"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic." - Oscar Wilde

Remy sat up in bed and found the room far less welcoming in the morning light than when she had crossed the threshold when it was completely black. It had only been a matter of time before the sunlight showed up to ruin everything. There had been no sleep for her in the darkness, not after last night; she just couldn't close her eyes. The hours passed slowly as she watched the woman next to her sleep without a worry or a care. Such peaceful bliss tempted her to give in, to close her eyes and forget who she was for just a while longer, but that would only have made things worse.

Remy just could not bring herself to wake her companion, not after everything that had happened. Leaning forward she placed a soft kiss on a bit of exposed shoulder before slowly climbing out of bed. Turning around for one last look was a mistake that almost cost her everything. Every irrational thought screamed in her head at the same time to get back under the covers, wrap her arms around the soothing presence that had stayed next to her all night and let the consequences be damned.

That was the life of a happy person, though, a fact that kept it out of her grasp. As it was, last night had been a false promise that she could be there for someone and the longer she stayed with sleeping beauty the worse the lies were going to get. She was the embodiment of misery and could break the woman's wonderful little world into a thousand pieces if she remained there.

The tangled sheets, the reversed blanket, and the pillows on the floor were signs of what their life would be like together. In whatever fashion it may have started, it would not be long before none of it had anything to do with anything except misery and pain for the both of them. No one should go through the pain of watching her lose control and by leaving now, no one would.

Dressing silently had been something she mastered long ago. She was a change of clothes and a shower away from moving on with her life when she reached the door, which is why it made no sense when her feet stopped. A turn of the door handle and she would be free, but just as that handle turned she offered a look to the open bedroom where she could hear Allison waking up.

Two weeks earlier…

Remy walked into her favorite coffeehouse desperate for her favorite pastry, a warm decaf, and a chair that wasn't sitting in the diagnostics department. She knew going nearly 20 hours without any real food was stupid, but the last couple of hours of skipping something from the vending machine in favor of waiting for the cafe to open up always proved worth the wait.

Genuine French coffee and pastries were not easy to find outside of France, yet someone had brought them into a reasonable distance from her apartment. It was not the world's shortest detour but it was close enough that she could rationalize trading the extra miles on her car in exchange for getting something remarkable every once and a while. The fact that her occasional treat had been a twice a week habit now did nothing to change her rationalization.

Not that her choice to find good food that wasn't more chemical than food hadn't earned some incessant comments from her coworkers. They were not exactly on the same page when it came to ordering lunch and it only got worse with her return to Plainsboro. There was a whole list of things House could have said besides telling the team she had been in rehab. She got a whole three days of sympathy before the first remarks about her going back to virgins starting coming up in conversations.

As the line cleared away though, Remy felt herself smile a little. If they wanted to mock her then they didn't need to know about the café and some of the benefits that came with truly great coffee. In particular, her favorite reason for having breakfast within the cafe was a barista with light brown hair that held only the faintest touch of red. The woman was local, but when she shouted her order to the back in French, it did leave her wondering what other words the woman knew and what it might take to hear them echoing off her bedroom walls.

"My mystery woman," The barista, Ami, greeted her with a smile before putting in her usual order without asking. "Here for decaf and gone before the rush. Leaving me with a number I cannot even call to ask you to coffee."

Remy just smiled back. "If only there was some way of communicating that offer without a phone." It was strange to be hiding behind the enigma of 13 outside of work, but the other woman seemed to enjoy trying to guess little things about her life while flirting rather shamelessly with her. Both had started the first time she went to order something in the café when Ami tried to guess her order. The attractive barista had the order completely wrong, which made her feel somewhat awkward as it occurred to her that guessing orders might be something the woman did often, but no one told her she didn't do well. The awkwardness faded after Ami, apparently noting the strange situation she had caused, admitted to never doing that before but needing something to get Remy's pretty face to look at her instead of the cell phone.

"If only." Ami just handed her a receipt for the transaction and went to helping with filling orders.

Taking a seat at her favorite table Remy couldn't help but notice the empty seat across from her. It was a bit sad that her own issues took much so much of her life that she immediately dismissed any thought of a relationship. Sure, the woman flirted shamelessly with her every visit, so it wasn't like there a chance of being turned down, but there could never be anything between them, even if she had the occasional vivid dream where there was literally nothing between them.

Although, it was not exactly as if her fantasy life was any more interesting than her personal life. Ami was about as close to heating up either one as anyone had gotten in years.

"One disastrous office romance and I've become a nun."

After that fiasco, she did the proper thing of taking time alone to collect her thoughts and then time alone waiting for that perfect romance to appear suddenly into her life. When it seemed productive to seek out that perfect romance, there were responsibilities and a prison sentence occupying her time.

Then there was the here and now, which just seemed to exist to remind her how miserable life was. How could anyone have a stable relationship with someone whose very core was unstable? The day that she went to put down a cup of coffee and her hand seized around it, unable to release, or threw it across the room, was a day no one should have to live through.

Even remembering when she actually thought she could have something that matched a real relationship only made the misery that much worse. After the trial drug proved to be a failure, she should have realized where her life was heading. Instead, there was all that blind optimism that caused her to run head first into a brick wall a year ago; a wall that even House could not find a way for her to get around. There was simply no way to start a relationship without lying to someone or scaring them away completely with the truth.

Fantasies and daydreams, though, were harmless. A bit pathetic maybe, but they took away the misery for a while. Besides, they were never about anyone that did not seem willing, maybe even a little eager, to turn those thoughts of fiction into a reality. Be it her barista Ami, or some stranger at a bar, she was the one that kept conversations from going beyond harmless flirting.

The thought of one-night stands had crossed her mind, but none of those had ever provided any true relief to her misery and the next morning it would just be there waiting for her with some extra weight to trouble herself with. By the time they get started, the rational part of brain had shut off and the thoughts of the actual danger any of it had for her, or those she was picking up, were gone. Afterward, though, they made themselves present as the headache kicked in and it occurred to her that she knew the risk that came with magic cocktail of martinis and a side of pills, but there was equal certainty that whoever ordered the same thing had no idea.

"Decaf for 13..." The new guy that put her order on the counter was obviously a bit confused by the number instead of a name and it occurred to Remy that everyone she encountered could fit into one of two groups. There were those that were so confounded at the mystery they barely looked at her and those that started thinking that solving it would get them exactly what was on the surface.

Slowly getting up to get her coffee–rushing was for days when lives and paychecks were on the line-Ami was already putting up the next one when she smiled at Remy before calling for the customer.

"Allison." The name gave Remy pause for a reason she didn't understand until its recipient was standing next to her.

"Cameron?"

To those noticing the lack of errors in reading this can thank my newly gained beta, Dragongurl288, who graciously went through and corrected this chapter for me. The next few chapters are already in progress and will hopefully come at a quicker rate as the basis for this story was inspired by Olivia Wilde herself making a comment about Remy finding solace in Cameron. When a goddess mentions a possibility whom am I to ignore such inspiration? For a timeline on this, the Cafe events start off the day after 7x20.