AN: Sorry this took so long. It's been busy. Thanks to my frequent reviewers, you guys keep me going. There will probably be one or two chapters left after this, (most likely one) so it's coming to a close. Enjoy!

Chase finally gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed at 4:30. He stood next to it for a moment, confirming that the bed was indeed as empty as it had felt. The pillow near the window was still indented from Cameron's head, and the curtains were still open because she liked to wake with the sun on her face.

Chase stormed around the bed and ripped the curtains across the rod, closing them against the outside world. He then fluffed up the pillow to get rid of her mark, but the sweet strawberry scent still lingered in the air. He chucked the pillow against the wall and ripped his sheets from the bed. He needed to wash every trace of her away. He needed to forget her forever. He needed to stop loving her.

He stomped to the dresser and pulled open the second drawer. He had her keep her clothes in it back when they were 'friends with benefits', or coworkers with benefits, really. She'd never come back for them, and he hadn't dared bring them to work, the ridicule would have been overwhelming. Chase imagined his small section of her closet and eh wanted to tear his way down the streets and get his stuff back. If he couldn't have her, she couldn't have him either. You never really had her to begin with, though. But she's always had you, he thought bitterly. He jerked the drawer out of the dresser and dumped it onto the floor. She folded her clothes to allow for maximum use of the drawer, and then ironed them in the mornings. Chase scoffed at how he would love to watch her iron, how he'd wish she'd iron his clothes too while he made her coffee. They'd make small talk and gently kiss each other at frequent intervals. Almost like they were married.

Chase threw away this fantasy along with all of the others. He began kicking and crumpling her clothes, wishing the wrinkles were permanent. But then her realized that if Cameron ever came back for her clothes, she'd iron away the wrinkles easily, just like she'd easily let go of him.

He looked in disgust at the mess of her on his floor. He feared she'd show up to get her stuff back, and the last thing Chase wanted was to see her again, face to face. Chase dug an old box out from the hall closet, dumped the few hats it held onto the floor, and tossed her every article of clothing into it.

Chase decided to work his way through each room, sorting out almost everything he owned into three piles: Cameron's, wash, and throw away.

He started in the bedroom. Every piece of his clothing he could ever remember her complimenting was to be either washed or thrown out. The clothes that she'd grimaced at were brought back to the front of the closet to be worn more frequently. He threw away several pairs of his boxers that he knew she liked. He tossed her book and lotion and God knows what else was on her bedside table into her box. It was filling quickly. He stepped back to ski9m the room, with a strong desire to throw the bed out too.

He walked into the living room. There wasn't much in here that made him think of Cameron. He took any dirty dished of hers that they'd been too lazy to do and placed them on top of his clothes and sheets. Chase opened the junk drawer and took out the picture of her one of their patients had taken and given to him. Chase stood there for a while, staring at her intently. She was beautiful; there was no denying it. He supposed there was no harm in keeping this to remember by in the coming years. This was better to look at than the image of her leaving that was running through his head.

Slowly, chase walked to his room and placed the picture in her now empty dresser drawer. He then made his ay back to the living room and scrubbed down the couch with some upholstery cleaner.

Next was the bathroom. She had a small collection of make up and such in here. He took especially long to move it tot her box. Carefully, so she wouldn't be able to tell, he thoroughly examined everything. He gazed at her gold eye shadow that made her green eyes so beautiful and bright. He stared at he deep red lipstick, realizing that most of it ended up on his body anyway. He threw it out. There was no way any other man would get smothered with the same lipstick.

In the kitchen, Chase removed every dish, cup, and utensil they'd ever used together. He stacked them in the wash pile. Even if they were already clean, she'd still touched them, and as far as he was concerned, Cameron's touch was a curse.

He walked back into the bathroom and noticed he'd forgotten her brush. He tossed it into her box and wondered how many of her hairs littered the apartment, how many of her eyelashes had fallen to the floor, how many tears were seeping into his things. Why did she touch everything? Why does everything remind me of her?

He vacuumed and dusted away every one of her cells left behind. He mopped her tears off of his cold kitchen tiles. Finally, he decided his house had been Cameron-proofed. As far as anyone knew, she'd never been here before. Chase closed her box, taped it shut, scribbled 'Cameron' hastily on the top, and sat it outside his apartment door. This way, if she came for it, he wouldn't have to see her, or if someone stole it, her stuff would be gone from here anyway. He didn't really care if she got it all back, as long as Chase never had to look at her again, he knew he'd be fine.

He returned to his wash pile and threw his sheets into the washer. Her scent, her taste, her touch, was all so sweet, and for a moment he regretted washing away Cameron. But Chase knew that he'd never learn how to resist her again otherwise, so he poured in the detergent and set it to the highest temperature. He returned back to the wash pile, carrying all of the dishes to the kitchen. He turned on the scalding water and used an entire container of dish soap to thoroughly scrub away every bit of Cameron on them. Chase looked at the clock on the stove. 9:43. He'd been at it for over five hours, erasing and scrubbing and cleansing he away, but she still scarred his memory. The way her fingertips brushed delicately against his cheeks, how cute her voice was when she got defensive, her wonderful yet forbidden taste; all this he needed to rid himself of.

Chase stripped hastily and climbed into the shower. He turned the water on as hot as possible, so his pink fleshy hands from the dishes would match the rest of his body. He looked down at the bites, cuts, and other marks left from their rough nights. The nail marks in his chest had scabbed over. He scrubbed at them, erasing them away, erasing Cameron away, causing himself to bleed again. Vaguely he wondered if he'd scar and carry a reminder of her, printed plainly on his chest, forever.

She walks in apprehensively, hoping he'll be here. She's already checked his empty apartment, and seeing his car parked out front, she'd walked to the nearest pub. Scanning the dimly lit bar, she spots him sitting alone with a sandwich in front of him. She draws a deep breath, marches over, and sits down next to him. It's time now, she tells herself. "Hey."

He looks over, surprised. "Hey," he returns, his eyes sliding up and down her body quickly, just to make sure she's real. 'You look great."

She tries to brush this off. How could he be so relaxed at times like these? Her palms feel sweaty and her face flushed. "You know House firing you has nothing to do with you?" She knows he's not perfect, he's got plenty of flaws that she really hates, she just can't think of any right now. But she also knows he doesn't deserve this, and he needs to know it too, know that she knows.

"The way doesn't matter," he says simply, and she wonders how he's taking this so lightly.

"Foreman will end up staying, and House will call you and yell at you for not showing up." She surprises herself with her matter-of-fact tone. She wants to believe this as much as she knows that it's not true.

"It's…it's okay. He's right, it's time for a change."

No, she pleads inside, his tone so soft that she thinks maybe he really is okay with this.

"You were right too, the whole it's Tuesday, I like you…it was silly."

She wants to scream, to tell him how she can't work without him. How she almost looked forward to Tuesdays in a strange way. She liked knowing he'd always be there; always care. But now he's blowing it off as silly. She wishes she could just come home and cry. She doesn't realize the look of udder pity on her face for him, for her.

"Oh, don't give me that look. Don't feel sorry for me." She loves his controlling tone; at least someone knows what's going on. But she also hates how much he doesn't want sympathy; need it. "Getting this job was the best thing that's ever happened to me. And losing it? Well I…think it's…gonna be good too."

She hears the hope, not confidence, in his voice, and realized how uncertain the future really is for him. "I'll miss you," she says before she can stop herself. She does honestly mean it though.

He looks confused for a moment. "Have you got time for a drink or something?" he questions.

"I…I think I should go." She feels awful for giving him mixed signals, but she won't let herself get close to him. She knows how it will end, and she can't deal with losing anyone else.

He shrugs, and she sees the hurt slide from his eyes quickly. He's used to her rejection, just not sure why there's so much of it. "Yeah."

She stands up, quickly and quietly, and exits the building. She rushes to her car and sits behind the wheel, her keys still in her pocket. She's confused and alone. How long can I detach myself from everyone? Will I be alone forever? She drives off finally, scared of who she is and who she'll be.

Cameron woke blearily, wondering when she'd actually fallen asleep. Yesterday hit her fast and hard, and she erupted into a fresh wave of tears that ran down the stale trails still on her cheeks. She needed to sort things out; physically, mentally, emotionally.

She got out of bed, the side Chase had always used, and opened her closet. Off in the back corner were his clothes, neatly hanging. She scooped them in her arms and laid them across the bed. Gently, Cameron sat down next to them. She laid on her back the rolled over onto them, picturing Chase there under her. She inhaled, willing herself to believe he was there. She failed. As much as she could smell his fresh, clean sent, fell the crisp threads of his shirt, she knew he wasn't really there. She gingerly picked up her head, noticing the tears that stained his shirt.

Cameron got up again, changed into one of his t-shirts, and walked into the living room. Her eyes rested on the spot next to the door where they'd first kissed. She pressed her back against the wall. The surprising cold of it made her body freeze up. She closed her eyes, imagining Chase's arms around her, instantly warming and relaxing her.

She put on a pot of coffee, remembering how he'd often hand her a mug at work. Cameron picked up her mug from the counter and carried it into the living room. She sat on the couch, recalling Chase sitting in the same spot. She needed to sort out her emotions, never had she gotten this dependent on a man. With her husband, well, she knew from the beginning he'd die. She never had relied on him to be there.

What made Chase so different, then? She knew she liked him, wanted to be with him, cared about him. But did she love him? Had she loved Mike?

Mike was her first true love. She'd loved him practically the instant she met him. Was he the start of her addiction? She supposed he was, if Chase was really right about her.

Why did she marry Mike? Because she loved him. Why did she fall for Joe? Because she loved him, they'd been through a lot together, and she'd trusted him not to leave her.Why did she like House? That one was still a mystery. Maybe it was because he was damaged, but one case was hardly an addiction. And finally, why Chase?

He was sweet, smart, and good-looking, but there was more to it than that. Chase had always been there, and she figured he always would be. As long as he was there to remind her on every Tuesday, she felt safe, like he had first dibs on her. And she liked that.

But then House fired him. Those few days without Chase had been rough. A lot of work to distract her, but every spare second was spent thinking of him, how much she'd missed him. How she wouldn't be able to work without him.

She'd resigned for the man. She'd spent every day with the man. She'd used every excuse she could to sleep with the man. She trusted him, needed him. She felt comfort in his heart, safety in his arms. If that wasn't love, then Cameron had no idea what the hell was.

The world seemed to melt away, and all she could think of was how she'd left him, let him go. In a swift movement of realization, she shot off the couch and out the door, hoping she'd find him.

Chase looked from the folder to the phone. He knew he wasn't thinking rationally, but he never did have much common sense to begin with. Chase picked up the phone, dialed, and waited.

"Hello, Dr. Cuddy's office. How may I help you?"

"Can you direct me right to her please?" He sounded nervous, but he'd expected to.

"One minute, please." He hated how the secretary handled this so nonchalantly. How she didn't care he was making a major life decision based on his anger.

"Hello?" the voice cut through his thoughts.

"Dr. Cuddy, it's Chase. I'm calling about that…other offer."

"Yes, you've made your decision?"

"Yeah. I'm taking it." He hoped she didn't hear the sudden surge of anger in his voice; anger for Cameron, anger for House, anger for himself.

"Are you sure?" She seemed to know he wasn't thinking rationally, and he hated this about his ex-boss's boss.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He forced his voice to sound determined to take the job.

"Okay, then. Why don't you come down here tomorrow afternoon? I want to call them when you're here. Around one okay?" He figured she knew more than she was letting on, but silently thanked her for not prying.

"Yeah. Sure. Good bye." His mind was spinning as he hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Everything felt so bitter. It wasn't like this with Cameron around. As he thought this, he realized that he simply couldn't pack up and leave Princeton without closure. The last thing he wanted to do was see her again, but he didn't want to leave while still loving her.

Chase walked around the back of the diner. Slowly, he traced the same path that he had with Cameron. He brushed his fingertips across the petals of the flowers he had picked for her so long ago. When she still had rejected him. Nothing's changed, he thought miserably. He'd planned on sitting on their bench to remind himself of all the pain she'd caused him to make it easier to leave. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a slender figure already sitting there. Before he could turn and run away from her, she spoke.

"Rob."

He couldn't move. He felt his feet turn to stone too heavy to lift and his brain melt to mush too stupid to think.

Cameron stood up and slowly, precautiously, made her way over to him. "Rob, hi," she said breathily. She'd been waiting for him, hoping, praying even, that he'd come. And now that he stood before her, she didn't know what to say.

"What, Cameron?" he finally managed to frostily blurt out.

"Come here." She led him to the bench, his feet surprisingly following. "You brought me her to tell me that you loved me. Now, I want to do the same."

His jaw hung open slightly, at a loss for words.

"I realized that I couldn't be without you. I was wrong. I do need you. Robert, I love you." The hot and humid atmosphere felt like an additional weight to the already heavy situation.

He stood up and pried himself away from her gaze. "Cameron, I've spent my whole day getting rid of you. Physically, mentally, emotionally. You can't just come crawling back and expect me to take you. I don't love you anymore."

She too stood up, her eyes welling with tears. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to detach himself, from emotions or her, he was supposed to bring them together and keep them that way. "No, Robert," she moaned, tears falling freely.

"I'm sorry. I really don't need you." He stuck his hands in his pockets and focused on a brilliant blue flower woven up a fence somewhere behind her. "And don't call me Robert." As much as he'd liked it, now it was unnecessary. A reminder of who they were, not who he was.

"Chase." She walked over to him, inches away giving him to choice but to look into her watering, hurt eyes. "Love me," she commanded. "Please."

She was sobbing now, but he no longer felt the urge to comfort her. He just wanted to leave.

Cameron slowly reached up and grabbed his face, running her fingers through his hair. She closed her eyes, letting a few fresh tears fall, and gently pressed her lips to his.

Chase didn't move. His hands stayed in his pockets, his eyes stayed open, staring at the mascara that was melting under her eyes.

He felt her sob harder, her body almost convulsing. Still, Chase didn't return her kiss, but kept his lips in a closed, straight line, waiting for her to stop. She pressed harder, but he wouldn't give in. Her arms pulled tightly, trying to commit the emotional with physical. Finally, she drew back.

"Chase, please." She sounded so lost and insignificant. "I love you, really. Just in a different way than I loved Mike. More," she added meekly. "Just kiss me."

He didn't know whether to believe her nor now, but he did know that he didn't share her feelings. He started to leave, and she pushed herself into him more, sobbing harder. "I love you," she cried while pounding her fists into his chest. He didn't flinch, didn't react at all. "Tell me you love me. Kiss me, Chase."

He stepped back and peeled away from her in the muggy air. Chase hardly noticed that he crushed a daffodil under his foot. He felt sorry for leaving such a broken down woman alone, but being around her seemed to suck all of the life out of him. More than being away from her did. He turned his back to her.

"Wait," she wept. "You're telling me you feel nothing? Absolutely nothing?"

He stopped, recognizing the words as his own. Turning slowly, he faced her one last time. "Yeah, I guess I am." With that he walked out of the garden, away from a relationship, away from Cameron, away from love.

AN: So love it, hate it, I want to know. I'm open to suggestions, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to fit them in. Even if you've reviewed a previous chapter, feel free to review this one too. Next chapter up soon...