No, he doesn't understand her.
When Gregory House walks out her front door for what seems like the last time that is thought that finally breaks her down. But it's different now. She has so much more to lose. So she does the opposite of what happened the last time her heart broke into pieces; she calmly walks to the sofa, back ramrod straight and rigidly perches on the edge. Then, and only then, does she break down.
It is a frightening thing to behold. A beautiful, young woman, with a deceptively perfect life rocking herself back and forth, back and forth in a seamless rhythm. Her mouth opens in a silent scream. What's most terrifying about this picture is that her whole body seems to shutdown and the only way to even begin to comprehend her heartache is to look into those exquisite eyes of hers. They are indescribable. What is seen there should be seen by no one and more importantly, felt by no one. But yet again, Allison Cameron finds herself prey to those emotions and her barely patched up heart falls irreparably into more pieces for the last time. He'll never know; he doesn't understand her. They never do.
She had been only 15 years of age when she met her future husband Danny. She had looked into his eyes once and knew that she couldn't escape him; that he wouldn't let her. So she gave herself to him body and soul, and resigned herself to a life of painfully loving torture. Everyone was so happy. They only saw the picture perfect couple, the white-picket fence. Oh, they had so much hope. Yes, they would say with pride and a laugh, yes my daughter is in medical school. Oh him? That's Danny….yes we do except grandchildren from him and hopefully not too far away. So that's what she gave her parents. Anything to make them happy. At first it only happened once a week but then it happened more often, until she eventually moved in with him and the virtual rape was almost every night. So they gave everyone what they wanted and the first grandchild was on the way.
Wedding plans were made. Small town as it was, everyone was involved and her wedding became their wedding. Then Danny got a cold that wouldn't go away and she made him see a doctor. For the baby, she urged. For me, she thought in the darkest recesses of her mind, that innate self-preserving mechanism all humans possess screaming for an escape. She got her wish.
He was admitted to hospital that day to begin chemotherapy.
A part of her felt guilty. The whole town was in shock and sympathy for both of them was pouring in left, right and centre. And in the beginning of her own shut-down mode, she was angry at them for it. Why should they be upset? Couldn't they understand that this was a good thing? What was wrong with them? Wedding plans were postponed instead of canceled in a vain effort to be both realistic and idealistic. The wedding dress was still ordered, everyone murmuring that she looked beautiful, that she must stay positive, he would be ok, you just need to stay strong for him and the baby, do you understand, honey? She nodded. They were happier then. Another part of her soul withered. And he lay there and smiled at her, day after day, knowing he was dragging her down too. Then one day she could take it no more; no more pretence. She smiled back. The world lifted itself of her shoulders; she need not pretend to him anymore.
He died that same day.
The funeral was held on the same day that their wedding was planned for. Under the willow tree where she had first laid fateful eyes upon him. in respect for him (so they thought), and for the town, she wore her beautiful white wedding dress that crawled its way around her throat tighter with each passing second. She cried like they expected as she was slowly strangled, then went home and calmly made a cup of tea. Then it hit her: she was free now; she could do whatever she wanted. The thought made her smile.
So she stood up and started in the bedroom. Screaming, she ripped off her wedding dress and smashed everything that reminded her of HIM. That didn't leave much out. She was so far gone beyond furious that the landlord, a large, well-muscled bouncer, took one look at her and left without another word. She systematically went through every room until, sobbing and barely breathing, she went and sat in the bathtub to watch her two and a half month old child bleed out of her. She couldn't take anymore, so she went to sleep right there.
When she woke up, she had been admitted to a relatively private and expensive mental institution. She left there 2 months later to start studying medicine. They thought she had healed somewhat and was much calmer. She left there having learnt to master the art of hiding emotions.
When she walked into Gregory House's office for her interview and placed her small, delicate hand in his large, beautiful one, she knew it would happen again. Only this time, when she looked into his eyes a sense of relief flooded her. Yes, he might possess her one day in every sense of the word, but she would possess him just as equally. There was room for both of them to breathe. To survive. On the same token, there was as much chance that she could fall even harder if it happened. Because if she fell in love, it would be her own decision, not his.
So they fell in love. It was so different this time. It was the right way to do it. This time, it was about them; not just him and not just her. She gave him the door to a world that could live with pain and even thrive aloof to it. He showed her a place to hide where she would always be safe and loved, guarded from the ugliness of the world. A year passed, and then two and whispers of a union began again, whispers that spread afar from level 1 to level 6 of PPTH. And the inevitable happened; a child was on the way.
Because it was so different now (she had been more wary and he had long been past that point when it started) the news was a quiet joy to them both. He held her with such tenderness and she showered him with all the love she could manage. Everyone basked in their happiness and the world was made of Cadbury for a while.
When she sat in the bath for the second time in her life to be bathed in something other than water, a part of each of them snapped, never to be replaced. After the first rushed month of ambulances, hospitals, condolences, baby coffins, counseling appointments and first agonizing days back at work, everything fell into a pattern again. He tried to be there for her always, he really did, but he also had to deal with his own grief. He couldn't heal himself if he was busy trying to heal her. But she couldn't be healed. And neither could he.
Many silent months passed. Two zombies sharing the same bedroom. No laughter, no sex, no dinner at the coffee table, snuggled up while General Hospital repeats were on. Instead there were awkward passes in the hallway while daily routines began. Nights of drinking with Wilson, desperation chasing him out of the house, while she lay crawled on the sofa, holding her stomach, staring into nothing, slowly and silently dying.
That was what she was doing when he finally had enough. She had spent a few nights at a hotel. For space, she had said. I need a holiday. Let's take one together. No, I need to be by myself. What about me? Go stay with Wilson for a few days; I'm sure you'll be fine. I just need to regroup. Please don't turn this into one of your things. Fine. If that's what you really want. Go as long as you want. I don't care.
He stormed in after three days. How dare you? He shouted. It was my child too; my flesh, my blood. You were going to be my wife. We were going to get past all that bullshit. Come back to me. I need you. He ended in a whisper. All the fight in him had gone. He awkwardly half-knelt down next to her, being careful of his leg. Let me in Ally, let me help you. We'll find you someone. We can do this. His throat closed on the last part.
She stared at him. Eyes blank. Then his words registered. So she slowly sat up on the sofa, being careful of the precious phantom baby that never left her stomach.
No.
His eyes closed over. When they opened, the infamous sea-blue had been replaced with the deepest grey she had ever seen, tinted around the edges with red. The color of a heart breaking.
What do you mean?
No. To everything. No more. No.
Fine he whispers. I guess that's it then. Come back to me if you change your mind. If you decide I'm worth it.
When Gregory House walks out her front door for what seems like the last time those are the words that finally break her down to a place she won't recover from. But it's different now. She lost so much more. So she does the opposite to what happened the last time her heart broke into pieces; she calmly walks to the sofa, back ramrod straight and rigidly perches on the edge. Then, and only then, does she break down.
No, he doesn't understand her
No one ever will.