A/N: I own nothing. Nothing, nada, nil.

A/N: As this is the last chapter, the big author note is at the end. But I still have a lot of love for my reviewers and Melissa.

The bracelet of the dream catcher caught the light as she twirled it in her hands. She gently ran her fingers over the yarn tassels. Her sprained wrist no longer needed the support of an ACE bandage, though it still pained her occasionally, an infrequent reminder of Mary's death. The dream catcher was a more painful reminder, however, because it reminded her of Sipho.

It had been one month since his death. There still hadn't been a day when she hadn't thought of him, but then again, she thought of her dead husband once a day, too, and his death had been years ago. Nomzamo stopped coming to the clinic altogether after her brother died. Although Cameron had been concerned, and Weiss shared her sentiment, they both had to concede that short of going to Nomzamo's house and sitting down with her, there was no way to make the girl get treatment. Cameron suspected that Nomzamo only came to her appointments in the first place because Sipho had made her, though she tried not to remind herself of this, as it made her think of Sipho.

She turned the dream catcher over and reread the note that Sipho had written to her. Nightmares, nightmares, go away, you are not welcome here to stay. Don't you dare come back again. Leave alone my dear friend Allison. She felt the familiar sense of loss welling inside her, but she did not cry, as she did not have any tears left. Her eyes looked away from the gift and instead fell on the headstone at her feet.

Nomzamo had been in no state to handle funeral arrangements, but she had been clear about one thing: Sipho's cremation. Their mother, Cameron had found out, had been cremated as well, and her ashes had been scattered in the dirt surrounding their home. At first she had been appalled at the idea of scattering Sipho's body in so many places, but she needn't have worried. Nomzamo insisted that Sipho's ashes be kept together, in an urn inside their home.

As it turned out, however, Nomzamo did not feel comfortable keeping the ashes of her dead brother so close to her. Two weeks after Sipho's death, she had returned to the clinic with the urn, insisting in Afrikaans that the ashes haunted her. She had begged Cameron and Weiss, who was translating, to bury the urn outside the clinic. They had obliged, and marked the place where the ashes lay with a smooth rock they had transformed into a headstone. The headstone was just visible from outside the clinic windows; it was usually hidden by several flowers brought by the doctors and nurses who Sipho had befriended in his time at the clinic. Cameron was one of the most frequent visitors at his grave.

Resolved, she pulled the pen and notepad that she had tucked away out from her pocket. Balancing the notepad in her now-healed left hand, she began to write. She wasn't much of a poet, but she felt that she had to at least try. Ten minutes and seven crumpled post-it notes later, Cameron reread her final message:

Nightmares, nightmares, go away.

Good dreams, good dreams, forever stay.

Though he walks in valleys I don't know,

Always protect my dear friend Sipho.

Satisfied, she pulled off the sticky-note and attached it to the paper on which Sipho had written her a message. She admired the dream catcher for a minute, running her fingers through the yarn tassels one last time. She knew that by putting the dream catcher on his grave, she was forever giving it up, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Cameron bent forward and placed the dream catcher gently next to a large bouquet of flowers. She stepped back to admire the display, but then stopped herself. She had a nagging feeling she should say something. She had so far managed to avoid talking to the headstone as though she could still talk to Sipho, but the finality of her visit compelled her to change her mind. Slowly, she knelt in front of the headstone and placed her hand on the smooth surface.

"Hey, Sipho," she whispered. She waited a moment for a response, but there was none. She continued, "I hope you're having fun with your mom. I'm sure she's beautiful." Cameron paused to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Though she hadn't cried in weeks, she could feel her resolution dissolving. "Nomzamo was okay, last time I saw her. She stopped coming to her sessions a few weeks ago. But you already knew that, right?" She absently rubbed her hand against the headstone. "I'm okay, too. I'm leaving tonight. I'm doing what you told me to do, I'm going home. I'm going back to work for House, actually…" She had surprised even herself by that decision, but she knew that she could not stand going back to Yule. She smiled, and then leaned even closer. "You might be right about him."

She felt something move near her shoulder, as though it had been lightly brushed by someone passing by. She looked, but there was nothing there. It must have been just the breeze, she mused. But it made her feel better all the same.

"Allison?"

Cameron turned around, though she already knew who had spoken. Weiss was standing behind her, looking slightly apprehensive. Her decision to return to America after her contract expired had marked the beginning of the end for their relationship. He had been upset at first, but he had resigned himself in the end. They had kept a cordial relationship at work, but had slowly begun distancing themselves in their personal lives. She hadn't been alone with him in nearly a week before now.

"Hey," she said, as she pushed herself to her feet. She gestured unnecessarily to the grave. "I was just saying good-bye."

He nodded. "Scott just left to get the van. He should be back in twenty minutes or so." He stepped closer to her, and after a slightly awkward pause, put his hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch when he touched her, although the contact surprised her. "I'm going to miss you," he said quietly.

"I will miss you, too." She knew it wasn't a lie. Even though it hadn't worked out romantically between them, Weiss had still been a good friend the past two months, and she felt a small twinge of regret as she looked at him now. She brought her hand to his face and gently brushed his cheek. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

He put his hand over hers. "You too."

Cameron slowly leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Good-bye, Danny," she whispered. She held his gaze another moment, and then turned to leave.

"Allison…" He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave and pulled her into a tight embrace. He pressed his cheek against hers and she felt the twinge of regret rising in her chest again. She knew that she was doing the right thing by leaving, but part of her knew that she was walking away from someone with real potential.

He held her for a long time. They had been silent for a while, but then he unexpectedly said, "Don't let him hurt you." She was surprised by the bitter conviction in his voice. She looked at his face and saw the hurt mounting in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "And I won't."

He moved toward her then, and Cameron realized what was going to happen just before it did. As soon as his lips met hers, she pulled back. "No," she said softly, but still firmly. "Come on, Danny. You know it's over."

He didn't answer, but instead seemed to be looking at something over her shoulder. "House isn't meeting you here, is he?"

"Of course not," Cameron said briskly. "He knows I'm a big girl. I can make it on a plane by myself."

"Really?" Weiss replied. "Turn around."

She did, and there he was, standing about one hundred feet away from her. He was gazing at her with an inscrutable expression, leaning slightly on his cane as he watched her. Cameron turned back to Weiss, who he gave her a slight nod, which she took to be encouragement. She looked back at House, and then slowly began walking toward him. He didn't say anything until she was standing right in front of him.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"I could have made it back myself, you know," she said, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "You didn't have to come all the way to South Africa to pick me up."

"Just wanted to make sure you didn't get any fancy ideas."

"Right," she said, a smile creeping across her face.

"That's all I get as a greeting?" he asked gruffly. "Suspicion and a one word answer? I flew twenty hours to get here. I think I deserve a bit more than that."

She smiled and brought her hands to his face. His stubble tickled beneath her fingertips. She leaned in and kissed him.

Somewhere above her, a young boy grinned.

Author's Note:

Of all my stories, this one took me the longest to write. Nearly abandoned twice, once for almost a year, it took a RL visit with my beta for me to jump start it back into action. I'm so glad that I did. It's been a long time since I've written anything this long; in fact, the only other story I have of this length is one that I no longer encourage people to read.

I adore this story. There have definitely been some chapters that I disliked, but these last three chapters have been some of my favorite chapters ever to write, especially this one (Redemption) and Mortality (Sipho's death). Sipho was my favorite character to write. Weiss I enjoyed a lot more than I thought I would. Original versions of this story had Weiss dying instead of Mary, but I liked him too much to kill him off like that. I'm sure some Hameron fans are now wishing he bit the bullet instead of her.

Before I can finish one story, I must at least have an idea for the next one. In this case, the next story has already been posted: I Will Follow You Into the Dark. The first chapter is posted; the second will be posted as soon as I finish posting this chapter. If you are interested, check it out. I have two other stories in the works, One Second to Die (which I promised at the end of Cetera Desunt would be posted next, but if you don't like it, take it up with my muse), and one that so far only has a title, which I shall announce later. Put me on author alert if you want to stay tuned.

Now I'm going to say something that will make all but one of my readers (Pandorama, I'm looking at you) very upset. This is my last Hameron story, at least for awhile. The stories I talked about above are all Chameron. This is not because I'm suddenly sold on Huddy – I'm not. Cameron's absence has played more of a role in my Hameron despair than the explicit Huddy. It's been awhile since we've seen a real Hameron spark on the show, and I actually kind of like Cameron and Chase together. I'm sure you know this by now, but my pairing doesn't mean much in terms of romance. The pairing for me is generally the two canon characters around which drama will revolve.

I would be horribly remiss if I failed to thank, once more, my beta and my reviewers. Melissa, thank you for everything. You shifted through terrible versions of both this story and several chapters of it; you translated Afrikaans and helped me find information about MSF and Khayelitsha. You inspired me to continue when I thought this story would never be touched again. In short, you are the best beta I could ever ask for.

To my reviewers, your support on this story especially has meant the world to me. It's amazing that after abandoning this story for so long, more than once, I still had people following it. Each and every review that you have left has helped me get this story to where it is today. I can never thank you enough for your continued support.

I believe that's all I wanted to say. Oh – except for one last thing. I know that I said this story would be happy. Despite all the tragedy (Mary's death, Sipho's death, etc.), did I at least make you smile in the end?

-holadios