AN: So today wasn't a good day. This chapter still wasn't done, and I drove into a tree. Stupid really. We have to replace the hood on our car. I've had my permit for a week, and we need to make an insurance claim, Oops. Just need to get that off my chest. Okay, sorry this chapter took a while to get up. I was trying to stretch it out, and it ended up being about 1,000 words longer than planned. Gets kind of angsty here, but the whole thing couldn't be fluff.
Thanks to my reviewers, I just wish I had more people to thank. (Subtle, I know.) I like this chapter a lot better than the last one, so enjoy!
"House," Chase managed to sputter out. "Uhh, good." He fired you, he reminded himself. You're pissed at him and you have every right to be. You don't work for him anymore. "Why, does it matter to you?"
House mocked shock. "Of course it does. I always like to follow up on the rich ass-kissers that I fire." Chase stared straight ahead, begging the elevator to move faster. "How's your girlfriend doing?"
"Fine, now that she's got away from you." He couldn't resist rubbing this in to House.
"So, she tell you that she loves you yet?"
Chase was caught off guard. "What?" How could he possibly know?
House sneered. "I'll take that as a no." He paused. "And she's not going to."
"What?" repeated Chase, growing more frustrated with each passing second.
"And everyone think I'm the addict," House stated while popping a Vicodin into his mouth. Chase was fuming. "She only wants to fix you. You're damaged enough for her to care now. Congratulations." His tone had grown cold now, something Chase was used to.
"House, what the hell are you talking about?" He felt his temper rise and struggled to contain it.
"Orphan. Alcoholic mother. Unloving father. Very secretive. And now unemployed. You lost the best thing that you had left, your job. And no offense," he added, with all intention of offending Chase, "but that's pretty pathetic. She'll stay with you until she gets bored. Or she finds someone more damaged to fix. Why do you think she's a doctor?"
"House, shut up." Chase didn't realize that the elevator had stopped on the ground floor and the doors had opened. He would have never left had House not led him off. He continued to follow him, his heart pounding somewhere near his ears. He hated what he was hearing, but he needed to hear more of it.
He stood in the lobby, glaring at his former boss. He didn't know what to say, because House was always right. Her dying husband, her grieving friend, her crippled boss, and now me, he listed in his head. As much as he wanted to believe Cameron was still grieving for her husband, this made sense too. More sense. He hated how House was such a good judge of character when his own personality sucked so much.
He watched Chase with an eerie delight. "See? Do I know how to call 'em or what?" He turned and started walking toward the door.
"You're wrong," called Chase lamely. How long would it be until she left him for someone else? Someone more damaged, someone more broken.
Chase stormed out the opposite way and headed to the car, his mind reeling. He opened the door and found Cameron sleeping peacefully. He was unsure whether or not he should wake her, but decided to leave her alone as he drove back to his apartment.
He picked her up in his arms, hating himself for doing so. He wished it could be different. He wished he loved someone else. He wished Cameron could love. He wished Cameron could love him for who he was, not how he is. He wanted unconditional love from this woman, not simply a repair.
Chase stood in the living room, debating whether he should place her on the couch or bed. He supposed she deserved a chance to defend herself, though he didn't know how she would. Still, all hope was not lost. He placed her lovingly on the bed, cursing at himself for being so soft.
He returned to the living room and sat wearily on the couch. He took the file from cuddy off the table where he'd tossed it moments ago. He had no idea what to do. He wanted to hop on a plane and fly to Arizona, leaving Cameron to wake up to his smell lingering in the air, tinged with a sort of hopeless despair. But at the same time, he wanted to crawl up in bed with her, wrap his arms around her tightly, and feel her love for him, even if she couldn't.
He looked at the papers in his hand, realizing he had curled and ripped up the corner of one page. Sighing, Chase placed the packet in a rarely used drawer next to the couch. He tried to busy himself with the TV, but nothing could distract him from the floods of emotions inside.
Should I confront her? Or should I trust her? The woman's not heartless, for Christ's sake. She just…can't love…
His brain tossed around ideas, but none seemed to satisfy him. He didn't want her pity. He wanted her love. He wanted to trust her. He wanted this job. He didn't want to leave her side.
Chase drifted off into a restless sleep, with dreams full with falling, failing, and remorse.
She follows him into the hall a moment later, deciding she needs some caffeine too. Or maybe she just wants to talk to him without forcing conversation out over environmental sources and tests. No, she'd rather force conversation over coffee, apparently.
"Don't get the mocha-chino. Somebody screwed up and put hot chocolate in the dispenser."
"Thank you." She hopes he takes this as an apology. She hopes that simple thank you holds deeper meaning. She hopes it's forgiveness.
"You were right." She wants to stop there and fall into his arms, telling him they should be together, but she knows she can't. She's not allowed. "An eight-year-old kid grabbed my ass." She doesn't know why she's telling him this. "I shouldn't have encouraged him."
He laughs. She melts. "Well, I was a boy once. I know how they think."
She knows she's off topic, but she likes how they can converse normally now. Maybe she doesn't have to bring it up at all. "You were a pervert at eight?"
"Maybe…" He glances around playfully. She's fighting every fiber in her body to stay off of him. "Eleven." He laughs again. She melts again. She can't even remember what he's said eleven for.
She stops herself. She knows she has to get it out in the open now. She can't keep leading him on, leading herself on. "I didn't realize you were going to get hurt. I'm sorry I misled you." So well rehearsed.
Initially she feels pride for making herself so clear, but it fades quickly at his words.
"You didn't." She tries her hardest to look confused, tries to hide herself again. "You have feeling for me. You've come back to me again and again-"
"For sex," she interrupts. She can't let him piece it together, for him, for her. "It's a simple, physical…" Or far from that, really.
"C'mon," he now cuts in. "You have feelings for puppies and patients that you barely know, but when it comes to a guy that you've worked with for three years…" He gently takes her hand as his soft voice mesmerizes her. She looks down at his touch, ashamed, angry, that she can't pull away. She doesn't even flinch or shudder as she normally does under his touch. She knows this isn't going well. "Had sex with, spent the night with, you're telling me you feel nothing? Absolutely nothing?" His speech seems as well rehearsed as hers did, maybe more.
No, I'm telling you I want to feel nothing, she thinks. Vaguely she wonders how long her hand has been cradled in his, how much longer until they're closer and she still won't be able to resist him…
"Get away from her! Don't touch her! I'll kill you if you touch her!" She turns and freezes right there as the kid flies out of now where on top of him, breaking the contact that she was so unable to.
"Jasper!" she calls, hoping he'll come, knowing he won't.
"Get him off! Ahh, he's biting me, get him off! Ahh!" She rushes forward, knowing that he could, and should, overtake the brat. Risking injury to him, charges being pressed; he was acting smartly though she knew it was taking all of his willpower to not throw the child across the hall. Luckily the kid doesn't resist to her touch as she pulls him away, and she knows that he wouldn't either.
She holds the runt back, angry at him yet relieved at the same time. He'd stopped her from giving in, from saying or showing too much. He'd bought her more time.
He holds up his arm to look at the bleeding bite, and a fleeting image of her inflicting a similar wound to his lip flashes through her. She shakes it away, wanting, hell needing, to forget the night that started all of this.
She shutters at the thought of having to touch him again to dress his wound. They have to stop having run-ins like this. She breathes deeply, preparing herself mentally, physically, emotionally to resist the wonderful pleasure she finds in his touch.
Cameron rubbed her eyes gently, trying to erase the colorful stars blaring across her vision. She eased herself up, he head feeling much better than before. She knew where she was, she just didn't remember getting there.
Slowly she stood up, wondering where Chase was. She smelled something wonderful coming from the kitchen. It reminded her of so long ago, her mother standing at the stove and her father reading the paper at the table. She missed the normalcy in her life that she had growing up, what her parents had. She wanted it for herself.
She walked into the kitchen and heard a loud sizzle as Chase dropped a handful of peppers into the frying pan. Cameron snuck up from behind, wrapped her arms around his middle, and kissed him gently behind the ear. "Smells good," she commented as the peppers and onions hissed loudly.
"It's almost ready," he responded without reacting to her touch.
"What's wrong?" Cameron pulled back and moved to his side. "Robert?"
"Nothing. Just a lot to think about, I guess." He phrased it this was on purpose, not wanting to lie to her despite how he feared she was using him.
She sighed. "I know. I want to stay here. It's so familiar to me. But if we moved away, we could start over." He couldn't help himself from giving her a sideways glance. "We could get away from it all."
"From what?" He had no past here, really. Only what was at the hospital, but he was away from it already. That was his life.
"From everything. From our old selves. From being thought of as ducklings. From House."
Chase seethed. He hated House more than he ever had before, more than he thought possible. But he didn't hate him for being immoral or irrational. This time, it was for knowing it all. For being right.
"Just think about it," said Cameron while sitting down at the table. "We could be Robert and Allison, not Chase and Cameron. We could be different people. Better people." She sounded dreamy, but Chase knew she'd never really change.
"Yeah, I guess," he replied, his mind elsewhere. He set the pan down on the table and then did the same with one containing sausages.
They served themselves and ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
Cameron wondered what was causing Chase to act so distant. He'd been the one who was so persistent to start a relationship, why was he acting so standoffish? Maybe he just needed a pick-me-up.
"Rob, why don't you go change into your pajamas? I'll clean up and we can watch a movie."
"Okay, then." His voice had lost its usual curiosity and spark.
He wandered to the bedroom, taking his time to change out of eh suit he was still wearing from his meeting. And when he saw House. He walked to his dresser, stubbing his toe on the bedpost. He cursed quietly and heard Cameron shifting through his movies.
"Rob, where's the DVD remote?" she called.
"Uhh, somewhere in there. Just look around." He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had time to watch a movie. He wondered why he even owned a DVD player to begin with.
Cameron opened a drawer in one of the end tables next to the couch, wishing she knew what the remote looked like. Resting on top of useless clutter was a file, a fresh file with a PPTH stamp right in the center. With no thought of any privacy breaching, perhaps from three years of sneaking into people's houses as a job requirement, she opened the file.
Her eyes scanned the page quickly, a know forming in her stomach. She noticed the shredding and folding of the corner, and bit her lip. Another job offer, but why wouldn't he tell her about it? She was offended, hurt. Why would he keep this a secret?
Chase slowly made his way to the living room. He froze in the doorway, seeing Cameron's lap filled with his file and her eyes filled with anger. "Shit, Allison…"
"What the hell, Robert? When were you going to mention this? Were you going to mention this?" She was yelling, but hiding her tears. Or maybe this time, there were none.
"Yeah," said his lips, with all signs of a no in his eyes.
"Why?" she pleaded desperately. "I…I thought I could…I trusted you Chase." Her eyes were bloodshot now, but there still were no tears.
"So did I," he replied coldly.
"What?" Tears were now visible, but had not yet fallen from her eyes. She hadn't lost it yet.
"I got a good job offer now, am I fixed enough for you to leave me alone now, Cameron?" Chase's face grew red and he could feel the hot rush of blood pulsing through his veins, threatening to explode.
"What the hell are you talking about?" she screamed, threatening to wake the neighbors.
"Oh, don't play dumb now, Cameron. You're an addict. You only wanted me because I was broken. Well guess what? I'm better now. I fixed myself, and I didn't- I don't need your help." He wanted to shove her away from him, out of his life. He didn't want their past, or their futures, and he certainly didn't want them together now. "Just…just go. Find someone else's misery to feed off of. Go same the world one sorry bastard at a time." His voice wasn't as loud as before, but the tone was still harsh and detached, not like him at all, inhumane really.
"You sound like House," she spat, her voice also quieter. "And you're wrong, I didn't want you because you're broken. But you're right. You don't need me. And I don't need you." She grabbed her keys off the coffee table, opened the door and turned around to face him one last time. "Good bye, Chase." The door slammed shut behind her, and she walked out just as abruptly as she'd walked into his life. He stood frozen, never to forget the single tear that had graced her cheek.
AN: And review! Even if you hate it, please, they keep me amused...and inspired. Keep them coming please!