☤ forty-five

[as_damaged]

If--

It doesn't prove anything either way.


I always try to talk myself out of saying anything when this happens, but the truth is I think it's kind of nice. Horrifying, more often than not, but-- there's always a chance of seeing someone familiar.



[ooc; as always~ Cam is season 3, I would prefer to minimize explicit spoilers on recent canon but she can forget whatever she needs to ;) Please no duplicates of housecast unless approved by the concerned muns. etc etc. backdating-friendly forever.]

Comments

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

[He's purposefully left it late, perhaps waiting for the kind of implicit invitation laid out with a post to the network. Worried, after last time, that it wouldn't come. It doesn't seem impossible, or even unlikely, to think that his last, desperate visits have left her dreading more. Still, there are a few hours left to the evening by the time the knock comes at her door.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

[Her stomach flips when the knock comes; she hasn't been able to figure out, yet, whether she'd rather he didn't come at all, or whether that would be worse. These days, these visits, used to be oddly enticing; and even if at first she'd rebelled against the notion that he'd win her (on sheer principle,) privately Cameron had kind of liked the certainty that she'd have a chance at happiness.

Having that taken away, though... Uncertainty might be easier. She doesn't need to check the peephole but she does; and pauses for a breath after opening all the locks, eyes shut and leaning against the door as though burdened by the weight of questions she can't answer, answers she can't bear. But she won't leave him out in the hallway, and drawing another breath she pulls it open, not able to pull a smile but managing not to look as worried as she is.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

[Visible through the spy hole in the door: his face, from the bridge of his nose and lower, eyes cast down so that fair lashes conceal a worry equal to her own. Half of a shoulder with jacket, shirt and tie all miraculously matching shades of grey, blemished only by patterns that would clash more on his old, habitual brights. A line of day-old stubble on his chin, but trimmed, not grown there unkempt.

What can't be seen until she opens the door is the small, hopeful bunch of flowers clasped carefully in a hand still ringless but not looking emptily so. Violets had seemed the least intrusive option among the summer's tropical colours. Catching his breath as the door clicks he looks up and offers them out, smiling awkward as a kid showing up for his first date.]

Hey.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[as_damaged]

[She looks down at them for a moment before reaching to take the flowers, a slow little smile curving her lips with an ease that surprises even her. Would almost certainly surprise Chase as she knows him here and now; not that she doesn't smile for him, more every day it seems, but there's always that discomfort she needs to break through, her uncertainty on how to go forward with him. Something that isn't an issue, here.

There's an immensity to the small gesture. It makes her stomach flip again. It's good to see him-- his older self, again, since she sees him every day-- smile again, uncomfortable though it might be. Her fingers wrap a little tighter around the stems, and she meets his eyes again, stepping back to invite him in.]

Hey.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

[He's clean, and pressed, and there's no tell-tale red in his eyes or catch behind his breath to dismiss his coping as a facade. He looks good. Older, in the usual way and in something hard to pinpoint, a change that can be caught only out of the corner of the eye. More than that, he looks pleased to see her, and not in the same desperate way as before. If there's something vulnerable about the way he tucks his hands into his pockets as he takes up her invitation, it's leaps and bounds above the wreck that had showed up before.

There were times he didn't think he'd come through that. He can't imagine the impression he's given her.]

Thanks. [He nods to the door, closing it and standing outlined against its panels.] Thought I'd better drop by and prove I'm capable of walking in a straight line, this time.

[He shrugs his shoulders, hands tugging up from the set of his pockets.]

How've you been?

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[as_damaged]

I've been better, but I've been worse. [She looks at him with a little quirk of her lip, not quite the smile the flowers won but still something genuine, which she figures must be worth more than a front. She doesn't want him to worry, though she likes that he does. If he'd showed up drunk or despairing again, she wouldn't admit that; in a way that's always been her problem, prioritizing future suffering over present anything. But he needed it, and Cameron is good at being needed, if she's good at anything.]

It was a rough spring in the City, [she elaborates calmly, a bit of time granting some distance from the events; the dead thing at her window, the dead man on the street, the dangers always at the periphery of life here. She heads into the kitchen as she speaks, grabbing the first thing that comes to hand-- a plain mug, as chance has it-- to put the flowers in. She sets it down and doesn't come back at once, an open invitation for him to join her a little further indoors.] Nothing unmanageable, mainly.

[She pauses. Some things are easier to say through a wall.]

You're looking... good.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

[He could still say he needs her, but it wouldn't be fair, now or in what is his present, her future. He's learning how to be without, and to give credit where it's due, surviving alone has become an undeniable talent. Takes a while finding his feet with it again, in a condo big enough for two, but he's getting there. He will. Eventually her absence might be a dull enough pain that her presence could be entertained again. As friends. They've managed that before.]

I remember a few crazy seasons. [He comments, raising his voice enough that she can hear him as he takes his time over joining her in the kitchen. He stops to look around on the way, letting more of that memory come back.] I'm sure you can live without me reminiscing.

[In her kitchen he finds a stretch of counter that could be worn away by the habit he has of leaning there. Hesitates, choosing his words carefully.]

I'm a lot better. Think we both are.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[as_damaged]

I'm glad.

[That's quiet and a little hoarse, tinged with the emotion she's been holding in for the better part of this weekend. She hasn't cried; it feels a little foolish, but... Cameron couldn't say she isn't troubled.]

Maybe I've just been here long enough to build some resilience about it. Though... I don't want to talk about it either, [she adds, glance flicking aside towards the new window she can't actually see. It's intentional, answering the latter comment first; encapsulating it, because she can't handle too much of this at once.

That resolve falters a little.]

I wasn't sure you'd come.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

I wasn't sure you'd want to see me.

[That with a rush of nervous breath, and it's clear that he has debated back and forth over the merits of this idea. He's tried staying away from her before, and failed, but in sobriety there was nothing pushing his choice but a personal need to right things where they'd been wrong - as much as is possible or fair.]

I'll always come, when I can. If you do want that. [He makes a slow approach, edging round her to find a safe distance to reach out, his hand on her shoulder.] I haven't been fair. It was important I show up, if only to let you know I'm not... what was it? Dying of a massive coronary?

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[as_damaged]

[Cameron breathes a laugh, the corners of her eyes wrinkling slightly as she lifts a hand to wrap her fingers around her wrist.]

That's not fair, [she chides, because he understands exactly what she meant by that, even if he didn't at the time. Really if Chase develops a paranoia about a massive coronary, it would literally be his own fault.]

I like... knowing you're okay,

[she adds after a second, fingers shifting a little. The problem comes when he isn't, but overall it's an assent because she knows too much now to be left wondering. It's too much to hope that they're okay, maybe; but if they both are, at least, it's a start.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

Your metaphors are terrible. [Chase counters, with too much fondness for it to be a rebuke. He leans closer, as if wanting to catch that breath of a laugh and hold onto it, let it justify all the reasons he's putting himself through something that could be the definition of the term bittersweet. And no, he never developed that particular paranoia, but neither did the suspicion ever completely go away.]

I'm managing. [He throws back to her earlier description of this particular spring. Autumn was the rough season for him and spring's bringing some new hope with it, if not exactly for a fresh start.] One advantage of doing what we do; no one gets indulged enough to fall apart for long.

[And perhaps that's saying too much. He sighs, tipping his head down without the once requisite fall of hair into his eyes.]

I'm sorry I scared you.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing w

[as_damaged]

It suited the purpose at the time. [Really, it's not like she could have told him about... himself. Her perspective never fails to perplex her; at this point he may as well be two people, as opposed to one person she knows twice over. The history of one informs the other, but only barely; and while she finds it hard to be this easy with Chase whose in the City, she doesn't want the same things from this man that she wants from his younger counterpart.

His comments raise any number of questions; but she finds, almost to her own surprise, that she can live with that.]

I hope I helped, a little.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

You always do. When we actually talk.

[He shakes his head to the accompaniment of memories she doesn't share. The stilted, circular dance of getting her down the aisle in the first place, and all those moments of despair followed by sudden rushes of hope each time he realised they'd been talking at cross purposes.

He could spare them that dance. Tell her what happens, words chosen carefully to portray the wreck to the worst of what it is and he knows she'd stay away that monday at his place. Perhaps it would be kinder to spare her his mistakes, but if it means he loses hers - the mistake of her trying for him, trying to give him the things he craved and she was afraid of... he'd lose so much. He's always been selfish, in his way.]

I keep coming back.

[He offers, as sheepish proof. His fingers squeeze her shoulder lightly and let go.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

That's true.

[She lets his arm slip through her fingers, wishing she didn't look at it as just that-- every moment symbolic of an inevitable loss she feels without understanding. But he does keep coming back; and Cameron finds it hard to believe that she wouldn't go back on her own, given time, no matter what. It's hard to judge a situation without having all the information. Without any information, really; just a few scattered facts without context.

She doesn't consider him selfish for that reticence, though; what little she's come to know has always been a weight on her, even when it was a pleasant one, if only because the City hates secrets. Logic suggests nothing she knows here can make a difference to how reality progresses (or else she wouldn't know,) which means there's nothing to be gained but peace of mind. And peace of mind is hard to come by, under the circumstances.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

Don't do that. [He nudges her foot with his and slouches enough to put himself back in her line of sight as she looks down. Nothing if not persistent. ] I've had enough of leaving you sad. You've had a rough spring; don't let me add to that.

[This time he's tempted to reach out for her hands, tangle them with his and hold on, somehow. She's not the only one to feel like this is letting go all over again. He'd stay if he could just usurp his younger self, a bundle of defences and desires he still has but is at least better aware of now.]

Want to hear something about Foreman? His brother got out of jail. House hired him.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

I'm not sad.

[It's true, and she manages to meet his eyes, though not for long; her gaze drops and she reaches up to make some slight and unnecessary adjustment to the way his tie sits. He's solid and warm beneath her fingers, and she finds that an immense comfort; not that she doubts he's here, though the City's played ugly tricks on people before. No.

She halfway wants to ask him what she should do for him, here and now, for the man he used to be; whether he thinks they're capable of being happy under other circumstances. After last time she'd suspected they might have been doomed from the start. It feels too much like cheating, though; and Cameron's honest to a fault. Her hand lingers a little longer than it needs to before falling, folded easily across her chest. It's just a comfortable pose, not the barrier she sometimes makes it.]

Hired him to do what?

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

General manservant.

[Chase shrugs and grins, carefully furnishing her with only the details that will amuse. He can catch her up with his world through the rose tint of selective information. Nothing about Foreman's mother. Not even his interesting choice to fall in love with a dying woman, or his even more interesting, and ridiculous, break-up.]

Had the guy follow him around everywhere so he could pick up any inane observation and turn it into the basis for an epiphany. Drove Foreman crazy.

[There were days when it would have driven him insane too, but that relentless need to prove himself has long ago ebbed.]

Not everything changes. He's still painfully easy to rile.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

It sounds like something he'd do.

[Perplexing, though; it seems like a surprising length to go to for Foreman, more personal attention than House is wont to lavish on any of them. It's not unusual enough to make her question the story, just an odd little reminder that things change. Whether precipitously or in slow and subtle ways makes no difference, regarding it from a vantage like hers.]

And Foreman's brother is okay with this? I mean, he must realize House is using him...

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

It lasted a couple of days. Foreman snapped, House got what he wanted.

[And got Foreman and his brother acknowledging each other again. Chase has always picked up a few of the nuances behind House's games, but reading what might be a softer side into them is usually her domain. He wonders if she'd care that he's picked it up, even a little.

Of course, there are still enough times when his motives lack anything Chase can make out as reason, let alone compassion.]

The rest of us got a laugh.

[Of course he doesn't say she's not under that umbrella anymore. He looks around, still parts of the layout here that have slipped from his mind.]

Where do you keep your music? Can I put something on?

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

[That potential ulterior motive hasn't escaped her, even from the incomplete story he's told. But Cameron is inclined to look for those silent, surreptitious benefits. She wouldn't necessarily be surprised if Chase notice, though she might be surprised that he chose to acknowledge it.]

On the shelf, over by the television. The stereo's there too. I could put on tea or something, if you'd like..?

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

That's right, [As if he should have known, her answer a prompt in some kind of test in which he proves to himself that this was real, not a dream he falls into from time to time and forgets on waking. Each time he finds himself back here again he softly questions if he ever really wakes at all.

He starts towards the television, kneeling next to the stereo shelf and running his thumb along the pile of her CDs. Missing the names with the turn of his head back toward her.]

Too warm for tea. How about a glass of something...?

[The lilt at the end turning statement to question isn't that he doubts she'd have wine in the house. He's just not sure, after last time, she'd give it to him.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

[Cameron doesn't answer right away. After last time, she's not sure she ought to; which is why she didn't offer that off the bat. But... well, she may as well give him the benefit of the doubt; and so after a moment of silence broken only by the faint clink of dishes, she joins him in the living room with two glasses and a bottle of wine, light and probably rather too sweet.]

I wasn't sure you'd want...

[She trails off, with a wry little curl of her lip.]

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

I got drunk a few times. I don't have a drinking problem. [He looks back at her as he says it, a patient explanation if maybe one that edges on the verge of a lie. He doesn't have a problem with alcohol, but, not for the first time in his life he's seen the possibilities of using it as a crutch. Right now it isn't an issue, and he reaffirms that, murmuring softly.] Believe me, I'd know.

[There's a CD he must have left here, an Australian band, and he slips it into the CD cradle, pressing play and standing as the first few bars (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9j71ulwSDk) start to play.]

I'd get found out soon enough. The department can't run with two doctors with shaky hands.

[It's half a joke, and as he sits and takes the glass he's forgotten she won't get it.]

Thank you, for worrying about it.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[as_damaged]

[She shoots him a perplexed glance at the shaky hands comment, trying to figure out where that fits in. Too much she doesn't know; though he says it casually enough that it doesn't send her into a spiral of worry. She uncorks the bottle and pours, his glass first.]

It isn't that I don't trust you, you know.

it seems that all my bridges have been burned, you say that's just how this grace thing works

[intheblanks.livejournal.com]

[He doesn't know that, and her words pause the glass at his lips. After a moment he drops his hand to hold it in his lap, still untouched.]

Wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

[He's certain at least that trust is hard for her. That things won't slip away or otherwise let her down. And he's fairly certain, now, that for all the times she's tried to trust him she never quite made it past the belief something would eventually break down. All he's done is the last thing he ever wanted: proved her right.

Even here, where he could assume she just means the drink, he wouldn't blame her for adding up the one plus one of his last visits and letting them equal two.]