WARNINGS: major character death; season six spoilers; addiction; sex; violence
Chapter Thirteen
It's nearly dark when Cameron finally manages to get away from the hospital. The case was barely theirs for more than an hour; she never even met Sam Donahue when he was conscious. And yet, she's spent the better part of the day filling out paperwork and comforting the family, who are understandably shocked by the sudden tragedy. So far they aren't suing, and Cuddy has been tied up in meetings all day, that ordeal still to come. But the only thing on her mind now is Chase, who's been conspicuously absent since the botched intubation.
Inwardly, Cameron is still reeling from the shock of seeing him freeze so completely. Through everything, she has never entirely distrusted his medical abilities. Today he's failed utterly, and she's not sure whether to be angry or afraid for him. She thinks again of the tox screen she'd seen on his stolen chart, the unreasonably high levels of amphetamines in his blood. No one's mentioned it since the incident, but it's never been absent from her thoughts for long. She's certain he's been using at least amphetamines during work hours, and now she wonders whether her failure to address the situation has cost Donahue his life.
The fading evening light seems surreal as Cameron parks and makes her way up the once-familiar stairs toward the condo. A part of her can't believe Chase is still living here; she knows doubtlessly if he were the one to have left, she would have had to find a new place immediately. And yet it's fitting in a sense, as well: this is exactly the kind of masochist he's always been.
Cameron stops in front of the door, feeling strange. She's never been in this position without a key. Steeling herself, she knocks once, and then again when there is no answer. There's no guarantee that Chase is here, she knows, but she's fairly certain she spotted his car in the lot, and her gut tells her that she's in the right place besides. Knocking one more time, she gives up and reaches into the flower pot beside the door for the spare key Chase always insisted on leaving there, despite her protests. The plants have long since died, not even withered roots left behind, but the key is still there, buried just beneath the surface of the soil. Not giving herself any time for second guessing, Cameron turns it in the lock and closes the door quietly behind her. Giving her eyes a second to adjust, she finds the table in the entryway and deposits the key on it.
The inside of the condo is like a nightmare vision. It smells vaguely of stale alcohol and something burned on the stove, and she can tell even from the doorway that everything has fallen into disrepair. The plants in the hallway are dead as well, fallen tangles of brown leaves and stems leaning on the edges of the pots like skeletons. On the wall is one of the paintings from her original apartment in Princeton, hanging crooked now. Looking at it sends a peculiar feeling of unease through her, like reading her tombstone.
Chase is sitting slumped on the couch, so quiet and unresponsive that for a moment Cameron thinks he might be unconscious. But his eyes are open, and he turns his head slowly, regarding her for a long time before speaking. She has an eerie sense of deja vu; she remembers him sitting on this same couch the last time she saw him before leaving, how he'd already seemed too far away even to return her embrace.
"Come here to fire me?" She's never heard him slur this badly, and Cameron is certain that he must be both drunk and high.
"No." She hasn't even considered the possibility, though she's not sure how to defend him to Cuddy. "I came to see if you're okay. You disappeared. Didn't answer your phone." As awful as he's been to her this day, she doesn't think she'll ever stop worrying about him.
Chase snorts, putting his feet up on what used to be their coffee table. It's scratched and stained almost beyond recognition now. A couple of beer cans fall off the end with an empty clatter. "Get out," says Chase, jaw set.
"No." Cameron crosses her arms, not about to back down this time. "I always told you that key was a bad idea. Makes you vulnerable to people you don't want getting in here."
"You have no business being here." Chase sits up with a grunt. "I'm not your problem anymore. You made me not your problem."
"You're my employee," Cameron insists. "And you're—"
"Don't," Chase cuts her off sharply, surprising her. "You ran away. You asked for the divorce. I gave you what you wanted then. You don't get to change your mind now. I'm not your puzzle to fix. Just leave me the hell alone."
"You didn't give me a choice!" Cameron shoots back, voice rising. She's too exhausted to even try to stay calm anymore; every moment around him lately feels poised on the brink of explosion.
Chase lurches to his feet with a sardonic laugh. He takes a few steps toward her, and Cameron backs up instinctively, smelling the alcohol on his breath.
"Right," he scoffs. "It's my fault. You played a sick little mindgame with me. Don't act the victim here. You wanted to move. I didn't. That was enough of an excuse for you to leave me. Probably been looking for one for months. Didn't write. Didn't call. Didn't even give me an explanation! Three years with you, Allison, and all I get is divorce papers in the mail!"
"I never wanted a divorce!" The words burst from her throat with a force that leaves her feeling shaken, gutted, and yet still overwhelmed with so many things that need to be said.
Chase laughs again, swaying on his feet. "Got a brilliant way of showing it. You never even told me why!"
"You know why!" Cameron shouts, feeling propelled toward him. There was no yelling when she left before, no screaming or crying, just quiet ruin and hopelessness creeping in with the shadows under the door.
"No, I don't!" He's close enough now that she can feel his breath hot on her face, see the sweat and tears drying mingled on his skin.
"I told you I needed space!" Her breath catches in her throat, and for a moment she feels as though she's suffocating in the open air. Too many memories, of lies, betrayals, phone calls from friends she'd never expected to hear from again. "I thought maybe if I left, it would be a wakeup call for you! That you'd—prove to me you hadn't actually changed. I never thought you'd turn around and start fucking everything that moved before I'd even been gone a month!"
"I didn't!" Chase explodes, looking taken aback and genuinely hurt. "You thought—"
"I know what I was told!" Cameron insists, desperately hoping he'll crumble, admit to her accusations. Somehow, now, that seems less painful than learning she's been wrong, lost so much over falsities and premature conclusions. "Just because I left doesn't mean I don't still have friends here! You didn't even try to be subtle about it. They saw you at every bar in town!"
"Yeah, I was drinking," Chase spits. The vein in his forehead is jumping noticeably. "Alone. I haven't been with anyone since you left. Not even casually. Haven't wanted to."
"Prove it," Cameron snaps, though she's already convinced. It feels as though everything's been snatched out from under her, and she's back on dangerous ground again, questioning all of her assumptions. Chase is a study in contradictions now, and the confusion is the most frightening thing of all.
He closes the distance between them in two long strides, more steady than a minute before. Cameron inhales in surprise when his hands come to rest on her shoulders; it's the first time he's willingly touched her in years, and it goes through her body like a shock. She lets him back her up until her shoulderblades hit the wall, hands going to his hips reflexively. He looks down at her with an intensity that burns through the alcohol, through the drugs, straight through the walls she's spent three years constructing around herself. His breath is already coming ragged as he slips his hands down her arms, pressing her further against the wall.
"Do you want me?" Cameron asks, fully aware that it's a challenge.
Chase exhales, savagery smoldering in his eyes he braces his hands on either side of her head, his erection pressing into her belly as he grinds his hips toward her. There's a wildness to him she's never seen before; he seems stronger somehow, sharper, all raw anger and need. Cameron thinks maybe she ought to be afraid, but all she feels is emptiness, and the desperate desire to be wanted by him, if only in this way.
"Fuck, yes," he whispers, breath tickling her neck and sending goosebumps down her back.
It takes her barely a minute to have his shirt unbuttoned and pushed off his shoulders. Cameron doesn't give him time to start on her clothes before grappling with his belt buckle until it gives, undoing his pants equally quickly and shoving them down his hips. He steps out of his pants and boxers, kicking them into the corner, and for a moment she's shocked at how thin he is, as though he's literally wasted away since she left. When he leans over her again, Cameron lunges up to kiss him. Chase turns his head away in a rush, and the rejection stings far worse than she's imagined.
"Not that." It's an order, a wall that Cameron realizes she's not going to be able to break down now.
"Fine," Cameron growls. "If that's how you want to play." She ducks and grazes her teeth along his neck. Chase throws his head back and moans deep in his throat, entire body shuddering as she rakes her nails over his back.
He doesn't even touch her shirt, hands shaking badly as he struggles with the button on her pants. It takes him several tries, working them frantically down her hips when he finally succeeds. Cameron has the sense that he's trying to be as impersonal as possible, hiding from the history that threatens to smother them both. Running away emotionally the way she once tried to, when she'd first been with him all those years ago. And yet, in his every movement, every breath, she can feel the depth of regret, despair, loneliness. It's impossible to resist.
"I miss you," Cameron says softly, the words slipping from her lips before she's realized that she's spoken them aloud. Chase's entire body jerks, face contorting in anger again, though the need is clearly still there.
"Shut up!" He's shouting again, but she can see tears in his eyes even as he blinks them away. He strokes himself roughly, as though nothing matters anymore but finishing this, reaching release if only physical. Cameron sees suddenly that that is the only kind of closure they will have anymore, a wave of hopelessness enveloping her as though he's infected her with it. But still she wants this, needs it, craves it at the moment even more than forgiveness. It feels as though he's slipping away from her, even as she curls her leg around his hip, cries out when he pushes himself into her, barely pausing for breath before finding a rhythm, fast and hard, no hesitation.
"You left," Chase repeats, each word punctuated by a thrust of his hips. "You left and I had nothing! Gave me the happiest five months of my life, and then—"
Something in him has broken, barely controlled anger and resentment finally unleashed. His hands clasp her arms, too tightly, as though he can hold her here forever. He's drunk and rough and filled with the desperation of three years of empty resentment, and she realizes that maybe it ought to hurt, but all she's aware of is how much she needs him, misses him, would give anything to simply go back to the way things were. Even now, in the heat of the moment, she knows that is impossible.
"You ruined everything!" Cameron manages, barely able to find breath to get the words out. She grasps his shoulders as she speeds up her movements to match his fever pace, aware that her fingernails are going to leave marks, but not caring. "You!"
The next thing she knows she's sobbing, unable to bear having him suddenly so close and yet so utterly out of her reach at the same time. Chase freezes for a split second to look at her, and Cameron shakes her head, urging him faster until he's slamming against her, every nerve in her body on fire. A moment later, she comes with a hoarse cry, still unable to catch her breath through tears. Chase buries his face in her neck, making a guttural noise as he plunges over the edge of climax with her. And for one instant, he is right there, body wrapped around hers, absolutely raw.
Then, too quickly, it's over, and Chase pushes himself away from her as if he's been burned. Cameron leans against the wall, feeling suddenly that her knees might not support her in his absence.
He kicks her pants across the floor toward her, not meeting her eyes. "Get out. Now."
Feedback is greatly appreciated. (Just please don't kill me. =p)