(no subject)
TITLE: Eradication 9
AUTHOR: dragynflies
PAIRING: Cameron/House, Cameron/OC
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Unfortunately, the reality of your ability as a father smacks you in the face daily, and your refusal of physical therapy is the least of your screwups.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don’t sue.
AN: As per usual, Kellyannie rawks.
OMG you guys. Your comments make me so giddy you have no idea. THANK YOU SO MUCH for taking the time to write a few sentences. Seriously, they make me smile.
You and Blythe stay up until midnight, watching stupid cartoons. You feed her way too much ice cream, and then you give her a bag of M&M’s. She falls asleep on the couch, a satisfied smile on her face and you pick her up and balance her sleeping form carefully in the cradle of your arm, your other hand clutching your cane.
You hate that you can’t just pick up your petite daughter and carry her to bed like Superdad, that it takes so much effort to carry her those few feet. Unfortunately, the reality of your ability as a father smacks you in the face daily, and your refusal of physical therapy is the least of your screwups.
Cameron arrives at nine the next morning, and Blythe is still sleeping, the last of her sugar buzz draining from her.
She’s holding on to Nathan’s car seat like it’s her lifeline, “Hi,” she says, almost shyly, and you smile at her, opening the door for her.
“You eat?” you ask her, and she nods. She looks better than she did yesterday, but she’s still wobbly, and you wonder if she looked this exhausted when Blythe was a newborn. Why can’t you remember?
You take her hand against your better judgment and pull her into your bedroom. She follows you willingly, and you are amazed she trusts you so implicitly. You drop her hand and take the baby’s car seat from her, setting it next to the bed before crawling into the sheets. You turn and open your arms for her. You’re moving on autopilot, because if you let your brain register what you’re doing, you’ll stop. She’s married, and not to you.
You don’t know if you’re surprised or ecstatic when she crawls into your arms, pillowing her head on your bicep. She sighs, and closes her eyes and you wrap your arms around her and do everything you can to Not Think, because that will ruin this.
“Blythe won’t be up for another hour at least,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin, “You aren’t sleeping enough. You need to rest.”
Cameron nods wordlessly and you feel her body relax in your arms and you want to stay awake just to feel, because you didn’t realize how much you missed her until this exact moment.
The next thing you register is Nathan’s tinny cry, and you carefully slide your arm out from under Cameron, hoping she’ll stay asleep. You move as fast as your leg will allow, and you pick up the tiny baby. A month early plus Cameron’s genetics means that Nathan is five pounds at best; you try vainly to remember if Blythe was ever this small. You carry Nathan into the living room and fish a bottle out of his diaper bag, heating it and feeding him with just a little more grace than you did yesterday.
You just might get the hang of this yet, you think, and you try to forget how good it felt to have Cameron back in your arms.
Nathan is halfway through his bottle when Blythe finally joins you on the couch. You grab a pillow, situate Nathan in her arms, and help her feed him. She looks delighted with this change in events, and she smiles at him while he eats.
“I sort of like having a little brother,” she admits to you, holding the bottle carefully. She gives you a sideways glance and mumbles, “Maybe Nathan and Mama could move in here with us.”
“You and Nathan and Mama live with Robert,” you tell her, even though you don’t like it, “but you can visit me whenever you want.”
You see Blythe’s lip start to tremble, but Cameron wakes up and comes in just in time. Her gaze softens when she sees Nathan propped up in Blythe’s little arms, and she smiles at her daughter.
“You gonna be my big helper?” she asks, avoiding your gaze and sitting down on Blythe’s other side, “When Nathan finishes eating, we can go home and see daddy. He only had to work this morn-“
Blythe’s cry cuts her off, “I want to stay with my real daddy,” she snaps with more venom than you’ve heard from her, ever, “You take Nathan home,” she says, “So daddy can spend time with his real son, and I will stay here and spend time with my real daddy.”
Cameron looks like she’s going to cry and you are astounded at your child. You don’t know whether to scold her or hug her, so you do neither. You meet Cameron’s gaze finally, and the look in her eyes is all ice and fire. Neither of you respond to Blythe’s words, and that’s probably not the smartest thing you can do, but you honestly don’t know what to say.
You let Blythe finish giving Nathan his bottle in dead silence, and then you send her to her room to play. Cameron buckles Nathan into his car seat and stares daggers at you.
“What did you say to her, Greg?” she asks finally, her voice hard.
“I didn’t say anything,” you say hotly, “She heard Robert. She probably heard you. She’s not stupid, Cameron.”
Cameron opens her mouth to snap back at you, but before she can think of a comeback, she dissolves into tears. You open your arms on impulse, but she doesn’t move, her hand over her face as she sobs. You finally go to her, and take her in your arms because you can’t stand to see her cry anymore.
Slowly, she calms down and gives you a few pitiful hiccups, “You’re right,” she says, and her voice is muffled by your shirt, “You didn’t have to say anything to her. I don’t think you would do that to her.”
“I didn’t,” you tell her honestly, “She told me she heard him say something about Nathan, how Robert was so happy to have a real son. She told me she was real, Cameron. She looked like he broke her heart.”
A sniffle and then, “He knew we came as a package deal when we met,” she says, like it means something, “I never lied to him, he knew I had a daughter from day one. He KNEW I had a daughter,” she repeats, and you don’t know what to tell her, so you say nothing.
She signs heavily and pulls away, “I’m taking her home,” she says, firmly, “Robert just needs to spend some time with her. He’s just over-excited about the new baby, and all the stress when Nathan was born caught up to him. He doesn’t mean it.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” you ask simply.
“No one,” Cameron snaps, “He just…needs to remember. She was his little girl until you came back. Now he feels like he’s second to you in her life, no wonder he’s acting like this.”
You jaw drops, “You think this is my fault? I’m not the one that only wants to spend time with his biological child, Cameron. I screwed up, I admit that. I should have never left you. But I’m here now, and I’m trying.”
“I know,” she says softly, “but you’re ruining Blythe’s life.”
You don’t even know what to say. It’s all you can to just stand there and stare at her, mouth agape, your whole body trembling. She wouldn’t say that, she wouldn’t do that….you just got Blythe back, and you can’t survive losing her again.
“I’m ruining Blythe’s life,” you repeat dully, “Stop lying and tell me what this is really about. Robert being an asshole has nothing to do with me.”
She says nothing, just watches you warily, her hands cupped around the bar of Nathan's carrier.
You take the baby from her and you set the car seat down gently before you take her chin in your hand and move her face to yours.
“I never should have left,” you tell her firmly and if your voice is trembling, you’ll never admit it, “I did, and I regret it every day. But I could love him,” you say, and you nod at the carrier, “just as much as I love Blythe. Just as much as I love you.”
Cameron’s jaw quivers and you see her fighting to stay angry, to be mad at you because it’s easier than being mad at her husband. As soon as you see her resolve crack, you tip her head to yours and you kiss her.
She struggles against you for ten seconds too long and then melts into your arms, wrapping her arms around your neck and twining her fingers in your hair and kissing you back. Oh god, you never want her to leave, you never want to leave.
You let your tongue tease at her lips and she opens her mouth to you and you think you could die. She is kissing you like you’re the only thing keeping her alive, and it’s all you can do to just hold onto her and try to calm your racing thoughts.
Nathan’s cry interrupts you and she pulls back like she’s been burned, her hands to her lips, eyes wide. She busies herself with Nathan, slipping the pacifier between his lips and snuggling the blanket around him.
“Get Blythe,” she said softly, “I’m taking my daughter home.”
You kneel down awkwardly next to her, “She can stay here as long as…”
“No. I want her to come home now. I won’t do this, I won’t take Nathan’s father away from him. Go get my daughter,” she says firmly. Her voice sounds sure, but you know how to read her now and her eyes tell you a completely different story.
You find Blythe in her bedroom, working on a book, and you take her in your arms and tell her it’s time to go home. She bursts into tears and you cuddle her against you, holding on tight. You don’t want her to go either, but you can’t tell her that.
“Daddy misses you,” you try, instead, “And now you can help Mommy with Nathan. And you can still visit me, Blythe, I’ll still pick you up and we’ll have fun.”
She doesn’t believe you, and she slides off your lap and stomps to Cameron, who takes her hand and pulls her away. She loads the children into the car efficiently and drives away without looking at you again.
You wonder when you fell in love with all three of them.
AUTHOR: dragynflies
PAIRING: Cameron/House, Cameron/OC
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Unfortunately, the reality of your ability as a father smacks you in the face daily, and your refusal of physical therapy is the least of your screwups.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don’t sue.
AN: As per usual, Kellyannie rawks.
OMG you guys. Your comments make me so giddy you have no idea. THANK YOU SO MUCH for taking the time to write a few sentences. Seriously, they make me smile.
You and Blythe stay up until midnight, watching stupid cartoons. You feed her way too much ice cream, and then you give her a bag of M&M’s. She falls asleep on the couch, a satisfied smile on her face and you pick her up and balance her sleeping form carefully in the cradle of your arm, your other hand clutching your cane.
You hate that you can’t just pick up your petite daughter and carry her to bed like Superdad, that it takes so much effort to carry her those few feet. Unfortunately, the reality of your ability as a father smacks you in the face daily, and your refusal of physical therapy is the least of your screwups.
Cameron arrives at nine the next morning, and Blythe is still sleeping, the last of her sugar buzz draining from her.
She’s holding on to Nathan’s car seat like it’s her lifeline, “Hi,” she says, almost shyly, and you smile at her, opening the door for her.
“You eat?” you ask her, and she nods. She looks better than she did yesterday, but she’s still wobbly, and you wonder if she looked this exhausted when Blythe was a newborn. Why can’t you remember?
You take her hand against your better judgment and pull her into your bedroom. She follows you willingly, and you are amazed she trusts you so implicitly. You drop her hand and take the baby’s car seat from her, setting it next to the bed before crawling into the sheets. You turn and open your arms for her. You’re moving on autopilot, because if you let your brain register what you’re doing, you’ll stop. She’s married, and not to you.
You don’t know if you’re surprised or ecstatic when she crawls into your arms, pillowing her head on your bicep. She sighs, and closes her eyes and you wrap your arms around her and do everything you can to Not Think, because that will ruin this.
“Blythe won’t be up for another hour at least,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin, “You aren’t sleeping enough. You need to rest.”
Cameron nods wordlessly and you feel her body relax in your arms and you want to stay awake just to feel, because you didn’t realize how much you missed her until this exact moment.
The next thing you register is Nathan’s tinny cry, and you carefully slide your arm out from under Cameron, hoping she’ll stay asleep. You move as fast as your leg will allow, and you pick up the tiny baby. A month early plus Cameron’s genetics means that Nathan is five pounds at best; you try vainly to remember if Blythe was ever this small. You carry Nathan into the living room and fish a bottle out of his diaper bag, heating it and feeding him with just a little more grace than you did yesterday.
You just might get the hang of this yet, you think, and you try to forget how good it felt to have Cameron back in your arms.
Nathan is halfway through his bottle when Blythe finally joins you on the couch. You grab a pillow, situate Nathan in her arms, and help her feed him. She looks delighted with this change in events, and she smiles at him while he eats.
“I sort of like having a little brother,” she admits to you, holding the bottle carefully. She gives you a sideways glance and mumbles, “Maybe Nathan and Mama could move in here with us.”
“You and Nathan and Mama live with Robert,” you tell her, even though you don’t like it, “but you can visit me whenever you want.”
You see Blythe’s lip start to tremble, but Cameron wakes up and comes in just in time. Her gaze softens when she sees Nathan propped up in Blythe’s little arms, and she smiles at her daughter.
“You gonna be my big helper?” she asks, avoiding your gaze and sitting down on Blythe’s other side, “When Nathan finishes eating, we can go home and see daddy. He only had to work this morn-“
Blythe’s cry cuts her off, “I want to stay with my real daddy,” she snaps with more venom than you’ve heard from her, ever, “You take Nathan home,” she says, “So daddy can spend time with his real son, and I will stay here and spend time with my real daddy.”
Cameron looks like she’s going to cry and you are astounded at your child. You don’t know whether to scold her or hug her, so you do neither. You meet Cameron’s gaze finally, and the look in her eyes is all ice and fire. Neither of you respond to Blythe’s words, and that’s probably not the smartest thing you can do, but you honestly don’t know what to say.
You let Blythe finish giving Nathan his bottle in dead silence, and then you send her to her room to play. Cameron buckles Nathan into his car seat and stares daggers at you.
“What did you say to her, Greg?” she asks finally, her voice hard.
“I didn’t say anything,” you say hotly, “She heard Robert. She probably heard you. She’s not stupid, Cameron.”
Cameron opens her mouth to snap back at you, but before she can think of a comeback, she dissolves into tears. You open your arms on impulse, but she doesn’t move, her hand over her face as she sobs. You finally go to her, and take her in your arms because you can’t stand to see her cry anymore.
Slowly, she calms down and gives you a few pitiful hiccups, “You’re right,” she says, and her voice is muffled by your shirt, “You didn’t have to say anything to her. I don’t think you would do that to her.”
“I didn’t,” you tell her honestly, “She told me she heard him say something about Nathan, how Robert was so happy to have a real son. She told me she was real, Cameron. She looked like he broke her heart.”
A sniffle and then, “He knew we came as a package deal when we met,” she says, like it means something, “I never lied to him, he knew I had a daughter from day one. He KNEW I had a daughter,” she repeats, and you don’t know what to tell her, so you say nothing.
She signs heavily and pulls away, “I’m taking her home,” she says, firmly, “Robert just needs to spend some time with her. He’s just over-excited about the new baby, and all the stress when Nathan was born caught up to him. He doesn’t mean it.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” you ask simply.
“No one,” Cameron snaps, “He just…needs to remember. She was his little girl until you came back. Now he feels like he’s second to you in her life, no wonder he’s acting like this.”
You jaw drops, “You think this is my fault? I’m not the one that only wants to spend time with his biological child, Cameron. I screwed up, I admit that. I should have never left you. But I’m here now, and I’m trying.”
“I know,” she says softly, “but you’re ruining Blythe’s life.”
You don’t even know what to say. It’s all you can to just stand there and stare at her, mouth agape, your whole body trembling. She wouldn’t say that, she wouldn’t do that….you just got Blythe back, and you can’t survive losing her again.
“I’m ruining Blythe’s life,” you repeat dully, “Stop lying and tell me what this is really about. Robert being an asshole has nothing to do with me.”
She says nothing, just watches you warily, her hands cupped around the bar of Nathan's carrier.
You take the baby from her and you set the car seat down gently before you take her chin in your hand and move her face to yours.
“I never should have left,” you tell her firmly and if your voice is trembling, you’ll never admit it, “I did, and I regret it every day. But I could love him,” you say, and you nod at the carrier, “just as much as I love Blythe. Just as much as I love you.”
Cameron’s jaw quivers and you see her fighting to stay angry, to be mad at you because it’s easier than being mad at her husband. As soon as you see her resolve crack, you tip her head to yours and you kiss her.
She struggles against you for ten seconds too long and then melts into your arms, wrapping her arms around your neck and twining her fingers in your hair and kissing you back. Oh god, you never want her to leave, you never want to leave.
You let your tongue tease at her lips and she opens her mouth to you and you think you could die. She is kissing you like you’re the only thing keeping her alive, and it’s all you can do to just hold onto her and try to calm your racing thoughts.
Nathan’s cry interrupts you and she pulls back like she’s been burned, her hands to her lips, eyes wide. She busies herself with Nathan, slipping the pacifier between his lips and snuggling the blanket around him.
“Get Blythe,” she said softly, “I’m taking my daughter home.”
You kneel down awkwardly next to her, “She can stay here as long as…”
“No. I want her to come home now. I won’t do this, I won’t take Nathan’s father away from him. Go get my daughter,” she says firmly. Her voice sounds sure, but you know how to read her now and her eyes tell you a completely different story.
You find Blythe in her bedroom, working on a book, and you take her in your arms and tell her it’s time to go home. She bursts into tears and you cuddle her against you, holding on tight. You don’t want her to go either, but you can’t tell her that.
“Daddy misses you,” you try, instead, “And now you can help Mommy with Nathan. And you can still visit me, Blythe, I’ll still pick you up and we’ll have fun.”
She doesn’t believe you, and she slides off your lap and stomps to Cameron, who takes her hand and pulls her away. She loads the children into the car efficiently and drives away without looking at you again.
You wonder when you fell in love with all three of them.