Darkness
Current Title: Darkness
Story Summary: I can still feel your lips on mine. And, when I close my eyes, I can imagine you're still here. AU-ish Camteen.
Genre: Angst/Tragedy
Focus: In an alternate reality, Cameron has a monologue moment with her dead girlfriend. Also, prompt #170 in my theme challenge, "Darkness"
Rating: T/PG-13
Author's Starting Notes: This is the second part. Please review if you read these, it tells me that my writing is at least not just being ignored. I'm well aware these aren't that good. I was trying something new with these, in trying to work on writing about death. Evidently, it is not a strong suit. Noted.
Time Stamp: Posted November 1st, 2008
2:
And as the monitors watching your breathing hitch once more, it's all I can do not to break down again. I sit there quietly, repeating my mantra in my head.
"Breathe, baby, breathe. In. Out. Breathe, baby, breathe."
It's growing harder and harder to stay positive these days. From the hospital to keeping track of Becky, I barely get to do what I'm begging you to. You should see her, dollface. You should hear her. She's getting so big. Yesterday, I was tucking her in bed and she looked at me with her big, pretty eyes - I have to agree, they do look better on her than on me - and asked, "Where's Remy?"
I didn't break down then. I knew it would make her worry, but I swear another piece of my heart broke right then.
The monitor makes another sound, and I know you've got your air back, for now.
I hate this.
I honestly, completely hate this.
I hate waking up in the morning either emotionally worn in our bed, or physically estranged in this chair. They might as well have sewn my name into it for the number of days I have spent unmoving from this spot.
Oh, babe, this isn't fair. Of all the things your mother gave you that you never recognized - your gorgeous eyes, your cute nose, your soft lips - it had to be the Huntington's that brought us together. And, that will tear us apart.
But I don't want us to be apart. I don't want to lose you, to forget you, to never feel you in my arms again, to never hear you singing in the shower, or see the light sparkle in your eyes as you listen to Becky recount another story.
It never mattered to you where Rebecca came from. It never mattered to you how long we danced around our feelings before admitting to them. But, it always bugged you, the disease. You complained about how you never wanted to leave me, and that you would have to. You pushed me away and belittled me, tearing at my already desperate heart. Yet, I couldn't stay away.
I want to hate you. I really do.
God, Remy, I want to hate you the way you tried to make me hate you. I want to hear the number Thirteen and go on a violent spree, tearing down anything that gets in my path. I want to forget the way you made me feel, and the amazing time we have shared. But, at the same time, I only want to go back to that first day I saw you, when you first came to join House's silly game. I was still with Chase at the time, but I had felt something even then. And I still feel it now.
I still hear my name rolling off your tongue as you said the three words that make me melt, every time. I still smell that fragrance - that mix of coffee, maple, and determination - that I relate to you. I-I can still feel your lips on mine. And, when I close my eyes, I can imagine you're still here with me. I don't have to recognize that you lie on that damn cot, because, in the dark, there is no reality. In the dark, it's just me and whoever else I want to be. I want to be you right now.
I want to be the one dying, because it would surely be less painful than watching you do so. I look at you, and tears pool within my eyes, threatening to spill over and ruin the cold exterior I've built over the last two months. I still don't even know how two months have passed so quickly. How the hell did I end up here, by your bedside watching as you're forced to breathe by machine, knowing that pretty soon that won't even be enough? Nothing can stop this disease from taking you from me. Eventually, I'm going to have to let you go, Remy. But, until then, I'll just close my eyes, just for a second; I won't stay there for too long, because then there'll be no one to look over you. I'm just going to close them, and, when I open them again, things will be better, they'll feel better. Or, maybe, just maybe, I won't open them again. That way, we can be together in the darkness forever.
f i n
© Everything written above belongs to me (FF user, Paint Me a Symphony) if somebody is out there pushing this as their own. They are lying. I may not own House M.D, or its characters, but I do own this.
If you like Thirteen as a character, and think you might want to try writing about her and other people, go to my profile for the link to the Hadley_Fest.