Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really do appreciate it, even if what you said wasn't a compliment, Thank you anyway.

I'm a bit reluctant to post this, because im not so sure about it myself, but tell me what you think, when you've read it of course :)

This is a bit different, because it changes POV, but i've headed it when it does:)

I really hope you like it.

………………………………

"I love you"

"No you don't"

Chase

And as my heart shattered into a million near unfixable pieces, I realised I was right.

She didn't love me.

I always left before the lights came on, That's when things get messy. I didn't hang around for awkward goodbyes or good morning kisses, that way, when I woke up alone, I could tell myself it didn't mean anything.

People let you down. that's what I'd taught myself when my dad left. Don't bother with emotions. Love is just a word, anyone can say I love you. But in the end the only one who you can rely on is yourself, right?

Cameron called. I didn't answer. She called again, and I Ignored her voice, making pleas and apologies to my splintered heart through the answering machine.

I was hurt. But I wasn't about to drink myself to death over some girl who didn't love me. Though when Foreman called and asked me to come and get a drink with him I decided that succumbing to the numbing effects of alcohol wasn't such a bad idea.

Me and Foreman weren't exactly what I'd call friends. Yeah we would go out sometimes and have a drink after a particularly rough case, but we weren't by any means close. So when he started talking to me about Cameron, like he had some right to, I was pissed off.

"…she was a bit harsh, but.. She was crying when she told me, and, yeah, I suppose it is your kid too, but its not like you want one, eh? And its not like you love her or anything…"

A bit tipsy, and hurting like hell, I flipped. I told foreman to shut up, told him he knew nothing, shouted and shouted pointless, useless words, just to vent my anger.

I wasn't really mad at Foreman.

I wasn't really mad at Cameron.

I was mad at myself. I was mad because I let her in. She was ripping my heart to shreds and all because I'd let her.

People were looking but I didn't care, I left the bar, ignoring Foreman's shouts, telling me to calm down and come back. I got into my car, Slamming down on the accelerator and running red lights till I was home again. I deleted all the messages on my machine, they were probably all from Cameron anyway.

I hardly ate. I barley slept . But I didn't cry.

Hours became days, namelessly stretching into forever. I felt empty, like something was missing.

Cameron

I dropped a glass on Tuesday. At least I think it was Tuesday. It shattered when it hit the tiled kitchen floor and I tried to pick up the pieces. That's what I've been doing this past week, trying to pick up the pieces. Only the shards aren't made from glass, and I can't just glue them back together or buy a new one…

And what makes it worse is I have no right to be hurt by all of this. I shouldn't be wallowing in self pity, nor should I be heart-broken.

I cut my hand on one of the larger pieces. And it bled. And I watched it. Like some sick horror movie where you just can't bring yourself to look away in time… blood flows quickly, gushing out the wound, desperate to escape. It looks serious. And I'm pretty sure I'll need stitches. But I don't move.

All I've been able to think about this week has been him. I lost count of how many times I called. Again and again, choking out pleas for forgiveness through the answering machine. I'm not sure what I was expecting.

'Oh, your sorry? Well that's ok then.. keep the baby and we'll get married and live happily ever after…' yeah right. I may be naïve, but…

The phone rang, but I didn't answer it because the blood was being to pool around me, making me light headed, and I'd given up on him anyway.

The doorbell rings next. But I still don't move. The door opens. Must have forgotten to lock it. And there stands House. He studies me, I must have looked a state. But there's no sympathy in his cold blue eyes. No pity, or even concern.

'Get up.'

That's all he says.

And I laugh. 'Why?'

His gracefully aged forehead creases slightly and the laughter slowly dies from my tear stained face. I feel small, sat on the cold tiled floor surrounded by self pity and blood. I feel like a child, like I'm going to get told off, for answering back and making a mess on the kitchen floor. But House just turns and walks out of the room.

'Nice apartment, redecorated I see' he calls from what I assume is the sitting room.

'Nice colour.' there's a pause. And I hear draws opening and shutting. Papers rustling, and things being moved about.

'Blood red. Fitting isn't it.' I hear feet shuffling. Then silence. Then faintly, the slight mummer of some drama show, as the TV is turned on.

'Should have conducted your little suicide attempt in here, at least you would notice the blood stains as m..'

'It wasn't a suicide attempt, it was an accident.' I said from the door way. House was sat on my couch, his feet on my coffee table and his walking stick beside him.

'Make yourself at home' I muttered.

'Got any beer?' he asks.

I roll my eyes, 'What do you want House?'

'A beer would be good-'

'House, I'm not in the mood, ok?'

'Neither am I, Honestly, I don't know how you could even think about sex at a time like-'

'House.'

There's a brief silence. I sigh and leave the room. House follows me into the kitchen.

'Got a first aid kit?' he asks.

'Why?' I snap.

'For your hand, jeez, you try to do something nice.. You know some people-'

'Its over there' I point to a small clear box on top of my fridge and avoid eye contact. House limps over to get it.

'Why are you here?' I ask. House doesn't answer me as he rips open a package of bandages.

'House?'

'You need stitches, but you already knew that.' House wraps the bandage around my hand, carefully, so he doesn't have to touch me. 'This will do until we get you back to the hospital. Grab your coat.'

And I'm not sure how but I end up sat in the passenger side of my car as House dives me along the quiet roads leading to PPTH. Its mid morning by this time, so there isn't much traffic and the ride is fairly silent. Neither of us talk, and I stare out of the window until we park up and get out. I scan the car park nervously.

'He left a couple of hours ago.' House explains as makes his way toward the main entrance. 'Come on.'

Foreman stitches up my hand and attempts friendly small talk.

'Looks worse than it is.' he smiles. 'there, all done.'

Cuddy gives me a disapproving glare and asks if I'll be needing maternity leave when I come back to work. She's tried everything to get pregnant, I realise. And I feel so guilty. I have what some women would give anything to have. A baby. A life growing inside me, with arms and legs and tiny little fingers and toes. And I've been so ungrateful, and I suddenly know that there is no possible way I could give my baby up now. I cry and tell cuddy that, yes, I will be needing maternity leave because I'm going to have a baby. My baby. And I know that I'll need help. So I wipe my tears, get in my car, and drive. I drive to the other side of town. I drive to Chase. And I know that no matter what happens, even if Chase shuts the door in my face, I'm keeping my baby.

Chase

I tried watching TV, but couldn't concentrate. To be honest i wasn't really all that concerned about the rare type of blow fish that was dying out in china. So as the presenter with the beard and the bad hair cut dronned on about the enviroment and such I couldn't help but wonder if she'd gone through with it. You know, killed my child. Would she even bother to tell me? She didn't the first time, why should she now? Or maybe she'd tried to tell me, I mean, I was ignoring her.

I'd forgotten about work, I realised, as I looked at the clock. I should have been there hours ago. So I had a shower, got dressed and tried my best to stop wallowing. I opened the door to leave, and there she was. Just stood on my door step, hand raised to my doorbell, ready to ring.

"I.. I..." she faltered, "Chase...I.."

I let her in.

And as her head collided with the wall I was reminded of the first time we had sex. When she was high and I didn't care.

This time It was me who pushed her to the wall, wrapped my hands around her neck, and kissed her.

It was fierce and passionate and all the emotions I was feeling were there in my lips, crashing against hers. Her hands scratched my back and I bit her lip so hard I drew blood.

It was meaningless.

Lust and sweat and blood and all of it had no meaning. It couldn't change her feelings, and it couldn't erase the last week. I was numb, Cameron was there, beneath me, but she wasn't really. I could feel her nails tearing into my skin but they weren't really there and neither were the marks they left. No, none of it was real and It didn't mean a thing.

But I knew this was all we had. The only place that we were free was right here, the world and our lives and everything was just a blur, and the only emotion was in our passion filled voices, crying out for release.

I knew it would be hard, and that, odds were, we wouldn't make it.

We had already discussed her keeping the baby. It was more of a one sided disscussion, to be honest. Cameron told me she wanted it, and said i didn't have to help out at all if i didn't wan't to, and...

"Cameron?"

I decided to stop what was obviously a well rehersered monolouge about custody and birthday money.

"Yeah" she said from the other side of the bedroom.

"What if we start again?" I asked. "Try and make it work?"

Cameron stoped what she was doing and turned to face me.

I was scared. I mean, did we even have a chance? Relationships are never easy, There messy and dangerous and to get out unharmed is damn near impossible. You had to be willing to work at it. To take the crap and all the hurt, to fight, if only to make up again. And I wasn't sure, if we fell, whether we'd get up and carry on, or just lye there defeated.

And suprisingly Cameron snorted,

"What? And try and make ourselves fall in love?"

And just maybe I'd be handed back my shredded heart and left on my own again. But, maybe?

"I wouldn't have to try."

………………………………...

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ScReAm-YoUr-HeArT-oUt