Chicago
A.N. Cameron references an older brother in S3E17 'Fetal Position'. I've added a younger one because I have two myself. The title comes from a Frank Sinatra song I heard recently.
Cameron padded downstairs Christmas morning to find her father at the kettle in the kitchen. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart. How did you sleep?".
"Merry Christmas, dad. Very well, actually". Consistent sleep had been elusive this last week and a half for obvious reasons, but her old bedroom had certainly helped in that regard. Although her parents had remodelled it somewhat the general shape remained, as did her old bookcase and trophies, both academic and (to her embarrassment) sporting.
"Good". Paul gave her a knowing glance, seemingly aware of the veiled reference to her prior sleep pattern. "I'm bringing coffee up to your mother. I'd ask if you want one, but I sense you're heading out".
Cameron sat in a chair and tied up her running shoes. "Oh, yeah? You're pretty perceptive, old man".
"Uhuh. Just be careful—there's ice out. Stick to the cleared bits".
"Dad", she sighed dramatically, "I'm a grown woman".
"And grown women can still break a leg when it's slippery. I dunno how far you're planning on going, but remember people are arriving at half ten-ish".
"No worries", replied Cameron, fixing the phone on her arm. "I'll just do my old route; shouldn't take an hour".
"Great, see you later". Cameron senior waved his daughter off before taking two mugs of coffee back upstairs into the bedroom and handing one over to Sandra. "Careful, it's hot".
"Allison's out early", she mused, blowing lightly into the cup.
Paul clambered back into bed and sipped his own drink. "She went for a run".
"Hmm. Did she seem off to you?".
"Downstairs? No".
"I mean yesterday".
The other cleared his throat softly. Allison wanted her breakup kept a secret, and he wasn't prepared to go against those wishes even if it meant that his wife remained, for now, unaware. "What do you mean?".
"Not sure, really", she admitted. "I just…when we last saw her she was so bubbly; so happy. But now…I just got the impression that she's carrying a weight. Do you think she's struggling at work?".
"I doubt it. Greg seemed pretty complimentary of her ability when we saw them at Thanksgiving. She was probably just tired; she said it had been busy, right?".
"True", nodded Sandra. "Did you bring the paper up with you?".
Paul let out a discreet breath, relieved to move to firmer ground. "Naturally. You want the sport or current affairs?".
"Oh, gee, let me think about that".
Before long, the couple had lost themselves in silent reading.
Cameron had always enjoyed running around Chicago. Although the family home was technically in the suburbs, it didn't take long for her to hit the city streets, especially since the place was fairly quiet. Foot traffic was sparse. Not only was it still very early, but most families were already together, and those people who were out and about hurried with their heads down. No one liked to be alone on Christmas Day.
As she went along, she found that her mind, which had hitherto steered clear of House, returned to him once more. She wondered what he was doing now, whether he had gone to visit family or friends. Although she had met his parents, she didn't know where they lived. House's own accent remained hard to place simply because it sounded so generic. Perhaps a consequence of his international upbringing? In any case, she was fairly sure they lived nearby, on the east coast somewhere. Hopefully he wasn't alone today.
Cameron shook her head suddenly, triggering an internal back and forth. Stop it; this isn't healthy.
I know, but I can't help it.
Enough.
Instead, Cameron focused on the sight and sound of early morning. Most shops were closed for the holidays but this made the eerie almost-stillness all the more appealing. Cars and buses still traversed the roads, of course, but the bustle seemed subdued, apologetic. The immunologist reached a crossing and waited for the green man to appear, jogging on the spot, her breath misting the air.
Next to her, a man pushing a pram stopped too and their eyes met. "Merry Christmas", he smiled.
Cameron removed a bud. "You too. Nice time for a walk. How old?".
"Six months. Mom's still tucked up in bed, bless her. And then it'll be an avalanche of family members. Gotta take advantage of the quiet, don't you?".
"True enough", she answered as the green man appeared across the road. "Well, enjoy your Christmas".
"Same. Wave goodbye, Jem!".
The baby in the pram remained fast asleep.
The immunologist replaced her earphones and set off with a quick smile, wondering briefly about 'Jem'. Jemimah, maybe? Or 'Jam' for Jamal. She hadn't been able to tell the kid's gender. The only other option was 'Gem', but surely that was beyond the realms of possibility. Who would call their child that? Then again, Ruby and Sapphire were genuine names.
Cameron's musings, completely pointless but exactly what she needed, carried her through the streets. Every now and then she overtook pedestrians, trying to stick to areas of sidewalk largely clear of snow. The one downside of living so far north: not quite Canada, for sure, but close enough that the elements bit into exposed skin. Her throat and nose, also, felt raw as the Fitbit beeped to signal the passing of another kilometre.
She marked the milestone with another internal debate concerning House. The fact was she felt deeply depressed about the whole thing, although she still remained convinced that it had been the right decision. This last week and a bit stood as proof of that: House and the team had dealt with several complex cases virtually without blinking, and she knew a busy diagnostic programme awaited in the new year, for their boss had taken it upon himself to schedule treatment requests via email.
In any other situation, with any other person, Cameron would be annoyed that an ex was seemingly moving from strength to strength while she herself languished in self-pity. But she cared about House too much to be jealous or offended. Their relationship had meant a great deal to him, she knew. It just happened that medicine needed to take precedence. Nothing could be done about it. Things would get easier. Right?
Such rationalising consumed the next kilometre.
Before heading back for home, Cameron stopped in the middle of the large public park in which she found herself. A few families lay dotted about, walking dogs or throwing snowballs with happy children, and familiar skyscrapers stood in each direction, stabbing upwards into the grey sky. No matter how crappy she felt at the moment, the Windy City had seen it all—the lovesick, the lovedrunk, the lonely and the deliriously happy. Removing her woolly hat, the blonde directed her face skywards, allowing snowflakes to caress her skin and eyelashes.
Maybe peace without House was an impossible goal, but she would strive for it all the same.
After a feast of a Christmas dinner, the adults were still at the table chatting away. Even Cameron had opened up a little more, having decided that sullenness only invited more questions. She contributed to conversations when prompted and smiled when addressed, even if it never reached her eyes. Every now and then she could sense her mother snatching glances in her direction, and in those instances she took care to plaster a look of mild interest on her features, or else take a sip of wine.
Martin, Cameron's younger brother and a schoolteacher, was in the middle of a tedious work story when one of his children bounded through to the dining room. "Dad, can we go outside and play on the swing?".
"That's fine. Make sure you wear your hats and coats, though, OK, Freddie?". When the kid didn't move off, he added: "was there something else?".
"Well, we need someone to push us…".
"We're catching up on stuff, bud. Can't you manage yourself?".
"I don't mind giving them a push. Could use some fresh air, anyway", interjected Cameron, grateful for the opportunity to leave the table.
"You don't need to do that, Allison", said Melanie, her brother's wife, whom she secretly (or not so secretly) disliked.
"Ah, it's fine. Let's go, dude, before I change my mind! Great meal, mom", she spoke, leaving the group. Sandra inclined her head with a smile but said nothing, watching her daughter follow their grandson into the hallway. "Where's your sister?".
"Just coming. She needed to do some yucky girl thing".
"Aha! Put your coat on and I'll zip it up for you". Cameron waited patiently while her nephew retrieved his thick coat from the peg by the door.
"I can do this myself, Auntie Allison", he grumped.
"Uhuh. Go ahead. Sally?!".
"Coming!", answered the voice from upstairs.
"Were you happy with your presents from Santa, buddy?", she asked.
"Yes. I got the last three Harry Potter books". The boy's messy brown hair soon disappeared into his hat.
"Wow, they're pretty advanced".
"Yeah", he said proudly. "My teacher sometimes lets me join the older ones for English class".
"Oh, nice. I always liked reading, too".
"What's your favourite book?", he asked, eyes eager. "Harry Potter?".
Cameron grinned. "You've seen my Hufflepuff dressing gown, right?".
"I didn't know you had one of those!".
"Next time you come to visit I'll let you wear it, hey?", she spoke, ruffling his head affectionately so that the woolly hat tipped down over an eye. Then she turned to her niece who had appeared in the hallway. "Coat?".
"I need help with it", replied Sally, who was five years old, adorably cute, and not above manipulating adults.
"Come here, then". With both children suitably attired, they headed out into the back garden, crunching through the snow to the swing set which had been installed for just such a situation. Sally giggled at the footprints left behind and laughed even harder when Cameron manufactured a snowball and tossed it gently against the girl's coat. "See that weird, coloured brick on the side of the house? First one to hit that, wins".
"What do we win?", asked Freddie.
Cameron held a hand over her heart. "The everlasting respect of Auntie Allison".
"Fine, but I'm going first!".
"I want to go first", moaned Sally.
"Oldest goes first, silly".
"Ladies first trumps oldest first, Fred", said Cameron.
"Ah, yes, of course", he nodded sagely, adopting a strangely formal tone and standing up straighter. "Go ahead, kid".
Sally formed a snowball and tossed it as hard as she could. It impacted some way below the target. Cameron went next, and she too missed, as did Freddie. After Sally's next shot hit even lower, Cameron forfeited her turn. This time around, Fred hit the adjoining brick. "Close", he muttered, stalking off to form a tighter projectile.
Quickly, Cameron picked up the girl and held her aloft, level with the target zone. Disadvantage thus overcome, Sally hit it square, letting out a squeal of triumph as Cameron set her down. Freddie, who had been compacting snow in his gloves, looked up in surprise at the commotion. "What? No way".
"Yes way", grinned his sister, eyes bright.
"You cheated…".
"I think it was fate", murmured Cameron. "But I'll give you an extra big push in the swing in recognition of your chivalry".
"Chivalry? What does that mean?".
"It means you acted with honour. Like when Harry Potter pulls Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the hat. He could only do that because he was worthy of it, you see?". Cameron shepherded the children to the swings and watched as they settled in.
"I'm chivalry", he nodded sternly.
"Chivalrous", she corrected.
"I'm chivalrous. I like that word. Hey, Auntie Allison?".
"Yeah?".
"You can push me now".
Cameron gave a salute, fixed her gloves more firmly on her hands, and set to work, noting with just a little pride that she had gone over half an hour without thinking of House.
A small victory, but better than nothing.
"Be careful, it's very warm". The immunologist handed over the hot chocolate and sank into the sofa next to her niece. Freddie, meanwhile, had decamped into the neighbouring room with his book, but not before accepting a steaming drink himself.
Sally blew on it gently, her little legs curled up on the sofa. "Where's yours?".
"Just here", she replied, brandishing a glass of warm, homemade mulled wine. "How is it?".
The girl took a tentative sip. "Yummy. It's the best chocolate I've ever tasted in my life!".
Cameron chuckled. "Drunk a lot, have you?".
"Mmm. I love hot chocolate. But Daddy says it's only for special times".
"Quite right. It rots your teeth".
"When I'm growed up-".
"-grown up".
"When I'm grown up, I'm gonna have it every day".
"Hmm. But if you do that, you won't love it anymore. Too much of a good thing".
Sally thought about this, nodding a little. "What do you love, Auntie Ally-son?".
"Hmm". Cameron looked down at the kid, whose large green eyes stared back. "If I tell you, you have to promise to keep it a secret. No one can know. Understand? I'm trusting you here".
"I understand. Cross my heart".
"OK". She dipped her head and whispered conspiratorially into the other's ear: "I love something I can't have".
"Grandpa doesn't let you have hot chocolate either?", breathed Sally.
"Actually, I love someone I can't have".
"Really? I love mommy and daddy, but I see them every day".
"I see this person every day, too".
"So if you love them and see them every day, why can't you have them?".
"Because life is complicated, sweetie. Now, I've told you my secret, so drink".
Sally did as asked for a short time, sipping happily at her cup. But just as Cameron was closing her eyes, she added: "I think you'll have your love soon, Auntie Ally-son. I think so very much".
"Oh, come here, you. Give me a hug", said Cameron roughly.
The girl at once set the drink down and wrapped her arms around her auntie, not noticing her moist eyes.
