Story Posted: 12-01-09
Story Edited: 6-11-12

Disclaimer: I don't own House! If I did, Cadley obviously would have been a storyline!

Note: This story is written in second person, which I normally despise, but please give it a chance before you decide not to read it because of it's POV. I promise, the POV is fitting for the story.
Rating: This story is rated M for mentions of rape, but it does not contain explicit sexual detail. I've attempted to keep this story as tasteful as possible.
Date: As of today, 6-11-12, this story has 770 reviews. I would love nothing more than for it to reach 1,000. So, if you're reading, it would mean the world to me if you would review and let me know what you think. My reviewers have played a huge part in this story, and even though it's over, still mean the world to me. I'm also going through this story and trying to edit typos and fix where FF deleted my scene-changing lines.
Also, I am making chapter titles!
Beta: Vanamo

Enjoy!

SIGNAL FIRE

CHAPTER ONE
Signal Fire
In the confusion and the aftermath, you are my signal fire.

"No one else is available she might feel comfortable with," House tells you as you stand outside the hospital room. You know Cuddy is gone for the night and won't be coming back because Rachel has a cold and her babysitter bailed. The nurses are consumed by an accident that put the ER in a frenzy and you're the only other female doctor that Cameron has ever really spoken to – even if it was only for five seconds. You stare at the floor in an unsure manner. It's not the first time you've ever dealt with someone who's been raped, but it's the first time you've dealt with it happening to someone you know.

"Page me if you need me." With that, House walks away. His voice is cold and lacking in emotion, but you know he's not as apathetic about the situation as he seems. You can tell by the look in his eyes and by the way he moves a little slower than what he usually does. Even if you need him, you know you probably won't page him. He's not the comforting type. Although neither are you.

"Cameron." You say her name softly so as not to startle her as you enter the room. She's not looking at you and you feel at a loss for words. She looks a mess. Her hair is covering her face, but you can still see the tear stains. You're shocked anyone could convince her to put a hospital gown on because she's rigid and hugging her knees like she's disallowing access to any part of her body. "Allison," you try out her first name. It sounds right under the circumstances.

Her eyes shift your way, but only for a moment. She glances at you with a shameful look then hides her face against her legs. She reminds you of an innocent puppy cowering in the corner with its tail between its legs. "You don't have to hide from me." You know your words are useless. You shut the door behind you then walk over to the bed and place the supplies your holding on the table.

"I thought nobody was going to come," she whispers in a raspy voice, so quietly you can barely hear her. "He pulled me from my car. I couldn't - I didn't know where I was."

You feel uncomfortable. You doubt you'd be the person she chose to tell this to if she was thinking straight. You sit down on the edge of the bed and place your hands on your lap, watching her but occasionally glancing around so it's not like you're staring.

"I can't feel anything." She lifts her head slightly and looks at you.

"It's shock," you explain, avoiding her eyes. Her brokenness is enough to make even you hurt and you barely know her. "Let's just get this over wi-"

"I wasn't strong enough." Her voice cracks and she hides her face from you again. "I just - If I could have -" Her voice trails off and she coughs a few times.

"Don't even start that shit, Allison." The emotion comes out of nowhere and the words slip out before you can stop them. "You know not to even think like that." You get to your feet again and force yourself to be calm, unsure of what set you off. You're usually so collected. "You're going to need to put your legs down," you tell her softly and place a hand on her shoulder. You expect her to shove you away but you're shocked when she leans into your touch. You rub her shoulder gently for a moment then put your hand on her knee. "It's okay," you assure her when she flinches. You know it isn't 'okay', but you can't think of anything else to say.

"I want a shower." She tries to push your hand away from her knee but quickly gives up when she realizes you don't plan on moving it.

"Not right now," you reply, trying to be as gentle with her as possible. "Are you hurt anywhere?" You doubt she let anyone close enough to her to mark down any injuries in her chart.

"I don't want to do this." She coughs more and shakes her head. "I need a shower," she begs. With shaking hands, she rubs at her runny nose then accepts the tissue you hand her.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can shower," you promise her. You gently rub her knee, trying to coax her into lowering her legs.

"I need a shower!" She smacks your hand away then appears as shocked by her sudden outburst as you feel. She stares at you, breathing heavily. Then in a matter of seconds, her face contorts and it's a struggle for her to hold back from crying. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, trying to hide from you again. "I'm so sorry. Thirteen, it hurts!" She slips into a coughing fit and lifts her head again to cover her mouth with her arm.

It's then you notice she's sweating. You had thought the shaking was from the trauma, but now that you watch her, it looks more like she's shivering. You remember two days ago when you were in the locker room and overhead Cuddy scolding her and telling her she shouldn't be working when she's sick. You try to think if you've seen her since then. You place one hand on her back and the other on her forehead. "Damn," you whisper. "You're burning up." You hit the button for a nurse.

She leans into your hand and you move it from her forehead and touch her cheek, using your cold fingers to give her some sort of relief from the fever. "Where were you going this sick?"

"To Chase's house," she whispers, a tear falling down her cheek as she closes her eyes.

You wipe the tear away with your thumb. You think your hand is starting to get warm so you pull it away and replace it with the other one. She sighs. You shake your head. "You didn't call him you pick you up?"

"I didn't want to be any more of an inconvenience." She opens her eyes and glances up at you then turns her head in the direction of the door as a nurse approaches. She looks ready to sink down against the back of the bed and disappear.

"I just need a fever reducer." You stop the nurse in her tracks before she can even get more than halfway into the room. You shoo her away with a hand motion then focus your attention back on Cameron. You've never seen someone look so terrified. "We need to get this over with."

"No." She shakes her head and pulls her legs closer then buries her face against them. "I don't want to. I need a shower. Please." She starts coughing again. "Please."

You let out a breath and glance toward the door as the nurse returns. "Thanks." You take the cup of pills from her and watch her walk away. After making sure the door shuts behind her, you grab a cup of water and crouch down beside the bed. "This will make you feel better."

She slowly reaches out her hand and you dump the pills on her shaking palm. "Careful," you tell her gently, not wanting a reason for the nurse to have to come back. You watch sympathetically as she struggles to get the medicine into her mouth then reaches for the water. "Let me help." You cup her chin and carefully place the cup up to her lips, tilting it back just enough so she can drink without choking. Water runs down her chin and onto your hand and you simply wipe it off on your pants once you pull the cup away.

"Thanks," she mumbles. Her voice is so hoarse it sounds like she's about to lose it.

You nod. You gently try to straighten her legs again, but they won't budge. "Listen," you say gently. "You can get a shower in a little while. I can't give you a choice on this." You gently stroke her legs until it seems she trusts you enough to slowly lower them until they're straight on the bed. Somehow, you doubt that it's really trust. You figure she just really wants that shower and you don't blame her.

"I was so scared," she whispers, her voice fading in and out. She looks straight ahead as you slip on a pair of gloves. She sniffles and lowers her head slightly. "It was dark and nobody heard me."

You don't know how to respond so you stay silent. She doesn't even cry as you do the test. You can tell it hurts her by the way she flinches and occasionally goes rigid, but she's silent. You can see the breakdown coming. No one is that strong, especially not Cameron. Her feelings are practically made of mush. As the nurse comes in to take the test to the lab, Cameron curls herself back up.

"Let me help you to the shower." The room you're in doesn't have one and you're not sure what other rooms are open. The showers in the locker room are better anyway. You help her as she slowly gets to her feet, sliding an arm around her waist to support her. She stands stiffly at first then relaxes when she seems to realize you're not going to hurt her. You're thankful the hospital is relatively slow tonight as you exit the room and enter the hall. Cameron isn't some kind of entertainment they can add to the gossip mill.

Her hands grips your shirt and she follows directly as your side, occasionally getting close enough to almost trip you. Four nurses and a lab technician pass you, but none of them do anything more than seem to glance. You can feel their eyes piercing through the two of you once they're behind your backs though. Neither you nor Cameron turn to confirm their stares. Fifteen minutes is how long you guess it'll take for the entire hospital to know. One minute after that, House will find those who are talking and shove his cane down their throats. You almost smile because you know no matter how much he wants to pretend he doesn't care, he really does.

No one is in the locker room when the two of you enter. "Which locker is yours?" you ask.

"I don't have my key." She glances down at her hands then looks off to the side.

"That's okay. I have mine." You walk to your own locker and open it. It's a bit of a mess, but you manage to find body wash and a washrag. You don't have a towel, but you're sure you can get one from a supply closet while she's showering. "Here." You hand her the items then walk her to the showers. "Do you need me to stay right outside?"

She shakes her head and walks toward one of the showers.

"I'm going to find you a towel, but yell if you need me." You rub your hand up and down her back then turn and walk away. Part of you thinks it's a bad idea to let her there alone, but it's only for a few moments. You'll get the towel and be back in no time.

"How is she?" House stops you right before you manage to get to the supply closet.

"I don't know," you answer, "I'm not a psychologist." You open the door and rummage through a few things before you pull out a towel. You wait for the smartass comment that's sure to follow, but instead there's silence. Turning to look at House, you're shocked to see him just standing there staring at you. "She's strong."

He nods in agreement.

You walk past him without another word. You have no idea what to say to him. Letting out a long breath, you twist part of the towel tightly around your fingers. Part of you wonders why the hell you ever agreed to work extra hours tonight. You're quickly filled with guilt for even thinking like that. Frustrated with yourself, you push open the locker room door a little harder than you mean to. The shower water is running but the noise is almost completely drowned out by Cameron's sobbing. It had been a bad idea to let her there alone. You loosen your grip on the towel and jog over to the shower. "Allison, are you okay?"

When there's no answer, you open the first curtain and walk inside the small area. You place the towel down beside her clothes then turn to face the second curtain. "If you don't answer, I'm going to pull the curtain," you warn her. When she just continues to cry, you hesitate and regret the threat. Feeling like you have no choice, you slowly push the curtain to the side. Your heart shatters into a million pieces at the sight of her. She's sitting on the shower floor under the steaming water, rubbing every part of her body raw.

"I can't stop feeling him," she sobs, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't get the feeling off!" She sobs and begins to scrub harder at one of her shoulders. "Thirteen, get it off! Thirteen, get it off!" She panics and begins to gasp for breaths, pressing herself back against the shower wall.

"Okay," you whisper. You suddenly feel like you're not even thinking anymore. The scalding water begins to soak through your clothes as you kneel down beside her. "Let me help." You grab her hand and ease the washrag from her grip before she can make herself bleed with it. Examining the shoulder she had been washing, you cringe at the bite marks on her skin. "Let me help," you repeat. Your wet hair is sticking to your face and you push it out of your eyes then pull her closer to you.

She lets you wash every part of her. You attempt to hand the rag back so she can get certain areas, but her arms hang limply beside her and she doesn't even bother. Sobs rack her body and she occasionally goes into coughing fits so bad that once she almost vomits. Her head lulls against your shoulder and she clings to your shirt like she's afraid you're going to abandon her as soon as she lets go.

"It's off." You realize she can probably still feel him, but the verbal reassurance seems to help her. The water is burning your skin and you worry that with her fever it's going to overheat her. With one arm wrapped tightly around her, you reach up and turn off the water. She doesn't seem to care. She appears to be more focused on trying to soak up comfort from you.

"Let's get you dried off." It's a struggle to get her to her feet. Her legs don't seem to want to support her. It takes almost a full two minutes for you to get her out of the shower. Somehow you end up sitting on the bench next to her clothes with her on your lap. You unfold the towel and wrap it around her then hold her tightly. It feels almost like you're taking care of a little kid. She's still sobbing so you rub her back through the towel and just sit there with her for several moments. Maternal instincts you never even knew you had kick in. You nonchalantly use the corner of the towel to wipe her nose as she sniffles then rock her until she's not crying so hard.

This is the Thirteen nobody ever sees. You're not even Thirteen now. You're not focused on being distant or trying to put up walls that Cameron will never be able to get past. Right now, you're just Remy. "We should get dressed." She's wrapped in a warm towel, but your clothes are soaked and you're freezing. You help her to her feet then lead her back to your locker. No one is around so you walk over to the locker room door and lock it. You can feel her staring at you as she sits down on the bench in front of your locker.

"I don't know what clothes I have in here," you say. You never really bother keeping extra clothes at the hospital, but now you realize maybe you should. You open the door and go through your things. You have a pair of scrubs, sweat pants, and your favorite hoodie. "Here." You hand her the pants and hoodie then put the scrubs down on the bench in front of you.

You pretend not to notice as she buries her face against your hoodie. "Are you okay if I change here?" You're shivering as you grip the bottom of your shirt and wait for her approval. When she nods, you pull off your wet clothes and leave them as a pile on the floor. You can deal with them later. Pulling on the scrubs, you watch her change out of the corner of your eye just to make sure she's okay.

"I should go home now, shouldn't I?" she asks. She wraps her arms around herself and grips the fabric of your hoodie, clinging to it tightly.

"I'm going to admit you until I make sure your fever is down," you answer. There's no way you're letting her go home like that. You think about taking her to your house, but you can take care of her better in the hospital. You put your hand on her back as she starts coughing again. "Robitussin or Delsym? I'll page a nurse."

"Neither." She shakes her head and inches over so she can lean against you.

"You have to take something. You sound awful and your throat probably feels like it's being torn apart, doesn't it?" You page the nurse to take Delsym to Cameron's room. It works well and tastes so much better. "You should lie down."

She lets her head rest against your side for a moment then nods. She doesn't move until you help her up then she follows directly by your side. Her hand occasionally finds its way to gripping your arm but she always pulls away a second later. You take her hand and lace your fingers, stroking her hand with your thumb. You can't even remember the last time you had held hands with someone.

"Your shift is probably over." She glances at the clock as you enter her room. The disappointment and fear seems to etch itself onto her face and she's caught between repeatedly tightening and loosening her grip on your hand.

"That's okay. I planned on sticking around anyway." In reality, you had plans to curl up on your couch with scotch and LOST reruns, but she doesn't need to know that. You take the medicine from the nurse once she arrives then walk Cameron over to the bed. "Take this." You sit down beside her and hand her the small cup of cough medicine.

She pouts and mumbles something about it being disgusting but takes it anyway. She swallows it then scrunches up her face.

You roll your eyes. "It's not that bad." Doctors always make the worst patients. You take the cup and place it on the table. Grabbing the thermometer, you take her temperature and frown when it beeps at 101.6. The fever reducer would have worked better if the shower water hadn't been so hot. You toss the thermometer onto the stand where it'll be within reach. Swinging your legs up and onto the bed, you scoot back and lean against the pillows.

"What are you doing?" She stares at you then hesitantly moves so she's beside you and grabs your hand again.

"It's going on 11:30," you answer. "What do you think I'm doing? If you want me to move…"

"Don't move." The words come out a little too quickly and she looks terrified that you might leave.

"I'm not going to." You pat the spot beside you then envelope her protectively in your arms once she lays down. Every time you try to find a more comfortable position, she tenses up and her grip on you tightens. You both finally settle when you're on your sides facing each other. Cameron seems to fit perfectly in your arms. She rests her head under your chin and you can feel her breaths begin to even out.

You notice House peering in through the window on the door. You know he's there to only see how things are and he's not after your comfort like Cameron is, despite the obvious worry on his face. You pretend not to see him and as you grip the back of your hoodie and close your eyes. You doubt you'll get much sleep on the uncomfortable hospital bed, but you know you'll be there as many hours or even nights as Cameron needs you to be.