☤ twenty-five

[as_damaged]

[Video for the hell of it]

Considering what I've heard about past years, I guess this isn't so bad.

Happy Halloween.



[ooc; do whatever, preferably no other Camerons, she can forget anything she has to |D ON A SIDE NOTE, regarding icons-- she has not been updated, never fear. She just dyed her hair for lulz & torment. TROLL THE NICE DOCTOR LADY]

[EDIT: out for a paaarty, troll boldly in my absence & I will get back to you <3]

Comments

[Private; Audio]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

You wouldn't remember.

[He's arguing with himself.]

But you'd remember here.

[Private; Audio]

[as_damaged]

But here you haven't done anything.

[Paaause. Picture her with a hand on her hip, mulling this over, considering this. As if life here wasn't complicated already.]

Don't tell me. Here. But don't keep secrets from me.

[Maybe she doesn't want to know then, either. But if she thinks he's cheating...]

[Private; Audio]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

I don't want to. But I don't want to know what you'll think of me.

[And he's drinking. Alone, there isn't any bar noise.]

I haven't been able to sleep in our bed for a week.

[Which means he hasn't been able to sleep.]

[Private; Audio]

[as_damaged]

If what I think of you now is that you're being unfaithful...

[There's a little desperation in her voice. Cameron is going straight from being convinced she's lost him to being convinced she's losing him, without even getting her honeymoon. And this time there's no questionable consolation of back in the real world...]

That's not healthy for either of us.

[Private; Audio]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

You'll think one terrible thing of me and then find out it's worse.

[He laughs, breathing into the glass.]

I'm trying to protect you.

[Private; Audio]

[as_damaged]

[Very quietly]

It doesn't sound like it's working.

[Private; Audio]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

It will. I just have to... get back on track.

Can I come in?

[Private; Audio]

[as_damaged]

In?

[Private; Audio]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[This noise isn't a knock, but something bouncing off her door. Audible both in person and on the recording.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

[The sigh might register over the line, distant as she sets the device down to answer the door. She does want to see him; though she can't quite shake the feeling that she shouldn't, that she's glimpsed too much of her own future already. For an uncertain second she lingers, fingertips on the knob of the top lock, before undoing them all in short succession, letting out a deep breath she wasn't conscious of holding and pulling the door open.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[He's hunched against the door opposite, tennis ball in hand, a seat he might have taken up hours ago or in the last ten minutes. By the time the light from her apartment spills out into the hall he's already stumbling to his feet, trying to smooth down his crumpled shirt, if there's nothing else he can do to make himself presentable. The bottle's empty now, discarded.]

Allison.

[It's an almost physical shock, in person, to see how little she's changed.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

[Not as much of a shock as seeing how much he has, and in spite of herself she takes a halting step towards him. The door creaks and she stops herself. Locking herself out now would be perfect.]

Chase...

[The flat tone and the little crease in her brow speak volumes, even as she bites back her words. You look awful. Hurriedly she pushes the door back open, standing framed by light, leaving him enough space to pass her.]

Come in.

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[He doesn't quite make it past, stopping opposite her, outlined in the doorframe he searches her face a moment and then looks down.]

I know you're not the same person.

[It's a reminder as much as an assurance. Pushing the hair back from his face, the ring on his wedding finger looks bright enough to have been polished that morning.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

[She nods, voice still catching in her throat. She believes that he hasn't slept in a week; it shows in the darkness around his eyes, the trace of stubble. The ring's gleam is incongruous, and it draws her eye for more than one reason. Maybe she's just practiced at this, separating the face from the man; maybe it's easier to remember he isn't who he is because he's falling apart. If she hadn't changed her hair, perhaps it would be easier for him.

But he is still who he is, and if anything one learns in the City can be believed, he's her husband. Or will be; and to an extent there isn't a great difference. It still hurts, now, to see him this way, and she leans forward slowly, cautiously, to embrace him if he'll let her. He looks like he needs a shoulder to lean on. She'd offer his younger self the same, even now.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[He needs more than a shoulder, he needs someone to take the weight off his own. It wasn't Foreman, won't be House, and he can't let it be Cameron. She's the one person who still looks at him without seeing someone else's blood on his hands. Worse, he made her part of it. She can't ever know, not if he has to fight his way through a wave of nausea every time they have a patient in the ICU.

He flinches at the touch - last time he reached for her she pulled away, and he hasn't had the bravery to try again - then pulls her close, pressing his face against her shoulder and the smell of her hair. His shoulders shake but his eyes sting with stubbornly unshed tears. If he can spare her that one thing.]

It's going to get better. I promise, I'm going to get back.

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

[She'd desperately like to believe him, but really, he isn't making it easy. Cameron has never found it easy to believe in happy endings; she fell in love with a dying man, with a dying man's best friend-- with people she can't have, or at best, can't keep. But she wanted to believe they had a chance at happiness. It seems less likely every day.

She tightens her grasp, face turned away from his, lips still quirked in a frown. Chase is an absolute mess-- rumpled shirt, half drunk and trembling under her hands. Cameron can't conceive of what he could have done, torn between a certainty that nothing could be that awful to reduce him to this, and a terror that reality is worse than the worst thing she can imagine. After a moment--]

Come on. Sit down, I'll make you a coffee.

[She loosens her grasp a little, enough to turn to him. It might be good if he sobers up a bit.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[Chase knows too well about her lack of faith in ever-afters. That fight's only four months old, and not quite forgotten, although a few weeks in the sun did their fair share to blot it out. He finds himself keeping hold of her sleeve as she moves him away from the door, letting himself be lead. Before he can be made to sit, however, his hand comes up to grasp her shoulder with sudden vehemence.]

We're going to be okay. [She has to know.] I did the right thing.

[He's not sacred, he's not clean, he's not forgiveable. But he was right.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

[She stiffens, not afraid but startled by the suddenness, the urgency of what he says. Meeting his eyes, she raises her hands to grasp his wrist, taking his hand between her own and lowering it slowly, never breaking the gaze.]

I trust you.

[And she means it, or at least she would like to. Cameron squeezes his fingers, trying to reassure him.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[He nods, not finding the word for thank you, and takes his hand back after a moment, holding it against himself. When he sits, he sits unnaturally straight, hands folded across his lap like a small child newly dedicated to obedience after a scolding.

It's a few moments before he starts to look around, take in vague memories that might not be his at all, of three years ago and being stuck here for an age that ended up being an instant.]

You still live alone.

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

[Halfway to the kitchen she pauses, having moved away as soon as she was certain he would sit. Her lips quirk into a curve that isn't quite a smile.]

Just me and the cat.

[The cat who recognizes a semi-familiar smell, and jumps up with an inquisitive little noise to see if he's still as good a toy to play with. Cameron looks down and continues on to put on the promised coffee.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[Petting Gray is an automatic response, they've got a cat of their own at home, after all. A few minutes and a purring furball nested against his thigh later and perhaps Chase's shoulders have relaxed an infinite amount. The side of his jeans are being worked through by razor sharp claws, but that doesn't seem to matter.]

I wish you wouldn't. [He calls, voice raised to be heard in the next room. It's easier to talk about her. He knows secrets she doesn't know she's told him, and even the remembered awkwardness is comfortable and fond.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

I know, [she calls back, shaking her head unseen. It's an old argument, even older for him, and somehow that's stranger than anything else about this evening. The similarities are stranger than the differences.]

I haven't found anyone I'd be comfortable with, yet. [Coming back into the living room, she leans against the wall to watch him. Gray doesn't seem to mind the hint of desperation in his demeanor, and she's a little relieved that the cat's attention looks to have helped a bit.] It hasn't been a problem, lately.

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

[He worries. That's the familiar feeling biting at the hollow of his chest when he looks around at the empty room. Those feelings, sharp and gnawing, stayed with him and come back fresh. Chase turns his head to look up at her with eyes that threaten to stay closed on every blink and wonders if she's keeping her distance on purpose, the way he's pushed her into doing at home.]

I'll still call. [He sounds young, but tired, hopelessly hopeful] Every curse.

[She shouldn't worry he'll ever not be there for her. Not until it becomes the better option that he stay away.]

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[as_damaged]

I know. [She smiles at that, inclining her head and rubbing at the back of her neck. She's keeping her distance, a little, because it feels dishonest to be too close to him. And because the coffee shouldn't take too long to brew.] I'm glad you do.

[Even with everything laid open between them it's an embarrassing admission, and she hurries back into the kitchen when the machine beeps, coming out a few moments after with a cup for him. She hands it over carefully-- not too full, because he's swaying enough that she doesn't entirely trust him not to spill it-- and takes a seat beside him.]

Though I'm not entirely helpless.

[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]

[cushylife.livejournal.com]

I'm not entirely use-useful. [He stumbles over his words, trying a smile along with the admission. It's a fleeting glimpse of something awkward but warm, chased away all too quickly by dark clouds in the sea-storm of his eyes.] But no one's going to touch you.

[Sometimes it feels like he's mouthing along with his own script. The him of three years ago wouldn't dream of how far he'd go to make sure no one harmed her, or the hand on her wrist that made his choice for him. How many other people's wives had there been, how many husbands less able to keep that promise?

He shudders, closing his eyes and finding the images are there anyway. Flat green line on the monitor and blood, blood everywhere. The coffee in his mouth tastes acrid but he swallows it down before gasping for clean air.]

I don't want to go back.