Fanfiction, House MD; Yesterday Mourning
Title: Yesterday Mourning
Fandom: House
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Cameron, House
Pairings: Mild House/Cameron
Spoilers: No reason
Summary: The day after No Reason, Cameron wakes up and remembers the day before.
Warnings: Mentions of violence
She placed her feet on the ground, the cold rushed through her, she shivered. In the back of her mouth she could faintly taste her tears she had cried last night. Swollen eyes, restless hands. Empty walls taunted her, no pictures, no anything.
A part of her wanted to avoid it, stay in bed all day. Scraping her feet against each other, she thought the idea over. Swollen eyes blinked slowly, wiping away imaginary tears. Pale cheeks, dark rings, dry mouth. She grabbed the mattress, squeezing it hard. Really, she needed to go, but she sat. Just sat.
Pushing herself off of the mattress, off of her bed, sliding down to the floor. Cold, coldness, and she started to wake up. Shivering. Everything seemed to be too much, and she was exhausted. Needed rest. Sleep for a longer eternity. How come, she’d end up like this?
Six thirty, sunrise. It was too loud in her ears still. Screams and shouts. Shot. Blood. Hands not bloody anymore, still in her lap, alien to her. Picturing the colour on her hands, disappearing down the drain. Blood like she’d never looked at it before.
Never would she forget it, not just because it was him, but because of how fast it went. Barely a minute had passed. The sound, still ringing in her ears. Did the whole hospital hear? To her it seemed plausible.
Everything seemed to revolve around those minutes, when everything was now and then. The future was indecisive, changing every second. She wasn’t sure she would make it, and not him either. Pessimistic thoughts came alive in her head. After, the police officers with their reassuring smiles. They would get this guy, they would get him locket up. Promises. As if she didn’t know better.
A gun. Gunshot. Echo.
And it was all she could take. Bare feet, she walked to the bathroom. Mortality -everyday life - different. It pressed behind her eyelids. Frustrated she pressed the palm of her hand against her eyes. No tears falling, no tears forming. Just a lump in her throat. Difficulty to breathe - symptom of a disease, or grief?
Bullet.
Slippery tile, wet, water cascading down on her naked skin. Her skin felt bruised, her body soar, tired. Leaning against the tile, she could see everything happening so quickly again. Gun, gunshot, echo, bullet.
Blood.
Fear ripped through her, his eyes had focused on hers when he regained consciousness for only a moment. Oh, how badly she wanted to believe what she promised him. But how could she ignore the blood that wouldn’t stop pumping out of his neck, her hands red, his blood on her hands. Surreal. Dr Gregory House MD, world renowned, miserable bastard, bleeding. It seemed to lack meaning. No dignity, just revenge, power.
Anger surged through her, at him, at them, at everyone. Her hand curled into a tight fist, harshly slammed down on the tile. Gritted teeth. He made her miserable too, how could she mourn him when he isn’t even dead? Easy, her mind reminded her. Easy, her body reminded her.
Time passed. Water surrounded her, she couldn’t hear anything other than the water crashing against her, against the tiles. But the memories were louder. She was still shaking from the shock. Someone had noticed that she had been shaking then, tried to comfort her. Unexpected, was muttered. Was it, really? Yes, she whispered to the tiles.
Warm water, tears mixed with fear. Death was, after all, impossible to avoid. They knew it, she knew it as a doctor. Then suddenly, the thought of it surprised them. Any other day became a different sort of day.
Stepping out of the shower, she looks around and saw blood. Blinked. Nothing there. All she saw was blood. Pain surged through her. Falling sobbing to the ground.
She didn’t even know why she cried.