Pattern
By: Emmy
Summary: There's a pattern to this. You just don't know what it is.
A/N: Second House fic. Just exploring their relationship. It's told from the point of view of Cameron, just in case you get confused, and this is a new style too, so let me know what you think. I think I'll try writing House next, and then I might even write something that contains dialogue, because, you know, dialogue is cool. Anyway… have cool day!
There's a pattern to this. You just don't know what it is. It's erratic and confusing and it leaves you breathless. You know that if you were able to take a step back and watch it all from a different point of view then you would understand. But you can't and you can't and you can't, so you are left in this muddle of feelings and interactions and moments.
(it reminds you of the pattern he beats on the ground with his cane)
You fainted the other day. You got up too quick from the couch and the dizzies stole your mind. It was unfamiliar and familiar and it's been five years since you last fainted. You woke up and expected to find a friend peering down at you and teasing about you and alcohol. Instead you were alone and alone and alone and all your friends were a million miles away teasing someone else. You then realized that you hadn't eaten anything more then half a bagel since yesterday morning.
(you were always the healer and everybody else was too busy being healed to realize you were sick too)
He looked at you the next day like he knew all of your secrets. There was a muffin on your desk when you came back from the lab and you think that maybe he's a magician. You don't know if he knows or suspects but you can't help but wonder. He doesn't say anything and you don't say anything and it is never mentioned. You will wonder for ever and ever and ever though, because you won't ever know.
(you lied when you told him that you hated him)
You're both actors with roles in some movie that doesn't exist. It's the moments when you both forget your roles that are worth remembering. Because then it's just you and him and a million nothings and two million everythings. It's odd and it's odd and it's you. It's the both of you. There is nothing that you wouldn't tell him and there's nothing he would tell you. It all comes back to the roles because once the moments have finished you remember. He remembers. And you both pretend that nothing happened because the alternative is dangerous and he's too goddamn scared of getting hurt again.
(the movie is a tragedy and sometimes at night you cry because all you ever wanted was a happy ending)
He's the smartest person in the world but he doesn't know people. You know people. He reads people and knows what they'll do and say. He knows when something is wrong and when nothing is right. Sometimes he even knows when you are happy and you think he keeps it a secret from the world. He could tell you anything about any person he's seen. They're puzzles and formulas to him and once he figures it all out he's happy. He doesn't understand that people aren't puzzles or formulas. They're people and they're people and they're so goddamn amazing. You know people aren't puzzles or formulas. You know people are people.
(sometimes you want to make him understand just to prove you do)
He knows everything and nothing about you. It's the reason for everything that happens between the both of you. You're a puzzle to him. You want to scream and scream and scream until he understands that you're a person. You have a brain and a heart and scars on your thighs from when it was all too much. They're ugly and brutal and they burn every time you think about being married. He doesn't know and he doesn't know and he doesn't know. You want him to know because then you'll stop being a puzzle and start being a person.
(sometimes you dream of blood and it's warm and it's yours and it's drowning you)
Everything about where you live is quiet and wrong. You don't call it home because home is where the heart is and your heat is buried in a coffin with your life. You like the people in this place but you don't belong because sometimes you can't bring yourself to smile. It's wrong and it's wrong and it's wrong because he's somewhere below the ground and dead and cold and you're not. You don't want to betray him because he was the person you married. But you do and you do and you do. Every anniversary you cry yourself to sleep because you've forgotten what it feels like to hug him and kiss him and love him.
(only bad people stop loving their husbands)
You pretended to move on and got a good job. You come to work and be a good girl unless you have to be a bad girl to save a life. You do everything you can to make sure that one less person will go home to an empty bed with an empty life. You smile at your colleagues and do your paperwork and make the coffee. You have a perfectly imperfect life.
(you think you fell in love with him when you realized he smiled sometimes)
It was naughty to fall in love again. You didn't want to hurt again. It was naughty to fall in love with your boss. You didn't want to hurt him again. You couldn't help it though. So you fell and you fell and fell so hard that you were hurting before you landed. First you told yourself to get over him. Then you told yourself to tell him. Then you told yourself to pretend to get over him. You promised to be there for him because you wanted him to open up. You wake up every morning regretting that promise. You go to bed every night hating him and yourself and your promise. You know that he's halfway there. Sometimes when it's just you and him and the silence he opens his mouth. It's the closest you've ever gotten to knowing him. So he closes his mouth because that's the closest anyone's allowed. And then the pattern starts over again.
(it starts with an insult and ends with a little bit of hope)
(maybe someday you'll collect enough hope to build your happy ending)