as_damaged | ☎ voicemail

[Angela's half expecting Cameron to tell her that she's not a therapist and send her right out the door, so her first reaction is to stand here wide-eyed and mouth slightly gaping. Why did she come to Cameron, of all people? Their relationship has been tolerable at the best of times and downright rocky at the worst. Talking to Chase is completely out of the question even though he was there to witness Angela touch rock-bottom. House? Please. He'd just mock Angela before blabbing her business on the network. Wilson is a nice guy, but a part of Angela's worried that he might tell her what she wants to hear, not what she needs.

Cameron's the best choice in the end. She has no reason to pretty things up for Angela.]

Um... [Angela hesitantly sits down, rubbing her hands on her jeans anxiously.] I guess it really started when Brennan left in November after everybody else did. It helped me sleep with the clock and... then she came back and then left again and I think that was when I lost control trying to compensate for an empty house and not being able to go home and just everything else.

[She hasn't drank in a couple days, but that's because Cinna's been keeping her company. Angela knows he can't do that forever and while he offered to help, this is something she needs to forge through herself.]

[Of course, Cameron's not a therapist and really not qualified to deal with this-- but for whatever reason that's always been the one department the hospital's understaffed on, and probably the one where she'd trust robo-doctors least. Such is life. Wilson might be a better choice-- at least he's used to doing a fair amount of counseling, even if terminal disease isn't quite the same thing.

At the very least this is along the lines of gathering information to make the right referral. And also, maybe most importantly-- rocky relationship or not she considers Angela a friend.]

So, four months, you've been using alcohol to cope with the stresses of the City. How much did you drink, before that?

[Has it been four months already? God, time really does fly when you're not paying attention to it. Biting her lip, Angela tries to remember how things used to be when she was honestly happier and maybe a little more ignorant to what the City's really about.]

Not much. Maybe one or two drinks on the weekends if I went out, some wine with dinner. That's about it.

[She nods, and leans forward, crossed hands resting on her knees.]

Substance abuse in times of stress isn't necessarily a sign of alcoholism. But that doesn't mean it isn't a serious problem on its own.

[Which, of course, Angela already knows, or she wouldn't be here.]

How drunk do you get? And how often?

Almost every night.

[Even though Angela seems to answer easily, it takes everything she has to admit that this has become a nightly occurrence. Sometimes she's alone when she does it, sometimes she visits a bar and does it. It doesn't matter where she does it, but just that she does because the heavy fog it brings helps with distraction.]

But I don't go to work like that. [A little quick to answer that too, but at least Angela has that going for her.] Just hungover.

[If she did this at the Jeffersonian, Cam would ream her inside out. Here, it almost seems expected of the employees, especially after a rough curse.]

That's a step in the right direction, at least.

[She lets out a long breath, a step short of a sigh, as she shifts to lean an elbow against her desk.]

Getting through the day with a hangover can't be much fun, though. [A tight, sympathetic smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.] I think what we need is to figure out a better coping mechanism for you, Angela.

I'm the aspirin industry's favorite customer.

[Nothing like a little self-deprecating humor to take the anxiety out of the room. She's stopped rubbing the sweat off her palms and taken up fiddling with the fringe that decorate the hem of her blouse.]

I know. I just don't know what. My art... [Angela sounds a little more saddened now than disappointed.] I'm having artist's block.

Artist's block, I'm not sure I can help with. [Again, a wry little smile, this one no less worried but slightly more casual.]

Is it just the ticking you're trying to escape?

[That's always been the worst of it, for Cameron; the biggest price she pays for trying to live alone, and the reason she's nearly never home these days. Not that she's going to volunteer any of that if she can help it.]

[Angela shakes her head in the negative. There are a lot of other things she's trying to escape: being lonely even surrounded by people, having her control over how, when, and where she does her living being taken away, wanting to go home so bad but never getting to, never seeing the people she loves the most on days when everybody else does, Chase and Claire, that mystery man from L.A. with the love for comic books who won't tell her a thing about himself, people she loves who leave without so much as a goodbye. So many things Angela would just not rather deal with but every so often, there's something that reminds her that she just can't.

Listing all of them is going to take a little more bravery than she has right now.]

[That would, after all, be too simple a fix. Cameron can guess some of those aches, wouldn't suspect others; doesn't want to pry, anyway. What she does want is to help.]

Still living alone?

[She assumes Cameron can guess one of them, at the very least. It was on the network for all and sundry. It was hard to miss, hard not to guess who would have conflicted feelings over it.]

Yeah.

[Not for lack of trying to find a roommate, even with her bad luck of losing them.]

[She chews at her lip a little, considering. That's one realm where her luck hasn't been much better-- almost, of course, there'd almost been
Mindy, but there are things Cameron can't and won't forgive. So she's alone again, too.]

That always makes things more difficult.

Yeah.

[She feels like she should say more, admit more, confess more. More information could probably make it easier for Cameron to help her, but what should Angela say?]

My... [What is Cinna? It might be a little early to give him a proper title.] The guy I'm seeing... I told him.

What did he say about it?

[An enabler, or a support system? This is relevant information. Also awkward information, because the last thing Cameron wants is to talk about anyone's love life. Professional hazard.]

He said he'd help me. I'm not sure how, but he threw out some wine I had.

[In front of her too. Not like she didn't want to argue about it (she wasn't going to drink it, she could use it for cooking, he could drink it, it's a waste of money to throw it out...), but Angela chose not to. So many defenses and excuses she could have made, but she held her ground and watched Cinna pour the Cabernet down the drain. Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn't. Angela feels it did. She chose to not argue for the thing she became dependent on. She chose to grow up and be self-reliant again. Well, as self-reliant as she could be with somebody keeping her company so she didn't fall off the wagon.]

It's a step in the right direction.

[She pauses, thinks for a moment, her lips pursed. She'd have to clean up a bit, have to disturb her universe and open the door to see what had been left behind, but--]

Would you like to stay with me a while?

[A while being a term of negotiable length; permanence is a little more delicate, especially with the luck they've both had as far as roommates go.]

[That's a very unexpected query that leaves Angela blinking in surprise. There are pros and cons to accepting Cameron's offer, but in short, the pros do reign supreme. It doesn't have to be an everyday thing, Cinna gets a breather from Angela every so often, both women keep their respective places, Angela knows how to pick up after herself and stay out of the way, and both of them ease the pain of loneliness just enough to make it bearable, and Angela finds another source of support. What's not to like?]

I'd like that. [Angela nods, a soft smile spreading on her face.] On some days, if you don't mind. I'll call and give you a head's up when I'll be coming over?

[Because having sex in Cameron's apartment seems disrespectful, even for Angela, the woman who has sex anywhere there's a stable surface.]

[Having someone having sex in her apartment does seem a little odd, though Cameron hardly has room to talk. Still, she'd appreciate the discretion. She smiles, covering a slight uncertainty; at least if Angela's with her, Angela won't be drinking herself into oblivion. And at least she won't stay out all night in some cafe to stave off the ticking. It's advantageous all around.]

It's a deal.

☎ voicemail

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

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another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

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another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;

another glass of whisky, but it still don't kill the pain;