Thanks to MissongCanceledShows for betaing.
Chapter 2: You'll Never Walk Alone
Wilson shook his head. "Remind me to never play cards with you again."
Cameron laughed. "When I was in foster care we would play poker all the time. Actually, any card game. Cards were cheap and easy to get. Harder to keep track of, but easier to hold onto then other things."
"So you got pretty good at cards?"
"It helped pay for college."
"No shit."
"Yeah. I got most of my books from poker games. And pool."
Her eyes were dancing, but her face was serious.
"Allison Cameron a hustler?"
"Yep. A kick ass one at that."
"I don't know."
Cameron shook her head mockingly. "You should know by now I'm not all sugar and spice and everything nice."
"Or nothing nice."
Cameron threw a nacho at him. They were on their second round of nachos, third round of coffee. Neither was up for getting drunk.
Plus, they had to work tomorrow. It would be easier to get wasted on Friday so they didn't come into work feeling like crap. That was something House would do.
"Take that back James Wilson!"
"Never."
"Al, you know the rules."
Allison stared at the second nacho she was holding – considering. With a sigh she set it back down.
"Rules?"
"I have to clean up the food I throw." She replied mournfully, looking like a kicked puppy.
"Poor baby."
"I know, right?"
Her pager vibrated on her hip and Allison looked down.
"You on call?"
"Yeah. I didn't think I'd get called in. Usually the bloody massacres are saved for Fridays." She stood up and grabbed her bag.
"Alice!"
"Yes dear?"
"I have to go, I'm on call. But Jimmy's going to stay some more. Put it on my tab?"
Alice laughed.
The 'tab' Alison referred to was non-existent and had been for as long as Alice had owned the restaurant.
"Sure. You call me, alright?"
"Yes'um."
Allison turned to Jimmy, and he stood up, ready to leave.
"Stay." She insisted. "At least for another drink. Alice will keep you company."
Before Wilson could reply Allison disappeared out the door and Alice was sliding across from him.
"Allie said that you just lost someone you loved. I'm very sorry.. According to her I'm a good listener. But if you don't want to talk about it, I understand."
"No actually." Wilson cupped his hands around his coffee. The words spilled out of his lips before he could stop himself.
"She could be a bitch, she really could. Her name was Amber, but my best friend called her Cut-Throat-Bitch. To everyone who didn't know her she was as cold as hell. It was all an act. Her childhood – her parents were rich, and she grew up with her nannies, who kept quitting or getting fired. Eventually she just figured it would be better not to feel anything at all. No one cared about her emotions anyway.
Amber – she had the most beautiful laugh. Ya'know, most people admire the way someone looks or how they act – but her laugh. When she laughed you could tell how happy she was. Her favorite color was pink, but she never told anyone that, because she thought that a pastel pink would make her sound soft. She loved to dance, and could make the best fajitas. She had a great sense of humor, but whenever she was talking to other people she was very sarcastic, very sly in getting her way.
The night that she died – she was going to pick up House." Wilson paused. Of course Allison probably had told Alice about House. "She was in the bus crash, and – well, it led to other things. She died three weeks, two days and six hours ago."
Wilson rested his head on the table, tears flowing freely.
"I never had just one steady girlfriend or wife before." He whispered. "But with Amber – she was just – it. I loved her more then I had loved anyone before and I don't know what to do know that she's gone."
Alice leaned over and placed her hand on top of Wilson's.
"I would tell you that I am very sorry for your loss James, but as you probably know those words don't mean a lot. My Jacob – well, you know that he was just a baby when he died. Allison lost Jacob and then years later she lost Raymond. I'll tell you what I used to tell her. You may feel like you're all alone in the world, and no one feels your pain. But someone will always be with you. Be it in spirit or physically. And Amber will always be in your heart."
"But what if she's not?"
"Cliché as it is James, it was probably better to have loved her and lost her then to have loved no one and wandered through life looking for someone to fill the empty spot in your heart."
"It's empty again."
"No, it's not."
"Yes it is."
"You have memories of her, don't you? You have Allison who understands your grief as her own. You have new understanding in the world and acceptance."
"Not a lot to replace Amber."
"Who said that it was supposed to replace her James?" Wilson propped his chin up on his hands and watched as Alice stood for a moment and came back with the coffee pot, refilling his coffee and getting herself one.
"It's not supposed to replace her?"
"Nothing is ever going to replace her. There's a spot in your heart for her. Other people can only fill that hole somewhat. You loved her James, as simple as that. Nothing is going to make you stop loving her."
One Week later
"AJ! AJ! Wake up." Cold hands shaking her body. "He's home."
"Don't worry." A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "I'll take care of you Jake." Allison lifted the blankets a little and allowed her six year old foster brother to slip under the covers and curl against her.
"Just close your eyes. I'm here." She took a deep breath and scooted lower until her mouth was right next to his ear.
"Hey, Jake, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
Hey Jake don't be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better
And any time you feel pain, hey Jake, refrain
Don't carry the world upon your shou-"
"Jacob! Where are you! Allison get you little ass down here and bring Jacob with you." The drunken slamming of doors sounded and Jake whimpered.
"Give it a minute; he'll probably pass out soon."
"Allison, when I said to get down here I meant now!"
Allison slipped out of the bed, and picked Jake up.
"Remember; don't let him see you cry." A minute later she appeared at the top of the stairs. "We're right here sir."
"Get down here." She took the steps slow and careful, Jake hiding in her shoulder.
"When I tell you to get down here, you get down here." Allison could see Linda standing behind her husband, sporting a split lip and a cheek reddened in the shape of a hand.
"Just leave them alone for tonight." She pleaded.
"I'm teaching Allison a lesson on manners. Put Jacob down."
"Don't worry Jake; I won't let him hurt you." Gently she set him down on his feet and walked over to Ron, standing in front of him on trembling legs.
"You were slow getting down here."
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not. And you need to learn your lesson." Allison nodded, wondering what it would be that time. A beating maybe. She had gone without food before, slept outside, been put in an ice bath, had her hands held over a stove.
"Jacob, come over here." He glanced at Alison and at her nod, scampered over to Ron.
It didn't even occur to her to be frightened when he pulled the Glock out of his pocket. The countless times he had threatened her and Jacob with it in the past two years made her almost immune to fear. She was more afraid of him then the cold, hard, metal.
The first shot splattered blood all over her night gown as she stumbled towards Jake, trying to save him from the bullet that embedded itself in his arm. The second shot hit the frame across the room. The third shot was steadier and went into Jacob's chest. It cut his cries off almost immediately, but another two went into his body and the sixth shot went into the ceiling. Seven was aimed at Linda, and eight went into Allison's leg as she fell and she watched with detached shock as the ninth bullet went into Linda's back as she turned to run and the tenth went into Ron's skull.
She only had enough energy to drag herself over to cradle Jacob in her arms.
Although she didn't know it, the police would be there soon, swarming around a small ten year old girl covered in blood with a bullet in her thigh, as she rocked a dead boy, sobbing and singing 'Hey Jude' repeatedly.
Allison woke up to the sound of her hoarse voice screaming. A muffled sob made its way out of her throat and she pulled her knees to her chest.
Jacob was still haunting her dreams and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. Her fingers itched and the phone was in her hand, Wilson's cell phone ringing before she really thought that idea out. At least it was Saturday.
"Wilson." The voice was thick with sleep and Allison winced, wishing that at least one person would get a good rest.
"Jimmy, its Allison."
"Can't sleep still?"
"Nope."
"Alice's in fifteen?"
"See you then."
She disconnected the phone and pulled on some jeans, twisting her hair up into a loose bun. Her thigh protested and Cameron rubbed the scar that was a reminder of that fateful night.
It was barely noticeable, and hadn't caused her pain in years, except for the occasional moment where psychological effects set in. The days after the shooting though – she might have been able to give House a run for his money.
Foster care had not been very kind to Allison. Her mother had given her up for adoption – she had been seventeen years old and not ready for a baby.
For the first six years of her life, she was okay.
Sundays in a scratchy dress and shiny black shoes with Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me so spilling from her lips in front of the congregation.
But due to some technical glitch, the Henderson's hadn't been able to adopt her. And with their goodbyes, God had disappeared too.
Back in the system, a year and various foster homes later she had met and fallen in love with baby Jacob. He was colicky. Cried too much, ate too much, ran around like a little hellion at two years old. They were the best couple around.
With Allison, Jacob wore his shoes and ate at the table. He kept his hair combed. And once again she was at church, little ones to Him belong; they are weak but He is strong pulled from her mouth.
Jacob and Allison were too much, and it was back to foster care. They were inseparable. A few more foster homes, a few more years, some Temples, some churches and Ron and Linda were found.
The children sing,
The children dream,
Linda was a woman who had been born to be a mother but hadn't been graced with children.
Ron was not, nor should he ever have been a father.
And their tears may fall but we'll hear them call
And another song will rise
Abusive from day one until the end two years later, Allison wondered how Ron had passed the foster care inspection.
But as she had always known, there were the lucky ones and then there were the ones who slipped through the cracks. She and Jacob hadn't slipped through the cracks, they had fallen, and fallen hard.
Jacob's funeral had been held on a clear day, the sun shining brightly.
Jesus loves me! He will stay
Close beside me all the way.
Thou hast bled and died for me,
I will henceforth live for Thee.
Allison had sobbed so hard she had hyperventilated. And the next day a badass had been born.
It had been pretty impossible to place her in any home. Finally, she had been sent to a couple that had never fostered before, but had wanted another child.
Heather and Ross Cameron were in their early thirties when they agreed to foster thirteen year old Allison Jane. Their three children Brandon (8), Nicole (6), and Theodore (3) had welcomed the blue-haired teenager with open arms. The whole extended family had accepted her, and that was that.
Two years later Fifteen year old Ian had joined their family.
They were a slightly dysfunctional family, but it worked. They had taken her in - taken her in, and loved her like very few people had.
The Cameron's were Jewish, so there was no more church for Allison to go to.
Not that she would have gone all that easily anyway. God no longer had a place in her life. There was Temple to go to, but she accepted it as one of those things that you did for other people.
The music was comforting though. She liked the way the Hebrew rolled off of her tongue, not really meaning anything to her, but sounding like a prayer on its own.
She beat Wilson to Alice's by twenty minutes, and let herself into the place. It wasn't due to open for another two hours.
A cup of coffee rested in her hands, and she didn't realize she was singing until another voice joined hers.
"Y'hay sh'lama raba meen sh'maya y'cha-yim aleynu v'al kol Yiserial ve'imru amen
O'she shalom beem-romav, hoo ya'ah-seh shalom aleynu v'al kol Yisrael, ve'imru amen"
Wilson stared at her and Cameron just shrugged her shoulders.
May there be peace and life for all of us and for Israel. Let us say, Amen.
Let He who makes peace in the heavens, grant peace to all of us and to all Israel. Let us say, Amen.
"You never told me you were Jewish."
"I'm not." Allison grabbed another cup and poured some coffee into it before handing it to Jimmy and sitting back down. "My parents are Jewish. I never had a Bat Mitzvah because I was over thirteen, and I didn't want one when they adopted me. But I know the prayers, light the candles, and on occasion will go to temple to make them happy."
"Not a believer?"
"I used to be. And then life happened."
"Life always happens. It's called living."
"There was a time I didn't do that." Allison pointed out. "There were a few days you lived in a daze too."
"I probably still would be. It's good to have someone with you who understands you."
"It is."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nope." They continued drinking their coffee in silence.
The thing about friends like them was that you didn't need words to explain your pain.
Songs:
Hey Jude – The Beatles
Jesus Loves Me
Not By Might, Not By Power – Debbie Friedman
Mourners Kaddish