Nameless: You don't win. I have other ways of tormenting you with this story. Remember...the only character guaranteed life is Batman. I plan on adding reactions from the co-workers next chapt. I /always/ want icecream.
Shan: Haha. My RP w/ Plush pwns. It forces me to seek out my inner-fluff. xD And thank you.
JB: Nope. Haven't given up on it and don't plan to! I'm just really really busy with school. I have 2 papers due on March 4th...and I've only started one of them bc I had 3 essays due today and a 500 page book that had to be read by last week. And yeah. And now I might join Curling, so..ahhhh! But! My break is March 5 - 14...so...if I'm not busy, you'll be bombarded with updates! Nyquil flavoured icecream? Ewwww. xDDDD
Anonymous: Well, this chapt is slightly fluffy...and the next is slightly fluffy...Dunno about after that yet.
Charmed: Bahaha. If Cam would have drank all the booze, she prolly woulda been too drunk to even check on Remy. I was implying she dumped it. I shoulda been more clear. My bad!
Eva: Yeah. Cam is slowly...slowly...getting better. There'll be more of a back and forth instead of Remy only taking care of Cam now.
Ilessthree: Refraining is so overrated! Lol. Well...this chapt has happy in it!
Lessthan13: What's a sigfig? It reminds of me a fig newton. xDDD It's okay. I'm always thinking up new ideas during class.
YDPP: Thanks so much!
Ilive: Thanks so much. It seems like the work gets harder the second semester.
More: Thank you so much!
Pink: Ooh. Long review. Yes! No shame in crying. I feel accomplished when I make my readers cry. xD I was daydreaming about this fic 6yrs in their future today...so it'll probably be long at the slow rate I'm going. Thanks for reviewing!
Amazon: Yay for WFW and being FB friends! The cutting will come up again later. Cam's not just gonna drop it forever and not watch to make sure she doesn't do it again.
Don: Yay for marathons! Thanks so much for reviewing!
Esuedros: Thank you so much for reviewing!
Miralinda: Nah. Chase is a jerk...but he's not that much of a jerk. He likes Cameron. Thanks for reviewing!
I was gonna make them go couch shopping this chapt...but decided to wait until Remy's POV. Also...I'm not sure when I last updated my profile, but I may have typed some new notes on there. This chapt is unbeta'd...so bear with the typos. I wanted to just get it updated so I could move on w/ my school work and stop thinking about it. Oh...and the fluff in this chapt was killer to write! I was all, "The fluff...it burns!" Sorry if it's ooc...but I figured y'all could use some cuteness.
Cameron's POV:
The clock in the living room reads 10:23 when you open your eyes. Your shift was supposed to start at 9:00. A comfortable weight on your body keeps you from sitting up and you glance down to see Remy fast asleep and half on top of you. Her warm breaths are light and even against your neck, not sounding struggled like they had been last night. Sighing quietly, you wrap your arms around her in a loose hug, letting your hands rest on the small of her back. Her shirt slid up slightly sometime during the night and you stroke her bare skin, feeling a sense of relief that you can be close to her without fear.
"Rem," you mumble in a groggy voice, gently patting her back. "We need to get up." Cuddy is probably wondering where you are and House has probably contemplated sending out a search party (aka: Kutner and Taub) since it's not like either of you to be late.
She groans quietly and slowly lifts her head, using her good hand to rub at her eyes. "We're probably already late," she murmurs automatically before curling up closer to you.
"We are," you confirm, glancing over at the clock again. On a normal day, you'd throw your clothes on and be out the door in about five minutes if you were this late for work. After a day like yesterday though, you honestly don't care. It's a struggle not to just curl back up on the chair and sleep for the rest of the day. You lean to the side and decline the chair to force her to sit up then press the palms of your hands to your eyes and try to convince yourself to wake up. "Want me to put coffee on before I get in the shower?"
She shakes her head and turns her back to you, trying to get comfortable against the chair. "I'll do it," she replies, her voice muffled by the cushion.
"You're going to go back to sleep if I get up, aren't you?" you ask, glancing over at her.
"Probably," she answers, stifling a yawn. "Which is why you should get up." She sighs and snuggles closer to the back of the chair, draping her legs over the arm of it.
Pursing your lips together as you think, you sit there and stare a moment before getting to your feet. Batman is asleep on the floor a few feet away from the chair and you walk over to him then bend down and pick him up. He nuzzles closer to you and you place a few kisses on his soft head as you carry him over to Remy. "Good luck sleeping," you comment, placing the puppy on her lap. Batman glances at her then begins squirming around, attempting to press his nose between her face and the cushion to lick her.
Remy groans and attempts to cover her head, causing Batman to begin barking excitedly at her as if they're playing a game.
Satisfied that the puppy at least makes for a good alarm clock, you leave him to deal with waking Remy and make your way back to the bathroom. You estimate that it will take about forty-five seconds for Remy to get pissed off at the dog and force herself to get up. Even though you'd like to wait around to see if your estimate is right, you don't.
On the outside, you're sure you appear relatively calm after the trauma you and Remy both went through. On the inside though, you're shaken up and trying to shove all of your emotions as deep as they'll go so you don't have to deal with them. Joe's face keeps appearing in your mind and you swear you feel him touching you even though he isn't there. Hopefully a hot shower will do you good and wash away how dirty and despicable you feel.
Once you reach the bathroom, you attempt to lock the door behind you multiple times to make sure it can't be opened. Despite the very low possibility of anyone trying to break into the house again, you still need to make sure you're safe, especially when you're vulnerable and undressed. The lock keeps sticking and as much as it upsets you, you finally give up. As you slowly pull your clothes off, you wish there was some way you could shower with them on. A cool draft of air hits your bare skin as you toss your clothing in a random direction then walk over to the shower.
At first, you turn the knob so the water is a decent temperature. After a moment, you turn it even further so it nearly scalds your hand when you test the temperature. Feeling dirty, you convince yourself that you need it that hot to make yourself clean. If it's colder, it might not wash away the feeling of Joe on you. After one last glance toward the unlocked door, you step in the shower and stand directly under the water. It burns your skin and you attempt to convince yourself that this isn't a twisted form of self-harm. If it was, you'd feel like a hypocrite for scolding Remy for cutting herself. With a washrag that was hanging in the shower, you immediately begin scrubbing mercilessly at all the places Joe touched you yesterday and the evening he hurt you.
"I can't stop feeling him!" you sob, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you can. Your skin feels engulfed in flames at every single place he touched you and, every few moments, you swear his hands, mouth, and every other part of his body are still on you. "I can't get the feeling off!" Crying harder, you begin to scrub at one of your shoulders, a place he bit you in his own pleasure hard enough to leave a mark. "Thirteen, get it off! Thirteen, get it off!" A sense of panic overwhelms you and you press yourself back hard against the shower wall, trying to escape your fear.
"Thirteen, get it off! Thirteen, get it off!" You press yourself back against the cold wall of the shower, dropping the washrag and pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes. The fear turns to a sudden burst of anger and you swipe your arm across one of the shelves, sending multiple soap and shampoo bottles clattering to the floor. Breathing heavily, you slowly lower your hands and open your eyes, shocked by your outburst.
The bathroom door flies open and the doorknob hits the wall with a loud crack. "Allison, what's wrong?" Remy asks, her voice rushed and laced with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Allison, are you okay?" she asks as you cry your eyes out in the hospital shower. "If you don't answer, I'm going to pull the curtain."
Mouth slightly agape, silent tears of shock begin to mingle with the steaming water that you're now standing directly under. "He was touching me," you choke, bringing your hands up to cover your face again as it contorts in anguish. Your fingers entangle in your wet bangs and your arms cover your bare chest as you slowly sink to your knees, one of your legs resting uncomfortably on a shampoo bottle. Plastic hooks scrape against a metal bar as the curtain is slowly pushed open and more light floods the shower.
"No one was touching you," Remy says slowly and turns off the shower water. She kneels down beside the shower and places a hand on the back of your head as if she doesn't dare touch any other part of your body.
"He was," you whisper, feeling too numb to even take into account you're naked. The tears have stopped and it feels like the anger and fear have been drained out of you, leaving your emotionless. "You don't understand."
"No, I don't," she agrees, sliding her fingers over your wet hair for a moment before pulling away. She grabs a towel and drapes it over your shoulders. "I know you're scared though." She sits down on the edge of the shower, one leg on either side, and leans down to pick up a few of the bottles you knocked over.
You carefully wrap the towel all the way around yourself, holding two of the corners of it in your fists up near your chin. Even though she's the only one there to see you, you try to feel less exposed by getting up and sitting between her legs then curling up against her with your back to the rest of the bathroom. You're barely aware that you're soaked and now getting her wet too.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks hesitantly, slowly wrapping her good arm around you. She moves her other arm so you can drape your legs over her leg, slightly facing the shower. "You know you can tell me anything, if you want to."
"I can't stop feeling him on me," you whisper, letting go of the towel and clinging to her sweatshirt for security. Her touch, her smell, everything about her drowns out everything about Joe and you let out a shaky breath. "I'm okay," you mumble finally.
Remy leans forward and turns the water back on, letting go of you to test the temperature. "Finish showering," she says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "I'm going to stay in here and brush my teeth, okay?"
You nod your head and reluctantly pull away, letting her get up to get ready for work as you return to showering.
-----
"I was wondering if you were coming or not," Wilson states as you walk into his office. "House kept coming in and trying to steal our lunch."
"We woke up late," you answer, shutting the door behind you before making your way over to the chair in front of his desk. "House is probably starving now that you don't have lunch with him." You take a seat and relax against the back of the chair, feeling relatively at ease in Wilson's office and at the hospital in general. Wherever they had taken Joe to get treated for the gunshot wound, it wasn't Princeton-Plainsboro.
Wilson breathes a chuckle and shakes his head. "He charges everything to Cuddy now," he replies, pulling out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and two bottles of milk. "What are you doing for New Years?"
"What?" you ask in confusion, turning in your chair and craning your neck to glance at the calendar. With everything going on, you've completely lost track of time. "Today is New Year's Eve?" You turn to face him again, rubbing your forehead with two fingers and your thumb.
"I take it you're just going home and doing nothing," he comments with an amused smile, pushing a sandwich and bottle of milk toward you.
"I guess so," you answer, gratefully taking your lunch. "Thanks," you tell him with a smile, planning on spending an entire week buying lunch for him to pay him back. You wonder if Remy even knows that it's New Years Eve. It seems like just another day now though. Your year ended pretty terrible and it's only going to roll over into the next year. "You have plans?" you ask, unwrapping the sandwich.
He shakes his head. "You and Thirteen are welcome to come over," he says. "I'll make dinner."
You sit there for a moment and contemplate that. "That sounds great," you finally decide, nodding your head. You're not sure Remy is going to feel the same way though. "I'll ask Thirteen. She'll probably want to bring Kutner though." You doubt she'd actually request to bring him, but asking him to come also might convince her. You consider giving her the option of the twelve minute drive to Wilson's house or the twelve hour drive to your parents' house.
"The more the merrier," Wilson answers. "What time do you want to come over?"
"I think we're going couch shopping after work," you answer after swallowing a bite of your sandwich. "It might take us awhile to pick one out and get it home. My shift ends at five. Does nine sound okay?" Four hours should be more than enough time for you to buy a couch and get it home.
"That'll give me time to go to the store," he replies after a moment of thought. "You're buying a new couch?"
"Ours got ruined," you answer bitterly, trying not to think about it. Picturing the blood stain and the events of yesterday causes your appetite to quickly begin dissipating. You let out a slow breath through your mouth and poke at the bread on your sandwich for a moment, avoiding looking up. You hesitate then open your mouth to speak again when your pager starts beeping.
You put your sandwich down on the desk and pull your pager from your pocket. You furrow your brow when you realize Remy is paging you to the ER. "I have go," you mumble, getting to your feet. "Sorry." Your stomach rumbles as you glance at your sandwich. You look at Wilson and rub a hand up and down your arm.
"Take it with you," he assures you as if reading your hesitant expression. "I'll see you tonight?"
"I'll call if we can't make it," you assure him, smiling slightly. You grab your sandwich and bottle of milk to make your way toward the ER.
-----
The ER is a mad rush as usual when you arrive. You quickly shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth then brush the breadcrumbs off your hand against your scrub pants. A few doctors and nurses are tending to patients and others are going over charts, but Remy is nowhere to be seen. "Hm," you mumble with your mouth closed, rubbing your tongue against the roof of your mouth to unstick the peanut butter. Realizing you're still holding the bottle of milk, you uncap it and take a few swallows as you make your way to your small office.
The door is open a crack and you glance in to see Remy sitting on your desk, fiddling with your stethoscope. "Hey," you say as you walk inside then shut the door behind you.
"Hey," she answers. She quickly puts the stethoscope down, accidentally knocking a few charts off your desk in the process. "Sorry." She gets to her feet then bends down and attempts picking up the scattered papers with one hand.
"It's fine," you answer, walking over. You kneel down and quickly gather the papers then hand them to her to put back on the desk. "Did House send you here?" you ask, wondering if they didn't have a case.
"No, I just had a question," she replies. She sits back down on your desk again, placing her hand on your stethoscope. After a moment, she slowly tightens her grip on it to a point that her knuckles begin to turn white.
"Are you okay?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and furrowing your brows. Neither of you are what could be considered 'okay' right now, but as you study her, you notice her seem to almost be holding back a grimace. "Your asthma's not acting up again, is it?" You put your bottle of milk on the desk and rest your hands on one of her legs.
"No, I wanted -" she comes to a stop and clenches her jaw, glancing down at the floor. "It's stupid. I shouldn't have paged you." She gets to her feet again and takes a few steps toward the door, pausing when you wrap an arm tightly around her waist.
"Remy." Your tone is almost scolding as you pull her against you and wrap your other arm around her too. Now that you know she's been cutting to ease her pain, it scares you to think she may turn to the razor instead of you to help her with things; especially now that she's sending off frustrated vibes. "What's wrong?" She's standing sideways against you and you place your chin on her shoulder, glancing up at her.
Staring at the door, she gradually relaxes into your embrace. "I need painkillers," she answers, gripping the bottom of her shirt and also managing to be holding onto part of your shirt. "I didn't want to take from the hospital because I'd have to write it down and I thought you might have some."
"There's some in one of my drawers," you answer, glancing down at the floor for a moment. "Why don't you just let me put a cast on your arm? It will heal faster and it will hurt less."
"I don't need a cast on it," she answers, shooting you a look. "It doesn't hurt that bad."
"Which is why you're in my office looking for painkillers and your about to tear my shirt," you answer simply, arching a brow at her as you let go of her and pull back. Her hand immediately drops from your shirt and you feel bad, thinking you might have embarrassed her. "I need to take the stitches out anyway so I'll just numb it for awhile. I doubt anyone is going to question my charts. Sit down."
"You're not going to make me sit on one of those uncomfortable hospital beds with the crinkly paper?" she asks, feigning disappointment as she walks over to your couch and plops down.
"I thought my girlfriend should get special treatment," you answer, the word 'girlfriend' slipping out before you can stop it.
"Girlfriend, huh?" Remy asks, obviously having caught what you said.
You look over at her, expecting her to be staring at you with a puzzled look on her face. Her grimace has been replaced with a quirked brow and a goofy grin. "Yeah," you answer confidently as you walk toward the door. "I wouldn't want her to have to sit on the floor because you're hogging the hospital bed."
"Ouch." She places her hand on her heart and sticks out her lower lip in a mock pout. "I have to see this girlfriend of yours. I heard that there's this sexy brunette after you and I'm going to have to see if this woman compares to her." She gets to her feet and walks around the couch so she's standing in front of the arm closest to the door.
You turn and are about to teasingly tell her to sit back down, but her comment about the 'sexy brunette' being after you intrigues you. "And who told you that?" you ask, smirking and tilting your head to the side and you walk over to her again. You subconsciously rest your hands on her upper arms and look up at her.
"Chase," she answers, trying to keep a serious face. "He seems really jealous because she's much hotter and more of a badass than he is. I'm going to have to let him know if he has other competition too."
"She might be the one with the competition," you tease, tapping your fingers near her shoulders. You dislike insulting Chase, even if it is subtle, but you're making her smile. You like her smile more than you dislike insulting Chase. "He has the long blond hair, the Australian accent…"
"He might sound like Steve Irwin, but he couldn't even hunt a nipper croc, Mate," she answers, doing her best Australian accent.
You try to keep a straight face but end up choking over a laugh, mainly because of how ridiculous she sounds. "Remy Hadley, you are not very nice," you inform her although you're unable to fight back a grin. "Sit down while I go get a giant needle to numb your arm with. We'll see how badass you are then."
"Crikey! Those anesthetic needles ain't nothin' compared ta how I got this hurt," she replies, grinning from ear to ear and still trying to talk in an Australian accent. "That snowman was vicious!" She moves to sit on the arm of the chair but moves back too far and grabs onto the front of your shirt as she falls backwards onto the couch.
"Remy!" you shriek then fall on top of her with a quiet 'oof'. For a moment, you panic and you can feel her tense under you as she gets nervous. The fear eases within a few seconds and you look down at her then raise your eyebrows.
She smiles sheepishly. "You're crushing me," she informs you innocently.
"Yeah?" you ask, pretending to be irritated. "And whose fault is that?" Placing your elbows on either side of her head, you lift yourself up slightly and rest your head against your hands, staring down at her. You're all too aware that your legs are on either side of her and your body is pressed close to hers. "Did I hurt you?" you mock her and pout.
"Yes," she answers. You know she's lying because the corner of her lips are tugging upward in a slight smirk. She bites the inside of her cheek and glances away from you for a moment, seeming to hesitate. "You could always kiss it and make it better though." She looks back up at you again, her expression becoming a bit more anxious as she tries to read your reaction.
"I could," you agree, lifting your head from your hands and brushing her hair away from her face. "Where does it hurt?"
She glances up at the ceiling and squints her eyes for a moment as she thinks. "My lips," she answers after a moment, smiling slightly. "Definitely my lips."
"Of course." You breathe a laugh and shake your head. "I didn't even land on your face." Despite the compromising position the two of you are in, you lean forward and brush your lips against hers. "Better?" you whisper, smirking as you feel her practically melt against the couch.
"No," she mumbles, your mouths close enough that they brush as she speaks. "Still hurts."
"Huh," you answer, trying to sound confused by that. Deciding that you like feeling her go weak as you kiss her, you slide one arm under her and support her head with your hand before capturing her lips again. She kisses you back and there's a soft moan as you close your eyes. It takes you several seconds to realize the noise came from you.
You let the hand that isn't under her head trail from her shoulder down to her side, barely aware of the movement. Her muscles tense against your fingers and she lets her good hand rest on your hip, gently trying to deepen the kiss with her tongue.
"What are we doing?" you whisper, pulling back slightly. You bite down on your lower lip as she opens her eyes and glances up and down at the position the two of you are in.
"Whatever you want," she answers, moving her hand from your hip and stretching it above her head. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
You nod slowly, taking in the feeling of your warm bodies pressed against each other and the taste of her kiss. As comfortable as you are now, the thought of getting closer make you nervous. "I just want to kiss you," you answer.
"Okay," she answers simply. She stares up at you for a moment before slowly letting her eyes flutter closed again.
For a moment, you just stare at her and take in how beautiful she is. You lean forward and are about to kiss her but stop before your lips meet. "You can put your hand back where it was," you tell her quietly.
"Okay," she repeats in a whisper then moves her hand so it's resting on your waist again. Leaning forward, she hesitantly presses her lips to yours again and tries to resume from where the two of you left off.
Parting your lips slightly, you deepen the kiss and sit up, pulling her up with you. You find yourself tucked safely between Remy and the back of the couch, feeling like nothing can hurt you. She groans quietly as you wrap one of your arms around her neck and carefully entangle your fingers in her hair.
The door to your office opens with a creaking noise and you and Remy break apart, quickly looking to the side to see Wilson walking in.
"Cameron, I will…" His voice trails off as he sees the two of you. His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he clears his throat then points out the door. "I will page you next time." He gives the two of you a slight nod without looking at either of you then walks back out and shuts the door behind him.
Remy lets out a breath and turns so she can lean back against the arm of the couch, her legs resting across your lap. "Think he's going to tell House?" she asks.
"Nope," you answer. You're sure House already knows there's something going on between the two of you, but isn't bringing it up because of the circumstances. As soon as things lighten up a bit, you have a feeling House is going to want every detail of your relationship and do whatever he can to get those details. You lean back against the couch for a moment then pat her legs before carefully pushing them off of you so you can get up. "I'll be right back."
"I'll be here," she replies, settling against the arm and back of the couch. She glances up at you and smiles.
You grin back at her, feeling slightly giddy from the kiss. With Chase, the only kiss that made you feel giddy was the first one. This is your third time kissing Remy and you still feel like you're floating on air. You walk out of your office and glance around for Wilson, catching his eye just as he's walking out of the ER. He doesn't come back to talk to you, but he gives you a knowing glance. Your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson and you bite down on your lower lip as your smile gets slightly wider.
Despite what Remy said about not wanting a cast, you get the supplies for that along with the scissors for cutting the sutures and a needle with anesthesia before walking back into the room. "Pick a color," you tell her, nodding to the box of cast colors in your arm.
She glances at the box and scowls, clutching her arm against her chest. "You're not casting it," she tells you, narrowing her eyes. "How am I supposed to use it if it's in a cast?"
"You can't use it anyway," you answer, rolling your eyes. You place the supplies beside the couch then kneel down and pull out hot pink. "Pick a color before I use this one."
Her eyes widen at your choice. "You wouldn't," she says slowly, cocking her head to the side suspiciously.
"Wanna bet?" you reply with a smirk, slowly beginning to unravel the material.
"I want blue," she says quickly, eyeing the pink.
"That's what I thought." You toss the pink back into the box then grab the needle. "Come here, Crocodile Hunter."
"That needle ain't nothin', Mate," she says with a grin and scoots forward on the couch.
Narrowing your eyes, you shoot her a warning glance that neither of you can take seriously. Resisting the urge to kiss her again, you bite back a grin and focus on fixing her arm.