poly_chromatic | ☤ ninety-seven

Entry tags:

house m.d. - allison cameron

☤ ninety-seven

[ VIDEO ]

[Cameron's at her desk, writing. A crowd of balloons floats just behind her, slightly out of focus, clustering and clamoring and whining over one another so only fragments can be heard.]

You've never been--
--ever love--
--second best if you're lucky
--destroy everyone around you--

[Her writing slows; her knuckles tighten around her pen.]

--downhill from here--
everybody lies
--wrong choices--
--not even your cat likes you

[She looks up, gaze unfocused, and sighs heavily... which is when she notices the recording light, and switches it off. But a few moments later...]

[ TEXT ]

Has anyone managed to pop them?

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no luck yet. don't believe them, i bet your cat loves you. <3

She's a cat; her affections are largely based on who's feeding her at the moment.

But I appreciate the sentiment.

I have a pin and I know how to use it.

Think it'll work? So far they just float out of reach if I come too close.

It's worth a try. What if we doubleteamed them?

Maybe.

Did you get any?

No, I didn't.

[A pause where she's quiet because she knows how lucky she is compared to everybody else.]

I'm sorry.

Don't be. It's a curse, and a ridiculous one.

Ridiculous and hurtful.

Only if we let it get to us.

[Well, he's unafflicted but some of those aren't only striking a nerve with her.]

Flamethrower might do it.

[It sounds like an offer.]

I'm under the impression they're unusually resilient.

I'm willing to put in an unusual degree of effort.

It's an annoyance. That's all.

[To admit that it bothers her would be to admit that she's listening. To admit that she thinks they might be right, at least about most of it.]

[Curses know how to get inside people's heads. Truth doesn't really matter compared to the things people tell themselves - Chase knows that much.]

They're annoying enough on a regular day. I hate balloons.

Do they follow you?

[Some of it is objective truth. She's never been better than second best in any estimation. And House's mantra-- everybody lies-- she's given up trying to disprove it.

The cat might be worth arguing against, but even the cat prefers Chase.]

Close behind, unless I'm watching them. They hang back if they think you're going to try to catch them.

[The cat followed her across dimensions. It's arguable.

And she's been more than second best.]

Take a slow stroll to my office and I'll get ready to slam the door after you.

You can work here.

[She'd argue that her track record says otherwise.]

I'm fine, really.

[She's really not.]

[He's guessing at that.]

Not even worth a shot?

besides, it's easier to work on my own computer.

[So be it, Ms Cameron. But there's a knock on your office door some twenty minutes later.]

[He might be able to hear the sigh, beneath the indistinct moans and mutters of her chorus of horrors. Then again, he might not.]

Come in.

[It's not as if anything they've said is a secret, after all.]

[It's a minute before he does, as he has to adjust what he's carrying to a single arm.]

I brought coffee. No flamethrower.

[Ugly balloons hang like a cloud behind her; one sinks to murmur something about dying alone, while others groan in chorus about her moral failings, her shortcomings, how ridiculous she looked when she had blonde hair.]

I think all you'd manage would be setting off the sprinklers.

[She looks tired.]

[She's been looking tired for a while, he's noticed. It might be a bigger job than coffee can handle.]

Having the building evacuated would be a good reason to delay the paperwork.

[He complains about it, but his is always done on time, too. He sets both coffees - hers and his, on her desk, and lets his laptop slip from under his arm so he can try warding the balloons backwards with it, commenting casually,]

Apparently, not many people suit both.

Edited 2013-11-08 22:32 (UTC)

Soggy paperwork would be a good reason to start over.

[She manages a little smile, but it's tight and slightly humorless. This is a bigger job than coffee can handle-- probably a bigger job than anything or anyone can handle, if we're honest, but it's a start and she leans forward to grab the cup, though for now she just folds her hands around the cup.]

Both?

[Waft, waft. The balloons don't look especially threatened by his efforts.]

Fair and dark hair. [He glances over his shoulder at her, then thinks better of it.] You look stunning blonde. But that's not much of a change.

[She gives him a long look, a bit suspicious. She can't remember if he's ever mentioned it before.

As far as he knows, she shouldn't know, isn't that right? But, then, the balloons rather give it away.]

You're paying more attention to them than I am.

I happen to disagree with them on a few points.

[Although whatever they're trying to whisper just now gets broken up by the gentle thudding sound as he knocks the group of them against each other.]

[They groan and grumble discordantly, which makes her flinch a bit, but there's a grim satisfaction to her expression.]

I've always thought it's better not to dignify curses with a response.

[THUMPthudthudthud. He puts down his weapon (for now) as they skitter into the corner. And don't mind him making himself at home leaning against the corner of the desk.]

You're right. It's not really them I'm responding to.

[He's definitely been more effective in getting rid of them than she has, though her methods have mostly been forcible ignoring and occasional glaring. She shifts slightly, turning towards him, arms crossed in front of her.]

Thank you for the coffee.

[He recognises a shut-down when he sees it, but maybe he's gone along with those for too long. Still, he nods.]

The month keeps up like this and we're all going to need it on IV.

[Old habits.]

With any luck things will lighten up after Halloween.

[Talking about curses is like talking about the weather.]

That would fit with tradition.

[He takes a long swallow of coffee, puts the cup back down. In the corner the balloons have begun to murmur again - time to get back on topic.]

Thing is, it seems like the only person who could have given... them some of their ideas, is me. And that makes me the only person qualified to correct them.

[She almost glances over her shoulder at them, partly because they're distracting-- looming and muttering and insulting-- and partly because she's not sure she wants to have this conversation. But she doesn't look.

She leans back in her chair, hands on the armrests.]

[Ok. Not a shut down. Now he actually has to find the right words.]

It's not all downhill from here.

[There are only so many shutdowns she can string along before he finds a way around it. She knows that from experience.

If she were less tired, less frustrated, that might actually get a wry smile out of her.]

We don't need to talk about this.

We haven't — and I think that might have been a problem. [For all the good reasons to avoid it, and all the things he wants to avoid ever, ever telling her blocking out that part of his life might not have done either of them any favours.

He half finishes his coffee, straightens up, and tugs a chair across to sit in, giving the balloons another warning strike along the way.]

But it's not downhill. There are ups and downs - it's life, and I came in on a low part. [That at least is no secret. The whole city, should it scroll far enough back on the network, could watch him arrive, drunk and lost and miserable.] But I think not talking about it has coloured the whole three years between here and there. And that's doing a disservice to some really happy days in both our lives. A lot of great days.

Edited 2013-11-09 03:26 (UTC)

[Cameron's floating peanut gallery isn't giving her much credit today, but were she as useless as they like to imply she'd have been able to guess he hadn't returned from his proudest moment.]

It's a curse. They're always oversimplifications. [But, fundamentally, all good things come to an end. A swift end. She knows that much, and sometimes she thinks it would be much easier if she didn't.] And when I leave, I won't remember, anyway.

Which is why it can't hurt to tell you. You're the only one of us House never fires. And when you move on you're the one he asks back - and you turn him down. Can't hurt to tell you - [Well, it can hurt them here, if she lets it, but he thinks - maybe - they're grown-up enough to be able to acknowledge some things without it making life too awkward. That was his original selling point with her, after all.]

Whatever wrong decisions anyone made, whatever doubts you had, I think - I hope - you never had to doubt you were loved.

[Even when she walked out, it wasn't for lack of love. On his part. He thinks not on hers. It was for fear of how bitter that love might turn if duty made her stay, or him leave.

He'll never be sure he shouldn't have gone with her anyway.]

Edited 2013-11-11 01:40 (UTC)

From my perspective...

[It's hard to know for sure. That, though, seems too cold, even for her to say, so she doesn't. Just smiles, tight and humorless and strained. From her perspective, every time she's trusted him, she's learned again why she shouldn't trust him.

It would be easier, so much, if she hadn't loved him. If she could get along with him without risking it.]

But, what. Four months? Five? I'm not looking toward the future to get through life here. [She used to. And then she used to imagine she could make something of her time here. The balloons, murmuring that the third time isn't the charm, aren't saying anything new.]

None of us are. We've been here too long for that. [Even him, with his artificially shortened timesheet. But then he spent most of his first year here hopeful that the city's existence meant there was no future for him at all. It took a visit from an older, blonder version of her to start to change that. Now he's not entirely sure what he hopes for, but just hoping for something seems to be an improvement.]

But you're too bright for your future to be bleak. Wherever it is. [He stretches out a foot to knock against her chair lightly.] And you used to throw fits whenever someone suggested otherwise. Foreman. It was usually Foreman.

[Her present, here, seems bleak enough. The City doesn't count for anything; it's stopped progress, suspended animation. ]

I'm not so worried about the future.

[And really, she isn't. She knows that whatever happens, whatever goes wrong between them, is going to hurt. She doesn't believe she can make him hurt the way he will-- the way she saw, when he came back-- and not feel it as keenly herself.

But even so she has faith in her ability to survive. She's lived through enough loss to know she can endure. She thinks he will, too, and that should be a comfort. She's not sure yet whether it is.]

You don't need to be resigned to it, either. [He tilts his head toward the balloons] Or to any of this bull.

[Chase doesn't have too many important people in his life. It's always seemed safer that way. But when someone finds that place in his world they have to do more than eventually, potentially divorce him to lose it. Wherever they are, she matters to him. Perhaps literally more than she knows, though he's trying little by little to address that.]

You know, bashing them's strangely satisfying.

It's a curse. It's like any other. Temporary and unpleasant.

[Unpleasant because of the truth it contains, but she's trying not to acknowledge that more than she has to. Really, if he's trying to make her feel better it's working, but that's largely because she insists on being contrary.]

It's not your job to disprove them. I appreciate the thought, but it's not.

[She never would have stood for it, not without a fight. Now... They don't talk about these things. About what has been or will be. About anything serious, really, and even if that doesn't work, it doesn't make things worse.

Which makes this seem like some manifestation of guilt, and Cameron is selfish enough not to let him get away with it.]

Edited 2013-11-13 17:16 (UTC)

I didn't come because it was my job. [He's not letting her get away with making herself into a duty, either. It's not fair to either of them, and circumstance (and human error) have already made things unfair enough. But while he's vehement enough in making the correction, it's not said in irritation. And he is willing to let her deflect, now.]

I told you. I just really hate balloons.

[Her jaw tightens a little bit; she's leaning back in her chair, not looking quite as relaxed as she means to. She looks, in fact, like someone who means to look more relaxed than they are. But, he's not pressing the issue which means she doesn't have to fight back. She almost does, anyway; in some ways it was easier when they fought more. It's being friendly that she finds difficult.

But that would lay more of this out in the open. Doctors are the worst patients, especially when the cure is more difficult than the affliction.

So she just rolls her eyes, deliberately.]

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☤ ninety-seven

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