Title: Tragic - PT 10A
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 cont'd Part A - House makes a surprise visit to Cam

So, here is a very short part of the continuation of Part 10… it's a bit of a teaser, hope you like it!

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... And I apologize if I screwed up tenses with this POV --oh yeah, this still stands!

xxxxxxxxxx

PT 10 Cont'd Part A

You teeter down the short hallway on your heels, feeling like a fawn walking for the first time. Out of drunkenness? (Nah, it wasn't enough wine.) Out of uneasiness? Out of excitement? Frustration? (What kind?) You can't decide. You sit on the end of your bed and kick your heels off into the open closet in front of you. What a night. You can't believe he's here. You can't believe you actually allowed yourself some "you" time, and he fucking showed up. Not only do you feel guilty about leaving your daughter home, but you feel oddly ashamed like he caught you going out on a date. This thought makes you angry.

You now officially hate this dress. It's being donated to Goodwill tomorrow. You unzip it and as you roughly pull it over your head you hear a seam tear. You toss it onto the floor somewhere near your shoes. You flop back onto your bed, reaching your arms above your head, stretching, hoping it will relax you. You stay in this position just for a few moments, just trying to gather yourself before having to deal with the mess sitting in your living room . . .

"Nice," says a sly voice standing in your doorway. (Unfortunately, the mess comes to you).

You snap up. House! What does he think he's doing? You frantically try to find something to cover you, and out of nervousness you are failing.

"You really went all out today," he smirks, "lacy black bra, sexy panties, hose, the whole shebang. Poor Johnny is really missing out. Wow, Cam, I had no idea . . . "

You pick up a shoe and throw it at him. You are aiming to hurt.

He laughs. "I'm just kidding, I'm kidding," he laughs, backing out of the room, closing the door behind him, and then just speaking through the crack. "I just wanted to see if I could give Pearl a bottle. She seems like she's about ready for bed, and I'm not sure what her nighttime routine is any more."

You are sitting on the floor. It's only Friday night and you feel defeated already. How long is he planning on staying? Sure, you tell him, and give him some instructions on where the bottles are, etc. He leaves, securely closing the door. You want to cry, but instead, you start to laugh. You find you favorite flannel pajamas, tie your hair up in a bun, put some oversize socks on and you're set for the night. This is as sexy as House is going to see you.

The living room is empty. You go to Pearl's room and peek in the door. House is sitting in the rocking chair giving Pearl her bottle. You're surprised to see he changed her into pajamas. He's talking gently to her as she's sucking on the bottle, one hand on her bottle, one hand reaching up and touching his face. You find yourself overcome with tears, you turn back out of the room before they see you, you feel like you're invading a private moment between the two of them. You hurry off to the kitchen to distract yourself and to compose yourself for what feels like the hundredth time this evening.

Almost an hour later, you've been settled on the couch with a scotch in hand watching television. There's a second scotch condensing on your coffee table. You lift yourself off the sofa to see what the hell happened. You walk into the nursery to find House and Pearl both sleeping. It makes you smile. You gently lift Pearl out of his arms, kissing her sweet head and nuzzling your nose in her neck before depositing her into her crib. You just can't get enough of her sometimes. She barely stirs.

When you turn to rouse House, you find him watching you. Hi.

"Hi," he responds softly.

You tell him he fell asleep. He nods. It's awkward. You're still not used to seeing him like this - in an intimate moment, responding in a soft manner. You look away from him, looking at Pearl, anywhere but him. C'mon, you tell him, let me get you set up for the night.

You start to leave the room to gather linens, resisting the urge to give him your hand, to help him out of that rocker. He would hate you if you did that, wouldn't he? You bring pillows and blankets into the living room and you find him there, sipping at the scotch you had left for him.

You ask him if he had any dinner.

"No, but I'm fine."

You watch him pop a vicodin. You know it's from sitting in that chair for too long. You tell him let you whip him up a quick omelet or something as you walk to the kitchen.

"No," he responds harshly. You stop in your tracks. "Cameron, I'm fine."

Okay. You sit on the couch, curling your legs underneath you. The consummate caretaker in you has to egg on, you would happy to order some take out or something for him. He glares at you. Okay, okay, you'll stop. You smile at him, you can't help it.

You hear Pearl stirring a bit on the baby monitor. You tell him you have to warn him that she's teething, so her good nights are mixed in with her bad ones.

"Yeah, I thought I saw a tooth in there," he said, staring into his drink. He looks tired.

Yes, she cut it last week. There looks like there might be another one coming any day now, so she's a little fussy.

Silence. Now it's just the two of you. No more dates, babysitters or babies. Do you mention the elephant in the room? Why the hell not? You're really getting to old for this shit.

You ask him why he's here.

"I wanted to come for a visit," he says, finally looking up at you, "is that okay?"

You want to know more, but you know trying to get information out of him is worse than dealing with Pearl's teething. So, you shrug, fine.

"And, it's Pearl's half-birthday . . . "

Yeah, what kind of crap is that?

"Shut up and let me finish!" He actually cracks a smile at you, you smile back, it's starting to feel a little bit like old times now. "And my birthday -uhem- is coming up, and I wanted to share a little cake with her."

She doesn't eat cake.

"Why do you always have to ruin all the fun?"

You shrug again and sip your drink.

"I was thinking a little ice cream cake, can we try that?"

You guess.

"And . . . " you can see he's struggling to say something, so you'll just let him take his time, "and I missed her."

(Of course he did, he always misses her.)

"And I missed you," he continues, "I missed you both and I wanted to see you."

You are surprised by his confession. Coming from Gregory House, it's huge. You try not to blush, and you try to hide your smile. You tell him that you both missed him too.

"So, I was wondering, tomorrow night, do you think you can probably get a babysitter?"

Why?

"Well, it's my birthday too? Well, almost," he continues, "and there's something I want to do."

Like?

"Well, it's kind of surprise . . . basically, because I need to make sure the place still exists."

You don't think you'll have a problem getting a babysitter.

"Do you think it can be a non-teen babysitter, you know, someone who can stay late, if necessary?"

You look at him quizzically.

"Well," he continues, be-grudgingly giving little information, "it could very possibly be a very late night."

You narrow your eyes at him, asking him what kind of trouble is he up to.

"Nothing, nothing," he resigns, "it's my birthday and there's this place I want to go - and if it's still there, we'll be hanging out late . . . and so, in that case, you better get your beauty sleep!" And he winks at you.

You tell him, you don't know what he's up to, and you're not sure if you like it.

"Relax, relax, it's no big deal," he protest, "you're making it into a bigger something than it is . . . look at this way, we're going to go out to celebrate my birthday - something you've been trying to get me to do for years - and you get to go out like an adult, which for the exception of your little date tonight, how often do you get to do that?"

Okay, you say, surprised he mentions your date with no snide remarks. Off to bed you go, mentally trying to prepare yourself for the next day and for whatever fun and games that House might be up to. And with him, you never know.

END PT 10A