HEY! Sorry about the massive delay. I have been insanely busy with moving and such. Ok, I'm thinking…one more chapter? Actually, it'll probably end up just an epilogue. If that. Now, it was mentioned (by one person, but what are you gonna do?) that a third installment in the series would be good. Is anyone interested? I'm not going to attempt to write another if no one is going to read it (even though I have a hypothetical plot formed in my head. But shhhh. Don't tell.) As always, reviews arelove. Oh, and a warning: I wrote this in like twenty minutes at two in the morning, so I apologize beforehand for any grammar /general mistakes. OK, now that I've bored you all to death…On with the story!
And they didn't leave the room for the next three days.
Mike and Emily both tried calling House the day after his mother's death, and between the two of them, House amassed a collection of thirty-seven voice messages. Cameron got that same disapproving look he knew so well every time his cell phone rang from its place of exile under the mattress.
It was two weeks later now, the first days of August fast approaching. House had managed to get themselves a few extra days off from Cuddy, expertly using the excuse of needing some time to grieve.
Though Cuddy knew that House probably wouldn't be spending too much time grieving.
Sunday evening found House and Cameron in his living room, enjoying the last few hours of their weekend. It had been relaxing for both of them, and House wasn't complaining about the sex either. Cameron was curled up in the armchair, a magazine open in her lap. Across from her, on the couch, sat House, who was aimlessly surfing through TV channels.
Nothing had passed between them on the subject of the lost child. Their child. He had expected Cameron to say something – anything – about it. Apparently, her method of dealing with tragedy included completely ignoring the problem. It was frustrating for House, because he was pretty sure that he was the same way. But he was determined to say something. They needed to talk about it, because he wanted to know that Cameron felt that they could talk about things like this.
Cameron's dark hair was dancing slightly in the breeze created by the overhead fan. Somewhere in the apartment, a clock was ticking, and the noise was seemingly growing louder. House's gaze focused on the television, noticing that he had apparently settled with a show devoted to…knitting? Who watched shows about knitting? What kind of corrupted society allowed networks to air knitting shows?
His eyes closed heavily, and he heard Cameron lazily turning a page in her magazine. The conversation was on the tip of his tongue. All he had to do was…
What if he said something stupid? Despite her total lack of emotion with the whole thing, House knew she had been suffering. It wouldn't come as too much of a surprise if he ended up saying something that only made her feel worse.
He really needed to give himself more credit.
It may be well known that Gregory House was a resolute bastard, but he was capable of having a heart-felt conversation.
Maybe.
OK. He was going to do it. No more procrastinating. No more consulting his conscience. He just had to do it. Just go and –
"I knew."
Cameron looked up from the article she had been reading, something about the many uses of a banana. House shuddered.
"About what?" she asked, eyes widened in curiosity. House locked his eyes on his cane, which he was bouncing between his knees nervously.
"The baby. Our baby. I knew."
He waited for her sharp intake of breath before he dared a sideways glance, taking in the shock on Cameron's face. Her jaw hung open slightly, and even from where he sat, House could see the tears already forming behind her tightly shut eyelids.
"How…?"
"If you really didn't want me to know, I would've thought that you would have done a better job hiding the evidence." He tried to keep his tone light, instead of accusatory. Cameron brought a shaking hand to her lips as a few tears blazed a trail down her cheek. Suddenly, her eyes shot open, and she held him in an almost angry stare,
"If you knew…" She stopped, trying to back up her voice with some sort of strength. "If you knew, why didn't you say anything? Before now?"
House simply shrugged. "I figured you tell me when you were ready." A humorless laugh escaped his mouth before he could stifle it. "It would seem I'm not the only one with trust issues." He knew the moment the words were out that he should not have started this. Cameron did not need his self-deprecation.
Her shoulders tensed, and she reached up to wipe away a few more stray tears.
"That wasn't it at all," she said stiffly. House could hear the disbelief in her voice. Disbelief that he could possibly think so lowly of her. "I was afraid." House lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at her.
"It wasn't your first child. What could you be afraid of?"
"No. No, I was afraid because I was sure you'd…" She paused to allow an almost ashamed chuckle. "That you would leave me."
House's eyes widened, before his features firmly set into an unmistakable scowl.
"That's ridiculous," he said, surprised at the volume of his voice. Cameron turned her head away from him, her gaze fixed on the piano.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
That was what did it.
House could tell, from the way she was avoiding looking at him, and the way her lower lip trembled ever so slightly, that she thought she had done something wrong. And he knew, just like she did over the incident in October, that she would blame herself. Be it during an argument, or if he didn't accept one of her suggestions during the differential diagnosis, she would blame it on this; on her adamant refusal to mention a word to House.
He wouldn't let her do that to herself again.
With a massive amount of effort, House pushed his stiff body to his feet, and shuffled awkwardly towards Cameron. Her head titled down toward her lap, but she made no move to leave. He reached down to her, offering her his calloused hand, only praying that she didn't refuse. It was a few moments, but she did take it, allowing him to pull her up so that she was standing directly in front of him. Tossing the cane out of the way, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tight against him.
"Do not," he said quietly, brushing his free hand across her tear-stained cheek, "think that I wouldn't support you."
It may have been the relief of finally having this particular stress lifted, or possibly just the reassuring comfort she was getting from House, but Cameron let go of her defenses, pressing her face against his warm chest, and just letting the tears fall. She had no idea how long they stood there like that, but she was acutely aware of the stubbly cheek grazing across her jaw as House leaned forward to say something in her ear.
"I want to try again."
Cameron pushed away from him, sure that he could not possibly mean what she thought he meant. He was biting his lower lips nervously, trying to read her with those intensely blue eyes. Taking a hollow breath, he met her eyes, adding,
"No secrets this time."
Oh, God. He was talking about … that.
"You're serious?" she asked incredulously. She took a step back, tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "You can't be serious."
An almost hurt look flashed across his features. "Why not? I had a few months thinking I was going to be a dad." He dropped his gaze, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. "You have no idea what that does to a guy."
Her heart wrenching at the wistful expression on his face, Cameron stepped back into his arms, leaning gently against him.
Smiling contentedly up at him, she whispered, "I can't believe you're going to be a daddy."
"Wilson couldn't either."
Ooops.
"What?" She pulled back so that she could see his eyes. House was relieved to see that she did not appear to be nearly angry enough for him to be worried.
"Don't worry," he said hastily. "He was drunk at the time, so I doubt he remembers anything."
Cameron's expression softened, and she leaned back into him. "Cuddy was happy for us too," she said though a smile. She could feel him shaking his head.
"You told Cuddy."
"Like I said, I'm –"
"Don't," House cut her off. His arms disentangled themselves from around her waist, his fingers sneaking under the hem of her tank top. "I think, now that we have had the proper amount of apologies, that we should get right on that baby-making thing." His stubble burned her flushed skin as he bent down to plant a soft kiss just below her ear.
"I love you," she whispered clearly as her fingers trailed through his hair.
"Baby, if this is love," he said huskily, already throwing her shirt behind the couch, but the rest of his thought was lost to the sudden lack of blood in his brain. But Cameron was pretty sure she got the gist.
