Title: Tragic - PT 12
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: R (language)
Beta: Yutamiyu - Very many thanks!
Summary: Cameron's life (Cam's POV)
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, just playing...
Note: The (long, awaited) morning after...
After weeks of migraines, I finally have gotten a break! Thank goodness... so that is part of the reason that this part has taken me forever. I was also struggling with it. Many many many thanks to Yutamiyu for guiding me through this part and being a great beta. I thank you. As always, I hope you all like it (and I hope I won't read it again and find more things I want to fix and/or change! lol!). In many ways, I will always see this as a work-in-progress, so feedback (good or bad) is always welcome of course, I would love to hear your thoughts!
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A static cry over the baby monitor awakens you. Pearl. You feel a mess, heavy; it was too late of a night. You can't quite move yet. God, this is so not sexy. You quickly think back to your younger days, the excitement of young intimacy, when you would be so sensitive to someone new in your bed: the opening of their eyes sometimes wakening you, flickering of lashes as their eyes open. The long, slow awakening, warm touches, leading to heavy breathing, hot kisses, and all-day lovemaking. You are afraid to move. You are afraid of what will happen. Or not happen.
But Pearl is crying, and you have no choice. You are not a college girl anymore; you are a mother. Oh Pearly, you whisper quietly, not quite sure if you will be waking anyone. You reach over and turn off the monitor. You start to sit up.
"Don't get up."
The voice jolts you. You turn your head quickly toward it. House. He is here. This did happen. He's sitting in the chair in the corner of your room near your window. (How long has he been there? Did he sleep at all? You don't feel like you have slept at all.) "I'll get her," he tells you as he pushes himself out of the chair and limps out of the room.
You roll yourself onto your back, trying to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. You hear House talking to Pearl, trying to shush her, quiet movements coming from her room. Your mind is just full of doubts and confusion. You're not sure what to do. You feel frozen on your bed, sucked into the warm coziness of your sheets, naked flesh against soft cotton. Your eyes are open, but you're just not seeing anything yet.
House returns to your bedroom, baby in arms. He hands her to you. You pull yourself up, feeling the need to cover yourself with the sheet, and take her in your arms. He leaves the room again. You feel a little stunned as you hold Pearl close to you, kissing her little head, searching for some sense of comfort in her. She's still a little fussy, you know she's hungry. You lay her down on the bed and grab a T-shirt that was recently discarded on the floor, quickly pulling it over your head.
You glance out your window and see a gloomy sky. In the distance you see the grand Ansonia building, its French influences and curvy limestone overpowering the feeling of you and sky. Right now, part of you wishes that you could be Sydney Bristow and slip into a new alias and go live in a pretend world in Paris or Rome for a little while. Live an international life in an apartment fashioned in grand old European style and opulence. A little fantasy getaway. A little avoidance for the present. But then you hear Pearl coo at you.
You hear the echo of your own heart. You hold Pearl close to you and feel her warm skin against your cheek. You feel blessed that you have her. You feel that she is really just yours, and no one else's. Your baby. If you didn't know better (and weren't atheist) you would have insisted that she was a result of immaculate conception. She grounds you. Especially now, as you feel the roar of the March lion back in your life. Its rough, sharp claws slicing you down your center, filleting you whole.
(You laugh inwardly as you think of the Fates and your child's role in your love life.)
You think of her instinct to love you, her natural attachment to you. How you can walk in a room and she sees you and smiles...a smile that can light up her whole face and your whole soul. And then she gets that excited bounce that indicates she's happy to see you.
Lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice House slipping into the other side of the bed, gingerly taking Pearl from your arms and giving her a bottle. You are somewhat startled and disturbed by his domesticity. At the same time, you never expected to see him walking around in your apartment in boxers holding a bottle, looking all morning-rumpled. You just watch him. You feel very cautious, you don't want to move, afraid that your actions will unsettle everything.
He hasn't said anything. He hasn't even looked at you. He's concentrating on feeding Pearl, as if it is so difficult to hold the bottle up to her mouth. This is too weird; besides, you need to move. Okay, you tell him, this is weird. Then you quickly get up and run to the bathroom. You don't want to hear or see his reaction. You want to hide.
You brush your teeth and wrap yourself in the robe hanging behind the door. You can't stay in the bathroom forever. Back to your room.
"Will she fall back to sleep?"
Yes, for a little while. It's early for her.
"Good. We can talk."
You sigh.
"Why do you always run away?"
You look at him. A little confused by the question.
"The bathroom. New York. Whatever. Whenever something is a little off...a little weird."
You tell him you thought he liked weird, you smirk and sit back on the bed. He smirks back at you. You tell him you didn't realize you were running away. (This is kind of funny coming from him; the man you're not even sure has closure from his last relationship).
"Cameron, what the hell happened to your room?" he asks, looking around. "I'd never thought I would say it, but you're living in a pigsty."
You laugh and look around at your boxes. The tornado you left from the other day. You see your black dress is on a hanger hanging from the back of the closet. He's something else, you think to yourself. And a snoop. But you knew that already. You notice the open photo albums scattered around your chair, so that's what he was doing while you were sleeping. You tell him, you just haven't had a chance. That it was going to be your project before he arrived. Then there is the uncomfortable silence between the two of you. Luckily, he breaks it.
"This... this was nice, very nice. And very unexpected." And before you can you can get the words out of your opening mouth he continues, "Unexpected in the sense that I think we both we're surprised." He looks down at Pearl who has stopped suckling at her bottle.
Let me take her, you tell him. He passes her to you, his fingertips gingerly brushing yours, you glance up at him. You want to tell him you're not running away from this conversation. You quickly deposit Pearl into her crib and return to your bedroom. You have to admit to yourself, you like seeing him there. You smile quickly (he doesn't see it) and sit.
"Cameron..." He's hesitant.
You stop him. Listen to me, you tell him, you don't know what this is. You don't know anything right now. You know that you don't know what you can give. You know you can't play any games. You know you like it when he's around... (You know you're broken, and you know you can't deal with him stamping you into smaller bits. You know a little more than you used to know.)
He's shifting around, seemingly uncomfortable. What? He tells you he doesn't know what he's doing.
And though you feel slightly beaten, you look at him strongly and say, that's fine, just remember, you're not a toy. He nods.
Then you ask him where your breakfast is.
While Pearl is taking her little morning nap, and House is preparing your Sunday breakfast, you decide to take a short morning run. You know you haven't had much sleep, but you just need to get some more endorphins into your system to make it through the day. You borrow House's iPod. It starts raining on the way home, and you're cold and drenched. You choose the Beatles on random, and this makes you cry.
You have to stop in a little alcove because you are sobbing and you're not sure why. You pretend like you're stretching so passersby don't think you're totally crazy, as your chest is heaving. Whatever it is, you have to get it all out. You're glad it's raining. You calm yourself down and head back to the apartment.
You enter and see Pearl and House on the floor playing. She's grabbing his nose and he's shaking a rattle at her and laughing. "Hey," he says, "you took too long. Your food is cold."
You're frozen staring at them, dripping on the floor. Sorry, you say. You know what, you're not really hungry, but thanks for cooking. You rush off into the shower. As the steam surrounds you and wraps your shoulder like a blanket, the image of your child on the floor with House is burned in your mind. And you can't help but think that he just wants this because he just wants the unconditional love of a child in his life. Your child. You can't blame him for feeling that way, for desiring that, for needing that absolute.
Something in him must have sparked, because it's about Pearl. His age? Something had to happen. You just can't believe the words he said to you last night anymore. You wonder if he forced them. You feel angry, but confident in your realization. You knew this. But seeing it again and again, more and more, everything he did this weekend was for or about Pearl. Or himself.
You think of the Beatles as you dress. You know House senses that you are uncomfortable and something else. You are acting for the rest of the day, forcing your smile. You are glad when he's paged by the hospital and has to leave early. He was hoping to stay an extra day.
You're both standing at the door awkwardly. The warmth and comfort you were feeling towards House has dissipated into slight anger and mostly hurt. Perhaps you shouldn't feel that way, but you are just raw right now, and your defenses are slightly up. You know he has helped you through a lot, even though you didn't ask him to, and you don't know why; you're grateful, but you still don't trust him as much as you want to.
As he's hugging Pearl to death and saying his goodbyes to her, you take a deep painful breath. Listen, you start -- you can't look at him -- you tell him if he wants to come see Pearl that's fine, and you would not stop that. But if he wants to see you, he better be sure and clear.
You look up at him and see him swallow. You continue and tell him that he needs to make some decisions as to what role your daughter plays in his life and how you fit into it, because as important as she is -- to you both -- she cannot be the reason for something -- a relationship, or whatever this fucked up thing is -- to happen.
This time as he starts to open his mouth, you cut him off and tell him just to think about it. He nods.
He gives Pearl a quick kiss on her curly head and hands her back to you. You are glad for her warm body in your arms. Because even though you feel stronger for what you just said, you feel alone and weakened by it. You know the March lion has definitely returned, and spring is not yet here. As you close the door behind him, you find yourself humming.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Lennon/McCartney
END PT 12