A/N: Hey folks, long time no write! I think it's been over a year since I posted something on here… can anyone say lazy? Heh… anyway, this is my first (published) House fic. Centred on Cameron and the mythology surrounding "Maternity".

There's a lot of House/Cameron in the subtext, hence the name. Also focused on the miscarriage theory plus a teen pregnancy.

Enjoy, I really like this one, even though it's a little choppy at first.

Disclaimer: Belongs to David Shore and 20th Century Fox, not I.

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Subtexts

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Allison Cameron prided herself on her stubborn nature; it is where she found her strength. She didn't cry, she didn't hate (she did not let her emotions consume her).

Nonetheless, she found herself lying alone in her bedroom shaking and sobbing as the cool breeze from her window spilled over her, attempting to soothe her with it's cool touch.

It was not a recent event that trigged this overwhelming breakdown. They had no difficult cases at Princeton-Plainsboro, no one she loved had died (lately) and House was actually being tolerable (for a change).

She was the only one who knew the underlying cause of this sob-induced coma, and she was painfully reminded of it every time she looked at the damned calendar.

It's not like she had time to reveal this well kept secret to anyone. She never actually seen the thing, she thought she'd have more chances to look for it. (She was wrong). She would give anything to just glace at the thing (one more time).

It was silly; it was irrational (and he turned out to be a prick). Why she even got attached to this thing didn't make sense. Sure biology played and important part, but Allison Cameron - proud, stubborn, (loving) Allison Cameron - would've liked to believe that she could overcome something she could understand completely, but she was wrong (again). She knew better today (at least she thought she did).

She owes a lot to this thing; it is why she pursued a medical career. She wanted to understand, she wanted to be able to rationalize all the pain and all the hurt out of the memory of this thing (but even now she doesn't understand). She doesn't understand why God dangled this thing in front of her until she finally wanted it and then, just as quickly, He took it away (He always took things away from her).

Twelve years. That's how long it has been since she let the thing reach her in such a way as it did this particular night. Every passing year, she thought about the thing, played chicken with her tears, but she always turned away first. She pushed the thing back a little farther, denying passage for her starving tears. This year was different (it was special).

Allison Cameron can't remember her champagne birthday. She was only three, and she seriously doubted that her parents even considered substituting the milk in her bottle with champagne to celebrate her special birthday. It was a foolish tradition, but somehow this time it meant something to her, it meant something to the memory of the thing. At twelve years, it would've started its early stages of puberty and it wouldbe time for 'The Talk' and seventh grade, dates and dances.

Twelve was a big year; it would've been for both of them.

But this is life (and there were no 'Happily Ever Afters'). People grow up and things die (fetuses, muscle tissue). It makes the world go round and Allison Cameron ache a little more inside.

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A/N2: Did I spell Plainsboro right? OH! I just thought I should mention the "Prick" comment; it's referring to the father of the child, not just House… just applying some more subtext.

Thanks for reading! Why not send a review my way?