What If

Chapter Nine – Taking Back My Brave


"He'll be at work; I can just go in, get the baby's things and be out again within a half hour."

Cameron was reassuring herself as much as she placed Elle in his arms and grabbed her keys. He was becoming quite adept in how to handle a child now. But after a further four days living with House, it had become apparent that the baby really couldn't go on sleeping in her carry cot. And as sceptical as House was, Cameron was pretty strong for her size. She was sure she could heft the crib, a few baby clothes and some of her own clothes back to his apartment on her own.

Diapers and baby food she could simply buy, but there were only so many days she could alternate the few clothes of her daughters that had been in the baby bag before it was classed as child neglect. It was time to take a deep breath and step foot into the house she'd once called home for the last time. Or at least, the last time until she moved all of her own stuff out.

"Just…call if you need help. I'll send Wilson."

Cameron smiled and rolled her eyes at him. Typical. It sounded like he was willing to help…and then he delegated. It was quite impressive really, she had to admit. Giving Elle a quick kiss and House a smile of thanks, she headed down the steps toward her car. Glancing back, she couldn't help but think things were getting better already as the image of House stood in his doorway holding her daughter in his arms imprinted in her mind, even after he'd shut the door and she was halfway across town.

Pulling up outside the house, Cameron looked up at it and consciously eased her grip on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath and steeling herself before she got out of the car. She didn't let her fingers linger on the door key before she slid it into the lock and stepped inside. She was instantly filled with the sense of urgency, the need to get what she needed and get out. The memories of what they'd had, of what they'd lost…it was all still too raw. She wasn't ready to be back here. But she simply took yet another deep breath and moved toward Elle's nursery.

She pulled a small suitcase out from the bottom of the baby's closet and proceeded to pack Elle's clothes before she emptied the crib and moved them out into the living room. As she went toward her bedroom, she stopped dead. She could hear music and movement coming from inside and she slowly backed away, her mind providing all sorts of reasons why she could just take what she'd already packed and just leave. She didn't want confrontation right now.

But before she had chance to take another step, the bedroom door swung open and Andrew appeared, carrying what looked like bed sheets.
Maybe she wasn't the only one who couldn't think of their bed the same way again. The moment he caught sight of her he too froze, wondering if he was hallucinating. But as his eyes flickered over the suitcase and crib next to her, the realisation hit him. She was moving things out.

"Allison-"

"Please…don't make this hard. I just need some things; I'll move everything else out another time."

She flew past him into the bedroom, determined to grab some of her things and get herself out of the situation she desperately did not want to be in right now.

Of course, he followed her, continually trying to talk her down, get her to listen to him and maybe then they could 'work things out'. But she switched off, refusing to let his words register in her mind and instead focusing on what she was there for. The music he'd been playing in their room haunted her. It was a song they'd danced to at their wedding reception. She stopped for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she consciously blocked out the music, before biting her lip and carrying on with the job at hand.

He was well aware that she had chosen to drop by at a time in the day when he would normally be at work. He was well aware she'd planned to avoid seeing him. And he was well aware that she wasn't listening to him now.

"Please listen to me. It was all a mistake. I miss you and Elle. We can work something out but if you won't even talk to me-"

"And why should I? Why should I listen to a word you've got to say? Maybe if it was just once, with a complete stranger when you were drunk, I could consider forgiving you. But it wasn't! You've been sleeping with my sister for four years! Even when our daughter was born you still carried it on. So excuse me if I never want to see you again."

With that, she zipped up the suitcase she'd thrown her clothes into and shoved past him, not bothering to even glance at him as she did so. Having had the four days to really think about it all, she'd realised she didn't need him. She didn't need to be in a relationship when he had such little respect for her that he was happy to be sleeping with Abbie on the side. She didn't deserve it. All she'd ever done was love him and work hard through the ups and downs to keep it all together.

She made for the door; intent on loading up as much as she could so she wouldn't have to put herself through this again at least until some of the wounds had healed over. But he insisted on following, grabbing her arm as she got to the steps with her suitcase.

She jerked her arm out of his hold and immediately gasped as she lost balance. Her eyes wide, she tried to grab onto the railing as she missed her footing and fell, hard, down the eight steep steps down to the sidewalk. Her vision blurred as her head hit one of the railings and Andrew was beside her in seconds. She felt physically sick, her head throbbing and her whole left side screaming with pain at the force with which she'd hit the paving.

Pushing his hands away from her she struggled to sit up, a hand gingerly touching her head and finding it matted with blood. He was apologising incessantly and she didn't have the state of mind to scream at him to shut up like she so wanted to. Instead, she stumbled to her feet and tried to suppress the nausea sweeping over her in waves.

All she could think of was getting out of there as fast as possible, whilst his words filtered through to her in fits and starts, "concussion," and "bleeding" ricocheting around in her mind. She could hear her own breathing and her heart was racing, anxiety building up inside her as she threw the suitcase into the trunk and numbly retrieved both the crib and the baby's suitcase of clothes.

She left Andrew stood helplessly on the sidewalk as she started up the car and pulled out into the street, only thinking about being as far from him as possible.

As she drove, biting back the queasiness and trying to concentrate on the road, an agonisingly sharp pain bolted through her abdomen and she cried out, clutching her stomach as she tried desperately to keep control of the car. Luckily there was very little traffic about and other than a few angry horns blaring as she swerved, she managed to make it back to House's apartment otherwise unscathed.

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She was shaking as she dragged herself up to his door, weakly knocking before the door was opened. House's permanent frown deepened when he saw the state she was in. She had an already-bruising graze on her cheek and her whole body was trembling. Without thinking, he helped her to the sofa, demanding to know what had happened.

"What the hell did he do to you?"

His voice was like thunder, the look in his eyes matching it, and for a moment she felt safe. He wouldn't let anything else hurt her. But she couldn't find her voice. She was in shock and her body felt like ice, whilst her head and her left side felt like they were on fire.

He handed her a glass of water before joining her on the sofa, studying her carefully for a moment before beginning to examine the head injury she'd sustained. After a few gulps of the water she managed to stop her heart from beating quite so fast and found her voice again, though it was still shaky.

"I-it was an accident. He grabbed my arm and I fell down some steps. I think I hit my head on the railing."

He pulled back to look at her for a second, opening her eyes wide to assess her pupils. She knew he was checking for concussion and she also knew she probably did have a mild one from the sheer force of the fall. But that's not what worried her.

"I…was driving and I got a pain in my…in my stomach."

She looked fearfully up at him and he closed his eyes for a moment, a sigh passing his lips before he shook his head a little.

"For one thing, I can't believe you were stupid enough to drive in this state. And second…you know we should go and get you checked out properly. You've got a concussion but that pain in your abdomen…"

He didn't even need to say it, she knew. Her head was spinning and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She glanced over at Elle, sat playing happily as she pretended to read one of House's medical journals by the piano, and she grabbed House's hand, her eyes finding his.

"I don't want to lose this. I know I wished it had never happened, but…I don't want to lose it."

Tears slipped from her eyes and House looked down as the drops fell onto their linked hands. In the four days she'd been picking the pieces of her heart up off the floor, she'd come to realise that even if the baby was Andrew's, it was still hers too. And she'd love it just like she loved Elle. But now she faced the prospect of it all being taken away. And maybe it was for the best, but it sure didn't feel like that right now.

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"So, you fell and sustained a head injury and you're experiencing pain where?"

She knew Brenda the nurse quite well already, having dealt with her on numerous occasions (usually when the fiery nurse was coming to blows with House about one ethical issue or another) but the woman was being very nice to her despite their associations.

"In my abdomen and all down my left side. I think that's all just superficial bruising though," she gestured painfully to her side, "but…I'm pregnant. About 7 or 8 weeks, I think."

This news seemed to catch Brenda's attention and she immediately signalled for another nurse, whom Cameron vaguely remembered as Anna, and told her to fetch a portable ultra-sound. Cameron's heart sank. She was dreading it. As a doctor, she was well aware of what she would see on the ultrasound. Or rather, what she wouldn't see. A heartbeat.

Her blood test was sent to the lab marked as an urgent sample – which certainly didn't fill her with any confidence – and one of the OBGYN doctors was paged to perform an internal pelvic examination. It wasn't a pleasant experience at all and she understood perfectly what the doctor she only vaguely recognised was saying. She knew exactly what "dilation" meant and the hope she'd been clinging to was rapidly fading.

Anna returned with the ultra-sound and she held her breath as Brenda applied the gel to her still-flat stomach, closing her eyes and pleading silently that there'd be a heartbeat. She was steeling herself for the worst though, so it wouldn't hurt so much when her fears were confirmed.

After a few minutes of silence, Brenda removed the Doppler stick from her stomach and Cameron opened her eyes, trying to read her expression.

"Have I…?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron," Brenda said gently, as she wiped the gel away with a tissue, "You'll experience some bleeding over the next few days…I probably don't need to tell you this."

Cameron was numb. She'd expected it but to hear it confirmed that she'd miscarried…it was a real blow. Brenda offered her counselling if she wanted it, which she declined politely, and gave her a miscarriage leaflet. Not really feeling anything other than numbness, she made her way to Diagnostics.

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House had told her he'd be there, after dropping the baby off with Cuddy, who could be kept occupied for hours when given a baby. It would be a win-win situation: Cuddy got to mother the child to death whilst House got to easily dodge clinic hours for the duration. As she approached his office, her eyes surprisingly dry considering the loss she felt, she saw him sat in his chair, tossing his oversized tennis ball in the air. He was deep in thought.

She'd suspected that he'd been both afraid to overcrowd her if she needed space to let it sink in, and afraid to get too close to the personal stuff. It had been easier for both of them for her to go alone and she'd appreciated their unspoken agreement.

Slowly entering the office, she saw him studying her carefully and quickly broke eye contact, shifting her gaze to the floor. He knew by the look on her face that it wasn't good news.

"I've lost it. There was no heartbeat."

She said quietly, approaching his desk and wondering why her eyes weren't filled with tears, wondering why she felt nothing despite it all.

"It's probably for the best."

He said and she could feel his discomfort. She offered a rueful smile and nodded slightly. Beginning to throw the ball up in the air again, he shifted his eyes away from her.

"Maybe you should take time off."

"No," she responded, a little too quickly, "I…can't. I need to keep moving, keep…on my feet. If I don't, I'll crash. I can't sit around thinking about all of this right now. Maybe when it's not so painful and new."

He didn't reply, just maintained a steady gaze on her, deliquescence of the hardness in his features for no more than a second making her realise just how much he did care. He may never vocalise it, but it was those split seconds when his guard dropped that she would simply know. When she surprised him with inner strength he never gave her credit for, the resistance in him would waver and it was almost as if everything disappeared, an island of hope surrounding them, before being broken with a self-preservative remark from him. He was scared. She was scared. Maybe they could compromise and find some (safe) middle ground.

"I could...work three days a week, for now, I guess."

She was reluctant but compromise was what kept them above water. In his own silent, stoic way he was concerned about her and she acknowledged it with negotiation. There was a slight upward twitch of his lips and he was amused. She was learning.

"And look for a damn apartment during your time off."

He commented, but it lacked any kind of strength. He actually meant the opposite, she knew. She had realised now that, though he would probably never admit to it, he liked having her (and perhaps Elle too) around. He liked waking up to something other than the news report to keep him company. He liked his coffee waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom. And he liked the somewhat comfortable, subtle progression of a routine they'd already fallen into. Once he'd even put Elle to bed (with a large input from Cameron of course).

They didn't discuss this apparent relationship that was blooming between them. She was too frightened that acknowledging its presence would cause it to perhaps smash in some way. And he was too busy denying to himself that he was slowly but surely falling for her. But the thought had flitted across his mind (after one too many Vicodin) that he was beginning to like the person he was when he was around her.

She was patient, gentle and caring, and seemingly nothing he could do or say to her, no matter how rude or insensitive, could break her. Of course, she was already rather broken, and he could see the damage perfectly and painfully clearly whenever he looked into the tragic green pools of light in her eyes. She still had a spark though. She still refused to give up hope. He both abhorred and adored that quality, mocking her openly whilst secretly hoping she never gave up that naïve, innocent sense of expectation.

But whatever was slowly blossoming between them, she didn't want to spoil it by forcing emotions on him right now. She hoped that maybe, in finding the strength to leave Andrew for good, in summoning the courage to cope with the miscarriage and in taking things slow and steady, they could lean on each other and maybe…just maybe, things could work out for them.