Title: Little Deaths
Author: Ritaann
Beta: aheartfulofyou,
Raiting: M
Characters: Allison cameron
Summary: written for housefic50 LJ comm challenge 003: Ends
This is how it ends.
Not with a bang or sparkle or blaze of lightning, but through a chorus of whispered silences preceding the other as pearls on a string.
They had met barely a year before, inseparable almost from the moment they introduced themselves. Somehow Allison knew he needed her.
They had fallen in love.
"Marry me," she had whispered, his face shrouded in the flickering light of candles lit in lieu of a romantic dinner. When he opened his mouth to reply she shushed him and informed Dan quietly, "I-I know you have a year left to live. I don't want to waste any time."
"Allison-" his green eyes searched her hazel ones in confusion, in hope, incredulity- he brushed his right hand through his hair and nervously laughed; this was certainly not what he was expecting when he had shown up at her place for dinner.
"I'm not doing this out of pity. I'm doing this because I love you. But ultimately, it's up to you if you don't-"
"Yes."
His face once fresh and youthful was now pasty and gaunt, and watched as she read through the DNR order carefully. Darkened circles ringed his eyes, framing reddened whites that stemmed from sleepless nights hunched over the emesis basin.
She looked up at him and never felt more alone and estranged from the creature that lay before her. Allison forced a smile on her face and handed him back the clipboard, secretly hoping he'd sign.
"It's up to you," she stated simply and Dan nodded in reply.
That night, Allison reconsidered her decision to accept her place in medical school.
When the end is nigh, Anonymous
A strange wind will blow
Time stands still, and
In that moment you will know,
He has come for you.
She walked towards the hospital entrance, eager to meet Joe. He's a welcome respite from the bleak white washed walls and feeling of death and decay that had begun to choke her; dressed in a bright yellow shirt and baggy jeans which he fills well with health.
In that moment, she had never been gladder to see anyone in her entire life, and she offered him a creaking of the corners of her mouth into the first smile in over a fortnight.
They stopped at the vending machine to buy snacks that only he will eat- yet she nods complacently at his suggestion of a sugar high. Allison hasn't been able to swallow anything more than coffee in recent times, and Joe is the only one to have noticed.
As soon as they approach the elevator, she knows something is wrong. A cold hand seems to have grabbed her chest and she coughs a little to hide the fear that she knows is written in her breath.
"Are you okay?" he asked, a concerned hand hovering near her shoulder.
"Fine," she rasps.
As the elevator dings, a sickening beep reaches their ears and Allison knows she is too late. She begins to sprint down the corridor, Joe chasing after her, begging her to slow down, to tell him what's wrong.
They reach the room and it's too late.
House watches her through the Venetian blinds, half closed in the hopes of retaining some privacy for the patient and doctor within.
She sits patiently beside the man on the bed, gazing into his old, weather-beaten face lined with wrinkles, the contours of a life which has been lived to its fullest.
He tells her of old memories, friends and haunts, of a life filled with love and simple things that she only dreams of experiencing. Cameron has been listening patiently for the better part of an hour, yet feels that she is missing out on some crucial point that her youth denies her.
When his lungs fail, she is forced to do nothing but watch. It pains her to know her hands are tied yet she is rooted to her seat, her hand still clutching his larger, calloused hand when the noise merges into one, continuous flat line.
When she leaves the room, the warmth of his hand can still be felt on hers.
"You've been standing here for almost an hour," states Wilson honestly, glancing down at House's leg, then back in the direction of which the older man's gaze is pointed.
"So she's talking to a patient. Connecting to a complete stranger- something you've never been able to do. You could learn something from her, you know," He suggests gently.
They watch as she leaves the room, shoulders hunched over in the direction of the elevators with nary a glance at the room in which the dead now inhabited.
"Comfort her," House instructs, finally looking at Wilson for the first time since he arrived, "I don't do comfort, not since the day rock n'roll died."
Wilson shakes his head. "Whatever," he throws in House's direction before approaching the elevators- he knows where she is headed.
"Hi," Wilson approaches cautiously from her side, taking note of the drop less than a foot from where she stands guarded only by a short ledge. "If you're thinking about jumping, I'd advise that you remember that you only have a year of your fellowship left, and that House isn't worth it."
Cameron laughs bitterly. "For once, this isn't about him." She turns towards Wilson, wiping stray drops of salt which moisten her cheeks, knowing from experience that she looks like a mess.
"He lived a good life," Wilson coaches gently, "and those last few hours you gave him certainly put him at ease. If his family were alive, I'm sure that's what they'd tell you."
She nods complacently, and faces opposite that of the wind's direction, towards his right enjoying its ability to make her eyes smart and the salt on her cheeks sting. Wilson doesn't get it, but his company is what makes the uncomfortable silence now between them worth it.
"How do you do it? Come to work each morning with the knowledge that someone is likely to die on your ward, and that there was nothing you could do to save them?" Her eyes are now piercing his when once it would settle anywhere but.
"I … I live through it on the hope that I can at least save one of those lives, whereas no treatment would… undoubtedly be worse," He replies clearly and honestly, and Cameron wishes she could be as sure about her life's decision as he did.
"Why did you become a doctor?" Her question is asked hurriedly and without allowing him a pause.
"Why does anyone become a doctor? To help people."
Cameron smiles at his answer and watches as Wilson shoves his hands deep into his lab coat pockets, and gestures towards the door that leads back to the hospital, back to a world where pain and joy are interchangeable.
"It's getting chilly out here- we should go inside, I'll treat you to one of those lattes you know you shouldn't have," he suggests lightly.
"I'll have to take a raincheck. I think I'd like to stay here for a little bit longer." Cameron offers reassurance in a small smile before turning back towards the skyline before her, and the sun setting behind a bank of dark clouds.
Her ears listen intently at his hesitant steps towards the exit of the roof and waits for the slam of the door which never sounds.