Chapter Nine – Personal

“How is she?”

 

House was interrogated as he left her room, nurses taking his places to check her over. He stopped Chase from rushing in to her. She was in a state, no use stressing her out even more. She needed time to settle.

 

“How do you think she is? She just woke up to find she lost her kid and she’s now remembering what she went though. So yeah, she’s all puppies and flowers.”

 

House snapped, leaning wearily on his cane as he headed down the corridor, planning to lock himself away in his office to let this situation sink in.

 

 

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“House…”

 

Cuddy’s voice repeating his name brought him back to reality and his stress-relieving ball fell to the floor as his attention shifted from it. He made no move to retrieve it. Glancing, uninterested, back at Cuddy stood in his doorway, he didn’t reply, his silence being an unspoken snark of response.

 

“She’s awake.”

She finally added and House swung his chair around to face her.

 

“I know; I was there. She freaked out when I touched her.”

His voice was low, his eyes trained on his cane as he swung it from hand-to-hand, in place of the ball, to distract himself from letting his thoughts fully travel back to the woman he’d finally admitted to himself that he loved. And now she was so badly broken that he couldn’t even touch her.

 

“That can only be a natural reaction right now.”

She tried to reassure him, a sympathetic expression settling on her features as she studied him. He’d become so withdrawn and distant in the last few weeks and Cuddy had been surprised that he was showing the anxiety he felt. She knew he’d normally just delegate worse and worse jobs to the remaining fellows, but instead he’d been drowning himself in case after case, solving them on auto drive before withdrawing to his office to brood. Everyone had noticed it, and he didn’t hide the fact that he was apprehensive. But perhaps it was so insufferable that he simply couldn’t manage to hide it, not when he was so busy trying to make people believe he could deal with the leg pain just fine as well. There was only so much of a façade one person could assume before they started to crack under the pressure of their own mask.

 

The tension between Chase and House had been near unbearable too since Cameron’s ordeal. It was clear that they both felt guilty so they took it out on each other, trading cutting comments and throwing the blame around like one of House’s toys.

 

“She’s been asking for you.”

Those few words made House’s gaze shoot up to meet Cuddy’s, searching her face as though to make certain of what she’d said. He didn’t need to be told twice and in no time he was standing outside her room again, just as he had an hour earlier.

 

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She was staring up at the ceiling and anyone would have thought her expression to be vacant or distant, but he could see the torment bubbling under it.

 

“You asked for me?”

He said as softly as possible so as not to startle her. He’d never before felt the need to treat her like porcelain and never before had a situation warranted it. She’d huff and say she could take care of herself and didn’t need the baby gloves. But right now, the slightest touch really could break those fine strands of sanity she was so desperately clinging to. After all, that’s what it had seemed like when he’d made contact before.

 

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.”

She said, her eyes slowly falling from the ceiling to meet his, impossible baby blues connecting with the blue-greens of the ocean. This was as much contact as she could take right now and he swallowed the lump in his throat at that thought.

 

“It was understandable. I should have realised not to touch you so soon after…”

He regretted his word choice instantly as she broke their eye contact and he felt the loss keenly. They both knew where that sentence was headed and they both knew it was better left unspoken.

 

Silence permeated the room, with the machines providing an ironically comforting resonance to break it. She found his eyes again and he held her gaze steadily.

“The police were here after you left. I felt so useless, because I couldn’t even give them a definitive description.”

She sighed in frustration and rubbed her head.

“Every time I try to think…about him…it’s too much.”

Her eyes misted with fresh tears and she swallowed a few times to fight them back and steel herself. The ordeal lingered on her senses and she wanted to gag.

 

She could taste the dust, the coppery aftertaste of her own blood, the burning friction of the rope she’d been gagged with. She could feel the blaze of the metal handcuffs cutting into her wrists, the searing heat of the deep wounds all over her body, the thick blood matted in her hair. And she could smell the place again, overpowering and damp with cold, clogging so thickly that it stung her eyes and throat just to breathe. As it flooded her sanity, her heart was beating furiously, her senses on overdrive.

 

House could only watch as the panic gripped her. He wondered anxiously whether these panic attacks would be a regular occurrence. Not that it wasn’t comprehensible, but he could see that if she didn’t calm down she’d pass out and possibly have a seizure. That wouldn’t help matters in the slightest. He was wary of trying to physically calm her down though, worried of the effect touching her again would have and if it would make her panic worsen.

 

“Allison, take deep breaths.”

He instructed, edging slowly to her bedside. Her breathing was shallow and laboured and she couldn’t catch her breath, the lack of oxygen making her dizzy. Gripping the metal bars of the bed tightly she consciously tried to deepen her inhalations, her eyes wide with fear once again, praying those images wouldn’t take this opportunity to haunt her once again.

 

She felt an oxygen mask being gently pressed over her nose and mouth and clutched at it desperately. Within a few moments, breathing the oxygen in deeply, her heart finally started to slow. When she felt able to, she finally lifted the mask a little and choked out her words.

“I’m maxed on morphine, can’t feel much of anything now…that’s supposed to stop the panic attacks. And I'm on Paroxetine.”

Her voice was shaky and she finally took of the mask. Just seeing her lose control of herself like that was unnerving and House felt helpless. He couldn’t do anything, because touching her would be involved and at the moment, refraining from doing anything could possibly be the lesser of the two evils, as much as that pained him.

 

“Did the police tell you anything?”

House asked slowly, wondering if they’d given her any breaking news that he hadn’t received yet. Cameron shook her head a little, her body finally starting to relax again, as much as it could right now.

 

“No, they just said I’m safe now and everyone’s doing everything they can.”

‘So they didn’t tell her he’s walking around free as a bird then?’ he thought, but kept it to himself, choosing instead just to nod.

 

Dropping down into the bedside chair, he studied her for a few moments as she pulled restlessly at a loose strand of the bed sheet.

“How are you holding up?”

He asked, knowing it was a stupid question and feeling awkward trying to make what he saw as ‘small talk’. She obviously wasn’t ‘holding up’ – he’d just witnessed a panic-induced attack and had to give her oxygen. But she lifted her eyes to his and acknowledged his effort gratefully with a slight smile, able to read the worry and trying to reassure him.

 

“I guess I’ve been better. Cuddy said the therapist is going to come down tomorrow…but…I don’t want to talk about it all. I can’t. Not yet, I just need to get my head straight before I get all the questions and pitying looks.”

A long sigh passed her lips and she leaned back on the pillows.

“They…said I might not be able to…h-have any more children.”

She choked out, tears welling up her eyes again. She fought them back, refusing to allow herself to cry anymore. House didn’t know how to reply, but he tensed as he saw how excruciating this harsh reality was for her.

 

Raising her head again she trained her eyes on an invisible spot on the opposite wall, focusing her attention to keep her mind occupied on something other than tears and the fact that she might never have the chance to be a mother. By foregoing eye contact, it was slightly less afflicting in some way.

 

“I always thought ‘someday’ – I wanted a family at some point. I wanted to be a mommy. When I found out I was pregnant, it felt like my world was falling apart, and I feel so guilty for thinking like that now. I’d wished so hard that it hadn’t happened, cried myself to sleep some nights. It had just been a bad time for me to get pregnant, and as much as I know Chase would have stuck around and seen it through…I didn’t want to put that on him. And I didn’t want to be with him.”

She paused for a moment, dislodging the physical embodiment of the emotions stuck in her throat by swallowing the lump she felt there and once again holding back the tears.

 

“I didn’t want to be alone through it though. And I hated myself so much for it happening in the way it did. As much as I knew I’d wanted and hoped for kids in the future, it hadn’t been the ‘right time’ and…I constantly asked the God I don’t even believe in, ‘why?’ because the circumstances were…less than perfect. Not what I’d want to bring a child into.”

 

Once again the stopped, biting her lip and finally tearing her gaze from the wall.

“And now, there won’t ever be a ‘right time’ because I’ve not got a second chance. I wished that baby away so badly that I threw away my hope of ever being a mom.”

 

House didn’t even know what words to attempt as a shot at comfort. He was way out of his depth; this was personal on a whole new level. He was in at the deep end, skipping Feelings 101 and hurtling straight for Finals.

“It’s not your fault. None of it’s your fault at all.”

He mumbled quietly, but loud enough for her to hear.

“You need rest…”

He added awkwardly and Cameron closed her eyes as another long sigh escaped her.

 

She couldn’t expect him to suddenly become a shrink overnight, when he could barely concede to having emotions himself. Just because she was in limbo with her own emotional turmoil didn’t miraculously turn him into a brilliant talk therapist overnight.

 

“I’ll come and check on you tomorrow.”

He said carefully, pushing himself to his feet and turning toward the door. Pausing before he left, he spoke over his shoulder.

“You’ll get through this. I’m proud of you.”

It was almost inaudible but she caught it and watched despondently as he disappeared out of the door.