Angel's: Baha. Let's all just get canes from House and go after Chase. -evilgrin- And thanks.
WrongObsession: Yeeaah. I wish I could charge my meals to House's account now that it's the last week of school and I'm out of money. I think I may have been internally ranting when I had her do that. xD
Amazon: Yay for long reviews! -grin- ...Is it even possible to hate Chase more than Foreman? Seriously. Lol. Glad you like their interactions. And eh...the paper was kinda boring. I wrote it 'cause it was easier than my other options. There's a trauma club now? Baha.
Ina: 1. That was totally not too long! I lovelovelovelovelove long reviews. Seriously. I see them and practically squeal in delight. Then I read them real slow 'cause I don't want them to end! 2. Sorry if I made you feel small! That was not my intention! I feel bad about it! I was just thinking outloud...through typing...'cause it helps me write when I do that. Sorry if I offended you, bc I definitely did not mean to! And I actually do have a clue where I'm taking the story. It came to me today. Baha.
Wonderous: You're like...the 50th person to mention Glee to my in the past week. Even people I don't know have mentioned the show to me. And I've never watched it. Hm. And glad you're liking the story.
Eva: Thanks!
YDPP: Oh! Okay! Glad I misunderstood that. And yeah...he doesn't quite understand. This chapter took longer than an hour...'cause I was way distracted. Um...I didn't really think about when this was set until you mentioned it. I'm gonna make it after Last Resort.
Dominus: Thank you. And defenestrate should be used more often!
Nameless: I didn't think much about it, but I assume in my brain he tried to comfort her...it just didn't work very well. And yeah...definitely gonna direct his anger toward Thirteen. It has to go somewhere right...? And the fact that she is the only one Cam trusts is an excuse to be angry right there.
Wesley: -huffs- I tried to study last night...Somehow I ended up daydreaming about Christmas smut that I'll probably make into a fic after finals. -siiiiigh- Baha. I have this mental image of Cuddy kicking Chase down the hall now. I just seem him flailing and flying. xD
SIGNAL FIRE
CHAPTER SIX
Why
These days aren't easy like they have been once before.
These days aren't easy anymore.
Cameron's POV:
You're clutching the small suitcase of clothes you retrieved from your house tightly against your chest as Thirteen leads you down the hall and toward the door of her apartment. You can hear her keys jingling in her hand even though you're not really focused on anything going on around you. Your hints that you would have much rather had her stay at your house with you had either been ignored or been too subtle for her to pick up on and now you're nervous and distracted.
"Hey! I've been waiting for you forever!"
Your head snaps up as a voice ruins your comfortable silence. Instinct tells you to hide behind Thirteen, but she steps forward and welcomes the woman standing near her door with a kiss. Suddenly you feel like you're completely exposed and out in the open, despite that no one even seems to notice your presence anymore.
"I forgot you were going to be here," Thirteen answers the girl with a grin. "Sorry, Rebecca."
The redhead presses her lips against Thirteen's again as the doctor fumbles to get her keys in the lock on her doorknob. She finally pushes the door open and takes a step back. "Cameron, you can go in and put your stuff down somewhere."
You eye Thirteen as she goes back to using your last name again. After a pause, you hesitantly nod and inch past Thirteen's friend. The other girl makes you feel uncomfortable, maybe because of the amount of skin her skimpy, green dress is revealing. You notice Thirteen grin and shrug at Rebecca then she shuts the door once you're inside her apartment.
Letting out a breath through your mouth, you stand by the door and look around. Feeling like an intruder, you just want to go home now. You should have known you were interfering with Thirteen's personal life, but you hadn't really been thinking. Your hands begin to shake and you force them to stop by gripping your bag even tighter.
You're too out of it to hear the door open again and Thirteen suddenly appears beside you. "You okay?" she asks.
You jump and spin to face her, nearly crashing into the wall. "Don't fucking do that!" You're unsure of where the sudden explosion of anger came from and quickly try to calm it. Ashamed of yourself for shouting at her, you turn away and mumble an apology then watch her out of the corner of your eye.
"Sorry." She runs her fingers through her hair then shuts the door again.
"Who was that?" you ask, glancing toward the door. A twinge of jealousy because Thirteen's attention had been focused on someone else tugs at your heart and you attempt to ignore it, reminding yourself that you're not her only focus. The realization that you want all of her attention takes your anger up a notch and you begin mentally scolding yourself over everything and anything.
"Do you want something to drink?" she asks, simply avoiding the question. "You can put your bag down anywhere. I'll find somewhere to put it later."
"I don't need a drink," you lie. Your throat is beginning to get scratchy again, but not admitting it makes you feel like you at least have some sort of dignity left. You put your bag down beside you and slouch against the wall.
"You don't look good," she comments and raises her hand to feel your forehead. "Do you want more Tylenol?"
"I'm fine." You push her hand away despite the longing to feel her touch. What are you doing, Allison? Make up your damn mind about what you want. Breathing heavily, you kick lightly at the floor with your toes for a moment.
"Okay." She nods and glances around for a moment. "Well, I'm going to make some tea for both of us anyway. You should sit down."
You can't help but get the feeling she really doesn't want tea for herself as she walks away. Wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, you walk over to the couch and take a seat. Your foot taps nervously on the ground and you make an effort to ignore it until you accidentally kick the coffee table. After sliding off your shoes, you pull your feet up on the couch and stare at the wall.
The living room begins to get lonely and your thoughts begin to wander. The door is unlocked and a hundred scenarios about someone coming in and attacking you begin to play on repeat in your head. The impulse to lock the door overwhelms you and you quickly get up and do so. You push the lock on the knob then lock it with the chain also. It doesn't make you feel any better and after a moment of just standing there, you scurry into the kitchen to be closer to Thirteen.
She looks at you and smiles slightly but you're not sure whether it's forced or not. She glances at the mugs of water in the microwave then takes a few sugar cubes from a box and puts one in her mouth. "Want one?" she asks casually. If she notices you try to withdraw and shrink into the corner, she ignores it and simply holds out her hand. "You know you do. It's better than sulking."
Sighing, you take two of them and place one in your mouth then pretend to examine the other. Acting like everything is fine and normal begins to make you feel slightly better. Hiding no longer seems all that necessary and you walk over to the table and take a seat. The constant back and forth between extreme emotions and feeling okay is beginning to take its toll on you. The numbers on the microwave catch your attention and you wait for the alarm, bitterly counting down until you jump again.
5. 4. 3. 2.
Thirteen hits the stop button then opens the microwave door and places the mugs on the counter. "I have different flavors," she says as she opens the cupboard above the sink. "Chamomile, Earl Grey, Apple Spice-"
"I don't care," you cut her off. You tap your other sugar cube on the table for a moment then place it in your mouth and cradle your head in your hands.
"That's not an answer," she replies.
"Yeah, well you never gave me an answer when I asked who that girl was," you mumble, muffling your words with your hands.
"Are you going to decide?" she asks, not seeming to have heard you. "I'm not going to choose for you."
"Chamomile," you mutter finally. You figure maybe it'll help you relax because the Zoloft sure isn't doing anything. Lifting your head, you watch her take the tea bags down from the cupboard. "Your apartment is nice," you comment, trying to come up with any kind of small talk to make yourself feel better.
She gives you an amused look. "It's kind of messy." Looking around her kitchen, she walks over and hands you a mug. "Thanks though."
You nod slightly and take the tea. It soothes you throat as you take a few sips but you still feel a mess and your head is beginning to ache. "Can we sit on the couch?" you ask, really needing to just curl up somewhere comfortable for awhile.
"Sure." She places a hand on your shoulder which causes you to tense for a moment before relaxing into her touch.
Stop it, you tell yourself in frustration. You don't have a single damn reason to freak out every time she touches you. Soon, she won't want to anymore and then what? It'll all be your fault because you keep screwing up.
"Are you coming?" she asks.
You think about telling her you need more Tylenol then decide to just tough it out. "Yeah." Your hands are shaking again and you have to be careful not to spill your tea as you get up. Her arm wraps around your shoulders and she feels your forehead. The way she sighs lets you knew you're indeed as feverish as you feel and suddenly you're guilty again. Taking a long drink of your tea, you try to drown your feelings.
"It's probably going to take a while to adjust," she says as she walks with you to the couch. "My apartment isn't exactly the homiest place in the world."
"It's nice." You shake your head, doubting that the way you feel has anything to do with her apartment. "It really is." You begin to wonder if she really thinks you don't like her apartment. You take another drink of tea, trying to convince yourself it'll drown out your thoughts.
She rubs your arm a few times then places her mug on the coffee table and practically collapses back onto the couch. "I'd ask if you want to watch TV, but I don't have cable since I don't have much time to watch TV and I doubt you'd be interested in any of the movies I own."
"It's okay." You place your mug beside hers then curl up at her side and close your eyes as her arms wrap tightly around you. "You don't have to hold me." You can't help but feel glad you're the one in her arms and not that girl that was at the door, but it makes you feel like you're smothering her.
"Stop acting like you're bugging me," she answers. "I know what I do and don't have to do. If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have invited you."
"Right," you mutter.
"You think I'm lying to you?" she asks, almost sounding slightly offended.
"No." You shrink against her. Just shut up, Allison. Obviously, you can't even say anything right. Her grip on you loosens and you fight the urge to pull her arm tighter around you again. "I'm such an idiot. When is this going to stop?"
"You're not an idiot," she argues quickly. "You're not going to just recover overnight."
I wish I could. You pick up your mug again and take a few sips. You notice that she hasn't really even touched hers. Sighing quietly, you close your eyes.
The sky is pitch black and the road is completely void of cars. As you're overcome by another coughing fit, you suddenly regret not calling for Chase to just come get you. You're already just praying he's home because you didn't call to let him know you were showing up for the night. You doubt he really has anywhere he would be though.
The coughing doesn't let up until you're gagging and everything is spinning. You realize your best option is to just pull over and finally call Chase to come get you. Tears stinging your eyes, you get out of the car for a breath of fresh air. It doesn't do much for your throat, but the chilliness eases your fever.
It's late and the only light you have to dial the numbers on your cell phone come from nearby street lamps. Your phone should light up itself, but occasionally it refuses to work. You're about to hit send when you cough again. Supporting yourself against the door of your car, you try to breathe and relax.
"Nice to see you again, Allison." A familiar voice greets you and a gloved hand covers your mouth to prevent you from making any noise.
"Allison?" Thirteen is kneeling beside you with an arm wrapped around you. She's trying to steady the mug you're holding in your vibrating hands. As you slowly come to, you allow her to take it from you and put it on the table. It takes several moments for you to shift back to reality enough to realize tears are running down your face and she's rocking you, trying to convince you to take deep breaths. You wouldn't have even realized you're near hyperventilating if it wasn't for her verbally telling you.
"Jesus, Allison," she whispers in your ear. "What happened to you last night?"
"I don't know," you choke, shaking your head and trying to latch onto her. "I don't know."