A/N: Set in Season 3. Established Chameron.
She watched him pick at his food, a small smile on his face. She had always loved this restaurant, and she loved that he knew to take her here. A flickering candle sat in the center of the small table, the orange light reflecting off their faces in the otherwise dimly lit venue. She studied his face, carefully constructed dirty blonde hair framing the blue eyes that were trained intently on his meal.
It was a miracle that they had actually managed to make the time to go out, let alone get a reservation. Being a doctor didn't make finding free time easy, and when you were on Gregory House's diagnostics team, constantly racing against the clock to solve a patient's life, it was even harder. At least they worked together, so whatever free time they had would be the same. She looked at his face again, the smirk still undeniably there.
"What's so funny?" she teased, leaning in.
"Nothing," he said, grin growing wider. "It's just... I love you." He looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling with joy.
"It's not even Tuesday," she said, smiling.
He raised an eyebrow. "Does it need to be?" he asked, in that stupidly endearing Australian accent of his.
She laughed, a twinkle in the light green of her eyes. "Eat your food, Chase."
"What," he said, twirling pasta around his fork, "you're not going to say it back?"
She smiled again. "Okay," she said, giving in. "I love you, Robert Chase."
Satisfied, he stuck the fork in his mouth, chewing in contentment before swallowing. "And I love you, Allison Cameron."
"You told me already," she said, laughing, spearing a piece of chicken off his plate.
"I know," he said defensively, raising his eyebrows. "I just wanted to say it again. Want to make sure you never forget." He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "So, what are your thoughts on dessert?"
They walked, hand in hand, down the city streets. Hanging lights were strung between the street lamps, illuminating their faces in a warm yellow glow. The smell of food from the nearby restaurants wafted through the warm late spring air, and Cameron found herself sniffing the air eagerly, despite the fact they had just eaten.
"Four months," Chase said, looking up at the buildings as they passed by. "I honestly never thought you would say yes."
She leaned into him, smiling. "What, were you just planning on reminding me that you loved me for the rest of your life?"
He chuckled, the vibrations of his voice leaving a warmth in her chest. "Honestly? I probably would've given up. Lucky you stopped me in time."
"Hey."
He didn't recognize that voice. It was gruff, hostile. He turned quickly, her hand dropping out of his. A thug towered over them, face covered with a black ski mask. Well, this couldn't be good.
"Hand over your money, pretty boy."
He looked over at Cameron, briefly. Saw the fear shining in her eyes. He frowned, jaw hard-set in resolution. There was no way he was letting this guy take anything.
"No."
She tugged at his arm. "Chase, what are you-"
The man smirked. "Wrong choice, buddy."
A sharp, cold pain pierced his back. Chase gasped, staggering back, eyes opening wide. It was like his body shut down at once. His knees buckled under his now crushingly heavy weight. A choked cough into his hand. There was blood on it. He was going into shock, he realized, vision going dizzy. He'd been stabbed.
He could barely register being slammed into the ground, each breath becoming more difficult as his lungs filled with blood. There was someone on top of him. He could feel hands searching over his body, looking for valuables. Instinct kicked in, and he kicked the man as hard as he could.
His attacker staggered back, wheezing from having the air knocked out of him. The moment of pride didn't last long though, as his vision went dark as the other's fist slammed his face into the pavement.
"Get off him!" Cameron screamed. Through the bright spots that speckled his vision he could see her smaller figure rushing at the man, trying to claw him off. But the man he had hit was coming up behind her.
"No!" he cried out, twisting his body in a desperate attempt to move. He couldn't do anything, helpless as he saw the figure grab her, shove her hard to the side. He saw her lose her footing, saw the fall that felt like an eternity.
Saw her crack her head on the curb.
The thoughts flew through his head in a panic. No. No! It looked bad, but she had to be okay. She had to. She wasn't moving. Oh God, why wasn't she moving? The thugs were still there, taking whatever there was out of his pockets but he didn't care anymore, couldn't think straight.
"Cameron..." He dragged herself over to her body, using every ounce of his effort to not pass out beside her. The thugs were gone at this point. They had taken everything. He reached out two fingers, smearing traces of blood on her neck as he tried to feel for her pulse. Everything.