TITLE: Beginning Now (8/9)

WARNINGS: sex

NOTE: Only one more chapter after this! Then I have another long, much more plot-based future fic idea in the works. Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading that!


Chapter Eight

Walking back out into the cold, Cameron feels utterly drained, every modicum of resolve she's held onto during this case spent. She cannot seem to shake the image of Elise Snow, deathly ill and surrounded by the chaos of her rapidly-dissolving marriage. This is not her own misfortune, and yet Cameron feels a grief for the state of this stranger's life which she can't quite seem to shake. That Elise has been unfaithful with her husband's best friend seems almost a message from the universe.

Memories seem to cling to Cameron's skin, a kind of creeping chill that even the thick wool of her coat cannot dispel. It's like looking back in time at her own weaknesses, the demons she could never quite drown out even in the face of her husband's impending death. Watching this couple buffeted about by the tide of unfaithfulness revealed, Cameron can't help but picture where things might stand had she been unable to resist temptation.

Climbing into her car and watching snowflakes fall as the sun hangs lower on the horizon, she tries to swallow her doubts. Never before has she questioned her steadfast avoidance of anything more than a friendship with Joe. In the past decade she has scarcely even allowed herself to speak to him, save for the occasional Christmas card or casual greeting on a birthday. But today she feels enveloped by a strange uncertainty, the ghosts of what-ifs tangling icy fingers through her gut. She is alone today because of her fear and respect for a relationship lost, she knows. Because she has forced herself to cope with the pain of grieving in solitude. Because she has been too afraid to move on, even now, years later. Had she allowed herself to be with Joe at any point, she thinks, she might not be so alone now. The very thought makes her physically ill, the realization that this is even a prospect she's considering making her stomach churn and her skin crawl.

Unable to sit still in her car any longer, Cameron turns the key and drives, through the soft white slush of wet snow against her windshield. For once, she allows her thoughts to wander, focusing on anything and everything besides where she is actually going. She doesn't stop driving until she realizes that she is in front of Chase's building, carefully choosing one of the few parking spaces that is still free of ice. She pulls her keys from the ignition and practically sprints up the walkway, not allowing herself time to analyze or doubt this decision. Her instincts have brought her here, and if she's honest with herself, she's come to crave the simple oblivion of her time with Chase.

He is wearing sweatpants when he opens the door, and a striped orange sweater which reminds Cameron of the sort of thing that might be unearthed from her grandfather's closet. But he's also smiling, more genuinely than she's seen in a long time, and for this moment, that's all that matters.

"What?" Cameron asks, feeling some of the tension lift from her shoulders. Chase's expression looks as though he might be privy to some sort of secret, and it intrigues her.

"I thought you might be coming by tonight," he answers, stepping back to let her into the entryway.

The answer surprises her, and Cameron feels yet another set of emotions bubbling up to mix with her customary nervous anticipation at seeing Chase. It bothers her that he's been able to read her discomfort so easily, that he's getting to know her habits at all. That is outside the boundaries she's planned for this relationship, and yet she finds herself reluctant to do anything to stop it. Chase is clearly concerned for her yet again, and where she's found his past sympathy threatening, now it is a tantalizing comfort. Her opinion of him has been shifting undeniably, so subtly that she has scarcely realized it until this moment. But now, remembering the strange veiled loneliness in his eyes on Christmas Eve, she thinks that he might be able to appreciate her feelings, to offer the companionship she so desperately craves without prying too far.

And so for once, against all of her better judgment, instead of questioning further, Cameron simply steps forward over the threshold and kisses him deeply. This time Chase does not react with shock or even surprise. Instead he moves with absolute confidence, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other coming up to tangle in her hair. The cold seems to vanish instantly, even as he pushes her coat from her shoulders. He smells of simple soap and aftershave, and Cameron skims kisses over the smooth plane of his neck, the depth of his throaty moan humming against her lips.

Chase cards his fingers through her hair, and along the curve of her back, then slips his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, teasing along her spine and making her shiver. Stepping back slightly, Cameron pulls her shirt over her head, throwing it toward the corner of Chase's living room. Undoing her belt, she strips to her underwear before leaning in to kiss him again, instinctively trying to steer him toward the couch. But he seems to radiate an unfamiliar bold resolve, instead catching her around the waist and lifting her into his arms again. Cameron catches her breath, winding an arm around his neck and holding on. She feels off balance in more ways than the physical, but at the same time she is enjoying this, feeling more alive than she has in a very long time.

Setting her down on the bed, Chase leans over and brushes his lips along the sensitive skin between her breasts before hooking his fingers into her panties and pulling them down her legs. Stepping back again, he removes his own clothes slowly and deliberately, as though he knows that she is loving the show. Cameron settles on her back, running a hand down her own belly to stroke herself.

"Oh, fuck," breathes Chase, draping himself heavily across the bed.

Cameron sits up before he's had a chance to fully settle himself against the pillows, taking hold of his shoulders and straddling his hips. She is not thinking of the past as he guides her down, questions of loyalty and fidelity vanished from her mind, eclipsed by pure pleasure. Leaning forward, she grazes her teeth over the swell of his clavicle as she begins to move, not allowing herself to consider what this might mean. They have managed to keep things simple and uncomplicated thus far, and she has no reason to believe that will change. Chase runs his hands up over her back, breathing hard already as he drives his hips up to meet hers. Cameron lets her eyes fall closed, losing herself in the fiery oblivion of this moment, time, memories, morals all falling away. She kisses him roughly as she comes, stifling her cry against his lips. A few moments later he is shuddering beneath her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she collapses heavily against him.

"Want to spend the night?" Chase asks after a long while, when neither of them has moved. Time seems to stand still, hanging in the air with a heaviness like the oppressive moment of quiet before the breaking of a storm.

"It's late," says Cameron noncommittally, rolling over to lie on her side, facing him. If she's honest with herself, she wants to accept without question. The prospect of going back outside to battle her way through the cold and her own subconscious seems unbearable.

"That's why you should stay here," Chase presses, raking a hand through his hair. The last of the light from outside has faded, the glow from the lamp in the living room spilling in through the bedroom door to frame his silhouette.

Cameron simply nods once, settling back against the pillows. For a moment she wonders how many other women he's brought home to this position, whether she is simply allowing herself to fall down that same path. Yet she cannot entirely disapprove of his approach to relationships, no matter how strongly it might clash with her beliefs. Deep down, she is almost jealous of his ability to walk in and out of relationships unscathed, to be free of the terrible fear she faces at the mere prospect of any sort of real attachment.

"This case upset you," Chase says quietly, shattering her thoughts. It's an observation more than it is a question, and despite her instincts, Cameron finds herself unable to be angry at him this time. He is not prying; there is no hint of judgment in his voice, and where his concern would have been threatening before, tonight she is too emotionally exhausted to muster anything but cautious acceptance.

"Would you throw away a marriage if your wife cheated once?" she asks, glad of the darkness because it allows her to avoid his gaze. This might be a bad idea, she thinks, and will almost certainly lead to an argument. She and Chase rarely agree on questions of values, but tonight she feels the desperate need to have her thoughts voiced, to find companionship if only in opinion.

"I wouldn't get married in the first place," says Chase, though there's something in the hastiness of his response that makes her question its sincerity.

"Never?" Cameron shivers a little despite the heater humming in the corner, and pulls the blankets up further. His bed smells like him, and she finds herself startled by the fact that she hasn't noticed this before. "You don't believe you'll ever find the right person?"

Chase shrugs. "I don't believe in soulmates. Not sure I believe in true love, either."

"I do," says Cameron, surprising herself a little with her own resolve. It's been a long time since she's considered the question; in the last few years, she has been aware only of her limitations.

"I know." Chase takes a slow breath, and Cameron feels as though she can picture his look of curiosity even in the dark. "At least, you keep saying that you do. But then—Why are you so scared of it?"

"I'm not scared." Cameron tenses instinctively, inward defenses coming up in a rush. She has allowed him to see too much, she thinks. These are parts of herself she tries to keep hidden, buried too deep even for her memory to find. That he has been able to see her fears is a failure, a blurring of boundaries she cannot allow.

"No?" Chase sits up, laying a hand lightly on her arm. "I don't believe you. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You have feelings for total strangers, people you've never even met. We have yet to have a case where you didn't have an opinion about our patient's relationship. And yet you claim not to want any of that for yourself. Why? What happened to you that made you so afraid?"

"Nothing." Cameron swings her legs over the side of the bed in a rush which makes her head pound. Every muscle in her body is taut, her heart racing and her mouth dry. Her hands shake as she reaches down to retrieve her clothes; it takes her three tries to get her shirt on straight. This is precisely the sort of threat she has been trying to avoid, and she can't stand to have this as-yet undefined relationship of theirs ruined. "I have to go."

"Why?" Chase sounds strangely hurt, leaning over to switch on the lamp.

The suddenness of the light makes Cameron's eyes burn, and she squeezes them shut momentarily, groping blindly to finish dressing. "This wasn't the deal. It was just—sex. I want to keep it that way."

"So—what?" Chase throws up his hands, getting to his feet and pulling his clothes back on as well. "You're just gonna run away now?"

"This was the deal," Cameron answers sharply, finding her purse and keys in the living room and heading for the door. "You agreed to this. If you want to end it now, that's your choice. But I'm not giving you anything more."

Chase goes still, stunned into silence. Cameron turns and flees into the snow before he's made any kind of response.


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