Set after 6.07 Teamwork

I don't own House.

I'm not sure if I like this, I'm not sure if you'll like this. Let me know :)

Chase had been staring at the door when someone knocked; just like every other day he had taken up his unfaltering position in front of it. Staring. It had been the same routine since she left. He never expected her to come back, not expecting… hoping. It was his torture- his punishment, his masochistic coping mechanism and he didn't for one second doubt it was working. The knock disturbed the Equilibrium that had fallen upon the hollow room.

He ignored the knock, whoever it was they had disrupted his routine. Nobody was supposed to come, he didn't want to talk. The knock persisted and he decided to answer it; the only people it could be were Thirteen, Foreman or Taub and he was happy to ask them all to leave him alone. He would pretend to be shocked by their sudden appearance and tell them he was ok (not fine- fine was the universal saying for I'm on the verge of a breakdown and I don't want anyone to know) and that he was planning on getting an early night. He was a good liar; you had to be working for House.

He traipsed to the door and pulled it open- an apathetic expression on his face that soon changed when he saw who was on his door step. He went to speak but choked on his own words. Incomprehensible thoughts ran through his mind one after another only staying long enough for the next one to be formed.

Her cautious eyes met his confused ones and any slightly intelligible thoughts he had vanished in that second. After several moments of apprehensive silence she spoke.

"It's Tuesday"

"What are you doing here?" He practically whimpered it, he'd meant to sound defensive and accusing but it came out more pitiful.

"It was my fault, I should never have left, I… can you… can we…." Her glib approach crumbled around her and tears started to form in the eyes that had seemed so confident just moments ago. Chase didn't speak just moved aside to let her in his eyes never losing contact with hers. She slipped off her coat and hung it on the hook by the door.

"What are you doing here Allison?" Again it didn't come out as he planned it was barely more than a whisper, like if he spoke louder the calm would shatter.

"I came back… Do you want me to leave?" Her voice sounded hurt and she drew back already making her escape.

"No" Chase hadn't even realised what he wanted, he should've been angry, he should've been shouting but he couldn't bear the thought of her leaving. Not again. He didn't understand, he didn't know why she was back but he didn't care. If he dwelled on it too long he knew it was going to destroy him, eat away at him until there was nothing left. "You're not going to leave again are you?" He had to be sure; if she broke his heart again he wasn't going to be able to put it back together, it would lie shattered in a million pieces on the doorstep where he stood

She shook her head and pleaded with her eyes as an uncertain smile spread across Chase's face and he leaned down to kiss her. She kicked off her black heels and discarded them by the door that Chase moved to shut.

Chase woke in the middle of the night smiling at the memory from the evening before; he reached out his hand- fingers like electricity- to pull Cameron closer to him. He grabbed air and sat up in panic. Adrenaline rampaged through his body. He stumbled from the bedroom into the living room where he took in his surroundings: His lonely Coat dangled from the hook like a criminal from a noose; his shoes were abandoned by the door like tiny pieces of driftwood in the vest expanse of sea. She couldn't have left, she had promised not to. Why would she come back just to desert him once more?

He began to walk through to the other rooms in the house calling her name, searching for any signs that she'd been there. There were none. Why would she leave?

It was around three in the morning maybe she wasn't too far away, maybe he could catch her. He ran over the night in his mind, trying to remember when they had gone to bed: He had gotten home late from work, because House had been screwing with him, at about 9pm he had then proceeded to get himself a bottle of vodka and take up his position in front of the door. Vodka? Did they drink? She had knocked on the door. Hadn't she? He didn't know. He remembered seeing the clock as he went to bed- it had read 11:30. They went to bed together. Didn't they? His mind felt fuzzy and he couldn't remember. He took another step forward and kicked something on the floor, an empty vodka bottle, that explained what was wrong with his head but he didn't remember finishing it.

He blinked a few times in the darkness trying to wake himself up. After a few more minutes realisation hit him. He had spent two and a half hours staring desperately at a closed door whilst he drank. When the vodka had run out he crawled despondently into bed.

Alone.

Even in sleep- the only escape he had from the real world- his subconscious was torturing him.

And now he had no escape.

Tell me what you think :) nothing to mean please.