A/N This is from cameron's point of view it will make more sense when the second chapter is up.
Disclaimer: I don't own House if I did I wouldn't have to write this because Cameron never would've left :)
I wanted to scream, or punch something (or someone) I wanted to punch everything and scream at the same time. I wanted to yell and throw things. I wanted to run until I collapsed and shout until I lost my voice but most of all I wanted to curl up and cry like the pathetic human being I am. For over a year now I have been convincing myself that I am not in love with Robert Chase and now he just comes swanning in here, well actually House came swanning in here (as well as someone who walks with a cane can go swanning in somewhere) with Thirteen, Taub, Foreman and Chase in tow.
Now here I am punching a pillow, when really I should be ripping the bloody thing to shreds all over a man who I know I've at least liked since "last night probably shouldn't happen again." Since my heart dropped out of my chest and I mentally started punching the shit out of myself for even wanting it to happen again. I know I've loved him since "It's Tuesday" even if it took me months of being in a relationship with him to say it. People think that because I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions pasted on my head that it's easy for me to say how I feel. It's not. Accepting that I was in love with him was one of the hardest things I've ever done, that and leaving him. Watching my husband die, working for house, thinking I had HIV. Those things were as easy as diagnosing Lupus compared to walking away from him (Lupus is actually very hard to diagnose but since it's never Lupus it has suddenly become easy in this particular simile). I'd regretted it the second I'd shut the door behind me. The whole time I'd been packing my stuff up he'd been sat in an emotionless daze staring at the wall, never making eye contact with me. He'd been exhausted emotionally and physically, hadn't even had enough energy to challenge me-to try and stop me. He'd thought I was better off without him, what an idiot. I'd regretted leaving the second I'd closed the front door and heard what I will forever recognise as the sound of the man I loved- man I love- crying. No! I don't love him. Honestly I don't.
I had to leave. I had to leave then. I had to leave him thinking that he'd done the right thing; he'd saved thousands of lives. I had to leave him with a consolation prize. I didn't leave him because he killed Dibala. That was bad, yeah. Murder is iniquitous, immoral and inhumane. Killing Dibala was just… bad. It did more harm to chase than to the rest of the world. I left him because I'm an unfixable, fucked up bitch who would've hurt him. All I do is hurt him. I left him because it was better for him that I did. That doesn't make it right. It doesn't make leaving a man when he needs you most right. It doesn't make me a martyr or a nice person. It makes me a cold hearted bitch. It's better that I left him when there was a reason to leave, when he would do it again and he couldn't blame himself for everything. It doesn't make me a better person for leaving when I did. It just makes it better.
He should hate me. He doesn't. And now he's here. It's not technically his fault. It's not even House's fault. It's easy to blame house for everything; he does so much wrong, but it's not house's fault. It's my stupid boss's fault. I told him calling Dr House and his team would be more of a hindrance than a help, but would he listen. No! I don't know why I still work here. Actually I do, they've wanted me to quit since the first week I started I'm just too stubborn to. I've caused enough trouble that people above me hate me but I help enough that they don't want to fire me, oh shit I'm House, and I don't care how badly I hate working here I'm just too stubborn to give in and quit.
Great, now I'm analysing everything.