ficlet
Fic: Untitled / possibly "Days of Lost"
Beta: None (but needed!)
Pairing: Cameron/House, Cameron/Chase
Rating: R
Spoilers: S3 through S4
Summary: Allison hides a relationship she had with House.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them.
Note:
I haven't written in so long... I jotted this out... and I'm happy that I finally wrote something. THAT feels good. But I thought I would share this piece... it needs work, should be shaped more, but I just want to leave it and move on... pick up the writing again... So this was a little exercise for me. It's not good, but it's written and it's done... and for now, that's enough. I know there could be a lot fixed, just not going to do it with this piece... hopefully this will kick me into gear. C & C welcome.
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katej
Untitled
Allison Cameron was keenly aware of her calendar. Always was. Had calendars everywhere - her desk, her bathroom, her kitchen, her purse, and her cell phone - almost anywhere she could put one or have one. She needed to mark the days… fill them in with to-do lists, events, birthdays, any going-ons that she could possibly list. She wrote down everything, trips to the grocery store, random last-minute lunches or drinks, where and when she went out to dinner. She felt it kept her life a little bit more organized. It kept things straight in her head as much as possible, even though her mind felt forever scattered, her thoughts frenetic energy making her head hurt.
She knew it was his birthday. She pretended to forget it on purpose. She didn’t want to leave him a message or give him a card, do anything that would remotely show him that she thought of him, that she cared about him in any way, that she spent time and energy letting him occupy her thoughts. And this lack of action, lack of acknowledgement was so unlike her. She didn’t think that House would notice, care or be hurt by it. She was a different person now, he had changed her, and he didn’t deserve her thoughts or kindness.
She lied. She had lied. But she didn’t care.
They had an affair. Really, a real affair. Yes, with House. It wasn’t just sex. It was so much more then that. One day, it suddenly began. The long-running sexual tension and flirting had become exhausting. One night they went for a drink and some walls came down. This turned into more drinks, then meals, then electrifying sex. They were quiet about it, kept it absolutely to themselves and enjoyed it thoroughly. It ended abruptly. It hurt her, badly. She did everything she could to ignore it and pretend it didn’t hurt her, that he didn’t hurt her. She didn’t know what happened, but one day, he just changed and nothing was the same, it was over, he had decided without telling her. She wasn’t surprised by this action of his, she knew that it was part of his nature, but still it stung her.
For months, she walked around numb, trying to forget all that was said, all that had happened so quickly, so strongly. She tried to forget surprisingly sweet tender moments, intense conversations, intimate moments and shared thoughts. The more she tried to forget, the more she remembered. Change was not only inevitable it was a necessity.
Allison decided to choose Chase. First, she hoped that sex would empty her brain, forget about all that was on her mind, that orgasms by the multitude would empty her of memories and feelings. But it didn’t. It added more complications. And she often thought of him when with Chase. She didn’t mean to, never intended to, but it became inevitable. Her brain was filled with memories of sweet moments like a night he kissed her in the car gently while waiting for the rain to subside. Later, during the thunderstorms, he used his soft tongue on her clit spelling out words - the feeling overwhelming her and never allowing her to figure out what he was telling her with those letters - she wish she knew.
There were times when in bed with Robert, when he placed his mouth on her, teased her patiently with his tongue and it just did nothing for her. She had to put herself back into that place - into those dark, worn sheets, memories invading her and leading her to climax. She felt guilty about it at first, but those feelings left her.
And when she kissed him… when she kissed him, when she thought he was sick, she was flooded with too much -- too many feelings, too many memories. She put a strong mask on, and realized she had made a mistake.
She chose to leave Diagnostics. She left the state, only to return. She changed her hair. She needed changes, lots of changes, but it didn’t help. She returned to the hospital, hiding right in plain view and he didn’t even notice her. She liked that the new job kept her very busy, it was a different routine and that suited her - the physical closeness of him was still something she needed, even if it was four flights away, it was still enough. She was grieving in her own way, though she struggled to admit that to herself.
She continued on with Chase, trying to grow a new life with him, letting it cover and mask all that was real within her. She thought that she was doing the right thing, living life - living the life she should be living. But part of her was still dying inside, a young green tree losing leaves before the first winter frost.
But four floors weren’t enough. It was neither far enough, or at the same time close enough. She found herself trying to insinuate herself into his daily routine whenever possible. She knew what she was doing, though she tried to deny it to herself. Chase didn’t like it; she tried her best to brush off his concerns.
She lied about sleeping with him. It wasn’t any of Robert’s business, and whatever happened between her and House, was just between the two of them. Besides, it was past tense, nothing about it current or even real.
She started getting angry. She wished she didn’t. She hated watching him choose new team members, with his ridiculous games, hated watching him bond with them very slightly and slowly. She hid her anger as best she could. Yet, their “relationship” improved. Coffee slowly became more casual and normal; it was as if they were exactly before their affair. And this angered her. She felt like all they had shared was a lie, was lost, had never been true… and that was hard, it was devastating. But she handed him a cup of coffee, and swallowed a bitter mouthful quietly.
She lied to him when he said he stated that he believed she missed him. She didn’t want to, but she had to. She was screaming in side… “Tell me YOU miss me!” She had romantic notions in her head that he would blurt it out and grab hold of her and hug her like he’s never hugged her before. She wanted him to break down, tell her that he missed her so much, that he was wrong, and that he needed to be with her. She knew it was a joke, that she was fooling herself, she knew it wouldn’t happen… just in her heart and mind she wished, pled, that he did miss her… in some way… like the many ways she missed him.
She forgot his birthday. On purpose. Didn’t want him to know that she spent a moment thinking of him. She went home that night, had a quiet, non-eventful dinner with Robert, and continued to convince herself that this life was good and that she could live with it.
Allison couldn’t sleep. Robert slept soundly, breathing steadily and quietly. She did like the way he smelled. She did like the certain amount of comfort and home she felt when they put their arms around each other. She just didn’t know if it was enough. She also knew it wasn’t fair that her mind was occupied with someone else, but it was. She awoke early, went for a run, showered and left for the hospital early leaving a scribbled note on the countertop.
She had avoided opening her calendar. She didn’t want to write anything down, didn’t want to write on his birthday that she had dinner with her boyfriend, that they went for ice cream, that they had sex. On his birthday. She wanted to forget. Forget the days that seemed important to her.
She was standing on the balcony surveying the lobby below, watching the sun and clouds in the large windows that lit the entryway. She was lost in her thoughts, her mind jumbled. Suddenly, she felt a body nudge her shoulder. She didn’t need to look up to see whom it was, his scent imprinted in brain, the particular feel of his body on hers - even just slightly and quickly - a reminder of them together. She looked up anyway, big eyed, trying not to show a pleased-to-see-you expression that she felt glowing across her body.
He handed her a warm coffee cup, lent on the railing, his eyes wandering along the ground floor.
“Forget something?” he asked with almost a sad, quiet sigh. He still did not look at her, but his words were more loaded then she expected.
She didn’t reply, instead just lifted the cup to her mouth and drank her coffee. She let the coffee roll over her tongue and down her throat. She tried to be content with what was given to her. Standing in continued silence full of the unspoken, she didn’t know what words to choose. Instead, she just shrugged her shoulders and walked away, grasping tight the paper cup.
Fin.