebuke, knowing in her depth that if his life falls apart, hers will shatter into dust. "We will heal together," she added patiently, her reply seemed a spectacular display of wrath which was entirely well-intentioned. She reached blindly for his palm, the contact instantly electrifying, and a stale and facile platitude of a gesture becoming addictively imperious.
Chase stared at her angelic features; he was obviously stamped with unutterable and solemn woe. Without being spoken out-loud he realized the importance of her devotion, distancing him from diagnostics was a dangerous remedy that would eventually provide him tranquility. He still had time to think, to process and to decide. Subdued passages of unobtrusive gratitude for that moment they opened to each other, strode forth, taking steps in the unknown side by side. He would overcome the stony insensibility to the small pricks and frictions of daily life, he would overcome self-loathing, he would overcome the whole recurrence. She was condemned to suffer alongside, to languish into obscurity, but she was sacrificing only for him.
Summer clouds were floating feathery overhead, startling leaps over vast gulps of time passed and they were still healing, years and years under the watchful destiny.
Author's Note: I always cry at this episode, so this spin-off healed me, too!
Read and Review! :*