Twampy: Awww. Don't be a silent reader! Where's the fun in that? You miss out on all the discussion happening up here! With everyone trying to convince me to somehow have Remy kick Chase's butt...I'm gonna soon have to figure out how to fit that in!
JB: I know. I was just wondering what your opinion on what angsty angst is is. And sorry. I'll work on changing him.
Tepperz: Because being nice would be no fun! Don't dislike me. I have the power to make you wait weeks for updates. Ahaha.
Jungle: Hating is no fun. Enjoy him. He'll be gone soon enough. (And, no, that's not a hint I'm killing him, Guys!)
Nameless: Aw. I'm not mean and you know it! Ok...So, maybe I am. Ha. Maybe Remy will kick his ass. Maybe. No internet for awhile?! What kind of primitive place are you going to?! Dx See...now you'll just have to review every chapter you missed. Ha. -will miss you till you get back!-
YDPP: Definitely a terrific trio. Batman must be included. He doesn't like being left out. Heh. I have a me/electronics chart. Electronics are kicking my ass. It's like 14565475473 to 0.5.
Ina: Mhm. I made Rebecca. Something about her and behaving doesn't go so well together. Tearing apart is fun, btw. Fortunately for you, if I don't bring them closer (eventually), I'll have nothing to continue the fic with. -eyes Rebecca-
Ilive: Yay for normal person reviews! They make my fic look more popular. Haha.
WrongObsession: Ooh. What's the 5th way? Have Remy kick his ass or have him be killed? That seems to be what everyone else is voting. Ha. Pain is great though. My fics require masochist readers, I think.
Less than 13: Since when are my chapters ever light? -innocent smile- I'll think about 13/Chase fighting. xD
Setyourself: I have no plans to kill Chase. He's not on my hitlist (currently). And, yes, I do have a hitlist. Not saying who or if anyone is currently on it though.
Wesley: I don't get along with light chapters. I argue enough with light scenes! It'd be hard to continue for a long time if they're not together, so...there, you have some hope! And, if there's a showdown, I'll let you know up here when I post that chapt.
Amazon: Batman will be my bodyguard. He's viscious. Remy and Rebecca will agree. I actually had no plans for Chase for awhile until everyone started mentioning him. So now he's back for awhile! House so shoulda had more Cam/Wilson.
Thirteen's POV:
The tears start welling up in your eyes before you get to the bottle of vodka beneath the kitchen counter. Thoughts of going to Rebecca's apartment are abandoned because you're not about to let her see you cry. You're not sure whether you're more upset she's actually leaving or that you opened up to her and she humiliated you by shutting you down. That was the last time you'll ever let people in though. If even someone like Cameron manages to hurt you, it's just not worth it.
Not bothering with a glass, you open the vodka and take a swig right from the bottle. It's hard to believe you actually bought into the thoughts she actually enjoyed being with you. Preparing yourself for the worst because you don't want to hurt anymore, you tell yourself the only reason she has for going is because she's already sick of you. You don't blame her. You're sick of yourself. You want to be tired of her too, but you find you can't be.
Taking small swallows from the bottle, you try to ignore her crying no matter how much it tugs at your heart. When it sounds like she's gasping for air, you become alerted and can't just stand in the kitchen anymore. Cursing angrily under your breath, you place the bottle on the table and walk through the living room and down the hall.
Batman is sulking outside your bedroom. He's lying on his stomach with his head resting on his front paws, whimpering. When you walk by, he glances up at you with big eyes and drags himself on his belly to your feet.
Realizing she probably shooed him out of the room, it's hard not to take pity on him. Realizing that a dog can't really hurt you, you bend down and scoop him up then cradle him against your chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder and keeps his tail tucked between his legs. "You're okay," you murmur quietly, keeping your voice down so Cameron won't know you left the kitchen. Scratching his back, you kiss the side of his fuzzy head.
Glancing in the room, you try to keep out of sight. Cameron has her face hidden against her arms and one of your sweatshirts anyway. There's still something in you that tells you to rush to her aid and hold her until everything is better. A bigger part of you reminds you she feels she no longer needs you so you turn and walk away again, deciding she's fine on her own for the time being at least.
Holding Batman with your good arm, you wipe furiously at your tears with your hand and ignore how much the movement hurts your wrist. It's impossible to remember the last time you allowed yourself to get so attached to someone you actually cried over them and now you remember why. If you're going to cry, you need a reason that doesn't make you feel so pathetic. Spinning around, you punch the wall and muffle a sob against Batman's fur as your already aching wrist suddenly becomes engulfed in pain.
Breathing heavily, you put Batman down and cradle your throbbing arm to your chest. The radio looks like a good distraction from everything and you walk into the kitchen to turn it on. Batman follows at your heels, playfully trying to get you notice him again by biting the legs of your pants. Letting your arm drop back down to your side, you turn the radio on. The first song that comes on is Safety Suit's Stay and you can't even listen anymore. Immediately, you turn it off and shove the radio hard enough against the wall to put a crack in the plastic.
Turning around, you grab the bottle of vodka again and vow to drink until you either forget Cameron or hate her. Neither seems very likely. Not hearing her crying anymore, you take a drink and walk back to the bedroom once more. Batman latches onto your pants and you stumble because you're forced to drag him across the floor with you. "Stop," you whisper when you almost fall and spill the alcohol. He growls and you give up and just let him be. Peeking in the bedroom, you notice Cameron fell asleep on the floor.
She can't possibly be comfortable, but you refuse to allow yourself to move her to the bed. It hurts that you even allow her to have the bed if she wants it and are willing to take the couch. Taking another small swallow, you wonder if that morning when you argued over jackets was the last straw for her. Who are you to be seeking attention anyway? You can't find a single reason as to why you would deserve anyone's attention, let alone hers. You should have settled for just giving her attention and left it at that. Maybe then she wouldn't be going, or at least not be going on such short notice. A few days warning would have made things slightly better.
Batman practically gives you a limp as you drag him back out to the living room. He chewed a hole through part of your pants and reattached his teeth to the other leg. When you collapse back onto the couch, he jumps up beside you.
"Go sleep with Cameron," you slur after a few more gulps. "I don't want you." He doesn't leave and so you put the bottle on the floor then curl up so you're facing the back of the couch, trying to ignore him. Your eyelids feel heavy but it's hard to sleep. Pulling the folded blanket off the back of the couch, you hug it tightly and try to pretend it's Cameron.
The alcohol makes you feel warm and you enjoy the false illusion. Enough people, exes mainly, have told you you're a cold person enough times for you to believe it. Then again, you never let any of those people as close as you allowed Cameron to be. You regret opening up to Cameron. Maybe being cold is better. It's easier and sure as hell is a lot less painful. You have vodka and many other types of alcohol for whenever you need to feel warm and pretend everything is okay.
-----
Morning comes far too soon after a restless night. At first, you actually tried to sleep. A few hours later, it hit you that the sooner you slept, the sooner it would be morning and you'd have to face Cameron and deal with her moving out. Hearing your alarm going off back in your bedroom, you place the still folded blanket over your head. A second later, you realize ignoring the alarm doesn't make it stop so you don't have to get up. Not wanting to deal with Cameron, you get up then make a beeline for the bathroom to get a shower.
Hearing the pitter patter of Batman's paws following you down the hall, you place the paper can and laundry basket by the door to prevent him from pushing it open. The screeching of your alarm stops and you replace the noise by turning on the shower. Unwrapping your wrist, you toss the cloth on the floor then place your hand under the spray and adjust the temperature until it's hot enough for your liking. You need it so hot it will scald you numb, even if that sounds like an oxymoron.
Your razors are still hiding and you grab one and place it on the floor. Taking the paper can from in front of the door, you slam it down hard on the razor until it breaks the blade and plastic. You pick up the blade pieces and lay them flat on your palm then push Cameron's electric razor onto the floor so you can lay them out on the sink. The sharpest shard of metal slips and goes down the drain so you're forced to settle for the second sharpest because you don't want to break another razor.
The other metal and plastic pieces get tossed in the paper can. You hide them by unrolling a few pieces of toilet paper and laying it on top of them. After today, you won't have to hide anything. Though, after today, you won't have to limit the pain you cause yourself to something as simple as cutting. Thinking that way is supposed to make you feel better, but instead it makes you feel miserable. Cameron was a reason to be a better, stronger person. Without her, Remy is replaced by Thirteen again. Remy was pathetic anyway. That doesn't make you feel better either.
You place the blade on the edge of the shower then pull your clothes off and get in. The hot water burns and you stand directly under it, moving so the spray will scald new spots when parts of your body start getting used to it. Hearing Cameron's footsteps going down the hall, you grab the blade and slide it across the underside of your arm once to distract yourself. The second time comes when you hear her voice talking to the dog. The third goes right across your wrist in the shape of '13' because you're upset enough over things to be cutting yourself in the first place and need a reminder of who you are. You need a reminder not to care.
Holding your arm out from under the shower spray, you watch your blood form at the surface of the slices then fall in drops to the water below. The angry, red color tinges the water at your feet a light crimson. You swish the water around with your toes to blend the color a bit more. Knowing how dangerous cutting can be yet doing it anyway makes you feel strong. Sure, you didn't cut deep enough to kill yourself but you know you could if you wanted to. Instead, you chose to live. Deep down, you know that's a way to justify what a coward you are. Not for living, but for turning to something so destructive to make yourself feel better. It doesn't take courage to live when you already know you'll probably be dead before you turn forty-five. Being alive when you doubt you even should be since you're going to die anyway is in and of itself the coward's way out to you.
Grabbing a washrag, you apply pressure to the cuts to stop them from bleeding. It would take too much wasted effort to wash the blood stains from the rag so when you're finished with it, you lean out of the shower and toss it in the paper can.
The normal draft of cold air that usually hits you upon turning the shower off can't even be felt by you. You grab the wrap for your wrist then pull a towel around yourself and sneak out of the bathroom. Mind focused on getting to the bedroom without seeing Cameron, you're shocked when you run into her in the hall. Your towel drops but you manage to catch it and yank it back up before too much of your chest is revealed.
"Sorry!" She quickly backs away from you until she's just about pressed up against the wall. "I was just going to get my suitcase. I didn't realize you were coming out of the bathroom and-"
"Could you stop rambling?" you ask, walking past her. "It's annoying. Watch where you're going next time." Not glancing back, you walk into your room and shut the door behind you. From the slight glance you got of her, she looked exhausted. You heard her crying once in the middle of the night and wonder if she went back to sleep after that due to the dark circles under her eyes. Yesterday it would have been so easy to call off work and just nap with her all day on the couch. You wish you would have done so. Maybe things would have turned out different.
As you get dressed, you keep looking at her suitcase in the corner. Once she's gone, you'll go through your things and throw away anything she forgot. You don't want to be stumbling upon her things at random times and being forced to think about her, so you plan on searching the entire house for anything that might be hers.
You wear jeans that are slightly tight and a shirt that's low-cut because you want to direct House's attention to body parts other than your face. Even sexual comments would be better than comments on the dark circles under your eyes or the perpetual frown plastered on your face. House won't know about any of this, if you can help it. You realize he'll find out within an hour, but that'll at least be an hour of peace beforehand.
You open the door and walk past Cameron, refusing to look at her. "Get your stuff. We're leaving. You still have things in the bathroom you need to pack."
"Remy, can we talk?" she asks, following you and gently grabbing your elbow.
"Don't call me Remy," you snap, pulling your arm away from her. "We don't need to talk. Get your stuff before I leave without you."
"I haven't even brushed my hair yet." Her voice sounds choked and rushed as she runs her fingers through her tangled locks, walking quickly to the bathroom.
"I'm putting the dog in the car!" you call to her, glancing around for Batman.
"I'm not taking him," she calls back weakly. "Chase said he doesn't want a dog."
Another stab to the heart. "Then I'm putting that damn glass tree in the car." If she doesn't want your gift, you don't want hers either. You walk to the living room and grab the tree and the gifts from her parents. "Actually, I'm throwing them out!" You're sure you hear her muffle a sob, but it doesn't affect you. You can't feel anything. Taking the gifts into the kitchen, you drop the ones from her parents in the trashcan. After one last look at the tree, you open a cupboard under the sink and place it in the very back.
She's not crying when she comes back into view, dragging her suitcase on the floor. Tears are in her eyes and her lips are making a straight line, but it's obvious she's fighting to be strong and not break down. "We're still going to see each other at work, right?"
"We never did before so let's not start now." You walk into the room and take your keys off the hook by the door. After a moment, you grab your jacket. Instead of putting it on, you drop it on the floor in front of her to make a statement. You give her a look that you hope says, How about that, huh? then open the door and walk into the hall.
She hangs her head and slumps her shoulders, trying to stay close to you as you shut and lock your apartment door then walk to the car. "I want to be friends with you," she whispers.
"You're not my friend," you answer coldly. "You were never my friend." Part of you is already beginning to believe it.
-----
"You're late," House comments as you walk into the room. He already has his whiteboard out and a patient's symptoms written down. "You look like hell. Love the outfit though. I'm guessing you and Cameron broke up so now you're hoping to seduce one of the nurses."
"Shut up, House." You glance at the clock and frown at the time. Cameron took forever just to get her suitcase out of the car and you had to wait for her so you could lock the doors. "Are we discussing a case?" you ask, taking a seat between Kutner and Taub.
"No," Taub mutters. "We have a case, but House was harassing Foreman and Kutner was announcing he renewed his subscription to National Geographic."
House harassing Foreman is nothing new and not all that interesting. "You get National Geographic?" you ask, arching a brow at Kutner. "Isn't that for five year olds and Geography teachers?"
"I just thought maybe you would want to know what's going on in my life since I have to listen to yours," Kutner tells Taub before turning to you. "National Geographic isn't for five year olds."
You pause and bite your lip. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking Ranger Rick. It's like the same thing." That causes Taub to snort in amusement.
Kutner glares at both of you. "National Geographic and Ranger Rick aren't even close to being the same." He frowns and shakes his head. "Did you know seahorses have no teeth and no stomach?" he asks you. Food passes through their digestive system so quickly that they have to eat almost constantly to stay alive."
"Huh." You place your elbow on the table and rest your head against your hand as you pretend to be interested. You wonder if Rebecca got any new outfits or fixed the pole the two of you broke on her canopy bed the other week.
"Are you going to say yes?" Kutner breaks you from your thoughts, apparently having changed subjects. "Thirteen?"
"What?" you ask, sitting up a bit straighter. "Sure, whatever." Kutner grins and Taub smirks though House and Foreman are too busy arguing over something that has to do with Vocal Cord Paralysis. Leaning to the side, you glance at Taub. "What did I just say yes to?"
"Have fun on your lunch date," Taub comments.
"Thirteen has a date?" House asks, tuning back in. "I didn't know you could seduce nurses so fast, and without even being in the same room as any of them."
"I'm taking her out to lunch," Kutner announces proudly.
House looks disappointed. "Don't be too happy. Rebounds never work out."
"Would you shut up?" you ask him. "I didn't break up with Cameron. It's impossible to break up with someone you never dated in the first place."
"Someone should let Cuddy in on that," House says. "She breaks up with me multiple times a day."
Rolling your eyes, you turn to face the whiteboard. "Hoarseness, shortness of breath, vocal fatigue, pulmonary aspiration," you read. "Vocal Cord Paresis sounds logical."
"We already figured that out, Genius," House replies. "We're trying to determine why. I say tumors."
"We didn't find any tumors, House," Foreman argues with him. "We looked. There was nothing."
"Well, you must not have looked hard enough." House turns to face you. "Thirteen, go recheck for tumors. Take your boyfriend with you. Want me to page Cameron so you can make her all jealous?"
Scowling at him, you get to your feet. "Cameron and I are fine," you lie.
"If you were fine, you wouldn't be so defensive. You also wouldn't look like you haven't gotten any sleep." He pauses. "Unless the sex is just that good."
"I'm going to look for tumors." You leave the room and are followed by Kutner. "What room is the patient in?" you ask, glancing up and down the hall.
"He's that way," Kutner says, pointing. "Only not on this floor."
"I know what floor. Wouldn't it have been easier to just say the room number?" You ask. Shaking your head, you shove your hands in your pockets and walk toward the elevator.
"Am I really a rebound?" Kutner asks, following you. "I mean, I'm okay with that. I'm just wondering. I was just thinking that-"
"So, when did Foreman check for tumors?" You remove your hand from your pocket and hit the button for the elevator. "I wasn't that late."
"He was here last night," Kutner answers. He stares at your wrapped wrist. "I did mean to catch you, you know. You landing on Frosty was pretty great, but I didn't think you'd get hurt."
"I know." You're sure this is going to be the longest day of your life. Not only can you not stop thinking about Cameron, now you have to deal with Kutner. That was easier to do before Cameron suggested he likes you. There you go with thinking about Cameron again. The elevator doors open and you step inside, moving over so Kutner can get in too.
You're about to hit the floor button when you notice Cameron walking toward the elevator. Quickly directing your finger, you hit the button to close the elevator door.
"Wait." Kutner puts his foot next to the door right before it closes and it reopens instead.
Before Cameron looks up from a few papers she's holding, you turn and kick Kutner hard in the shin.
"Thank you," Cameron says. She glances at him and tilts her head to the side as he jumps a few times and rubs his ankle.
"What was that for?" Kutner hisses before it apparently hits him. "Oh. Oh!" He clears his throat and glances between you and Cameron. "What floor?"
"Third," she answers, moving over toward you and leaning against the wall. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she stares at the floor for a moment then glances at you. "Hey." When you don't respond, she continues. "Are you just going to ignore me now?"
You push both floor buttons then turn to Kutner. "So, National Geographic," you say, nodding your head in an exaggerated manner. So, Rebecca and canopy beds. Oh, and vodka. Can't forget the vodka.
Cameron rocks back on her heels and stares at the ground again, clenching her jaw. "Just let me explain," she pleads. "Chase was-"
The elevator door opens and you casually step out as if she wasn't even talking. It hurts to hear the sound of her voice. Her voice is beautiful and you could listen to it for hours. It's soft and-Think about Rebecca. Naked. With vodka. And poles. That time with the whipped cream is pretty distracting. You consider trying to pull some strings to get Cameron's schedule changed so it'll clash with yours as little as possible. It seems like no matter what, you can't stop thinking about her in some way.
Glancing back, you watch her grip the elevator railing so tightly her knuckles turn white. She tilts her head down and tries to subtly wipe away a single tear that rolls down her cheek.