Copyright: Song at the beginning and end is "Ways and Means" by Snow Patrol
Summary: Cameron would have expected this from House.
Author's notes: Don't ship it. Don't like the pairing. Very fun to write. Feedback is love.
Doctor make it better instantly- you’re the only one who can- I’ve been waiting here my whole damn life and I’ve forgotten what I wanted
Cameron would have expected this from House. In fact, she would have relished it from House. From Chase, it just aches in a way she never expected. The way he ignores her and clearly just uses her for some kind of gratification that she doesn’t understand, and then mocks her and teases her and his fingers leave marks. It didn’t suck. Those words haunt her and they sting like she wouldn’t believe.
She uses Chase as a replacement for House and she doesn’t know who she is a replacement for. She doesn’t want to know either. It’s easier that way. Instead, Cameron bites her lips together and just keeps walking away from him, blinking hard because he must never, never see her cry.
Chase, for his part, never says anything, but the tears in his eyes are so palpable sometimes she feels like she could reach out and touch them. But any time she tries to do so, he shies away with such venom on his face that it scares her. Cameron comes around to realising that she’s scared of him a lot of time- scared of his emotions, scared of breaking him (and there, she’s said it), scared of him breaking her. Scared of losing him. Strange, really, that no one understands Chase better than she does and she’s still entirely wrong about him. He’s not so much an enigma as really good at hiding what he doesn’t want anyone to see. Like his personality.
She’s been sitting, curled up, in this chair for so long that when she gets up and unfolds herself her bones make sharp, complaining cracking sounds, and she looks around the empty room like this is it- the ice has split and now it’s her turn to drown. Today, Cameron wore heels. Little black shoes with buckles at the side, purely for ornamentation and hidden by her slacks. But one of the buckles is coming off, and Chase can’t even look at her, and she feels sick. Unnaturally so.
His blue eyes make her shiver, which is strange, and his fingers brush through her hair so, so gently, like maybe she’s a doll that he can’t work out whether he could smash or not, and she dreams of his kisses and wishes that she’d never, ever even heard of crystal meth. Wishes that Chase was still just a vague Australian accent in a white coat on the other side of the table. And wishes that she had the faintest idea what love feels like.
Chase walks into the empty office where her fingers are running over the pages of a medical dictionary and looking for the diagnosis, meanwhile idly wondering how many people have turned these pages before her and how many of them were happy. He just looks at her for one long moment, eyes astonishingly perceptive, mouth curved into a smile that’s a little too like House’s for comfort, and Cameron briefly wonders who he’s supposed to be in love with anyway.
Maybe I won’t suffer if I find a way to love her I’ve been lying to myself but there is no way out that I can see