WARNINGS: Very vague spoilers for Season 7.
Chapter Twenty-Five
8:03 P.M.
December 5, 2012
Oceanview High
Oceanview, OR
For one breathless moment, they all stare at one another in silence, across the lab as though looking down a battlefield. Chase senses instantly the gravity of disaster this spells; he feels as though he has betrayed the team somehow, though he has done nothing to prompt House's journey out here. But he knows Cameron will see the blame as his, will view this as positive confirmation of all her fears.
"Don't look so excited to see me," says House. He makes his way across the lab quickly, bending over Chase's shoulder as though genuinely interested in the tests he's running. Really it's about presence and control, and Chase senses it immediately, as though being away from House has made all the strategy more apparent.
"What are you doing here?" asks Chase, taking a step back. He feels as though House might be able to exert his own gravity, influencing everyone else in the room. He has never felt in control of his fate when House is around. He wonders momentarily whether this is the danger Cameron had seen in her leaving.
"I don't know about you," says House, clearly enjoying this, "but I heard a rumor that some people here were dying of a really weird virus. Thought I might come check it out, seeing as I'm a big fan of infectious diseases."
"We're off the case," says Chase firmly. "You shouldn't be here."
"Maybe you should've thought of that before you called and asked me for help." House grins predatorily.
Cameron gets to her feet and crosses her arms, her stance filled with the potential for immediate escape. For a moment Chase thinks she might simply walk out, judgments made, but a thread of hesitation keeps her in the room.
"I didn't ask for your help," says Chase tightly. He has the feeling that the way he responds now does not matter; House is a master of manipulation, and he's clearly come here with an agenda. Yet through the anxiety comes a remnant of confusion, reminding him that House is not a sadist, that he has never acted with the sole intention of harming others. He undoubtedly has some reason for doing this, yet Chase cannot shake the feeling of betrayal.
"Oh, you didn't?" says House lightly. "Because I thought you all were floundering around like fish out of water while Nipah runs through the population. Your whole operation here is a cry for help."
"We're fine," says Cameron, her voice edged with deadly precision. "And you need to leave. You're violating government orders by being here."
"Dr. Cameron." House turns, as though becoming aware of her presence for the first time. "Long time no see. How's things? Enjoying the good life away from the evil of Princeton-Plainsboro?"
"Get out, House," Cameron repeats.
"What's wrong?" House feigns momentary sympathy, his expression a mask of condescension. "I thought you'd be living the high life by now. I mean, you got everything you wanted, right? Got away from me. Got away from Chase. Walked away from your marriage like it never happened, and your husband didn't even have to die this time."
"Get out," says Cameron, for the third time, then seems to realize how absurdly understated that response is. "Get out right now, or I'm calling the police."
But House continues unfazed, wordlessly calling her bluff. "You know, some people would call you lucky. You got another chance at a new beginning. But this time, you didn't even try. You ran away, shut everyone out, took a job that would allow you to be as isolated as possible. You don't want to be happy. And you never will be, because every time things look like they might be going well, you run away. You think being with Chase is turning you into me? I think you've done a damn good job all on your own."
For a moment Cameron regards him in silence, her eyes cloaked in an unreadable darkness. "Are you finished?" she asks at last, then strides quickly from the room before he can answer.
—
8:30 P.M.
December 5, 2012
Oceanview, OR
By the time Chase gets back to the hotel, the rain is coming down in icy sheets, big bloated drops striking with such force that they make him feel suffocated as he runs from the parking lot into the lobby. For all of the rain he has seen in Oceanview, none of it has come close to the violence of this storm. He curses the few minutes it's taken him to get out of the lab, to ensure that Barnes will be able to finish the tests on his own, to take the risk of leaving him alone with House.
When the old elevator hesitates, he takes the stairs two at a time up to Cameron's room, breathless as he pounds on the door. Getting no response, he pulls out his cell phone and dials her number, listening to his heart racing in his temples. He is certain that she will simply hang up on him, or refuse to take the call. Instead, her phone goes straight to voicemail. It is only then that Chase remembers he has her spare card key in his pocket from the previous night. The door swings open on an empty room, her phone lying in the pooled bedsheets. He lets it slam shut, already halfway down the hall when he hears the latch catch. She is not in his room either, though he checks out of desperate hope.
Chase cannot say what it is that draws him down the path to the beach; later, he will not remember how he'd even ended up outside again. He knows he's reached the end of the path when he feels the give of wet sand under his feet, the sound of the rain drowning out the roar of the sea. It is too dark to see much of anything, the lights from the hotel parking lot above dampened out of view. Stumbling along, he locates the rough edge of the cliff bank with his fingers, following it along parallel to the edge of the ocean. Slowly his eyes begin to adjust, until he can make out shapes in the darkness.
He finds Cameron huddled against the same outcropping of rock where he'd seen her weeks ago, on Thanksgiving day. He remembers how fortuitous it had seemed then, finding her out here at the edge of the world. Tonight it feels different still, more than luck, perhaps the faint glimmer of a larger power he has not dared consider in years.
"Allison." He says it loudly enough to be heard over the rain, but she does not respond. Chase cannot see her face in the darkness, but he senses her tears, mingled with the torrential rain.
"I didn't call him," he tries again, desperate for her to believe him. If he cannot convince her that House's vitriol is not his own, everything is lost, Chase thinks. "I mean, I did call him, but it was only to tell him we're off the case. And I didn't even talk to House, I talked to Foreman. I had no idea he was going to come here and say any of that to you."
"It doesn't matter," Cameron says at last, so quietly that he almost misses the words beneath the sounds of the storm and the sea.
"But it does matter," Chase insists. "What he said—"
"Was true," Cameron interrupts, harshly. "I know that you know that."
"It wasn't true!" Chase raises his voice over the storm, a rare flash of lightning revealing her face for a split second. He has never seen her look this way before, her hair plastered to her cheeks, her eyes alight with fathomless despair. "It was just—horrible."
"I used to think it didn't matter," says Cameron, ignoring him. The rain has begun to let up ever so slightly, the light from the parking lot above making the night a little less opaque now.
"What?" asks Chase, taking a step closer into the meager shelter of the rocky overhang. Here, at least, it is sheltered from the wind.
"Being—happy." Cameron takes a breath with difficulty, shivering violently, and Chase wonders momentarily how long she has been out here. "I used to think—good people deserved some kind of a fairytale happy ending. Life's not like that. I was an idiot to ever think it might be true."
"Allison—" Chase reaches for her hand, but she moves away violently.
"I knew I was wrong after my husband died," she continues, voice rising, utterly uninhibited at last. "The best I could hope for was to be satisfied. Be good at my job. Have someone depend on me, even if it was just to answer mail or finish paperwork."
"Allison," Chase tries again, suddenly afraid to hear where this is going. He feels her words with physical pain, as though she is speaking with the power of the lightning flashing out over the horizon.
"You made me believe there could be something else!" Cameron shouts over the howling of the wind as it rips through the jagged edges of the rocks. "You pushed and you pushed and I thought—" Her voice breaks into a sob, and Chase steps closer again.
This time she does not resist when he finds her hand, her skin deeply chilled by the rain. "Thought what?"
"I thought you'd saved me." She grips his hand with painful force, as though it is the only thing preventing the wind from carrying away the broken shell of her soul. "But I couldn't hold onto it, and now there's—"
This time, Chase doesn't let her finish, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her despite her protest. Her entire body is sodden and frigid, as though she is a wraith recently emerged from the sea.
"There's nothing," she chokes against his ear. "When I think about the future there's just nothing left."
"Hey," Chase murmurs, choking down tears of his own. "I love you." It is the only thing he can offer now, the only thing he knows to say with any hope to counter the barrenness of her world. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He knows it in this moment unequivocally.
Cameron doesn't answer him, still sobbing convulsively, her breath a warm shock against his neck. Chase tightens his arms around her, becoming truly aware for the first time of the sharp chill, of the way it aches deep in his bones. The rain is still falling, making everything feel saturated and too heavy, dripping off his hair, his eyelashes, the soggy folds of his clothes. They are in real danger of hypothermia out here, he realizes, now that the first desperate panic has faded. He can only guess how long Cameron has been in the cold, the toll this day has already taken on her body.
"Come on," Chase coaxes gently, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he turns back toward the path. "We need to get inside."
She remains quiet, allowing him to guide her. Cameron is shockingly unsteady on her feet, and Chase shifts closer, concerned. She says nothing when they get back to the hotel, leaning against the wall of the elevator, and nothing as he leads her into his own room. She looks profoundly fragile under the old fluorescent light in the bathroom, her eyes bruised, her skin so pale it looks almost blue. She says nothing as he runs water in the tub, hot enough to raise steam, as though this downpour could somehow overpower the storm outside. Her hands shake as she peels off her clothes. There is a striking vulnerability to the way she tests the water with her toes, shivers once, slips into it slowly, letting it envelope all of her scars. And she says nothing as he sinks down behind her, pulling the weight of her body back against his and burying his nose in her wet hair. She turns over her shoulder, kissing him almost hesitantly, her lips still deceptively cold. Cameron laces their fingers and closes her eyes, resting her ear over his heart. The silence settles all around, like the semblance of peace not yet arrived, but no longer so very far off.
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