Someone's screaming woke her up, the anguished cries penetrating the hospital's thin walls. She groaned, rolling over and putting the thin pillow over her head. Sure, it wasn't rare for patients to scream, but she was trying to get some sleep. And with House around, getting enough sleep was already a challenge.

The now familiar pain shot through her head, and she tipped out two Vicodin pills clumsily, swallowing them with a dash of water. The man was still yelling, and she shifted under the blankets, trying to resume a comfortable position. Please stop screaming, she thought miserably.

Sighing, she lay, sprawled out, staring at the ceiling. The screams sounded familiar, didn't they? They-

Her body froze up, and she found herself hugging her knees some time later, shaking with fear. Her entire body was covered with a cold sweat. Her breaths came in desperate gasps for air. What had just happened? Was that a memory? The screams had died down, and she tried to calm herself down, taking slow, shaky breaths that gradually became steadier. Okay. Okay. You're okay. She re-adjusted her sheets, pulling them back up. She didn't feel tired anymore.

She was sure she was coming to some revelation though, before the panic attack. The screaming man. That voice. Oh no.
She walked into his room hesitantly, the lights still off. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, head in his hands, not showing any sign of acknowledging her presence.

"I saw you die," he whispered without moving.

She took a seat beside him, wondering if she should initiate contact before folding her hands in her lap. "How did you know it was me?"

"Heard you wake up. Sorry."

"Don't be."

The silence dragged on for minutes, and Cameron felt her head begin to drop before he spoke again.

"I couldn't do anything about it. I was right there. You never woke up."

"I'm right here," she said, putting a hand on his leg as confirmation.

"I know. I just- I don't want to live without you," he said, voice cracking. "I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

"No, no... not at all." She wrapped her arms around him, felt the wet spots left behind on his gown from tears.

"I almost got us killed, I- I don't know if I could live with myself if-" He looked at her, face contorted in pain. "It- It sounds selfish, but- I really feel like I lost a piece of you that day." He shook his head, dirty blonde locks flying around. "I still had you, you know, but I lost my girlfriend."

She had no idea what to say back, arms suddenly feeling like dead weights. He was right, after all. There were memories he had that only he could carry the burden of now, both happy and sad. No one else would remember the times they shared together. But... "Hey, I've got an idea."

"Hm?"

"Come on." She held his larger hand in hers, leading him through the darkened halls of the hospital.

"Where are we going?"

She tried to navigate based on memory, scanning her surroundings. "Hang on. Careful on those steps."

She pushed open the heavy metal door, a strong blast of icy wind flapping the unwrapped parts of her hair around her face, the brown strands cutting like little blades. When they made it out, however, the night was clear, only a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the trees down below.

Chase walked out slowly, tucking a strand of his hair behind an ear. "The roof?"

"Yeah." She walked over to the ledge, taking a seat. "Figured we both needed some fresh air."

He sat beside her, watching the twinkling stars up above. "You know... I know you don't remember this, but I'm surprised you took me up here."

She leaned on his shoulder in a way that felt surprisingly natural. "Why's that?"

"One time," he said, crossing his legs, "we went to the roof of your apartment. Sat just like this, watching the stars."

"I don't know any constellations," she said, frowning at the sky.

"You didn't then, either," he said, looking longingly at the sky. "We made them up."

She laughed. "What, like kids?"

"You'd be surprised how much fun it was." He pointed at a cluster. "See, right there, that's House's cane."

"That looks nothing like-" she stared at the cluster again. "Actually..." she pointed at some others. "You know what that looks like?"

"What?"

"A cat." She looked at him for a response, but he had gotten lost in thought, gazing up above with an unexplained sadness. "Chase?"

He nodded silently. "Sorry. It's just that... that's what you said the first time."

She looked up with him, at the small twinkling lights that dotted the dark fabric of the sky.

"Foreman said my memory isn't coming back."

He didn't respond so she looked over at him, eyes glued upward, head nodding numbly, and she knew. What she had earlier interpreted as indifference was actually thinly veiled despair.

She didn't know how long they sat like that, staring at the sky silently. At one point in the night, his hand found its way over and she took it, wondering if this experience lived up to his memory. She saw a single tear, lit by the moonlight, trail down his cheek, and he wiped it away hastily, as if he didn't want her to see. She looked at his face, a few days' worth of stubble lining his cheeks. No. This probably wasn't how he remembered it. After a while, she wished him goodnight, got up, and prepared to leave, but took a long, last glance at his eyes transfixed to the stars.

The next morning, Cameron sat on her bed, hunched over in thought. Chase's words seemed to echo in her head. He had lost his girlfriend. She wasn't coming back. Every time she thought of his face, looking longingly for something, someone he could never have, it seemed to tighten a vice grip around her heart, telling her she was a fraud. A faint echo of the love they might have shared, the relationship they had.

"Guess what?" Foreman walked into the room, driving her thoughts from the topic. "Cuddy thinks you should go home."

"That's... good?" Cameron said, still trying to shake the troubled thoughts from her head. Why was he making that frustrated face?

Foreman, completely oblivious to the internal conflict that had previously taken place, continued. "See, the thing is, House wants you to stay. Because if you're going home, you can't come back here for a few weeks. And if you're not here, he can't make you do his bidding."

Cameron could already picture a displeased House making up some sort of ludicrous excuse why she had to stay. "What about the release form?"

He scoffed. "Yeah... Cuddy found out about that. It's void. And she took your file."

"So the consensus is..?

"I'm not your doctor anymore," he said with a grin. "You're going home."

Home. She had never been so relieved to be able to go home. There was just one last thing she needed to do.

"Hey." Cameron stood in the doorway of the diagnostics room, unsure if she should go any closer. Chase had been bent over a case file, but looked up as she entered. It was clear that neither of them had gotten much sleep last night, if any. His hair was darkened with oil that hadn't been washed out, thin strands of it hanging in front of his face.

He blinked wearily in her direction, eyebrows questioning. "Hey," he said, his voice pitching upward in question, not seeming to understand why she hadn't already entered.

She walked over to the familiar glass table, not daring to sit down. "We need to talk."

He nodded cautiously, eyes trailing her every movement.

The only way to do this was the rip the bandage off, she thought. She couldn't let this relationship play out.

"I... did some thinking. And I decided that... I can't do this."

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice suddenly raw, vulnerable.

"I can't do... us." She took a slow breath, trying to keep her voice steady. She had to do this. "Look, I... I'm keeping the baby, but..." she shook her head. "I'm not the girl you loved. I can't pretend to be her anymore."

He shook his head, eyes widening in desperation. "Allison, please-"

She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. "...Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I- I'm sorry for dragging you along these few days. I'm sorry for letting you think that- that this could work. It can't. It really can't."

He kicked back the chair and stood up, stumbling forward."I don't care if you're not the same person." He reached out and held on to her arms, his touch surprisingly gentle given the desperate edge in his voice. "What I said last night-"

"It's what you meant." She looked up into his eyes, the blue circles shining in unspoken pain. "I'm sure what we had was great. But that's not what it is anymore."

His head shook the faintest amount, eyes wide, the arms that held on to her trembling with effort. "If it's too soon, I'm willing to wait... Please-"

She shook her head, blinking away the first tears that had begun to form. "Goodbye, Chase." She took a final step back, his arms dropping to his sides like a puppet whose strings had been cut. "I'm sorry..."

She left the room, wet trails running down her cheeks as she left him in the middle of the room, trapped in a time only he could remember.