A/N: So... this is my first House fic. Be gentle. Also, just saw a newer episode (on USA, because that just happens to be the channel on which I manage to catch episodes) where Chase proposes to Cameron. I barfed, and then proceeded to write this little thing, as it wouldn't leave me the hell alone. Enjoy!
Summary: Cameron and Chase get married. The only problem is that, after only half a year, Cameron's not so sure she that made the right decision.
The Relative Pain of Being
The first month of being married is easy. You wake up in bed with him, and it's the same, but it's different. You smile easier, laugh quicker. The world seems brighter, and all that other hokey stuff you like to think about that House would torment you endlessly for uttering.
Things are good.
---
It's the second month that trips you up. And here you were doing so well. It's certainly not your first fight as a couple, but it's your first married fight, and that holds significance. This time, if it ends badly, you can't just go your separate ways and leave it be. This time, there are ramifications that are real, and stretch beyond a piece of paper with two signatures on it.
This time, you spend an hour crying in the bathroom because you're terrified. Of being wrong, of losing him, of all the things you can't control.
And it hits you that House really has you pegged. You like to be in control, to manipulate the situation so that it works for you. But you've never really been aware you were doing it until now. There was always something, some moral high ground you could swim to in the midst of an emotional flood.
But today, the ground drops out from beneath you. You're left floating, and wondering, and crying on your bathroom floor.
It's the reason you apologize first.
---
The third and fourth months go by slowly, and your sex life wanes to an almost impenetrable wall between the two of you. Thing is, you can't remember who put that wall up first.
Was it you, in yet another bout of insecurity? Was it Chase, unsure of the choices you've both made? Is it a stand off, the product of some ill-conceived revenge?
You go through the motions every day. You kiss him on the cheek, and he hugs you close. But not too close. Not in the way he used to, crushing your body to his like he might never find anything this real again.
You're pretty sure you're disappointed, but you don't know if its because you really miss him, or because you really miss sex.
---
The fifth month, things are back to the way they were in the first month. It came in the form of House taking notice of your down-turned mouth, the way you avoided eating lunch with your husband. The times you ate lunch with him, instead, watching taped soap operas to pass the silence between you.
And you really should've known better, especially when House didn't question it the first time. He's a genius, after all (not that you'd ever tell him this, and chance over inflating his already enormous ego), and he can read people.
It was his supposition of your imminent divorce that spurred you into action. This is how you find yourself with Chase, up against the wall of a hospital supply closet, in the middle of your shift.
You try to disregard the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach, and replace it with what mattered before. And you begin to realize that eventually this is gonna hurt like hell. But for now, it feels really good to be this close to someone again, and you're not quite ready to give it up.
---
In the sixth month, it's over. Not officially, but in your head.
You are sitting on another bathroom floor, this time it's in the hospital. And you want to cry, but you just can't seem to start. There's this warning sign flashing in your mind in bright neon orange. It tells you that you can't be in this anymore; that your ultimate self-sabotage has finally succeeded, and you might want to try going down swinging. Just this once.
Instead of doing that, you rub your eyes with the heels of your hands, and laugh. You laugh when the door creeks open, when you hear the cane clatter to the floor beside you. You laugh when you lean in to kiss him, and then you cry.