Time Cannot Erase

I'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all my childish fears

Halfway through a bottle of red, and the night wasn't getting any easier. It had been a particularly rough day at the hospital; their young patient had taken a turn for the worse…and Cameron always struggled with kids' cases as it was. House seemed to have been in a particularly foul mood as well, with Cuddy on his back about clinic hours, as usual, and he'd taken it out on Cameron, as usual. So when it came to the task of telling the parents that they'd done their best, but unfortunately their baby son hadn't made it through surgery…House naturally forced that job upon Cameron. She'd seen it coming, yet it had still ended with her in the restroom, tears streaking mascara down her cheeks. How could he be so cruel? He played on her weaknesses, read her by heart and did his best to use that very knowledge to break her time and again.

It was a game to him. A game she was currently trying desperately to forget, pouring more of the crimson liquid into the glass that hadn't been empty since the start of the night. At times like these, emotionally run-down by everyone and everything, Cameron often found herself allowing old photographs to resurface. She knew it did her no good, only aided the recurrent process of breaking her heart, but it was habit now. He'd been her lifeline back then, ironically enough, and when it came to the lowest points, Andrew was still the one she'd seek out.

And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

Part of her, she knew, clung to these photographs to remind her of what she'd once had, what would always remain in her heart no matter how broken and damaged it was. But in the same instance, those memories only served to hurt her more and right now, she was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. Letting go of this, of Andrew, would be the hardest thing she'd ever do, and she wasn't ready for it.

Now she'd fallen in love with a man who refused to love her back, and some part of her felt like a traitor for still clinging to these old pictures, from a time when love wasn't so one-sided. She wondered if she could ever really move on. Part of her wished she could put these photos away and not look at them again. But keeping hold of them, she still had hold of him. He was long gone; it had been almost ten years since she'd lost him…and his presence was still felt entirely too strongly in her heart. She'd convinced herself she was better, she'd moved past it and by falling for House that was simply proof of the fact. But she was still haunted, and it was just her heart's continual reminders that kept her stuck in this ditch, unable to climb out.


These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

She wasn't crying. She'd done enough of that. But simply because the pain didn't show, that didn't mean it wasn't there. Emotional pain couldn't be treated nearly as well as physical pain. As a doctor, she was more than proficient in easing the latter…but somehow had never managed to quite grasp how to ease the pain she managed to conceal so well inside herself. It surprised her sometimes, how open and raw the wounds felt. House toyed with them constantly, yet she had become a little too good at hiding the jolts that his words inflicted upon her. She saw it in his eyes though. His words contradicted what she saw there. His mouth said 'no way, back off; I don't want you', but those eyes, they reached her deeper than any words could. They pleaded for her not to listen to what his mouth insisted on saying. It was all self-preservation and pride.

His wounds were just as real and just as painful as hers. For them, time wasn't the issue, because even with time, they'd still be just as damaged. She was sure that, sometimes, the pain in his leg wasn't simply due to muscle atrophy. Emotional pain could manifest itself in many ways, and Cameron was more than certain if he just opened up a little…maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But telling him that would be opening herself up for copious amounts of cruel jibes and more sarcasm than anyone should have aimed at them. Self-preservation and pride, she reminded herself.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

House refused to accept any help. Refused to allow her to get close. Andrew hadn't, not on bad days, and not even on days when he'd been able to stand up and hold her hand and even make love to her. He hadn't pushed her away, not once. So why did she keep going back to House, in spite of it? Part of it was punishment. She'd lost him, so why should she ever dare to think she might have that again? Then again, why couldn't she? Maybe she hadn't won in the end with Andrew, he'd died. She'd definitely lost on that one. But with House…she couldn't lose it. She'd fight just as hard as she fought the cancer with Andrew. Sometimes it seemed fruitless though. She wondered how often she'd have to take the rejection House threw at her time and time again, before he finally saw what was right in front of him. They never seemed to make any kind of progress in their twisted excuse of a relationship, if it could be called such. If one door opened, another door closed; one walked in, the other walked out. It was always the same dance, and she desperately wanted to turn the music off.

And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

She could still feel the warm weight of his hand in hers when she closed her eyes. All it took was a rough day and a few glasses of wine. Her memories would assault her as though they were fresh once again. She could hardly bear to acknowledge how quickly almost a decade had flown by. Moments like this weighed heavy though, and she felt the burden of those years. And even now, she wasn't the same. She'd hardened up a lot, partially thanks to House, partially thanks to the tough hand she'd been dealt. If someone had told her when she'd first started dating Andrew at sixteen years old, that he'd be snatched away from her five short years later…she knew she would have gone down the same road regardless. That was just who she was. Hindsight meant nothing. She loved him, and a part if her would always love him. Given the choice, she wouldn't go back and change her decisions. She'd had love, and no amount of reasoning could make her decide to change that in favour of a little less pain. Well, ok a lot less pain. But it had made her stronger, and she knew part of the reason she had been able to stick it out working for House for so long, was the tolerance of pain she'd acquired from years of living with it.

You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind

She remembered him with a smile. A rueful smile, but a smile nevertheless. She remembered when she'd first met him. He hadn't by any means been shy, but he hadn't been 'one of the guys' either. She'd been at a party she wasn't meant to be at, with friends her parents hadn't approved of…and she'd caught his eye without even realising it. He'd later told her it had been apparent that she was out-of-her-depth. Wide-eyed and feeling more grown up than she knew she was ready to handle at sixteen years old, she'd felt unsettled the entire night. It wasn't a wild party, but it was a party nevertheless. The girl who was so-called hosting it was blind drunk and had long since stopped caring what state her home was in. By ten pm, Cameron was more than ready to get out of there, not an ounce of alcohol having passed her lips. Her 'friends' had made it clear they were staying whether or not she chose to, and Cameron had ended up slinking off by herself to the end of the garden to the secluded porch swing. She felt more comfortable there, not having to put on a front of being way more mature than she actually felt.

Cameron had to laugh when she remembered the first time he'd spoken to her she'd very nearly smacked him one. He'd come up behind her, and commented sarcastically on how great the party was. She'd been caught totally off-guard by his presence and self-defence mechanisms had been so finely attuned throughout the night that the scare he'd given her had very nearly caused a fist to end up connecting with his face. Too many overly drunk, hormone-charged teenage boys had attempted to get closer than was appropriate that night so she wasn't exactly relaxed. He'd jumped back, startled himself at almost being attacked, and had held his hands up in surrender. Seeing how wrought she looked, he apologised for scaring her and warily took a seat beside her once she'd dropped her fist, embarrassed by the reflexive action.

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

That moonlight had done wonders in enhancing his features. The way he'd smiled at her had done wonderful things to her stomach too. And in a single moment, the evening had turned around. Normally, she wouldn't have left a party with someone she'd just met, but there had been something about him. He hadn't come on too strong like the rest of them had. He was gentle. He'd asked if he could hold her hand when they left after an hour of simply sitting on a porch swing talking. And that's how it had all started.

She could still remember that winning smile, the one he'd given her the first time they met, the one he'd had on all of their wedding photos, and the one he'd managed to summon right before he died. It was no wonder that smile haunted her. She'd once dreamed of it and woke up smiling. Now, when she happened to dream of him, she'd wake up with tearstains on her cheeks.

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

Maybe time couldn't make her forget Andrew, but for a few stolen moments, one person could at least make him a duller ache in her heart. He made her forget that she'd lost a husband, just for a minute, and she got lost in those eyes instead. It wasn't just Andrew's memory that haunted her dreams. It was House's eyes, boring into her and being able to see every tiny piece of her soul. She felt vulnerable, like the innocent little girl she'd been at that party all those years ago. But there was something so guarded about him. She understood why he didn't want to open up, why he'd rather be alone. She'd been through the pains of love a hell of a lot in her life and she was wary too.

What frustrated her was his tenacity in refusing to even consider letting her in. She would routinely end up so close to screaming at him it was untrue. But she'd been raised with siblings, so she'd long since learned how to 'let it go' and bite her tongue. In fact, she was sure she didn't get half as much credit as she deserved, for the things she managed not to say. When she thought about it though, really thought about it…she still had reservations about him as well. Did she really want to open her heart up so much, again, with such a great risk of him stamping on it at any given point? He'd made it clear to everyone who met him that he honestly couldn't care less about what people thought of him, or how he could so easily hurt people. She'd had enough hurt in her life, the wounds still painful and too susceptible for comfort…yet she still couldn't help but want him.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

If he'd only give her a chance, maybe he'd see he was wrong. She didn't want to fix him, or change him. Why couldn't he see that? If she wanted to change him, she couldn't really be in love with him. And there was that word again. Sighing, she shook her head, about to take another drink of the wine. Stopping the glass before it reached her lips; she looked down into it and gazed back at her reflection swimming on the surface. Sometimes, these moments of sharp introspect caught her off guard.

How did it all build up to this? Why did he have to be so Goddamn defensive when it came to feelings? Unlike with Andrew, she hadn't stuck around here solely out of choice when everyone was telling her to cut loose and run. If she'd allowed her head to rule she knew she'd have left Princeton less than a month after her fellowship with House had begun. Back then, her head had instinctively told her he was no good for her, he'd only damage her more than she was already. But her heart had forced her to stay. There was some kind of magnetism he held, which had almost instantly cast a spell over her. As much as he wanted to figure her out, he was just as much of a puzzle to her. He never failed to fascinate her and somewhere along the line she'd lost her heart to him. How the hell had that happened?

He was certainly the opposite of Andrew. Whereas her late husband had been so loving, so gentle with her, House could easily hurt her with the sharp ends of the sarcastic barbs her threw directly at her heart. His callous attitude had done nothing to prevent her falling in love with him, however, and this was a mystery even to Cameron. Why did she keep going back? Hadn't he made it clear he didn't want her? So why couldn't she just break the chains and run?

And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

She'd been there for House through a hell of a lot, in both of their lives. When Stacy had come back with a husband in tow, she'd ignored what a blow to the heart his response to her was and had stepped aside. But she hadn't missed the way his mood had darkened, and how his eyes would linger on his ex a little longer than necessary whenever they spoke, or the way in which he watched her walk away with a sad kind of melancholy dulling the usual sparkle in his eyes. She'd never resented another woman's presence so much before Stacy had turned up. And when she'd gone, Cameron felt as though it had landed on her to pick up the pieces, whilst he tore her down again and again. She was sure sometimes that he was testing her, seeing how far he could push before she left as well.

I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone,
But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along

Sometimes, when she was in the lab late at night, running tests House had ordered her to run, she'd sense him with her. Andrew had been studying medicine too, and she'd always find him locked away in the lab. When she'd chosen her speciality, part of her hadn't wanted to choose immunology, because of the reminders she was struck with every time she entered the lab, but she chose it regardless and it ended up being somewhat of a comfort. She felt close to him, like he was still there somehow, even though she knew that notion was both naïve and impossible. Never had she voiced this perception either. It was personal, and she didn't need to shout it from the rooftops for it to be real in her heart.

None of the others knew, nor would she ever tell them. But she was surprised that House hadn't latched on to how comfortable she was in the quiet of the lab, especially with his pathological – excuse the pun – need to dissect every inch of her every action.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

A knock on the door startled her out of her reverie and the wine sloshed around in protest at her sudden movements. Frowning, and still somewhat caught up on thoughts of House and Andrew, she stumbled as she stood, almost tripping over the coffee table before carefully placing the glass on it. She wasn't drunk, barely even tipsy, and that surprised her. She'd gone through almost three-quarters of a bottle of red wine. Apparently, she wasn't so much of a lightweight anymore, as she had been in college. Not that she'd really had chance to party much in college, with a dying husband to care for and all. Making her way to the door, she brushed a few stray strands of hair off her face and sighed. Who the hell was calling at - she glanced at the clock - eleven fifteen in the evening?

And I've held your hand through all of these years

So here they were again, and déjà vu struck her as she opened the door to see those eyes boring into her. She couldn't escape it, but she wasn't quite sure she wanted to. She felt the tension in her shoulders that seemed to appear whenever he did, but she chose to ignore it.

Leaving the door open, she returned to the sofa, an unspoken invitation left hanging in the threshold. She wasn't going to say anything. He'd come to her, so he could expose whatever ulterior motive he had in turning up like this before she'd given him any ammunition to shoot her down. He didn't speak, and for a moment she thought he'd simply left with nothing further to explain his presence. But when she heard the door shut and a slow, uneven gait on the wooden floor, she was reassured somewhat.

Holding up the bottle of wine, another unspoken question, he nodded and she grabbed another glass from the cabinet before returning to the sofa. He sat heavily next to her, not a word spoken between them yet. But there was an understanding. They didn't need words. He was apologising in the only way he knew how to. With silence.

He'd been rough on them today, but more so on her. She'd taken it, as usual, and he'd pushed as much as he could until Cuddy had stepped in on her behalf. Funny, they'd never been close, but maybe the unshed tears in her eyes as she'd locked herself away in the lab had evoked some kind of empathy in her boss.

For once in…well, she was sure it was actually the first time ever; Cameron had left work on time. She and House had barely spoken two words to each other, with the only interaction being to bounce ideas of diagnoses around. He'd taken that opportunity to knock her down at any given chance, mocking her ideas, being overtly cruel, and even Foreman had tried to step in.

No matter what she did, she never seemed to please him. He'd either be cruel, or he'd be silent. Neither gave her any kind of insight into his mind. But then again, she wasn't sure she wanted an insight into the mind of Gregory House, MD. That was unchartered territory she was sure no one would return from if they ever had the chance to explore it. And yet no matter how cruel, or silent, he was; no matter how much whiplash he gave her from the sudden and aggressive comments he launched in her direction, she took it. And she was resigned with the knowledge that she always would.

Perhaps this was a step forward though. No words were exchanged, true. But he was here and he was trying. She hated herself for it, but she was losing grip of the part of her that still carried the flame for Andrew. She would never stop loving him, but she had to move on. When she was around House, his presence was so volatile that she was easily swept up by it. She forgot everything but him. One step forward, two steps back. She just hoped that history wouldn't repeat itself. She fell in love; she got hurt. That was how it worked. But she wasn't sure she'd pull back from it a second time. House hurt her already, yet she still wanted him, a part of her needed him. She hated that. She'd refused to let herself become dependent on anyone, because that was just opening herself up to heartache. And being vulnerable like that again terrified her too much. Yet here she was, here they were, and somehow she couldn't help but feel like everything was hurtling towards them faster than they could take it.

You still have all of me.