DISCLAIMER: Fox owns. I don't. Darn.
A/N: My first House fic. I just thought the last scene from Ep. 3.19 Act Your Age was so poignant: Cameron and her flowers.
FLOWERS
Doctor Allison Cameron unlocked the front door to her lonely home and trudged inside. She was so tired it was a wonder she had managed to make it home tonight. She had barely had more than eighteen hours of sleep in the last four days.
Their last case—the two children with the deadly hormonal imbalance—had really drained her. On top of that, was the added bonus of having to muddle through her relationship with Chase.
Her non-relationship with Chase.
She took a deep breath as she recognized the now-familiar block in her mind that stopped her from thinking too much about Robert Chase. She had perfected the art of denial. In fact, a big blank wall would just pop in her mind the moment she even considered thinking about anything more with Chase.
It just…didn't feel right. Not at the moment. And to be honest, she didn't know when and if it would ever feel right. She couldn't remember what "right" felt like, anymore.
And if she were really honest with herself, she could admit that maybe she'd put up that wall because she was still holding out for someone with a sharper tongue, a drier wit, and the brightest blue eyes she'd ever seen.
She sighed in exasperation. It had been a while since she'd admitted that to herself, but she knew it was still true. Even when those brilliant blue eyes seemed to only look past her these days.
She stopped, just inside the threshold and looked around her place.
Everything looked neat, beautiful without being frilly, and in perfect order. Just like herself. Only, if she looked closer, she could see the fine layer of dust that covered the mantel over the fireplace, and the books on the bookshelf. She noticed that the magazines on her coffee table were from several months ago. There was only ever one set of utensils in the dish rack. And everything was just so…dull.
Everything looked lifeless.
Cameron felt tears well in her eyes at the thought. God, she was so lifeless.
She bowed her head, ready to let exhaustion and emotion take their toll on her, when she noticed the bright bouquet of flowers that she had stuck into her bag earlier this evening. The colors were brilliant—reds, pinks, yellows—all of them so vivid and alive.
She saw the small card with Chase's scrawl on it: NOT STOLEN.
She almost chuckled.
When was the last time she had received flowers? Not since her husband had died. Stolen flowers from a little boy certainly didn't count.
Did Chase's flowers count?
She smiled. Maybe.
Because if she peeked past that humongous wall she had built around the thought of a relationship with Chase, she would admit that those times with him—as friends with "benefits"—had made her feel more alive than she had in a long while. And it wasn't just when they were in bed.
He made her smile.
And reminded her that she liked flowers.
END
