Title: Tragic - PT 6
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.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, just playing...
Note: PT 6 - was a particularly difficult chapter to write...i think you'll see why, really struggled with it. (Sorry for the delay, we got flooded this last week, and I've been fighting migraines.)
Note: As always, I hate good punctuation, I am horrible with grammar, and I reserve everything to be a work in progress...
xxxxxxx
You are staring into a black hole. You see no light. You have been falling. You haven't been able to grab onto any ledges. You haven't reached the bottom yet, and you're not sure how much longer you will continue to fall. You hear echoes of sounds. Some noises you recognize and you respond to automatically with motions that are ingrained but detached, and lots of other things you ignore.
You had dinner with House about two weeks ago. You awoke in the morning to him leaving a cup of coffee on the nightstand and kissing you on the forehead. You were under his comforter still dressed in your jeans and sweater. He tells you he already gave Pearl a bottle, but he has to run. His patient isn't doing well, and he's been getting paged for the last hour. He tells you to stay as long as you want, and tells you how to lock the door behind yourself. He says, with a slight smile, that he was glad to see his girls last night and . . . interrupted by the pager again. Go, you tell him, and he goes. You lounge awkwardly in his large bed looking around his room, glancing at Pearl who is watching you with large eyes. You feel immensely lonely without him being there. You start to cry, you don't want to stay. You leave the hot coffee on the nightstand.
It's been cold out and you haven't been able to leave the apartment much. You think there was snow one day, but you have lost track of days. Your sleeping is erratic. You haven't spoken to another adult in you're not sure how long. House has been bombarded with cases and you really haven't talked to him since dinner at his place. Your loss of time hasn't helped either.
You aren't feeling well. You feel like you aren't parenting your daughter well already. You couldn't even breast feed her, what kind of mother are you? You feed her, change her, bathe her, rock her to sleep. Right now you feel an indifference to her and a guilt. Maybe Ryan's parents were right, you are unfit mother. You are afraid to hold her too long, but you are afraid that something will happen to her, so you sit and watch her for long periods of time. Sometimes you don't hear her crying. Sometimes you can't stop her crying, so you just cry with her and you hate yourself.
One day you don't hear the apartment door open. You are only slightly startled when you feel a hand on shoulder. You look up and it's House. You don't say anything. You continue staring at Pearl. House limps over to her and picks her up. You see him mouth something to you, but you have no idea what he is saying. He seems frustrated, he leaves the room with Pearl, and you just continue staring into open space, your chin sitting in your hands.
He comes back into Pearl's room where you are still sitting and lifts your chin in his hand. He looks at your eyes with a pen light and you try to pull away. He fingers a long tress of your hair, you pull it from his fingers, you haven't showered in days. He takes your hand and pulls your body to your feet and drags you to the kitchen pushing you into a chair. He opens the fridge and examines the empty shelves. He starts opening kitchen cabinets, leaving them open as he starts examining the shape of your pantry. You sit and watch him. You see him pick up your kitchen phone and punch in some numbers. You finally hear some words, "Cuddy, we have a problem."
You feel puzzled. You're not sure what's going on. Your eyes feel heavy. You feel heavy. You feel a black tornado inside you taking over and you are shutting down. House drags you into your bedroom. It's a disaster. Well, the whole apartment is a disaster, but you don't care. He tells you to lie down, and he pulls the covers over you. You ask where Pearl is. He tells she's in her pack-n-play in the living room. That satisfies you. He sits on the edge of the bed. "Where are your car keys?" he questions you. You tell him they are on a hook in the kitchen. He tells you that you need to rest, but he has to go back to the hospital. He's going to take Pearl with him, she will be okay. You start to cry. He needs to take your car because of the car seat. He'll be back in a little while and everything will be okay. You're not sure what that means, because you can't remember last time anything was okay. He asks you if you understand that Pearl will be with him. You nod. You don't really, but you're so tired, you close your eyes.
When he returns, it's dark. He didn't need to wake you, you are in bed staring into the dark. He's quiet. You ask him where Pearl is. He tells you that she's with Cuddy for the night. You look at him blankly, he thinks you're confused. He tells you need a break. He sits on the bed at your feet and asks you, "Are you hungry for dinner?" No. He looks angry. "When was the last time you ate?" You really don't remember. "Cameron," he sighs, "you're not taking care of yourself." You don't say anything. "I'm taking you to your doctor tomorrow for a checkup. We need to get you back on track." You tell him that we don't need to do anything. He says nothing, but you know he's biting back some sarcastic remark by the way he instantly narrowed his eyes. "Cameron, you are going through postpartum depression, do you realize that?" You look at him. You are smarter than this. Why didn't you realize? There is a name to this thing - all these things that you are feeling and not feeling right now.
You run to the bathroom, because you are going to throw up. Since you have no food in your stomach, you throw up bile. You start sobbing uncontrollably. Hot tears pouring down over your cheeks. Your head is throbbing as you lay it against the cool porcelain, your arms still around the bowl. You keep failing at everything - love, marriage, lust, you can barely be a mother, a doctor, a friend, you're not even good at living.
House comes into the bathroom and steps over you. He turns on the faucet to the tub and starts filling it with water. You are still sobbing. "Stop it," he says, grabbing you under the arm and pulling you up. "God, you are ridiculously thin. For Christ's sake, you just gave birth to a baby, you're supposed to be fat," he says with a hiss as he pulls the sweatshirt over your head. You feel dirty and messy. Your hair is a greasy knot, your face is red and tear stained. Your clothes are dirty with baby-spit up and you've been wearing them for days. "You're a mess," he tells you, "you're taking a bath, even if I have to give it to you. So this is your choice now. Either you bathe yourself, or I'm going to do it for you and it won't be as pleasant as you might like." You start crying again (why can't you stop?).
"Jesus Cameron," he sighs, hanging his cane on the towel rack and stripping off his button down. He looks at you with determination, you are a chore. He slides your sweats a bit to your hips and forces you to sit on the toilet. He pulls off your socks and sweatpants tossing them onto the floor. He stands you up and turns you toward the tub. "Up," he roughly pulls your T-shirt over your head. He pauses. You feel his fingers unhook your bra and roughly pull it off and then his hand grab the back of your panties and slide them down your legs. Smack! A sudden slap on your bare ass jolts you. "In," he commands and you step into the hot water, sit, and pull your knees up to your chest.
He leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, the cool room starting to feel steamy, the mirror fogging up. You think he's leaving you alone to bathe. Suddenly, you feel cool air enter. You look up and see a washcloth being thrown in your direction. It hits you in the face. He has clean linens in his arms and in his left hand a plastic bucket, the kind they deliver wonton soup in. He sits on the toilet. (Haven't you done this before? Way too much nakedness in front of House with no sex involved, you think to yourself, there's something really wrong with that.) He reaches into the tub and submerges the bucket. He lifts the bucket full of water and swiftly dumps it over your head. House! Stop it! You tell him you can do this yourself. He questions you, "Oh really? Because it sure seems like you're doing a really good job of taking care of yourself lately." You tell him to get out. He ignores you. Then you yell it, he submits and leaves you to cry into your tub.
After you bathe, you dress yourself in clean clothes and find him in the kitchen at the stove. "I'm making something for you to eat," he tells you, "I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few things for you." He drains pasta at the sink. You sit tiredly at the table. You ask him why he's doing this. He glances at you briefly. "Because you need to be a mama to Pearl." You pick at the food he places in front of you. "Cameron," he begins. You stop him, whatever it is he has to say, you really don't want to hear it right now, you appreciate what he's doing, but you really don't want to talk. He leaves you in the kitchen and goes and sits himself in front of the television.
The little bit of food you eat revives you. You walk into the living room and tell House you want Pearl here. He blankly says no. You start to yell at him, she's your daughter and you want her here, where she belongs. He looks up at you, an intensity in his eyes you haven't seen before, a different kind of intensity. "You gave me the power to take care of things for you and your baby if necessary. And I'm doing that right now . . . because it's necessary," he says. "Don't make me call the lawyer and get everyone involved. Right now, we need to get you better before anything . . . " You start crying . . . but she's your daughter . . . he tells you that he knows, and he knows that it's hurting you. "Cameron, come here." You sit next to him on the couch. "This sucks," he tells you, "all this shit that has been happening to you, it's a lot. What you are going through is normal, and happens to lots of other women, and we're going to take care of it. Tonight, you're going to let me take care of you. You showered, you ate, now, I'm going to make sure you get a full night of uninterrupted sleep and I'll take you to the doctor tomorrow. Then we'll go from there, okay?" You nod at him through tears, as he continues to do another non-House maneuver, and pulls you toward him in an awkward embrace. Although you're uncomfortable, you have been craving someone else's warmth.
You scoot down a bit, your head on his leg. He pulls a blanket over you that's on the back of the sofa. He starts doing that calming thing your mom used to do with your hair, stroking your long hair and lightly rubbing your scalp. It always soothed you. You do it to Pearl now when she cries, hoping it will soothe her. You think about her and start to cry again. He hands you a tissue. He tells you that he called Cuddy to check on Pearl, and she's fine. You nod. (It upsets you to think that more people know you're going crazy again.) You doze.
You are jostled slightly to House gently shaking you, "C'mon Cameron, let's get you into bed." Sleepily, you comply and start stumbling down the hallway. You are shocked by the cool of the sheets as you crawl your sleepy-warm body under the comforter. House starts tucking you into bed, he's telling you that your appointment isn't until ten o'clock tomorrow morning, so you can sleep-in a bit. As he reaches for your lamp, you grab his hand, stay, you plead with him, don't sleep on the couch tonight, stay.
"Okay,' he nods, 'I'll be right back." You watch the hallway and see shadows fade away as he begins to turn lights off. You see the bathroom light go on and hear the water run. You're trying to keep your eyes open, you're starting to drift. You feel movement on the bed, you open your eyes to blackness. You feel him climbing into bed next to you. You turn on your other side and snuggle up to him. He extends his arm, and you put your head on his shoulder, and your arm across your chest. You know in lots of ways you have a stranger in your bed, but you don't care, right now you need his warmth, it helps heal you. You fall asleep to the rhythm of his heart.
You awake to the smell of coffee. You are alone in bed. That disappoints you. More so than you thought it would. House enters your bedroom, fully dressed, carrying a steaming mug. "Oh good, you're awake." You smile weakly. "You're going to have to get moving soon, so that we don't miss your appointment." You nod, as you take the cup from his hands. For some reason, you feel cold and you feel dejected. Wait, you call out to him as he begins to leave you. You're not quite awake yet, so you're not really sure what you're doing. You beckon him to you. He sits at your hip looking at you with question in his face. You place your mug on your nightstand. You try to thank him for everything he has done and everything he is doing. He is shaking his head no, "No thanks necessary." You want to give him a hug, and as you reach for him, you kiss him lightly on the mouth. The quick spark you feel when your lips meet backfires on you, as he swiftly propels away from you, pushing your hands down to the bed. "No, Cameron," as he rises and stalks out of the room.
You are startled. You quickly rise. You dress while hot tears are burning down your face in embarrassment and shame. The ride to the hospital is heavy in silence. He walks you to your doctor's office, and says he'll wait for you. You quietly tell him he doesn't have to. He nods and stands to leave. "When you're done with your appointment come down to my office, Pearl will be there and I'll take you both home." You nod. He leaves you sitting there staring at your hands in your lap.
More and more you are taking painful steps by yourself. Steps you don't want to take. Even the things that seemed liked good things, haven't always been. The last eleven months or so have been riddled with them, such awkwardness. You thought you grew out of them. You thought you were strong again. You thought you were ready for all this. You were wrong about everything. What the hell happened?
END PT6