as_damaged | ☤ forty-five

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☤ forty-five

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.]

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[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.]

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.

[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.

[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.]

[Really, she just means the drink, at the moment; but the truth is, though he's let her down in big and small ways more than once, she keeps coming back. She trusts him more than she does herself, sometimes; and she trusts this other him more than the present, largely because she doesn't feel she has much choice. Perhaps it's natural to assume that, someday, she'll run out of second and third and thousandth chances.

She can infer certain things. They still make very little sense. Funny, that she worries about him and them more than she worries about herself, on her own as she suspects she must be; not because she's strong, but because she's intimately familiar with her own weakness, whereas Chase's is... foreign, unsettling. She's never known what to make of him wanting her without needing her.]

Hey. No leaving me sad this time, remember?

Was I doing that? [He looks up, guilty for a moment, lower lip bitten down with thought. It feels like reality could fold in around them just to contain the paradox of his being here with her, the very concept of them being for the moment unformed, and as such also unbroken. He'd like to tell her about the good times. Holidays where her family almost made him feel like he had a new one of his own. Condo hunting, and christening. A spectacular honeymoon. For all the mistakes made, there's enough to make it seem worth it.

He smiles, as suddenly and brightly as sunlight cracking stormclouds, and clinks his glass with her.] Sorry. I could go back to the office gossip, if you like.

If it's easier for you.

[She tilts her head, an odd note of sympathy in her voice. As hard as these visits have been on her, they can't be easy for Chase, either. She doesn't want him to lie and put on a brave face-- he's not as good at it as he used to be, or maybe he's just not used to doing it for her anymore-- but... if he's doing better, she can feel a little less awful about what awaits her when the City finally sends her home. She doesn't want to think she's broken him.]

I'd gossip about what goes on here but... most of it's unpleasant, as usual.

[Thinking she's broken him would, to Chase, be the only thing worse than her idea that House did. He's not broken. Damaged, but they all of them were damaged before. And they might all be unfixable, but there can be ways of learning to live with the cracks.]

I've lived it, Allison. That's not gossip, it's nostalgia. [He teases her, sets down his glass and half turns to better face her.] What would you prefer?

I'm not sure.

[She laughs a little, sipping her wine and meeting his eyes.] Gossip's likelier to be pleasant conversation, but sometimes I feel like I know too much. That I'm going to let something slip-- to you, to House and Wilson. [Cameron tilts her head and sets her glass aside too, going a bit quieter.] You don't remember while you're at home, do you?-- you can't, it would create a paradox.

Edited 2010-07-14 22:01 (UTC)

I can't because if I did, I'd have checked myself into Mayfield. [Chase reasons this with paced tones, not quite answering her question. No, he doesn't have the weight of this place hanging over him all the time, it would make ordinary life impossible, but at the same time, there's something in the back of his mind...

He rests his hands, clasped, in his lap, sighing softly.]

I don't remember everything right now, either. I don't... remember leaving. I can remember being pretty sure I never would.

[It's not that the comment doesn't make sense without context; but there's something about the way he says it that makes her wonder. But peace of mind is difficult to come by and she's starting to learn not to ask questions if she's not sure she wants the answer.]

Would I sound completely paranoid if I guessed that it's because the City doesn't want you to be able to tell me?

[He snorts and ducks his head, blinking down at the worn indigo denim of his jeans before looking up again, lips quirked into a lopsided smile.]

While you're here, I'd say it's smart to be paranoid. There I was thinking it probably had something to do with me.

It can't be healthy, though. Attributing motives and measures to a place.

[Still, she smiles back.]

A place that screws with you on a daily basis. Or whatever's running it. It might be pushing it to attribute malevolence to the bricks and mortar.

[Teasing her means he doesn't have to tell her about his own paranoiac leanings. The memory-fogged suspicion that he never left at all. But who'd dream up such a god-awful future for themselves, really? Assume they deserve it?

...Well, point made and taken.]

Blame the so-called deities, I guess? [The word and the thought always leaves a sour taste in her mouth.] It's as likely an explanation as anything else.

[She can vouch for his presence, twice over; but as for his eventual absence... Time means so little here, there's no way to prove he isn't just coming back from the City's future. What an unpleasant thought; but Cameron doesn't entertain it for long, if only because she's convinced that here, forewarned would be forearmed.]

Rudy Miller-- if you remember him? Claims to know when he'll leave, but he won't tell.

Rudy Miller's not quite as bright as he'd like people to give him credit for.

[There's someone else that could apply to, at least as he was three years ago. Chase nods.]

If he knows when he's leaving, he won't need to try again before he's sure to succeed. Watch for failed attempts before you believe anything he feeds you.

He said he's concerned it would compromise his free will. [She looks aside a moment, considering, her chin lifted. This is something Cameron spends a lot of time working out-- the finer points of the time-travel paradox. As though she doesn't have enough to occupy her time here.] I tend to agree with you; and even if he does remember, there's no guarantee it's correct. It wouldn't be the first time a curse has manufactured memories.

[A grin breaks out, sudden and unexpected, and she casts a sly glance at him.] Since I'm pretty sure I've never studied undersea medicine.

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☤ forty-five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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