Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I do not own the song, and I'll never make money off of this. But thank you David Shore, and Death Cab.
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Allison Cameron sat in the waiting room of a familiar hospital looking around at all the relative calmness happening around her. It was a stark contrast to the raging thoughts going on in her mind. The nurses answered telephone calls in collected voices, the residences moved about in slow and languid manners, and the doctors leisurely walked through the halls, heads ducked down into patient folders. The hospital was at ease today.
But Allison Cameron was not at ease. Her mind was a raging battlefield of emotions. She couldn't tell which one wanted to take over—sorrow, anger, madness, hysteria? They all seemed to want to take over her entire being at once, but she sat stoically, waiting for the war to end and the necessary emotion to capture her. She'd learned to ignore the war, for the most part; after all, she knew this day would be coming.
Thirteen's chorea was progressing so fast; her tremors were bad and sometimes her speech would get caught up in her brain and jumbled as it passed down the wires and lost when it came to her tongue. She'd recently begun forgetting things, her short term memory becoming less reliable. She'd already had to quit working and Cameron was taking care of her full time.
Time, they thought that they would have so much more of it. Everyday they thought they would have a tomorrow—it was a faulty hope that they both shared. It kept them sane. All the time that Thirteen and Cameron had together was just borrowed. They could make plans to travel, to go places and do things, but those plans were made just to have hope.
And it came to me then
That every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU
That reeked of piss and 409.
A nurse finally came to get Cameron and lead her to a room where they'd admitted Thirteen. She was asleep now—the concussion she'd suffered from her latest seizure was what had brought them here. The nurse left Cameron alone, and immediately she went to Thirteen's bedside. She grabbed the brunette's hand and softly rubbed the top of it with her thumb.
"Oh, Remy," she said softly. She brushed a strand of hair away from Thirteen's face and gently kissed her forehead. Cameron didn't cry, she didn't want to—she'd had all this time to prepare for it. It didn't mean that this situation didn't hurt any, though.
She used to love the machines, the medicine, the technology. She used to think that they were such great instruments of assistance for people. But right here, right now, she couldn't feel anything but hatred towards the machines, the medicine, and the technology that could do nothing to save her dying girl.
Cameron looked at her beautiful brunette, wires and tubes monitoring the slow decline of her health. She couldn't take the numbers or the lines or the calculations. Every beep of the monitor seemed to be ticking away the time she had left with Thirteen. Cameron got up; she wanted to be with Thirteen, but the room was becoming too small, and her chest was starting to cave in, and the beep-beep-beep of machines was becoming so loud.
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself
That I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD
Took you a little farther away from me
Away from me
In the lobby, trying to choose between chips or pretzels, Cameron stood barely holding herself together. The decision was just temporary relief from the situation she knew she was in. Holding back a sob, she pushed a stray strand of blonde hair away from her face.
Chips? Or Pretzels? Pretzels? Or chips? Her mind was like reading some bad stream of conscious novel—she would decide on chips because what if Thirteen woke up, she would like chips better, but—oh god—what if she didn't wake up, but then it wouldn't matter because pretzels wouldn't make any difference in the world and maybe this is just an over exaggeration so then pretzels seem good because they'd last longer and on and on. Cameron pressed her forehead to the glass trying to calm down herself down.
She felt a soft hand on her shoulder then, and a voice to accompany it, "Banging your head on the glass won't make the decision any easier."
She turned around, and a small smile tried to sneak its way onto her lips. Cameron was greeted by a familiar face, etched with deep lines of years of frustration and laughter, and a head of short almost gray hair, all accessorized with small rectangular framed reading glasses. Wilson held a small, sad smile as he looked at her.
"I heard about what happened," he said sorrowfully. He carefully pulled Cameron into a hug. They hadn't seen each other for sometime—after Thirteen had to stop working Cameron came in less and less to work for the ER. She never stayed later to catch up, never went to work parties, never spoke much to colleagues. She had lost touch with people she could have seen everyday.
"Things will be alright," he told her. They were obligatory words—all doctors had to assure the same thing to families, to spouses, and to friends. It was a habit they developed even with each other. Knowing this, Cameron finally broke and allowed herself to cry; things would never be alright from now on. Wilson rubbed her back lightly. After a few moments, she pulled away and embarrassingly wiped her tears away. Wilson gave her that same sad smile.
"Stop by some time, I'd love to catch up with you on a happier occasion," he tried. She nodded a thanks and offered what she hoped looked like a smile but felt more like a flinch. Cameron had forgotten that Wilson, out of anybody in this hospital, would know what she was going through; he had that whole incident with Amber, and she'd—selfishly wallowing in her own pool of sadness—forgotten that Wilson was once in this place.
He pressed two buttons behind her and smiled that smile he'd had ever since Amber died.
"Goodbye, Allison."
Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend
On a faulty camera in our minds
Chips in hand, Cameron returned to Thirteen's room. She was greeted by a pair of green eyes she'd grown accustomed to seeing for the past few years.
"Hey," Thirteen said as Cameron stepped in. Cameron smiled.
"How are you feeling?"
That was an obligatory sentence too—Cameron knew how Thirteen was feeling; Thirteen has felt the same for the past year. The answer was always a shrug. As Cameron held Thirteen's hand, a tremor passed through. Thirteen bit her lip for the duration of the tremor, but Cameron never let go.
"Chips?" the brunette inquired, eyebrow piqued in Cameron's direction. They shared the chips and turned on the television. First, Cameron sat in the chair besides Thirteen, but after a few minutes of passing the bag back and forth, Thirteen insisted that Cameron sat next to her on the bed.
Sitting like that, Cameron tucked under Thirteen's chin, chips lying on the blonde's torso, and eyes on the television, the hospital seemed to melt away around them. They laughed a little bit to the program, but mostly just enjoyed the company of each other. Home didn't have to be the apartment they shared, or the bed they both laid in—it was wherever their hearts went. It was where Cameron could lay with Thirteen. It was where Thirteen could hear that beautiful laughter.
For a while everything really did seem okay. That's what made Cameron fall for Thirteen in the first place—the younger one's ability to make the older one forget her grief and worry and fears had established such comfortableness that Cameron couldn't help but fall for her. Of course, Thirteen could have said the same for Cameron.
Laughing in the middle of a program, Thirteen looked down at Cameron. Their eyes met and every worry within the two minds were gone—the disease, the machines, the dread. Slowly and lovingly, Cameron sat up to kiss Thirteen on the mouth. The feeling of each other was enough to make the rest of the world disappear completely.
But I knew that you were a truth
I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
A nurse walked in later to check on Thirteen's vitals and administer some medication. Thirteen sent Cameron on a quest to find some real food, as she didn't want her girl to see the nurse poking and prodding and filling her full of pills. Cameron knew this, but she complied.
On her way to the cafeteria, Cameron passed the lobby again. She noticed a young family huddled together, but somehow spread so far apart. Two young boys played with some of the hospital toys in a corner while their older sister sat curled in a chair lost in her music and a father nervously turned pages over and over in a single magazine. The boys played with a few cars, neither making sound effects nor showing eagerness in the activity. The sister quickly pulled out her iPod and seemed to hit the next button many times. The father slammed a magazine down and picked up another. They were used to this, Cameron thought sadly.
She made her way to the cafeteria and picked up a few items half-heartedly. She thought about the things the nurse must have been telling Thirteen. She wanted to be there, but if the nurse didn't say anything, she didn't want to see the useless medicine and futile treatments. If it took the fight out of her, she could only imagine how it made Thirteen feel.
"Allison?" the voice of the Head of Medicine came from behind her in line. Cameron stepped out and turned towards Cuddy. "You look so worn out."
Cameron adjusted her glasses and quickly tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Fixing her appearance didn't convince Cuddy of any revitalization of energy.
"How's…," she trailed off, and averted her eyes. Somehow Cameron could tell that whenever Cuddy asked something, she was always bracing herself for the worst.
"She's awake," Cameron replied. Her answer seemed to lift an enormous weight off of Cuddy, and her shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Great news," the older woman said with a smile.
Cameron had at first thought that statement to be ridiculous. But as she thought about it more, it really was great news that Thirteen was even just awake. There were far worse states that Thirteen could currently be in—not that hers now wasn't bad enough. She exchanged a few words with Cuddy, who ended up paying for the meal, and ventured back towards the intensive care unit. Finding renewed appreciation in Thirteen's state of health, Cameron allowed herself a small smile.
That smile quickly faded when she passed the lobby. Two boys were now in their father's arms as he cried, and their sister clenched her jaw and fist as a doctor stood in front of them. As Cameron walked by the young girl's expression turned rapidly from anger to sadness, and she too fell to her knees and hugged her father. The television played an old Tom and Jerry cartoon as the doctor shook his head sadly, offered his condolences, and walked away.
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground
As the TV entertained itself
'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous paces bracing for bad news
Thirteen and Cameron stayed in the hospital for a few more days, just to monitor Thirteen's brain functions. They spend most of the days playing cards, trying to remember better days, and watching the television. Wilson stops by to visit and fills the couple in on the latest hospital gossip. Remembering her fellowship days and working with House, Thirteen laughs at all of Wilson's stories—she remembers being the gossip, it's a nice spin on things. Their old boss even makes a brief two minute appearance making snarky remarks and awful comments that they know to be made out of tender love and care. He bolts on his gimpy leg and cane as soon as Cameron implies that maybe he actually came down because he was concerned.
They try to pass the time anyway they can. Cameron never returns home or leaves Thirteen's side—she borrows hospital scrubs to sleep in and change into; she showers with the same patient shampoo Thirteen has to use. When Thirteen forgets things, Cameron reminds her, tells it to her the same way she did the first time, repeats things. When Thirteen shakes, Cameron holds her, comforts her, makes her feel safe. When Cameron clutches Thirteen at night, the brunette wakes up and whispers to her. When Cameron breaks down and cries, Thirteen cries too.
Multiple times, Thirteen tries to tell Cameron to go home and get rest. She jokes that she'll be in the same place tomorrow: the blonde rolls her eyes at that. She jokes that they'll be spending plenty of time in the hospital soon enough: the blonde worries at that. She jokes because she needs to keep her mind off of dying. She jokes because she'd rather laugh than cry about the brevity of her life.
At night Thirteen lies awake and plays with strands of Cameron's hair. She once asked Cameron to stop dying it blonde, just to see what her brunette hair was like, but Cameron never did it; she wanted to be different from Thirteen—not the opposite, but the compliment. Often, Thirteen doubts her deserving of her girl. When they first got together it was so severe that they had multiple break ups and copious amounts of drama, but Cameron always insisted on being there for Thirteen, helping Thirteen, and doing what was best for Thirteen.
Thirteen always tried to do what was best for Cameron, like that summer a few years ago when the tremors first started and she tried to run away. She didn't want to have to have Cameron watch her die slowly. But Cameron found her, scolded her, and told her off.
"How dare you think that I don't have the strength to go through this with you?"
After that Thirteen didn't wait to go back to Princeton—her and Cameron basically eloped like teenagers. Cameron never had to say those words again.
The day of check-out, Thirteen and Cameron took one last shower, watched one last program, and waited for the nurse to give Thirteen one more check up and release her. They always felt like the nurse was writing down Thirteen's timeline as she went from line to line and machine to machine. As she awkwardly checked off every thing on the chart, the nurse shyly gazed at the couple patiently waiting to be released.
They returned the stare with worn, worried, and weathered smiles. Smiles they'd had ever since that summer a few years ago. Smiles like the one Wilson wore ever since Amber died. Smiles like the one House put on ever since he got back from rehab.
"It's great how much you two love each other," she whispered. "It must be hard."
Cameron squeezed Thirteen's hand and they looked at each other with knowing, sad, and soft smiles. The nurse checked off the last thing on the chart for that day.
"It is," Thirteen says.
"But worth it," Cameron finishes.
Then the nurse comes around and everyone lifts their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said
That love is watching someone die
So who's going to watch you die
So who's going to watch you die
So who's going to watch you die