What was that terrible beeping noise? Chase rolled over drowsily, trying to muffle the sound. Nope. It's still going. In resignation, he pulled the sheets down from over his head to an unfamiliar bedroom. Where the hell... He stumbled out of bed, head pounding. How drunk did he get last night? He wasn't wearing anything but his underwear, and even that seemed clumsily tugged on.
A woman walked in, toweling her hair dry. "Hey. Sorry about the alarm."
"Yeah, it's fine," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. Right. He'd left with her last night. What was her name? Tiffany? Stephanie? It ended in an 'e' sound, he was pretty sure. He looked over at the clock, still making the horrid noise. 8:15. Damn. He was going to be late again.
"I was going to let you sleep, but, well..."
He shook his head, which was a mistake, as the rapid movement only made the pain worse. "No, it's fine, I... I've got work." His clothes were on the ground in a wrinkled pile. Great. He picked up the shirt, shrugging it on awkwardly, trying to smooth out some of the folds that had accumulated overnight.
Brittney or whatever nodded. "I guess you can show yourself out then."
"Yeah. I had a good time." He winked, fastening his belt. "See you never."
She hesitated at this, towel clutched between her hands. "Actually, I was maybe hoping that..."
"Sorry. Not interested." He finished the last few buttons on the shirt, leaving before she could object again.
It wasn't like rejecting the random assortment of women he'd slept with was new. He'd never let any of them close, not even to the point where they'd go back to his place rather than theirs.
Grabbing his lab coat out of his locker, he walked over to the diagnostics room, somehow still making it before House.
"Good morning," Foreman said, sliding a cup of coffee across the table. "You're late."
Chase scoffed, taking a sip. "If I'm before House, I'm on time. And don't act like you're not also hungover."
"I got a full eight hours of sleep, Chase. Something you might've benefited from."
He laughed. "I think you're just jealous, mate." To be fair, though, his head was killing him.
Masters blinked, slightly uncomfortable with the exchange. "You know, studies say that eating a good breakfast could assist with a hangover. As well as, well, ibuprofen."
Chase shrugged, grabbing a banana. Might as well eat something. But before he could even start to unpeel it, House limped jovially into the room, a smirk on his face. "Well, I've just been talking to Cuddy..."
Taub glanced at him sideways. "Are you sure it was just talking?"
"Oh, trust me, it was better than just talking," House quipped, dropping a fresh stack of files on the table. "But, she cordially reminded me that I need to send one of you to the stuffy medical conference at Princeton General this Saturday."
Masters' eyebrows shot up at the prospect. "Oh, I can-"
"Chase. You're going."
He should've seen this coming. No matter how long he was a fellow, House would always find some way to pick on him. But he didn't do things without reason. "Why me?" he asked, frowning.
"Because you have the prettiest hair," House said, already writing symptoms on the board. "And because a particular someone is going to be there."
A particular... someone? What could he mean by... oh. Now that was a House move if he ever knew one. "Cameron?"
"Ah, right," Masters said, cutting in. "I read the information page on the event. Dr. Allison Cameron will be speaking on her paper, 'What Working in the Emergency Room Taught me About the Human Condition'."
Foreman shrugged. "Sounds exactly like something Cameron would write."
Yeah. It did. Chase didn't know how he felt about the prospect of seeing her again. Sure, they had parted on good terms, but they hadn't interacted since. He pulled over a file before anyone could notice his discomfort, skimming the details quickly.
"So, who's Cameron again?" Masters asked, Chase subconsciously squeezing the file tighter. "And what's everyone's history with her?"
"I think you should ask Chase," House said, nodding in his direction.
"I think we have a patient," he retorted, eyes still glued to the information. "Twenty-three-year-old Megan Campbell, to be exact." And so, the topic of Cameron was dropped, at least for now.
Cameron hadn't expected Sean to come into the ER, especially while he was supposedly on shift. But there was a seriousness in his eyes, the usual playful light extinguished.
"What's going on?" She asked somewhat playfully, still focused on her current patient.
But the hard line his mouth was in didn't shift. "The next name on your list... he's admitted here."
The news was like a sudden shock, and she had to consciously hold on to her clipboard to avoid dropping it. "What for?"
"I don't know. But he's one of Dr. Augustine's patients."
The head of oncology. Not exactly a good person to see if you were planning on living. "Thanks. I'll check it out."
He nodded. "Be careful."
On her break, she went to go visit the patient, who was watching the TV in the corner of his room.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Cameron. Alan, was it?"
The elderly man looked back at her with weary eyes, the life inside them dulled. He blinked a few times, registering the presence of the other human being, lifting up a hand briefly before dropping it. "What a lovely young lady. I have a daughter just like you." With that said his eyelids dropped slowly, falling asleep before she could even respond.
A woman around her age was standing in the doorway, wiping a few tears from her eyes.
The connection happened instantly. "You're Mr. Richmond's daughter, right?"
She nodded, coming inside silently and taking a seat. "Yeah. I just... I just wish I had more time to say goodbye. I've known the whole time it was terminal, but actually being here..." She took a shaky breath, wiping away a few more tears. "He's the only family I have left."
Cameron nodded, placing her hand on her shoulder out of empathy. "I'm sorry."
Shaking, the woman wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her tight as she cried. Returning the embrace, Cameron couldn't help wondering if that would be her in less than a week, crying into a shoulder because she'd lost someone she loved.
Chase should've known that he couldn't keep the questions away for long. Running some tests under a microscope, he tried to ignore Masters fidgeting awkwardly in the seat beside him. But, alas, eventually it annoyed him enough to turn in the chair, facing her.
"Something you need?"
Her eyes darted to his face as if she hadn't expected him to say anything at all. "I... uh... I was thinking that you'd be more willing to share in a more private situation."
"You'd be wrong," he said, turning back to his work. She was almost instantly crestfallen, looking away regretfully. Dammit. He sighed, shaking his head. "She used to work on the team. We were married."
"Oh."
He nodded, going back to the sample. And so, the silence was restored for the moment, if only for too brief a moment.
"Do you mind if I ask why she left?" Much too brief a moment.
"Yep," he clipped back, not even hesitating. Did he himself even remember why? He'd always blamed it on Dibala, but... she had taken the situation surprisingly in stride. But he had chosen not to leave Princeton with her. He'd chosen to stay. But she'd also left without a warning, leaving him only with the message that he had changed. That he had somehow been irreversibly corrupted by House.
But then they'd met again. They'd made up. But he had still signed the papers, still had let her walk out that door. Whose fault was it really?
Cameron sat in the locker room, head bowed, hands in her lap. It had been the first time she'd gotten to someone on the list before they died and they were already beyond saving. None of this made any sense. There didn't seem to be a pattern to this, any discernible way she could predict what would happen next. Nothing except knowing the next name down the list would die tomorrow.
Sean walked in without a greeting, silently taking a seat on the bench opposite her. They shared the space wordlessly for a moment before he looked up at her. "You found him, didn't you?"
She nodded numbly. "Stage four brain cancer."
"You couldn't have done anything."
"I know." But it didn't make her feel any better. She was running out of time.
Sean sighed, getting up to sit next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we could find the kid. Maybe he knows what's behind all this."
She laughed at the notion. "Sean, he's eight."
He leaned back, raising his eyebrows with a grin. "What, you don't think a child could possibly hold all the answers to human mortality?"
She shrugged, still smiling. "You're right, he should at least know something." She was glad he was with her through this. She took his hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze. Without him, she didn't think she could go through this. She was beyond lucky to have someone who was willing to put up with all of this.
He stood up, getting his jacket out of his locker. "So, we've got a few hours before we need to go to the airport. Let's find this kid."
It didn't take long to find where he lived. Every patient record came with an address, after all. The hard part, naturally, was actually getting any answers. The door swung open to Michael's mother standing on the other side, a slightly perplexed expression setting in.
"Hi. Um, how can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Dr. Cameron," she said, trying to plaster on the most inviting smile she could. "I took care of your son on Tuesday?" Oh, she really hoped this would work. Otherwise, she was going to make a fool out of herself.
The confused expression lessened slightly with the recognition, but the suspicion lingering behind did not.
She took a deep breath in an attempt to ground herself. "Could I speak to Michael for a moment? Just as a sort of follow-up."
His mother shrugged, turning her head back to call him over. "Michael, can you come here, sweetie?"
The boy bounced to the door, eagerly sticking his head out. "Hi, Doctor Cameron! Did you save anyone yet?"
The statement was like a stab in the chest, and it suddenly took a substantial amount of additional effort to keep smiling. "No. I haven't."
The smile practically melted off the boy's face as he looked down. "Oh."
Pressing her lips tighter together, Cameron knelt down, meeting him at his height. "Can I ask you a question about the list you gave me?"
He nodded, not meeting her eyes.
"How did you know what people to write down?"
He shrugged, shuffling back a few steps. "I just saw it in their eyes." He looked back up, wide eyes brimming with tears. "How come you didn't save them? You know that if you don't save them, they die, right? You've got to do something!"
Whatever semblance of a smile that remained on her face was quickly gone. She did know. She knew all too well. "Michael, I'm so sorry..."
"You promised! You made a promise and that means that- that means that- you can't just-" His face scrunched up, unable to form the right words.
Cameron cupped his cheek in her hand, looking into the bright eyes that had earlier been filled with such hope. "I'm still trying. I won't give up, okay?"
He turned his head away. "Okay." With that said, he turned and walked back into the house, disappearing from sight.
She could already feel the glare of a mother's disapproval boring into her before she even looked up.
"I think you should leave." The statement was cold, firm.
She nodded, taking Sean's hand as they walked away, head bowed like a scolded child.
It wasn't until they were on the plane that the silence on the encounter was broken.
"That could've gone better."
Cameron sighed, eyes staring out at the shrinking city of Chicago beneath them. "Yeah." Better was one way to put it. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a chasm, only a few steps from falling in. She'd accepted an impossible responsibility, inadvertently taking the lives of complete strangers and one who was anything but, into her hands. She wished she didn't know, wished she couldn't see death slowly closing in on them.
But then again, being ignorant wouldn't save Chase. And even if she didn't know... Her brain flashed through a slideshow of imagined grief- getting the phone call, going to his funeral, standing over his casket in tears, wondering what had gone wrong. No. She couldn't- she couldn't let that happen.
But what if there was no way to stop the deaths? Was she just chasing after an impossibility? His face came into her head, and she held the picture for a moment, unwilling to forget. Even if there was no way to save him... she wanted to see him, just one last time.
Sean nudged her playfully, a half-hearted smirk on his face. "But hey, we have another clue."
She blinked a few times, turning to look at him. Usually, his light-hearted nature could cheer her up, but today, it was lost on her. "What do you mean?"
"The kid. He said he could tell who to put on the list by looking into their eyes."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you're thinking..."
The grin on his face grew wider. "That we have a medical mystery on our hands." He paused in mock thought. "You think I'd look good with a cane?"
She scoffed, leaning back in her seat, trying to muffle the laughter that threatened to spill out. "What makes you so sure that this is a medical case?"
"Think about it," Sean said, accepting a cup of orange juice from a flight attendant. "You said he gave the list to you because you save people. Since when are doctors the only ones who save people? Why'd he give it to you, and not a police officer, a firefighter, a soldier?"
She shrugged. "Maybe because he saw me first?"
"Maybe. But maybe it's not just a coincidence. Maybe none of this is just a coincidence."
"Fine," Cameron said, setting her cup of water on the tray table. "Say this is a medical thing. What would he be seeing?"
"An eye condition?" Sean suggested, sipping his juice. "I can't think of anything that would be fatal, though."
"The teenage girl," she suggested. "Maybe she suddenly couldn't see the road, leading to the car crash."
"Doesn't explain the suicide. You don't kill yourself because you suddenly can't see."
The suicide. She shuddered involuntarily, a chill rushing down her spine. The screaming. The cry of terrified, anguished loss, the loss nothing could ever replace. Echoing through her head, as if she was still on that doorstep now.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah," she stammered, shaking her head briefly. The mental toll was already catching up to her. "Maybe it wasn't an eye thing. Maybe he was seeing how they felt." She looked back out the window, only too aware what the implications of her next words were. "Maybe it was depression."
Sean didn't respond immediately, taken aback slightly. "And you think that... Chase... is depressed?" He spoke the words slowly, eyebrows wrinkling together.
"I don't know what I'm thinking," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. She hadn't seen him in a year, hadn't spoken to him. Who knows what he was like now? Maybe he wasn't even the same man she remembered.
"Allison. Hey." He grabbed her hand, looking into her eyes. "We'll see when we get there. Don't worry about it now."
She nodded, if only to appease him. How could she not worry? With so much on the line, how could she do anything but worry?
Taking a deep breath, she called a flight attendant over to order a glass of wine.