Title: Through the Window

Author: The Dramatic Dolphin

Summary: Cameron reflects on Foreman and Thirteen. Spoilers through "Joy to the World." Rating for mild language.

Disclaimer: House and all associated characters are owned by Fox. I make no money off of this story.

They don't know I saw them through the window, but I did.

Robert and I were at the hospital's annual Christmas party, mingling, drinks in hand. I was enjoying myself, but then I looked up and there they were.

Eric Foreman. And Remy Hadley, known as Thirteen to the rest of us. Lips locked.

I almost dropped my drink, I was so shocked. I didn't even think they liked each other that much. But then I remembered, he had said something about clinical trials, and getting her in, and working with her…

That must be it. And, honestly, I was happy for them. I knew Eric wasn't much for relationships, and that he had been a little left out when Robert and I got together. Yes, he had had girlfriends over the years, but nothing ever seemed to be serious. He had gone through one breakup after another, and we all got so used to it that we barely noticed when he would announce another girlfriend's departure the night before.

But Thirteen? This might have a chance. They each had strong personalities, but maybe Eric's dedication to the rules of our trade and Thirteen's determination and drive could balance each other out, adding to both their medical careers and their personal lives. I smiled. If Robert and I could work out, hospital romances certainly had a good shot at surviving.

But wait…clinical trials? It took me a few moments to remember, but it hit me full force.

Thirteen was dying. Huntington's chorea. She had ten years left, at best.

Immediately my thoughts turned to my husband. God, how I missed him, still missed him. Oh, it's not that I don't love Robert with my whole heart; it's just that it's hard to forget a first love, someone who had made my life a perfect heaven…

Until he died, and my life became a perfect hell.

And now, Eric was setting himself up for the exact same hell. Even worse, in some ways – Thirteen's death would be slow, as she slowly lost control of one bodily function after another, while my husband's death was over within a year of his diagnosis. But, God, if this relationship really were to work out, he would have to slowly, painfully watch her decline, with nothing to do about it. Any future they had was also gone – any marriage would be like mine, complete with a deadline to be met, and a price to be paid. Children, too, were out of the equation – any child they might have had a 50% chance of ending up like his or her mother, knowing exactly what awful fate awaited them.

Damn. Foreman and Thirteen knew what they were getting into, on the doctoral, clinical trials, med-school textbook level. They could talk about Huntington's with their eyes closed; they could describe the exact deterioration of the nervous system, the dominant gene, the chorea…

But they couldn't talk about the deterioration of the heart that accompanied the death of a lover. And I could.

With a pang, I realized that I needed to stop this before it got too serious. Had things been different, had she not been dying, I would have smiled and turned back to Robert and the pleasant small talk that accompanies parties, glad that Eric had found someone compatible and was obviously enjoying her kiss. It hurt me to hurt them, both of them, but I knew that a small pain of separation now would be nothing compared to his pain at watching her die, and her pain at watching him witness her death.

I decided I would talk to Eric the next morning, before his shift. I would tell him to end it before it got too involved. Maybe I would even play the dead husband card if I had to.

But for Christmas at least, through the window, I let them kiss. They deserved one night together before the pain began.