Less than 13: Eh...I'm only stressing over my Civ and Physics finals. No matter how much I study...they aren't gonna go so well. Glad you liked the chapel part.
Angel's: Ah well. Chase is overrated anyway. Lol. Glad you liked the chapel part.
YDPP: A hint? Do you mean a hint as in was Chase the one to hurt Cam? Because, no, I can tell you he wasn't. He's not that much of a bad guy. Haha. And do you mean how much time do I spend on this story? Definitely not as much as I should, actually. Each chapter takes...eh...maybe an hour to write. Then again, it depends on how much research I do. I did like 30mins of research on this chapter bc I couldn't decide whether I wanted to mention Zoloft or Prozac. Damn indecisiveness!
Wonderous: Baha. 13 totally killed Chase in my mind. Unfortunately, that didn't seem like it would go over well to write. Lol.
WrongObsession: 1. Best words in my vocab are "seriously" and "overrated". I use them enough to make the people who dislike me want to defenestrate themselves. If only they'd go thru with it. Ha. 2. SATs are overrated. -wink- 3. Baha. I love having the power to make ppl addicted to things.
Nameless: So...it totally just took me five minutes to type out 'Nameless'. There was 'Namlss', 'Namelss', 'Namless'...Stupid sticky 'e' key. Anyway. Glad you liked it. And yeah...probably woulda been a bad idea to shove Chase while he was supporting Cam. She was definitely kicking his ass in my mind tho. Baha. And thanks. Finals suuuck.
Amazon: Meh. My Psych paper really has nothing to do with this fic...at all. I had to write about breaking a social norm. So my paper was mainly about me coming out to my family about being bi. I'm just good with Psych in general. I can go so deep with it and still know I'm being realistic bc I'm basing Cam's feelings off what I've gone through in situations and Thirteen's off the person I tend to rely on. One good thing about being traumatized...is it makes for good writing. And bahaha. I had to mentally hold Thirteen back from punching Chase.
Ina: Logical probably would be trusting your b/f or family...huh. You actually made me pause to wonder about myself. Like I said to Amazon, I'm basing Cam off myself and Thirteen off a friend I have. Kinda makes me wonder why such logic is thrown out in such a situation. I mean...obviously, it's impossible to actually think logically...but it seems like despite that...someone you know well would be the person you go to. I suppose it's like that for some people, but I'm just writing what I know. Logic is boring anyway. Lol. Now you've put me into 'insightful' mode. And honestly...I have no clue what I'm planning either! I have several small ideas for this fic, but it was only ever supposed to be one chapter...so I have no idea where I'm taking it yet. I'm just going one chapter at a time. I just typed you like...an essay. -blush-
Lollipops: I'm glad you like it. And that her emotions don't seem over the top. I can put a guarantee down that anything she feels is a completely normal reaction to trauma.
Wesley: Oh gosh...why did you have to mention Remy, Cam, and studying in the same sentence? I have dirty thoughts every single time I go by the studyroom on my floor now. It feels like the college equivalent to what them making out in a hospital storage closet would be like!
SIGNAL FIRE
CHAPTER FIVE
Mahogany
I could help myself to something like a little bit of revelation.
You could be the one to help me help myself.
Thirteen's POV:
You're fidgeting in the hallway, caught in between feeling nervous and complacent. It's an odd feeling and you're not sure what to make of it. You run your fingers through your hair and work through a few tangles, knowing you probably look a mess. Your scrubs are wrinkled and you really want to go home and change into normal clothes. Actually, you just want to go home and collapse on your bed. Unfortunately, about now is the time you'd be coming into work for the day.
"Dr. Hadley! You said it was an emergency?"
You turn to face Cuddy as she walks toward her office which happens to be the room you're hovering outside of. It's hard to tell whether she's annoyed you called her into work or worried about the reason. You assume worried because, after all, you're not really one to call for help. "It's about Cameron." Now her expression is a toss up between worried and confused.
"What's wrong with Cameron?" she asks. Crossing her arms, she stops beside you and stares at you expectantly.
Part of you thought she would know by now. "Last night," you fumble for words and avoid looking Cuddy directly in the eye. "Someone hurt her." That's as much as you want to say about the matter. If she wants details, she can get them from House or a nurse. You really don't know that many details aside from the fact Cameron was raped. "House wants me to look after her."
"And why aren't you?" she replies without missing a beat. Her eyes bore into you almost in aggravation, as if she expects you're somehow trying to get out of helping Cameron. "Dr. Hadley?"
"Chase took her," you respond and finally look at her again. "Not really took her. He just went back to her room with her. She's scared and he doesn't understand."
"Where's House at?" Cuddy asks. "What room is she in?"
You tell her the room number but don't mention House. You suppose you could have gotten help from him. Shoving your hands in your pocket, you follow her to Cameron's room and debate whether to stand beside Cuddy or hide just around the corner. Your brain tells you to wait outside until Cuddy's deals with the situation, but instead you walk into the room beside her.
Cameron is sitting on the bed, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. She's not crying anymore and looks completely stiff, eyes fixed on the bottom of the bed. She doesn't even bother to glance over at you and Cuddy as you walk inside.
Chase is standing at the end of the bed, dangling his car keys. He seems calm, but you can see a hint of frustration in his eyes. He looks over at the two of you then narrows his eyes at you. He doesn't speak and you assume it's because Cuddy is standing right next to you.
Cuddy gives Cameron a sympathetic look and for a moment you think she's going to rush to the aid of the other doctor herself. Instead, she looks at Chase and motions him forward with her finger.
You step to the side and ignore the daggers he shoots at you as he walks past. Cuddy nods at you then shuts the door and you turn to face Cameron. Suddenly, you feel like you took two steps forward then jumped three-thousand steps back.
Cameron seems to have retreated into herself and you're incredibly pissed off at Chase for that. Part of you wants Cuddy to deal with Cameron so you can storm into the hall and shove your fist into Chase's pretty, little face.
"Hey," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray you. The last thing either of you need is for her to think she's the one you're upset with. She doesn't even look at you and that concerns you. Before you were afraid you wouldn't be able to pry her away from you and now you're desperate for her to reattach herself to you.
"Allison." You sit cross-legged on the bed directly in front of her and consider calling psych. It's the last thing you want to do, but you're worried about her. "Look at me." You shift to look her in the eye but her gaze darts in a different direction. A small sense of relief washes over you because now you know she at least knows you're there. After a brief moment of uncertainty, you delicately caress the side of her face with your thumb.
She recoils from your touch hits at your hand. "You left," she whispers. She's suddenly trembling and glancing wildly around the room like she's looking for some sort of escape.
"No," you reply soothingly and shake your head. "No, I just had to call Cuddy to talk to Chase." You reach out to touch her again but she jerks away and presses herself against the elevated back of the bed. "Allison, I'm scared for you," you tell her quietly. You expect her to panic or tears to fill her eyes, but instead she stays impassive. You find yourself actually wanting her to cry so you know she's feeling something.
"Can you talk to me?" you ask. She meets your eyes for a second then shakes her head and looks away again. "Okay." You get to your feet and walk to the door.
"Where are you going?" Her voice isn't panicked like you hoped it would be. She sounds completely drained.
"Just to the door," you explain. "I'm going to see if Cuddy is still there." To your relief, she's only just getting ready to leave and Chase is already halfway down the hall.
"How is she?" Cuddy asks, quickly looking over at you. She places one hand on her hip and the other on the wall.
"I want to put her on Sertraline," you reply.
Cuddy shakes her head. "She's just experiencing trauma symptoms," she answers. "Prescribing Zoloft this close to-"
"She's going to wind up with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder at the rate she's going," you argue quickly. "It's just for now. I wouldn't prescribe it if I didn't think she really needed it."
After a moment of silence, Cuddy nods her head. "Alright. But I'm only giving her the lowest dose." She turns to walk away then pauses. "I hope you don't plan on turning that paper work in."
You glance down at the hand still holding the papers House gave you earlier. They're now crinkled and Chase's pen has poked a hole through one of them. You bite back a few choice words and loosen your grip on the papers. As soon as Cuddy walks away, you begin trying to straighten them and develop a plan to cover the hole from the pen. It's useless and you toss them on a chair as you walk back into Cameron's room again.
Cameron is watching your every move and practically burning a hole through you with her gaze. "I couldn't even talk to him," she says quietly. "I couldn't even move. He probably thinks-"
"Stop," you demand gently, trying to keep calm. You want to tell her how much of a selfish ass Chase is, but you keep your thoughts locked away in your head. You walk over to the bed and sit beside her. "None of this is your fault, okay?"
"He told me to stop crying." She rubs her hands up and down her legs and looks away from you. "And now I can't feel anything."
You want to kill him. You want to steal House's cane and hit Chase over the head with it for being such an ignorant, arrogant jerk. "You're hurt, Allison. You're allowed to cry."
"I want to," she replies. She stops rubbing her legs and begins to wring her hands together. "I - I just…" She wrinkles her forehead, glancing around the room. "Nothing even feels real. I don't even feel real. It's like I'm in a movie, watching myself." She glances at you for a second. "Everything is hazy."
Letting out a long breath through your mouth, you look up at the ceiling and try to think. You have no idea what to do for her. You look at her again and place your hand on her shoulder, letting it fall to the bed when she instantly shies away. "Maybe it'll help." You turn to sit so you're facing her and ignore her jumpiness as you pull her into what seems like the millionth hug you've given her in less than twenty-four hours.
She's still tense but finally settles into your tight grip. Clinging to your arm, she turns her head against your shoulder. "My stomach hurts," she mumbles, her voice muffled by your shirt.
"It's from anxiety and all the coughing you've been doing. You probably haven't eaten in awhile either," you explain, settling back against the bed. "You're fine." Fortunately, the Tylenol seemed to give her quite a bit of relief from coughing and sniffling. You tighten your grip on her to a point where you're holding her as firmly as possible without hurting her and rest your head against hers. "Am I helping?"
She nods and tightens her grip on you in return. "Don't leave right now," she pleads quietly. "I just need to feel something real. Please."
"I'm not going anywhere," you promise her. You close your eyes and rest your head back against a pillow. Her shaking intensifies but you doubt she even realizes it. "You need to talk to someone. Even if it's just me. I know you told the police but tha-"
"I can't remember." Her voice is so quiet that it's almost a whisper. "I can't remember anything after parking my car."
"Why did you park your car, Allison?" you ask. "Did you park it for him?"
"No." She turns her face away from your shoulder and hides it against your arm. "I had a fever. I got dizzy. I don't remember after that."
"Okay." You glance over at Cuddy as she walks in the room and then closes the door behind her.
She glances around for the stand to put the Zoloft and a cup of water on before noticing it on the floor. She opens her mouth to speak but apparently changes her mind and puts the water and medicine by the sink. "Is there anything either of you need?"
"Yeah." You nod, though feel a bit guilty for sending her on errands for you. "Neither of us have eaten in awhile."
"I can't," Cameron mumbles, shaking her head.
You rub a hand up and down her back and ignore her words. "Soup or anything easy for her," you tell Cuddy, though you realize she probably already has that much figured out. "I'll just take a sandwich." You stop rubbing Cameron's back and reach into your pockets, digging around for a few dollars. "Damn it."
"I can pay for it," Cuddy assures you. "Or I'll add it to House's tab. He'll never even know."
"If you pay for it, I'll pay you back," you tell her, not really wanting any kind of charity.
"Well, I'll just tell you I put it on House's tab," she answers. "And I'll, uh, get you a new table." She eyes the broken table on the floor then raises a brow at you.
You blush and shrug your shoulders. "Was like that when we got here," you lie. You glance at Cameron but she doesn't contradict your statement. Her eyes follow Cuddy as she leaves then she buries her face against your arm again. You rub her back again, working your hand upwards until you're rubbing one of her shoulders. She shrinks under your touch for several moments before relaxing and loosening her grip on you.
"Do you have anyone I can call for you?" you ask, running your fingers through the ends of her hair. "You don't have anyone on your emergency contacts."
"My brother lives five hours away," she answers, shaking her head. "I couldn't tell my parents this. They'd get too upset."
You wonder how in a time like this she can still think of others above herself. "No friends I can call for you? Or do you just want me?" Her silence provides enough of an answer. "Okay." You tuck her hair behind her ear then sit up a bit straighter when Cuddy walks back in.
The smell of your lunch wafts through the room and Cameron's stomach growls as she eyes the food. "See, there's the reason your stomach hurts," you say, patting her arm. You feel weird being all cuddly and caring in front of Cuddy but you brush it off. "Thanks," you say as Cuddy pushes the new table with the food on it over to the bed.
"Do you need somewhere to stay for awhile, Cameron?" Cuddy asks. She grabs the Zoloft and water from by the sink and places it on the table.
"She's staying with me," you blurt out.
"What?" Cuddy, Cameron, and your brain all ask the same question at once. What the hell did you just get yourself into, Remy? you ask yourself and struggle to find something else to say.
Cameron scoots forward and pokes at her soup for a moment with a spoon then glances at you. "Thank you." The tone of her voice is so earnest that you know there's no way of getting out of it now.
"That's very nice of you, Dr. Hadley," Cuddy comments, "But are you sure? Because my door is always open."
You force a smile and nod your head. "It's fine," you reply. "Thanks for bringing us food." You watch Cuddy leave then stare at Cameron for a few moments as she takes the medicine then starts eating. This could work out okay, you convince yourself as you grab your sandwich. At least my house won't seem so empty for a few days.