Title: Into Dust
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cameron needs him to not be broken. Sort of AU, spoilers up to The Mistake. ChaseCameron.
Disclaimer: House and his ducklings aren't mine. Title of Fic "Into Dust" taken from Mazzy Star's song by the same name because I'm not creative enough to find a title of my own.
A/N: Since there aren't a lot of Chase/Cameron fics out there, I wrote this to partly amuse myself and partly to procrastinate my winter break homework. This is not beta-ed, and if you find yourself wanting to edit this piece, then please leave your email in the pretty review box. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and flames are used to keep me warm. Happy reading.
It's not because of the way his shoulder seemed more hunched, as if waiting for the last straw to drop upon his pile of troubles and break him in front of her. It's not because his walk reminded her of a struggle between mass and gravity, and the heaviness that had descended upon him forced him to stay where he was and either be deflated by the mass or struggle against nature. It's not because the ghost of a smile that he usually wore was replaced by a foreign pursed of the lips, sealing unsaid thoughts. It's not any of those things that she noticed when he walked into the diagnostic room to collect his belongings for the day.
" Hey, are you alright?" Cameron slowly rose from her seat in the corner.
Chase gave a startled jerk before looking at her general direction, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The sun had just set, and in the early evening light, the blue in his eyes gazed at her with fleeing emotions—changing too rapidly for her to hold on. He dropped his gaze back to his messenger bag, throwing all of his puzzle books in it as well as other things that Chase usually never took home.
Cameron started to walk towards him when he turned and walked the opposite way, causing her to stop behind the glass table and rest her unsure hands on top of it.
With his back towards her, he answered, " I'm fine Cameron. Stop staring at me."
Cameron bit her bottom lip and tried to gauge his body language as he moved around his side of the office, collecting knick-knacks that seemed irrelevant until now. "You're not fired… are you?" She asked, scared and anxious, because she can't help but think oh crap, am I gonna get fired for accidently killing someone as well? And who's going to make the coffee tomorrow morning?
Chase turned around and looked at her, standing behind the aluminum chair with the glass table dividing them. She looked…well he can't think of a word except that she looked like Cameron. More personified perhaps, with her brown eyes pouring every damn feelings Chase did not want to receive from her. And when he finally stared back, Cameron instantly dropped her head and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of triumph at ending Cameron's emotions stare and anger at being able to discontinue the usually stubborn sympathetic gaze of Cameron. She would have usually stared back until the other person retorts something and turned away.
" Just a week of suspension." He finally said, picking up his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder. As he neared the door, Chase added, " I'll be fine." And with that, he left her and the quietness of the now darkened room.
And that's what she noticed the most. The quietness and his quiet voice saying he'll be fine. He'll be fine. And when she finally looked at the door of the Diagnostic room, she knew that his voice had betrayed him. He had said it without anger or a tone of dismissal in his voice, as he often did, but rather with a hopeful admission, trying to convince her as well as himself that he'll be fine.
And she thought that was why she was standing in front of his apartment, with a fist raised to knock on his door.
He was in the middle of changing, hair still damped from his shower and eyes still red from getting shampoo in his eyes… or whatever the hell that got into his eyes and made him stayed longer under the shower head, when he heard a soft knock. Clearing his ears with a towel, he walked down the short length of his apartment hallway and curiously looked at the door. He counted approximately ten seconds before another rapid knock was heard. Not bothering to check who was on the other side, he opened the door.
He should have bothered.
" Hi," Cameron said, hurriedly, as if she just jogged the stairs to get to his apartment and Chase wouldn't put it past her to do so.
" Hi," Chase cautiously greeted her. When Cameron remained silent, he asked the obvious question. " What are you doing here?"
Cameron doesn't seem to hear him. Instead she was staring at his neck, making him wonder if he had some residue of shampoo lingering on said body anatomy. When he placed a hand on one side of his throat, he realized that he hadn't put on a shirt on and felt a wave of need to somehow cover him up with the towel that's on his other hand. Trying to cover up any awkwardness that he was feeling, he again asked, "Cameron, what are you doing here?"
She glanced up, momentarily dazed before becoming restless, juggling the phone that's in her hand from one hand to another. " Oh I was," she was about to lie, but with the way Chase was looking at her, she thought he would've appreciate honesty. She sighed and said, " I just want to make sure you're alright."
" I'm fine Allison." The sound of her first name foreign and false, as if Chase used it to further convince Cameron that he was fine, which of course prompt Cameron to think that he's far from it.
Cameron couldn't help but thought what he'd do after closing the door on her face. He would probably pour himself a hefty amount of alcohol and drink himself to numbness. She felt saddened by the image of Chase sitting by himself, drinking alone. And maybe a little bit hurt that he would go through whatever the hell he's going through alone, when merely a couple of weeks ago he had insist on distracting her from the thought of HIV. Granted that she had taken his good intentions a little too far in the end, but still, he had showed up when called and gave her what she thought she doesn't need. Maybe she's over reacting; maybe he just need some time alone. But a part of her wanted to make sure that he's fine, that he's not broken and someone that she could mend, because whatever happened a few weeks ago need to be just… comfort. And nothing more.
"Want to get a drink?" Cameron offered.
Chase furrowed his brows slightly, looking between confused and taken aback. He started to retreat back towards his foyer and hesitantly said, "I don't think…"
Cameron shoved her hands into her jacket, setting a determined look on her face. "Look, just humor me alright? House doesn't want us at Diagnostics till noon tomorrow and you're not even going. Plus there's this bar that just opened up near the main campus and they served the best apple martini in the east coast, or so I've heard." She rambled, feeling a tinge embarrassed for going off tangent. " It's been a long week, and I owe you a drink," she finished softly, letting her shoulders drop.
" I don't think you owe me a drink…" he started.
" For the one that you ask me a couple of weeks ago."
When she only got a blank stare, she further explained with a slight blush, " The night where we… you know." Hoping that he got the hint, she wasn't sure why she couldn't just say that they had sex. It's like thirty going on thirteen.
Chase nodded his head in understanding. He shifted slightly and said, "Cameron, thank you for coming by, but…." Then he made the mistake of looking at her face. Eyes heavy with concern and fatigue, and pleading lips that reminded him of heavy breathing and telling him to please, please keep on going and never stop, because she's hoping that he would exorcised her from HIV and he doesn't want to be alone. He sighed and run a hand through his hair.
" Let me grab a shirt." He conceded. Partly because he knew she would only persist harder the next time she decides to check on him and partly because his loose cotton pants would not hide his sudden semi-hard on.
" Okay," she smiled and breathed out a sigh. When reason doesn't help get what you want, use woman's natural pleading look.
To be continued?
