For Julia:

Happy 1 month anniversary and a very big thank you for sharing your work with us, especially Ticking Clock. I hope you enjoy this little peak into the inner world of Allison Cameron.

Pain

Allison Cameron would have liked to say that she felt sadness at the passing of her late husband, but really, that would be stretching the truth. All she really felt was a numbing pain that dulled her senses and made her heart go cold as stone. She wondered if she should miss him more, if she should look back on the last months of his life with nostalgia and unparalleled bliss, if she should cry or scream or shout at his passing. She wondered why she did none of the above. And she wondered if that made her a bad wife.

Happiness

Allison Cameron would never tell, but the very first time she felt true happiness was that Tuesday. And the following Tuesday. And the Tuesday after that. She pretended that she did not love him, that she did not care. And in turn he pretended not to hurt. She pretended because everyone she had ever loved had been cruelly torn away from her – first her best friend, then her brother, then her husband. Each time it hurt more than anything she had ever known. Each time it hurt more than she could bear. This time, she had learnt her lesson and had come back smarter. She pretended to say no even when her heart screamed yes because if he was never hers to begin with, she could never lose him. She pretends she likes House precisely because she doesn't really, and that way she could never get hurt. But she is really, really happy that one Tuesday in spring when the sky is clear and the birds are chirping and he breaks through her defences and she and she walked down the aside to become Mrs Chase.

Regret

Alison Cameron feels the pang of regret like a sharp dagger in her side that never lets up and never goes away. It had blossomed the minute she got into her cab and hightailed out of Princeton Plainsborough, leaving House and Cuddy and Forman; leaving all she ever knew and leaving Chase. And it had only grown since. It has been three long years and she has long since forgotten the reason behind their big fallout. Was it House's fault, or Chase's or hers? On dark stormy nights when the house seemed too cold, her thoughts would wander back to this question. And she would always find that after everything, it was hers. She would lie awake in bed then, too hurt to stay awake but too upset to fall asleep. She would stay that way for the better part of the next morning until the afternoon sun rose high up over the trees and filtered its rays through her thin bedroom curtains. Sometimes, she would stay that way even after then, not being able to bring herself to care that it was time for work, and there were patients waiting, and the Dean of medicine would not take kindly to her absence. At work, it had cost her many gentle reminders which progressed into stern warnings which progressed into a demotion. At home, it had cost her the relationship of a sweet gentle man with a daughter from his first marriage though to be fair, she did not really put much effort to stop that, because he was not Chase, and so he did not really matter anyway. Besides it was not like she could help it. Tuesdays were the worst.

Apprehension

Alison Cameron felt apprehension that morning she flew back to New Jersey for House's funeral. It was a sombre event. She should have felt grief for her mentor, her teacher, the man who shaped her career. But all she really saw during those two hours was bright blue eyes and dirty blond hair. She had read up about him in her time away. She knew he now headed the diagnostics department in Princeton Plainsborough and bought a new upper class apartment in the classier side of town with the spare cash. She knew he had done well for himself, picked himself up after she left and built himself a future. She knew he had managed to get over them, something she had never quite managed to do. She reasoned that she had left him when he was down and needed her most, so she had no right to demand his attention when the tables were turned and she found herself needing him. She left without a word.

Confusion

Alison Cameron felt an overwhelming sense of confusion when he showed up at her doorstep in Chicago one autumn evening when the leaves on the trees that lined her street had turned a brilliant shade of amber. What was he doing here with his easy smile and mess of dirty golden locks and hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket? She wondered briefly if it was a special date she had forgotten, going over them in her mind. It was not the first day they met, or when he proposed, or when they got married. Having determined that it was not a special date, she was more confused than ever. Then he said those words that had started everything all those years back, and she realised that indeed it was.

"It's Tuesday," he said. "I like you."

And it was the beginning of something new.