A/N: Alright. So I think we can safely say that I am the worst author ever. I can't believe it's been over a year. I've been so busy sometimes and other times, just downright lazy. But I can't be making excuses for myself. I keep telling myself that there's no time to write new chapters and I just find that this little chapter has been in my computer for months. MONTHS. Guess who feels totally stupid? So despite the ridiculous time gap between chapters, I do see that some people still want the story to go on. So despite my awful habits regarding being consistent with time, I want to be able to continue with the story so you guys can be satisfied. Haha :) Apologies to everyone who waited, whether it was for a month or a year. It's busy (I know. Again with the excuses.) with finals around the corner, but I want to continue writing. Can you guys forgive me?
(This note is terribly long. Again, apologies for that. Have fun reading.)
"Oh sorry, that's mine," she said when the vibrations sound echoed throughout the room. "It's Chase, I should probably-"
"Oh yeah, right, go ahead," I answered when I noticed she wasn't sure if it was okay with me. It's my first night being switched like this. Why was I fighting it? Knowing my luck, it's not going to end in the next three minutes. I'll probably be stuck like this for a while so I should start accepting it. I sure as hell won't like it, but it won't change. Unless of course, they break up, suddenly and for some stupid reason. But even that is unlikely, considering Remy's sheepish personality with him. And Chase sure as hell wouldn't dump the girl who not only is a brilliant and quick-thinking doctor, but is the sweetest woman you will ever meet. Plus she's beautiful, no small factor in his mind.
I could barely hear the soft footfalls on the hardwood floor as she ran into the kitchen, conveniently adjoined to the living room. It didn't really make much of a difference, I could still hear her, but I figured if she felt as though she had some space, it might make the brunette more comfortable.
"Hey hun," she answered with a gentle smile on her face confirming my prior thoughts about the stability of their relationship. The small inflection in her voice left me with no doubt about her affections for the Aussie.I felt a drilling sensation in my heart, but I continued looking and listening anyways. "Glad you got the text…yeah, she offered to let me stay over for a bit…well, I was gonna drive home, but I'm really tired and I don't want to risk an accident…yeah, the ER really wore me out I guess, but what can you do? ….don't worry, I'll try not to make the first move." I almost laughed. Thanks Chase. I really appreciate that you think I can't control my bisexuality. Just because I offered to let her stay the night doesn't mean I'm gonna seduce your girlfriend. I want to, I really want to, but I won't. "Alright, well I'll see you tomorrow? Oh…no, no, it's nothing! It's just you didn't tell me that. I don't know, I think it would be kind of important that I know. Whatever, it's so late and I don't want to get fussy so I'll just see you soon."
The gentle smile that had graced her face at the start of the conversation had slowly faded into a look of disappointment when she hung up the phone. But what surprised me even more was following her silent little sigh. She was one hell of an actor, I'll give her that, for upon turning back to me she had a little bounce in her step and a big smile plastered onto her face. This time she sat a little closer to me and facing her I decided to take a chance. That's when I thought maybe this Remy wasn't so different from mine after all.
"Hey, everything okay?" I asked, having witnessed the erection of the façade.
"Yeah, everything is even better than okay. I just got a call from Chase, no big deal. He got the text and was just telling me he was fine with it." The line came out so well, I almost believed it. Almost.
I hope that this isn't me just overreacting, but why the hell does she need Chase's approval to do something. 'Oh sorry, can't watch zombie things. Chase doesn't like it.', 'Oh sorry, I need to get an okay from Chase before I can stay the night.' Remy is a grown woman, she doesn't need to be babysat by Chase. Let her make her own damn decisions! "Oh okay."
She giggled a little and I debated on whether to press further. In this world it was none of my business, but my own feelings for Remy goaded me into being rash, to try and push through the barriers she had built.
"It's just that…"
"Huh?"
I took a deep breath, "I sort of eavesdropped on your call. I just have really good hearing and I could hear a tiny bit of it," I lied. Well partially lied. I really do have good hearing. "I didn't really hear the exact words," another lie. "But you sounded really sad. And then you just came here so happily, it makes me feel bad that you have to mask yourself for another person's sake."
Crack.
I could practically hear it. The crack in her mask was now showing and her smile became obviously forced. Her vibrant teal eyes clouded with a phantom of happiness trying its hardest to cover up the sorrow beneath. I felt proud that I had managed to slip inside her walls, but at the same time I felt regret for hurting her stabbing at my own heart. Perhaps it's better that I let her true colors show rather than let her keep them bottled up inside. I took her hands in mine and was surprised at how they looked and felt.
"Remy are you okay?" I whispered in the calmest voice I could give. I tried to touch her, comfort her in some way, but she rejected anything and everything I had to offer her.
"No, I am not okay! I will never be fucking okay!" she sobbed, hunched over on the floor. "I'm done. I'm dead!"
"Why? What happened?"
"Amber happened. House happened. Life fucking happened."
"Rem-"
"Don't 'Rem' me! I caved. I swore I would never do it, but I went on and did it anyways…" she tried continuing, but was getting to choked by sobs. She broke out into more tears.
I knew what happened. I knew what happened, but I hope to God that I would be wrong. I shook my head and crossed my arms, literally trying to hold myself together, "No…no no no no. It can't-"
"It can. It can and it has! I have Huntington's. No ifs, ands, or buts, I have it. I'm dead!"
I couldn't do it. I tried to control myself. Blink a few time, take deep breaths, bite my lip, but I couldn't stop it from happening. The first tear slowly fell down my cheek, all alone until it dried out midway down my cheek. Then my eyes took on a mind of their own. Tears flowed down, fell off the bottom of my chin, dripped off the tip of my nose. "No, it can't! The test is wrong. You're gonna be okay!"
"The test isn't wrong! It wasn't the first time and it wasn't the second, stupid time I double checked," Remy cried.
I sat down next to her, gathering her into my arms, letting her cry into my shoulder. I forced my own tears back. This was about her. She was the one dying. I need to be strong for her, I need to support her.
We took a week off work together. Her to deal with her discovery and me to make sure she didn't do anything stupid or dangerous. All that happened howeverwas that Remy remained idle, vacant at best. I swear, for the first day home, She was completely comatose. She simplylay in bed under the protection of a woolen comforter and a few satin sheets. I even slept in the guest room because I was too afraid to disturb her.
The first time I saw her after her sorrow fasting was the next day. I was making blueberry pancakes when I heard the hardwood floor creak. When I turned, I saw her and she was almost unrecognizable. Sure, I've woken up next to her and seen how she looks first thing in the morning but this was a completely different story.
She came out in an oversized t-shirt and spandex shorts. Her walk was more like a shamble, her feet dragged themselves along the floor to the closest chair at the kitchen island. Her arms looked as if they were too heavy for her to handle, just flopping around at her side. Her face was worse. Her eyes and nose were drastically red, the bags under her eyes puffy, and her cheeks a mixture sullen pink and obvious tear tracks. Her lips were chapped and I could see areas of dark red where her lips had split, bled, and dried up. Her hair was supposed to be tied up in a lazy bun, but staying in bed for so long had pulled out some strands that just dangled and waved around her neck. Her skin was pale white, except for her hands and feet, which looked red. When she sat down at the island, I caught a glimpse of her wrists and I could see the blue and purples of her veins clearly in contrast to her white skin.
She barely ate that day. She barely did anything that day. But it was something and I'm thankful for that. Nearing the end of the week, she seemed to be recovering relatively well. The color returned to her face and body, the dark bags under the eyes gone, and the colorful veins died down.
Yet despite the smile she had on her face when I talked to her, I remember her the way her hands were, not only by the end of the week, but for weeks after that. Weeks when she would be laughing alongside Chase and Foreman and Taub.
I couldn't help but think of this traumatic moment for her when I noticed her hands.
Sickly and fragile and pale they were…much like they are now.