Title: Tragic - PT 5
Rating: R (language)
Summary: Cameron's life full of tragedy... (Cam's POV - kind of) in her eyes, and how she copes - or doesn't. Baby comes home.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, just playing...
Note: PT 5 - Still letting my fingers taking me to wherever it might go ... Had trouble editing this chapter, posting, may edit again later..it just feels really rough to me still (and a bit incomplete), but here goes! I hope you like it!
Note: As always, I hate good punctuation, I am horrible with grammar, and I reserve everything to be a work in progress...

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You dress your daughter in a dress that Cuddy bought for her. It's very cute, with lots of ruffles and lace (like something Cuddy would wear but without the low-cut cleavage). You wrap her in a white blanket that arrived this morning with a note from Ryan's father. It was a blanket that Ryan's grandmother had knit for him when he was a baby, his parents thought that it would be nice if Pearl had it now. It is a lovely gesture, and you want to carry her home in it, even if it is a tad warm for October. You will be sure to take a picture of Pearl in the blanket today and send it to them. Despite the heated words and actions, you still feel you need to maintain some kind of relationship with them for Ryan's sake and Pearl's sake - after all, they are the only grandparents she has.

You are nervous about going home, your palms are sweaty, but you keep looking at the sweet face of your child and know that you must do this and be as strong as possible for her. House asked you last night what your plans are. You really don't know. You didn't know how to respond to him, and you were glad when Pearl woke up and the nurse came in because she wanted to talk you about breast feeding. House excused himself (wimp).

He did, however, insist he would drive you home today. He actually allows Wilson to drive his Vette and he succumbs himself to your old Honda that's been parked in the garage the last few days. He complains the whole way to your apartment. You tell him you didn't ask him to do this. He said he didn't want you to drive home alone with an infant. (Hello, did he install some windows in the fortress walls? Why didn't you notice the construction going on?). In fact, he mentions, you really need to consider a more reliable vehicle, especially for the Jersey winters, you know, something safer for the baby. (Inside you are giggling like mad at his concern). Pearl sleeps like the angel she is the whole ride home, while he rants about the safety (or lack there of) of your vehicle and how you should consider an all-wheel drive vehicle, or some crap like that . . . though you know you can't afford it, so like Pearl, you just let him rant, you don't feel like arguing with him. You're just thankful it's not raining and the roads are dry, because then you would have really heard about it.

Wilson and House help you into your apartment with plants and bags and baby. They seem hesitant about leaving you alone . . . with your infant, but you insist because you're going to have to do this at some point. They leave, but not before throwing looks at each other that you don't want to try to decipher. You lean against the door as you shut it behind them, looking at the quiet bassinet in your living room and think to yourself, this is it baby.

Your first day is going okay. You're home about an hour when you turn the phone ringer off because people keep calling, and you're afraid it will keep waking Pearl. Foreman and Cuddy were kind enough to do a little food shopping for you and change your sheets, so you're sitting at your kitchen table writing thank you notes, when there is a knock on your door. You decide the phone calls and visitors wouldn't be so bad if you had some help (hello, a fucking partner! You're a bit angry), because you're tired already and it's only your first day home. It's House, why are you not surprised.

You open the door and admit with defeated shoulders and a wave into the living room. He comes in with a large duffle bag. What does he think he's doing? He explains, being your best buddy and all, he feels it is necessary to be here to help you out for a little while until you are more rested and Pearl gets into a little schedule and all. You look at him with disbelief. This time, it's his turn to tell you to pick your jaw off the ground, and he slams the door shut behind him, waking the baby. You sigh and rub your eyes. He throws his bag down, hangs his cane on the back of the couch and limps over to the bassinet and picks Pearl up, with a "Hello there munchkin." He settles onto the couch with her and you have a feeling that arguments may be futile and you would be creating a war that you have no artillery to fight. You ask him if he brought barrettes over so you can do each other's hair tonight. He smirks and says, no, but he did get walkie talkies with a fifteen-mile radius, so you can be in touch with him always, you know for emergencies and stuff. You just stare at him as he picks up the remote and finds some College Football to entertain himself. He starts talking to Pearl about the rivalry of the two teams playing, you retreat into the kitchen. You don't know what you're going to do with him.

About an hour later you're sitting in Pearl's room trying to breast feed her. It hasn't been going well. She's fussing greatly. House pops his head in, pretending to cover his eyes and stumble in. You're tired, you say enough with the shielding of the eyes. He stops, asks if you have any formula, because she seemed okay with a bottle at the hospital the times he fed her, and then he could help you out with the feedings. You are confused by his helpful attitude and look at him like he has eight heads. He says he'll run out to the store and pick some up. Pearl screams bloody murder while he's gone, you can't get her to calm down, and she won't take your breast at all. You are trying everything and she just won't stop crying. You're about to start crying. You're relieved to hear the front door open and a rustle of bags. House comes back into the room with a warm bottle. You thank him. Pearl happily sucks on the bottle and he goes back to his game.

She falls asleep with the bottle in her mouth. Her little rosy lips pursed around the rubber nipple. You bring her back out to the living room and deposit her into her cradle. You collapse on the couch. House lowers the volume and looks at you. He suggests a nap for you. He'll wake you in a little while and take care of dinner and the baby's next feeding. You feel totally beaten, you agree. If you weren't so tired and sore, you would be more than shocked by his behavior, he's overdoing it by his standards. You crawl under your cool sheets. You worry about leaving Pearl, even if just for a little while, but you're exhausted and starting to feel black creep inside you.

When you awake it's dark. You stumble to the living room, House is sitting on the couch, Pearl cradled in his arms. He's feeding her a bottle and has a cloth across his shoulder. You stand in the doorway and wish you had a camera for this Kodak moment, because it's a sight to see this gruff man gently your handling your seven-pound little bundle. He's cooing to her between alternately yelling at the television. His socked feet are on your coffee table, and you watch him put the bottle down, and lay Pearl between his legs and touch her little hands and feet. When did you start trusting him so much? When did he start letting himself become softer around you? (Don't tell him that.) He looks so at home here, you want him to be here always.

You sneak back to your room and find that camera. You just want that snapshot for your personal scrap book. You get it. After the flash goes off, he turns to you and gives you the look of death. "So you rise," he comments dryly.

Having fun? You smile and sit on the couch next to them.

He mock laughs at you and ignores your question. The doorbell rings, "Aha! Chinese!" he says and hands you Pearl. Evasive as always, even on the simple stuff.

You're tired. You realize you better get used to this. You and House are laying on the couch flipping channels and you have been drifting in and out of sleep. "Cameron, why don't you go to bed?" he pleads to you. You shrug, you tell him, you don't want to leave him up by himself. He claims the whole purpose of him being there is so you get some rest. You look at him and ask him, why is he really here? Because you are going to have to do this by yourself at some point, and some point real soon.

He sighs, and looks away from you, "Because Cameron, I don't think you know what you're doing yet. And I don't mean changing diapers and feedings. And I think you've been under a lot of stress and you don't have anyone to help you, so you have me."

You know you're tired when you asked him how you got him. He smirks and says he's not sure, but that he didn't like seeing you go into that dark place in the last few months. He quietly tells you that you took care of him at times when he never asked you to, when you some how quietly assumed so, and now he's here, isn't that what friend's are for? He looks are you briefly, his eyes two deep holes, and looks away. "Besides, your baby is really cute."

You want to cry. You get up and start walking toward the bedroom (if you weren't so tired, you might be looking for empty vicodin vials or empty bottles of booze, but you just drop it). You tell him if you just didn't give birth you'd give up the bed for the couch for him and his leg, but oh well. He can find linens in the closet in the hall, and by the way, how long does he plan on staying?

Three weeks. He stays three weeks. You guess that's what your mother or a mother-in-law would do for you if you had them. He takes a few days off from work. At first, he makes you a little crazy, but his presence does help, particularly at night. He helps you with the feedings as best as he can, because your still trying breast feeding. Pearl is a good baby and you're lucky. She been as good to you as an infant can be and she starts to adjust into some semblance of a schedule. You still feel really exhausted and overwhelmed, and House is quite helpful at "covering" for you with feedings and diaper changing and making sure you get some rest. He seems to operate on much less sleep than you could tolerate.

At the beginning of the third week, he goes back to work in the mornings. He's trying to wean you off him and his help. You take the three in the morning feeding, he's does the five o'clock before he goes to work. He comes back to your apartment around one, bringing you lunch. He takes the baby out in the carriage after lunch, although you're not particularly fond of the idea, but it's warm out, so you submit. It gives you chance to take a shower and write some bills. You have to admit it was a bit of an adjustment being home by yourself all day. The first morning, after he left for the hospital the apartment was so quiet. You watch Pearl sleep, counting each breath she takes. Watching her little eyes move as she dreams. You start to cry, you worry about how you are going to take care of her. Will you be able to keep her safe and healthy? Will you be a good mother? How are you going to do it by yourself? You started sobbing uncontrollably. She woke up and looked at you with awe. You just picked her up and held her tight in your arms, but you're afraid you're going to squeeze her too tight.

That night he asks you what you plan to do once your maternity leave is up. Nanny? Day-care? You're still trying to decide what's in the best interest for Pearl. You're starting to agonize over the decision and just leaving her home in general. You feel the clock ticking. You call Cuddy to find out how much vacation you have left. House tells you not to worry, he won't rush you back. But you know you still have to pay your bills, so you'll have to go back. You start to have problems sleeping.

House goes home. You are sure he misses his piano and his own bed. He's been a big sport and a huge help. Your gratitude is immense. Your apartment seems quiet and empty now. You even kind of miss the way he would leave the bathroom a mess with wet towels and it would make you crazy - even the toilet seat being up and all. Most of all, you miss walking into the kitchen and finding him sitting at the table eating cereal, with Pearl in one arm, spoon in the other, talking to her with his mouth half full. It was a joy in the morning to find them like that. You miss tiptoeing over to the couch after depositing Pearl's three o'clock bottle in the sink and tucking the blanket around him while he's sleeping; he always seemed a bit more peaceful when he was sleeping, just like a baby.

It seemed like the apartment was getting too small with his six foot plus body being there, now it feels empty and the baby's cries just echo more loudly to you. You're lonely. You sit on the sofa and try to put a happy thought in your head and laugh about how you both tried to give Pearl her first bath and got water all over the place. She was very happy in the warm water, which was a blessing. She started to smile that day. House took pictures with your camera. You can't wait to develop them.

He's home two nights, and calls you and wants you to come over for dinner with Pearl. You accept, because you do miss him, and you think she does too. You bring her in her little carrier, looking at her, you realize she's getting bigger every day, you wonder if he'll notice. You want to cry. He admits you to his townhouse and you enter a warm inviting aroma. He cooked?

"He did," he smiles (a rarity, but you like it). He tells you he has many hidden talents as he takes the carrier from your hands, putting it on the table and starts to take Pearl out. "Hello munchkin! How are you? Did you miss House? House missed you! Don't tell Mommy, she'll think I'm crazy!" you hear him whisper to her as he removes her little sweater. You stifle your smile as you remove your coat.

Dinner is wonderful and you are warm and happy and full. House fills you in on the latest case they are working on, and flippantly sends on messages and good tidings from coworkers to you. He gets you another glass of wine, it's okay, you stopped breast feeding this week, you just weren't producing enough milk, and it was too hard for you. He takes Pearl out of your arms and gives her a bottle as your nurse your glass of Merlot. You find yourself yawning out of exhaustion and because the wine is making you sleepy.

. . . you jolt awake. You are confused. And chilled, though you are covered by a thin blanket. You put a hand to your head in slight confusion and panic and look around. Pearl? You feel leather underneath you, see gold walls around you and a baby grand nearby. It comes back to you. You are at House's. Where is he? Where is your baby? You suddenly feel very guilty for falling asleep and forgetting about her and leaving him with the infant after he invited you over for dinner. You stand up unsteadily on cold wood floors. Where are your shoes? You don't remember taking them off.

You hear a murmur down the hall and see a light, you follow it. It's a television. You peak your head in the doorway. House is sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard, baby carrier next to him on the bed, bottle on nightstand, Conan on the television. Hi, you say.

"Hey," he looks at you. You go over to the other side of the bed to check on Pearl, who is fast asleep.

You tell him you're sorry you passed out on him like that, you're very embarrassed.

"No apologies necessary," he responds. "Pearl and I were just watching a little Conan."

You can see that, you smile.

He asks you if you feel okay.

You tell him that you are just exhausted.

He looks at you, that little line above the bridge of his nose all scrunched up. You tell him it's normal, just adjusting to the sleep schedule. Well, you better get going, it's late, dinner was wonderful. You reach out to grab Pearl's carrier, when he grabs your wrist. "Don't." You look at him. "It's late. I'll worry about you driving home this late." You're confused. "Just stay." He says as he pulls you onto the bed. "Just stay and rest and go home in the morning. Besides, why wake the baby now, and take her outside into the cold while she's peacefully sleeping and all?"

You're really just too tired and too confused to argue or to really even think. He pulls you next him, and places Pearl a little more toward the end of the king size bed. He puts a pillow next to him and pats it for you place your head. You obey. You scoot closer to him, and he puts his arm around you, pulling you tighter against his seated frame. Pulling a blanket up over the both of you, he starts stroking your hair. You put an arm across his legs, as your cheek presses up against his thigh. You sigh. You fall asleep to his fingers in his hair and Conan in the background.

END PT5