Title: Tragic - PT 10
Rating: R (language)
Summary: Cameron's life is tragic at times... (Cam's POV)
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, just playing...
Note: PT 10 - First time in the big city. . . & a bit lonely...
Note: As always, I hate good punctuation, I am horrible with grammar (esp. in this part), and I reserve everything to be a work in progress... this was put out a bit rushed due to some, uhem, reader demands! ;P JK This part was getting very long, so I had to cut it short and make it three parts... hope you enjoy it... And I apologize if I screwed up tenses with this POV --oh yeah, this still stands - I'm still very headachy

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Every cliché that you can possibly think of has been entering your head as an explanation to your life recently. March, so you thought, entered like a lion and left like a lamb, but the damn lion is back. You should have been forewarned by the Ides of March that there was trouble coming, but you didn't pay attention. Then The Fates took over and started to really play with you. And your daughter - sweet, charming cherub that she is - had a role in it. You sigh as you look at her sitting in her carriage, laughing, with drool coming down her smiling lips, fist in mouth. You can't help but smile at her, because really, what the hell does she know? If you only knew what last weekend would bring you . . .

Your move to Manhattan went as smoothly as possible. You put a lot of stuff in storage, so you really don't have much unpacking to do, but you still find yourself still searching through the occasional box for some odd object you just must have. Time has gone painfully fast and slow at the same time. You jumped right into work. The people there are nice, but they lack the warmth that you found at PPTH. The corporate apartment is spacious enough and clean, but it lacks the coziness that you would normally call home. You do like the neighborhood, but you are not quite sure how you are ever really going to be able to afford a decent apartment in the city. You quickly sell your car when you realize the monthly costs of parking in a garage, and the alternative side of the street parking schedule is just too difficult for you to keep up with. You have a few day care options that you are comfortable with, which is good. There is a place a few blocks away that has a lot of interactive classes, there is day care at the hospital, the sitter that Annie hooked you up with is also great (though, not available every day) and you've also found two great teenage babysitters in the apartment complex that completed a babysitting training course and came with references!

You are busy and lonely, and really, the joy of your day is seeing your daughter's face. You look forward to seeing her first thing in the morning and rushing home right after work and looking into her eyes. You have not really had the chance to keep up with your email or phone calls too well, and you are sorely lacking in personal adult conversation, although you really don't have much to talk about outside the daily routine of work and taking care of Pearl.

You are happy when the weather starts warming and you can put Pearl in the stroller and explore the neighborhood a bit. You like a local café that has outdoor seating. Though it's still a bit cool out, they have warming lamps so it's very comfortable. You really haven't cooked much (who are you cooking for anyway?), so you have really started becoming a regular there. One Sunday morning, Pearl picks up a man for you. (Damn that girl! You sure are going to have to watch her when she's sixteen!)

You are quietly reading your paper, still picking at your eggs and toast. Pearl is in her stroller next to you, happily chewing on a cookie and playing with a rattle and some toys attached to her stroller, just cooing to the world. Like you have a third eye watching her, you are able to reach out and catch the rattle every time she's about to drop it to the ground without moving your eyes from your paper. But that smart little girl catches you off guard when you are turning the paper and flings her rattle a few feet away to a neighboring table.

You turn to retrieve the rattle and you see a large tan hand extending toward you holding it in front of you. "Here you go. Your daughter has quite an arm."

You look up, thanking the man, and take notice of him. Relatively tall, short salt and pepper hair, face a bit long, though attractive, hazel eyes with a twinkle, friendly smile, early forties. (Your observation skills are quick at work.) Yes, she does have quite an arm, you tell the man, as you wipe the rattle off with a napkin and deposit in your purse. Pearl now is now intrigued by the large plastic keys attached to the front of her stroller, trying to bring them to her mouth, her cheeks plastered with mashed cookie. You reach out to wipe her face with a napkin, she instinctively squirms.

"How old is she?" he asks.

She'll be six months soon, but she seems really ahead of the learning curve, you tell him. You start to feel a little uncomfortable with the man still standing over your table, and you shift in your chair a bit trying to look up at him, your eye squinting in the morning sun.

"I'm sorry," he says, then extending his hand, "I'm John Flannery."

Allison Cameron. You shake his hand.

"Um, I've seen you two here before. I'm a regular, and I see you and your daughter are quickly becoming ones also," John smiles to you.

Yes, you blush, and then are glad when the waitress approaches to refill your coffee. John is crouched in front of the carriage shaking a toy in front of Pearl.

This is Pearl, you tell him.

"Hi Pearl," he smiles at her, "she's beautiful." He stands and faces you. "Well, let me leave you two to your breakfast, it was nice meeting you," and he graciously starts to back away.

John, you call to him. You tell him, you're still having your coffee, would he like to join you. Pearl is laughing loudly, banging her fists on the stroller. (When did you get so ballsy? Well, you are dying for some adult conversation. And he is an adult, an attractive male adult for that matter, what could it hurt? Right?)

"Sure," he says, "you don't mind?"

No, you shake your head.

"That would be great." He grabs his own coffee, bag, guitar case and half-eaten plate and joins you.

For the next two Sundays, John joins you and Pearl for breakfast. She seems to like him, which makes you happy. He's from the Midwest originally, and on occasion, you catch the soft undertones of a twang in his accent. He is a musician (you're really glad he's not a doctor). He teaches kids of all ages different types of instruments at a school. He's a studio musician, and performs from time to time with orchestras when there are sick calls, etc. You like his gentle manner and the easy conversation you are able to have with him. You have a feeling he's a "player," but you kind of don't care, but you know you need to "get back in the game," at some point. And he's nice to you, and you have no friends in the city, so right now you don't care.

You know he lives in your neighborhood; supposedly in a brownstone apartment a few blocks away from you, but neither of you have visited each other's apartments. On your second breakfast, you take Pearl for a long walk in Central Park until she falls asleep. He walks you back to your building and asks you out to dinner Friday night. You accept. He asks if you'll have problems finding a babysitter, you smile and say you won't. Good, he smiles back at you. He tells you that you'll go somewhere local so that you'll be close to home in case you need to rush back. You blush a little when you say goodbye and you'll see him Friday at seven.

You search all week for the perfect thing to wear. You feel like you haven't been on a date in ten years, though it's been more like two or so, but still, it's been a while. You decide on a black dress that you haven't worn in a really long time (since your disastrous dinner with House, so you're hoping all the evil that may have been associated with it has come and gone by now), but you like the way it looks on you, so you're going with it. You're ripping through boxes to find the perfect heels, and you do. You leave your bedroom a mess, deciding you'll deal with the tornado Saturday after the date.

Thankfully Friday, you can jet out of work by four o'clock. You pick up Pearl and rush downtown to your apartment, hoping you'll have enough time to shower and feed her before John arrives. You're excited and a little nervous; you kind of feel like you're in high-school again, mainly because the feeling of a date is so unfamiliar to you. You try to calm yourself by remembering that you have already had breakfast with this man, who yes, albeit a complete stranger, is very nice and you are very comfortable with him - so far. You take deep breaths to calm your nerves as you try to style your hair a bit and apply some makeup (it's been a while since you wore eye shadow and you're afraid if you overdo it you'll end up looking like a whore, not exactly the look you want to go for tonight). The doorbell rings and thankfully it's Amy, a girl who lives in the building, who will be sitting Pearl tonight.

You become the worrisome mother, giving Amy more info than she could possibly need. You are only going to be about eight blocks away and you will have your cell phone on you, so you really have no reason to worry. But, you just can't help it. Deep down, you know you just fear the whole dating process all over again. Pearl doesn't even cry when you leave to meet John in the lobby. You choke back tears in the elevator on your way down.

The restaurant is cozy and a bit dark, but you are having a good time and the food is good. You've had a few glasses of wine (good or bad thing? You haven't decided yet) and you are feeling a little sexier than when you left your apartment. You are having a good time, and you think John is also enjoying himself. You are both leaning into the table talking closer to each other, that's always a good sign. You're attracted to him, and with the wine, you are definitely feeling some growing heat. You like the way his cheekbones look when he smiles, the thickness of his graying hair - you wouldn't mind running your fingers through it. You're starting to really think about his lips, when mid-laugh, your cell phone rings. That stops you dead.

You look at the screen and see it's coming from your apartment. Amy? Is Pearl okay? What's wrong? Your heart is racing and caught in your throat.

"Well," she begins to explain, "there is a Dr. House in the lobby insisting on being let up. But I don't know him and the doorman won't let him up without an approval. And I didn't know what to do, Dr. Cameron, so I figured I better call you."

(You got to be kidding. Tomorrow is April first, is this an early April Fool's Joke? You are going to kill him.)

You instruct her to ask the doorman if he has a cane and looks like he hasn't shaved in a week. She comes back and says yes. (You can't win.) Let him up you tell her. As you wait on the phone for him to arrive in your apartment, your shoulders start to slump. You look at John apologetically and mouth to him that you're sorry and will explain. He nods at you with confusion in his eyes.

You hear rustling in the background and then House's voice. "Cameron, where the hell are you?"

Out. Obviously. What does he think he is doing?

"Didn't you get my email?"

No.

"It's Pearl's half-birthday Sunday, so I thought I would come for a visit," he says like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Half-birthday? He's kidding, right?

"Nope," he responds, "and since mine is coming up too - which you always like to remind me about, I thought I'd make a little trip and come see you all . . . where are you?"

You tell him you're out. That you wish you knew he was coming, because this isn't really great timing, you try to whisper into the phone. (This isn't exactly great first date etiquette, you think to yourself.)

"Well, when are you coming home?" He asks. Actually, it's more like a demand, like he expects you to drop everything and come right home, and you know that's exactly what he wants you to do.

You guess soon, you tell him.

"Hey," he whispers into the phone, "can I send the babysitter home? I'm not exactly comfortable sitting around waiting for you with a seventeen year old girl with huge knockers."

Fourteen.

"Fourteen! Hurry home then!"

Just pay her, you tell him, she's lives in the building so she'll be fine getting home.

"How much?"

You tell him.

"Seriously? That's extortion!"

Just pay the damn babysitter you hiss into the phone, you would like to be able to use her again.

"Fine, but you're paying me back as soon as you get your ass back here!" He clicks the phone off.

You shut your eyes and shake your head. This.Cannot.Be.Happening. At least not right now. This must be some kind of bad dream. Or at least bad wine. You want to ask John if your cell phone really did ring, but you know he would think you're crazy, and it's way too early for him to start thinking you're crazy.

You make apologies and explain that you are going to have to wrap up this evening. You quickly explain that Pearl's godfather (because you don't know what else to call him any more) has made an unexpected visit and you should really try to get back to your place as soon as possible.

Thankfully, you both have already finished dinner so you are just skipping out on sweets and coffee and any potential dessert. John being the gentleman of the evening, smiles at you and says, "Rain check?"

Sure, you nod, that would be great.

As angry as you are at House, you try to enjoy your walk back to your apartment with your hand on John's arm. In fact, you try to make it as leisurely a stroll as possible; you are wearing three inch heels after all. When you arrive at your apartment, he insists on seeing you up to your door. You eye him up, knowing he wants to see what's really going on. You decide, why the hell not, besides, House should know that he just interrupted your damn date.

You open the apartment door and find House sitting on the floor playing with Pearl. You hate to say it, but you love seeing the two of them together. Your heart just overwhelms with emotion. You find yourself ecstatic to see a familiar face, and as he raises himself off the ground to greet you, you instinctively go over to him and hug him. Maybe it's the wine. But you couldn't stop yourself, because you are just happy to see him. He looks a little stunned, but brushes it off quickly. Hi, you smile at him, it's good to see you.

"You too," he says.

You cut your hair, you smile at him, as you reach up to touch his hair (and amazingly he lets you). You tell him that you like it, and you think you see him briefly blush. You are so excited to see him (you really want to jump all over him, wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist and squeeze him tight), you momentarily forget that John is standing awkwardly behind you.

As you are beaming at House, he reaches his hand out and says, "Hi there, Greg House."

"John Flannery." They shake like two gentlemen sizing each other up for a duel like Hamilton and Burr.

Sorry, sorry, you tell them both. You tell them you just realized how good it was to see a familiar face; you didn't realize how homesick you were until just this moment. Suddenly, you want to usher John quickly to the door and you start to. John, you're so sorry to have to cut the evening short, but thanks so much for the lovely evening.

"So, will I see you at brunch Sunday?" he asks, as you are about to close the door on him.

You look briefly at House, who quickly narrows his eyes on you and then turns his attention back to Pearl. You tell John that with Greg in town, you're not quite sure that you'll be at brunch this weekend, but you'll talk to him during the week. He resigns to that, kisses you on the cheek and leaves.

"So, new boy toy?"

You turn to House, don't start you tell him, hands on hips. He did not email you that he was coming for a visit.

"I certainly did," he proclaims, "just this afternoon."

Well, that's sufficient notice, you tell him. You never got it.

"What, get out of work early for your little date?" he smirks, continuing to play with Pearl.

You sigh. You tell him that you're going to change, as you head down the hallway to your bedroom.

"You look hot, by the way," he says to you without looking up. "Nice dress."

It's going to be a long weekend. In fact, it's hardly begun.

END PT 10