Warm Chocolate to Cold Graves (Abandoned Me Pt. 4/??)
Warm Chocolate to Cold Graves(Abandoned Me Pt. 4/??)
Disclaimer: Don't own House.
Pairing: House/Cuddy - possibly Wilson/Cameron later (much later)
AN: Change of pace - wouldn't be fair to leave Wilson out - since he's going to be around later. Yes he plays a part, and really need him as contrast at this point.
It took her a day or two to get up the nerve, then checking Amber’s records to find the address. She supposed she could have asked Cuddy and she would have probably given it to her - happy to share the load, since Cuddy had her hands full with the improving physically by the day, but still amnesiac House. She didn’t know if she’d be welcome, but remembering their quiet conversation in the lounge before Amber’s death - she couldn’t stay away.
So Cameron found herself outside Amber Volakis - now James Wilson’s apartment, clutching a bag of food from the deli around the corner from the hospital. Swallowing hard, and steeling herself for a cool reception - she knocked on the door and waited. After a moment, it swung open and she found herself looking at a very different James Wilson. She kept the sympathy from her gaze - not knowing if it would be welcome, and said nothing.
After a moment he stepped aside to allow her inside. She carried the bag of food silently to the kitchen after removing her jacket. She pulled out the simple sandwiches and soup, then setting about making coffee. When she looked over at the kitchen table, Wilson was setting out plates and silverware mechanically - his every movement seemed forced. She brought the food and bowls to the table, dishing out the warm food and settling down across from him. He sat down, his eyes downcast, ringed with red. The warm chocolate of his eyes, now reflecting the cold brown that would fill Amber’s grave. Dark circles, pallid skin and lank hair told the tale of how Wilson was doing without her ever having to ask.
They sat quietly, simply eating. When the meal was done, Cameron stood and collected the dishes and moving to the sink to wash them. She was aware of Wilson’s almost zombie like gaze on her, but she didn’t falter. This at least was familiar to her - what he was going through - and she knew that there was no platitude in the world, no uttering of the words that Amber wouldn’t want him like this that would help him now. Not at this moment. The wounds were too raw, too fresh. Still she didn’t want to just leave him alone so soon, so when he didn’t say anything when she moved around the apartment, picking up the other dishes that she could find and bringing them to the sink as well it was a relief.
Not wanting to overstay her welcome, or upset him by disturbing things too much she wiped her hands clean after getting rid of the garbage from their dinner, then pulled on her jacket and nodded to him.
He pulled open the door for her, just as he had to let her in, then in a voice that was rusty from disuse uttered a quiet, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Wilson.” Cameron said softly as she gripped his shoulder then slipped out the door, not turning back even as the soft click of the door closing met her ears.
Disclaimer: Don't own House.
Pairing: House/Cuddy - possibly Wilson/Cameron later (much later)
AN: Change of pace - wouldn't be fair to leave Wilson out - since he's going to be around later. Yes he plays a part, and really need him as contrast at this point.
It took her a day or two to get up the nerve, then checking Amber’s records to find the address. She supposed she could have asked Cuddy and she would have probably given it to her - happy to share the load, since Cuddy had her hands full with the improving physically by the day, but still amnesiac House. She didn’t know if she’d be welcome, but remembering their quiet conversation in the lounge before Amber’s death - she couldn’t stay away.
So Cameron found herself outside Amber Volakis - now James Wilson’s apartment, clutching a bag of food from the deli around the corner from the hospital. Swallowing hard, and steeling herself for a cool reception - she knocked on the door and waited. After a moment, it swung open and she found herself looking at a very different James Wilson. She kept the sympathy from her gaze - not knowing if it would be welcome, and said nothing.
After a moment he stepped aside to allow her inside. She carried the bag of food silently to the kitchen after removing her jacket. She pulled out the simple sandwiches and soup, then setting about making coffee. When she looked over at the kitchen table, Wilson was setting out plates and silverware mechanically - his every movement seemed forced. She brought the food and bowls to the table, dishing out the warm food and settling down across from him. He sat down, his eyes downcast, ringed with red. The warm chocolate of his eyes, now reflecting the cold brown that would fill Amber’s grave. Dark circles, pallid skin and lank hair told the tale of how Wilson was doing without her ever having to ask.
They sat quietly, simply eating. When the meal was done, Cameron stood and collected the dishes and moving to the sink to wash them. She was aware of Wilson’s almost zombie like gaze on her, but she didn’t falter. This at least was familiar to her - what he was going through - and she knew that there was no platitude in the world, no uttering of the words that Amber wouldn’t want him like this that would help him now. Not at this moment. The wounds were too raw, too fresh. Still she didn’t want to just leave him alone so soon, so when he didn’t say anything when she moved around the apartment, picking up the other dishes that she could find and bringing them to the sink as well it was a relief.
Not wanting to overstay her welcome, or upset him by disturbing things too much she wiped her hands clean after getting rid of the garbage from their dinner, then pulled on her jacket and nodded to him.
He pulled open the door for her, just as he had to let her in, then in a voice that was rusty from disuse uttered a quiet, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Wilson.” Cameron said softly as she gripped his shoulder then slipped out the door, not turning back even as the soft click of the door closing met her ears.