Author's Note: I don't dedicate chapters, but I'll dedicate this one. For a world slowly descending into madness, for people stranded by Katrina, and a special toast for all those leaders out there who make the word mean less and less every day. (But bitterness aside, pray for Katrina victims and all those overseas.)

I believe in the kingdom come

Then all the colors will bleed into one

Bleed into one

Well, yes I'm still running

--U2, "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"

They exit the church. She starts walking (walking) madly, blindly, never stopping. He follows her and is next to her arm and she says then:

"Why the hell did you do that to me?"

(The price of oil soars and all she can think about are old, forgotten wars.)

"This is why."

(Battles she fought with her parents gasp at the surface. She doesn't need this—hasn't she already paid her penance?)

"To see me scream at you like this?"

(Washington crosses the Delaware to surprise the sleeping British. Is it right to attack on Christmas?)

"I've been told I'm a masochist."

(Her mother bakes cookies full of chocolate chips. They are warm and comforting and do nothing for her hips.)

"I hate you."

(America's revolution turned the tide of the world. Repressed peoples, colonies yearning to be free…all hail the great flag freedom unfurled.)

"Then why are you here?"

(Her father walks in the door. Her parents don't talk and this she chooses to ignore.)

She stops and listens as the church bell tolls and an ambulance shrieks in an ironic harmony.

(There are wars fought inside white marble. And the public worries about the muttered garble.)

"It wasn't nice," she says and continues walking, walking, never stopping as he stands where he stopped.

(Her eyes close and she tries to remember happiness. There's nothing but darkness and the great abyss.)

"You weren't expecting nice. How stupid are you, Cameron? What the hell is wrong with you?"

(Out of the sea come ships, thousands floating across the ocean, a barrier built to protect. Oh, but, let us digress. It's made by nature—not by humans—so what can you expect?)

The question slams against her back and she clenches her jaw. There isn't anything wrong, there isn't anything wrong…say it enough and perhaps it'll come true.

(So she leaves her house at the age of seventeen—she's always been too young. She has no where to run, no where to go—she does, but she does not belong.)

She continues to walk (walking, walking, never stopping) and he plods along behind her. She's taken control again, of the physical aspect of this relationship.

(Then there's a fully unjustifiable war in which justifications are made in the name of some common-sense filled destiny. Yeah, that's definitely no biggie.)

But he holds the emotional power over her. He smirks and he knows this and she tries to lead him to somewhere that will hurt him.

(And then rich boy meets scholarship girl. The cliché still makes her want to hurl.)

"So, have you decided where to take me yet?"

(And then it comes. The country divides and is told that it cannot succumb.)

"I'm going to take you to the first place I can find that'll string you up by your toes."

(They fall in love. But what is that other than some tight-fitting, suffocating glove?)

"Spending a little too much time with Chase are we? Never thought you were real big on the whole bondage idea. But then again, Chase is quite the sweet talker."

(So two becomes one and battles that are won have actually just begun. And the next wars come—our lesson still not learned—and we still fight with bright and shiny new guns.)

"Shut up."

(It's an irritating cough and every time she hears it she cringes. Soon, she'll have to learn to adore it and to calm her fears she spends too much time on studying binges.)

"Touchy?"

(Then the War to End All Wars because we're stupid and naïve and think that humans can live without an entirely human invention. Politicians and madmen have notoriously bad comprehension.)

"I am not touchy," she grits her teeth, folds her arms across her chest, and keeps walking (walking and never stopping).

(She marries him when he's dying. She thinks of black during her white wedding and it's not happiness when she starts crying.)

"Yes, yes you are. Is it me? Why are you doing this to yourself? You could have said no!"

(It takes a few bombs dropped and six million Jews killed before the ostrich gets its head out of the sand and finally realizes the difference between pacification and wrong decisions. But we console ourselves by thinking that it's never too late to take treaties and make revisions.)

She throws out her arm for a cab. One comes gliding to halt on the curb. She turns to House and her eyes burn his. She can't stand this, she can't do this, but she does and she can. And he's right, essentially—it is her fault.

(He dies. It is not a surprise.)

"I could've said no."

(But then, then there were atoms splitting—unremitting. The force unequalled, the government always wanting more and more—keep committing!)

"But you didn't. Why?" He asks.

(She finishes med school. Moves on through years, months, and believes that one day she won't be pitied for being a widower—and, secretly—a fool.)

"Do you need this cab or not?" The impatient driver asks.

(Korea hitches a ride for a few miles, but it's the Cold War that drives the car. School-time drills, fallout shelters, and Atomic fireballs—yet somehow we are able to turn it into the "best", most peaceful decade, and focus our attention on TV stars.)

"Yes," she tells him and slips into the backseat. House grabs the door before she slams it shut and he gets in with her.

(She worries about molesters and rapists when she tries dating online. She never relaxes with the idea, even with the absence of crime.)

"So, why?"

(And then Vietnam. It becomes an adjective more loaded than any hydrogen bomb.)

Cameron instructs the driver to go to House's apartment. She looks out the window.

(Job offers comes, but she prefers learning to working. Within weeks, she spends mornings wondering why she took the fellowship as she sees him smirking.)

"Damn it," he says and grabs her arm out of its folded position. She looks at him.

(Iraq invades Kuwait and once again it's America to save a poor defenseless country! America the great, America the country that prides itself on its gallantry.)

"Because I have this stupid idea that I might get to like you. That I might get to love you."

(Now she's here with him walking—walking and never stopping!—aimlessly. She's been thinking of wars and her life…oh, and having him torment her shamelessly.)

"Well," House smirks and lets her have her arm back. "Your view of the world is certainly warped."