Because you are awesome, because the weather is great, because I love Oasis, because I am in a great mood. Thank you for the reviews!!

(

Morning, the blinds were open, and yellow light, colored by the leaves, filled the room. He sat on the bed, looking down at her, his gaze almost piercing her, his mouth tense, not smiling. She looked up at him, her eyes big question marks, but he just sat there looking at her.

)

Welcoming the silence, she found herself under covers once again, staring at the same wall she had stared at only two days ago. The warmth was comforting, pulling her into a haze, where days and nights didn't matter and time didn't exist. Only haze could brush out the lines that separated her from the past, when she was happy, when she could cry, where a constant shadow of silence didn't follow her everywhere.

Every morning John came into the room, letting in the strong light from the hallway outside light up the room and sting in her eyes. Compared to him, she was powerless, as he picked her up and carried her out of her room, put her on the couch in their living room where he left her while he went to get something for her to eat. Then he would sit next to her until she'd eaten up everything, it didn't matter if she'd throw up half of it later, or all of it, he still sat with her, feeding her until nothing was left on the plate.

She felt paralyzed, cut off from the world, and she knew she needed to go back to it soon, but she had nothing to go on. The bridge had been burned a long time ago. There she was, lost inside of herself, and she had no idea how to find her way out.

Inside of her was life, growing into a small baby, innocence brought on by what she had escaped. She pressed her palm against her lower stomach, against the place where apparently life existed now, her and his child. It was ironic, that when she was slowly dying, someone else was given life, feeding off of her sanity. Betrayal, it was that too; how she could let this happen to herself, how she betrayed herself.

It was strange how she had managed to miss something this big, how could she not have noticed that she had not been getting her period?

Charlie wanted children, she remembered that they'd talked about it, before it all had gone so silent and bad. One little boy or little girl, only one child, and then he would be happy. While he had spoken about it, these dreams about the future, he had rubbed small circles on her stomach, kissed her neck softly. Thinking back to days like that, it both hurt and made her warm inside, that person was who she had fallen for, not this man he became, letting her slowly close herself inside herself, making her create her own prison.

This child, it should've come a long time ago, maybe then everything would've turned out better, or she would've left him sooner. Thinking back at it now, there wasn't a start to it; it gradually became more and more painful to be around him. It was like around him she wasn't just mute, but she was deaf and blind too, paralyzed by his control.

That morning when John came into her room and went to pick her up, she fought him, scratching his skin, tearing at his shirt, kicking. But not screaming, not crying, no matter how hard she tried, it did not come natural, and she could not force herself. It was impossible, futile.

"Allie, calm down!" He yelled, his voice demanding, shaped in a way it had not been since she was a young girl throwing a tantrum. She could remember those tantrums vaguely. It was a life time ago, when her hair had been so blond and her face and been round. Then she had a temper that was not to be challenged, a will impossible to fight.

Inside, she was drowning in all the tears she kept there. Breathing was difficult and it hurt to draw each breath, but still she fought him as hard as she could, just so that she could stay in the one place she was safe.

She was lithe in his arms, it didn't take much to hold her down, but he didn't want to; he didn't want to force her. It hurt him too, to watch her fall apart like this so silently, and being so helpless, not being able to do anything.

"Allie, please," he whispered in her ear, but she continued to fight him until he let her down. She fell down on the bed, curled up in a ball, suddenly still, staring into the darkness.

(

It was nice sitting curled up against him on his couch, and being able to be herself, no pretending, no illusions, just them. Silently she watched his scar than ran across his face, an angry reminder of a car crash twenty years ago, one that took his mother away from him, and put his father in a wheelchair.

"I like it this way, " she told him, holding his hand tighter in hers, "to just sit here, just the two of us." His eyes searched hers, soft brown eyes, melting hers.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed after a while, a soft sigh escaping with his answer, and then he kissed her cheek.

"I could sit like this forever," she sighed too, pulling his arms around her, leaning her back against his chest, watching the news with mild interest, she had all she needed here, nothing could distract her from him.

"That would be ideal, but I would like something more than just this couch and this TV."

"Like what?"

"First of all, I would like to buy an apartment with you, then marry you, and sometime I would like to have a child," he said softly, his hand brushing against her stomach, drawling small circles with the palm of his hand, imagining her stomach expanded, carrying his child, and the thought made his whole face light up.

"A two bedroom apartment, with a big living room, a light kitchen, and a big bathroom," she said dreamily, her hand closing over his again, resting on top of her stomach as she mused over the idea of carrying a child sometime in the near future, a child that would be his. "That wouldn't be so bad."

)

"Allie, what do you think about ham. You like ham." Dana tried, setting down a plate with a few peas on it, rolling around aimlessly. On a chair opposite her Leslie sat, her green eyes focusing on Cameron, no one was too young to worry, and Leslie felt a feeling that reminded her of being sick, but she didn't need to throw up, as she watched Cameron stare at the peas with no interest at all.

"Allie, eat your ham," John demanded as he set another plate in front of Leslie. They thought that if they treated her like they had control over her, maybe they could get her to eat, at least, and even though it hurt John so much to treat his younger sister like a little girl again, he couldn't abandon her. He couldn't just sit there and watch her die slowly. "Eat it, now," he wanted to scream in frustration, but around her he needed to be calm, to keep himself under wraps, to protect Cameron from further pain. It was impossible for him to know that his frustration was radiating off of him, shining in his eyes like red eyed monsters, his body language screaming at her desperately, wordlessly.

She wanted to be deaf and blind, to fall asleep and never wake up again. There was no wish for dying, just to rest, to let the pain roll off of her, let the muzzle ease up and let the words escape. She knew she didn't have a choice, so she picked up a fork and stabbed the ham before bringing it to her mouth. It didn't taste good, but it didn't taste bad either, it only tasted of salty tears, hopelessness. Leslie tilted her head and watched Cameron quietly for a while, she understood, somehow, what Cameron was trying to say.

"Don't worry Allie, daddy can blow on your booboo and make it better, it always makes me better," she assured her aunt, her head still tilted and a small smile on her face.

"Leslie…," John began, but was interrupted by Leslie.

"Look daddy, she's smiling!" Both John and Dana turned around to look at Cameron, but she was not smiling, but there was definitely something more peaceful about her now. "You're pretty when you're happy."

(

He would watch her at the kitchen table when they ate dinner, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. In those moments, she could feel a distance form between them and she would try to grasp his hand, to bring him into the world she could understand.

)

His fingers could count the years, not even a whole hand. Three, that was the number, years, so long, but nothing compared to a lifetime. Their time had ended when she brushed her hand against his sleeve, telling him goodbye. Maybe now, he thought, was the time to start over again, to pick up the cliffhanger and continue on with their lives, properly this time.

He could actually remember her, and it scared him in a way, because all his other fellows had been mixed together to an incoherent mess. There was something special about her, something that lit up a part of a memory, directing his thoughts there, like a mosquito to a lamp. Her beauty could not be denied, but there was something else. He wanted to define it so he could get over it, but his ever search for answers kept him hooked.

Once she had been crystal clear, he had thought he knew everything he needed to know about her. Back then she had been a broken beauty, damaged by loss of something he could vaguely understand and had somehow managed to keep on going. But now it was all ripped to pieces, and now she was a mystery he wasn't sure he wanted to know about. But even though he knew that the truth would burn him hard, he needed to know it, because without the truth he wasn't going to have a good night's sleep ever again.

Suddenly his dark office was intruded by light reflecting off of the glass door, and crashing against the walls. There stood his boss, the person he had mastered to manipulate years ago and she did not even notice. Her skirt was tight, as always, showing the curves of a beautiful body, and so was her shirt and jacket. He smirked at her.

"Fancy seeing you in here," he weighed on his chair, tilting his head to check her out, showing his appreciation that she was wearing one of the outfits he liked the most on her. Why? He did not know.

"You need to take on a new case," she said in an urging voice, pushing his feet off of his desk and sat down where his feet had been.

"I refuse," he said overdramatically, putting on a shocked face.

"I don't care what you think," she pointed out while shaking her head, pulling out a file from under her arm. "You are going to take this case because it is important… for this hospital," she mumbled the last part before putting the case file on his lap.

"Publicity now?"

"House, just…," she sighed and stood up, looking longingly at the blinds surrounding the office, on the bookshelves containing all kinds of medical books, then back at him. She hoped her look would say it all, that he would understand that there was more to it than a good reputation. Sometimes she grew tired of his antics and childish refusal to do his duty, and now she did not want to get annoyed, there were already too many lines on her face.

She left his office, dropping the playfulness that usually existed between them. Today was not a day for things like that. As she stepped into the elevator, she remembered that her mother would make pancakes for dinner whenever she came home and visited, which hardly ever happened anymore. It was her favorite dish. Now, there was no mother that would make her pancakes when she stepped into the warm house that she called her home so many years ago.