C is for Compromise

Cameron has always been good at compromising when the situation calls for it. However, the difference between catching the compromise in an awkward situation, and being caught awkwardly in a compromising situation was taught to her by Remy. And House. In all honesty Allison isn't sure what she remembers most vividly about that moment, the burning pressure of Remy's hand between her thighs, the look of euphoria on House's face, or simply her lover's hot whisper that relationships are all about compromise.

A is for Alienate

It has become a game of sorts among the staff of PPTH to find areas of common ground between Drs House and Hadley. The list starts with simple things, such as the fact that their surnames both start with the same letter, or, if you believe in the age old rumour mill, both Doctors have had less than reputable thoughts about the Dean of Medicine. There are less entertaining ones too, such as the fact that, really, they're both dying, and the fact that they alienate people.

But Allison doesn't care about letters or death, she blatantly ignores her younger counterpart's attempts to push her away and, okay, maybe she's a little jealous of Cuddy, but that's the only rumour she'll let bother her, honestly.

But, while Cuddy, is distanced with the rest of the world Allison, eventually, was pulled closer, making them aliens together. Anyway, the love bites left on the younger Doctor's neck is proof that she's hers.

D Is for Doodle

It had started as a drunken joke late one evening as the two doctors sat in Allison's living room watching the credits for Titanic roll across the screen. The rapid flow of tequila had turned the coversation to talk of former lovers, and emboldened by the liquor in her stomach and the warm intensity of Remy's gaze, Cameron had lowered her bottle, sprawled herself semi-elegantly across the sofa and whispered in her best mock-seductive voice

"Draw me like one of your French girls".

So Remy did. Sort of. They had both been fully clothed at the time, and her first attempt at sketching the woman before her, on the tablecloth with the remnants of an old eyeliner she found in her purse, resulted in more of and awkwardly positioned stick doodle than an accurate imitation of Jack's portrait of Rose.

The morning after, and for the weeks to come, Cameron keeps the doodle. It is something of a joke between them. A mockery of a doomed and tragic romance between two very different people.

Then the incident in the shower room had occurred.

It was late on Thursday night several weeks after the Titanic incident when Thirteen stumbles into the shower blocks, stripping the vomit covered clothes from her torso as she walks. In retrospect the bloody scrubs already strewn across the floor should have warned her the one stall that wasn't currently out of order was already occupied, but it didn't, and so she slide back the curtain and...

Naked... very naked... Cameron... Oh god...

Cameron had yelped and reached for the curtain and Thirteen, stood only in her underwear, had been too shocked to do anything other than stand there with her mouth hanging open.

Embarrassment had prevented them from speaking for several days following that until one afternoon when Cameron had opened her locker to find a detailed sketch of her standing naked under the gentle spray of the hospital showers.

"Prettier than any of my French girls" the message underneath had read, and Cameron couldn't help the pleased flush that coloured her cheeks.

L Is for Lonely (no more)

It's in the middle of the ER when Remy first feels it. After twelve dates, eighteen coffees, countless lunches and nine of what House has lovingly dubbed "adult sleepovers" Thirteen stands in the middle of the crowded ER, surrounded by bloody, broken fragments of car crash victims, and she misses her.

It's Allison's day off of course, she told her so this morning, so there's no reason for the ache nibbling away at her chest every time a flicker of blonde hair catches her eye.

She'd thought it had become habit, the feeling of isolation that consumed her when that thin little print out from the lab had read Positive. But after twelve dates, eighteen coffees, countless lunches and nine nights spent wrapped in Allie's arms, Thirteen is no longer used to feeling lonely.

E Is for Evidence

It became a ritual long before she even realised she was doing it, and it was another item on the list of habits she's broken way before she realised she didn't care anymore. As with all things it was House who made both observations.

It was a Thursday morning when Cameron first realised House had been right. Standing in front of Remy's bedroom mirror and meticulously checking the image reflected in the dimly lit surface she found herself unable to deny that from the purple of the love bite at her throat to the swell of her lips and her dilated pupils, she was trying to remove all evidence of the younger doctor from her skin.

Oddly enough, it is also a Thursday morning when, halfway through the hospital doors, that Cameron realises she's wearing Remy's shirt. That afternoon she kisses her lover firmly on the mouth before sitting impossibly close to her at the table she is sharing with Kutner, Taub and Foreman. None of the table's other occupants bat an eyelash, after all, it's a long time since Cameron stopped hiding evidence of her and thirteen.

Y is for You

How do you measure love? How do you define something so instinctive, so intangible? How do you quantify the very essence of a soul as though it were something as worthless as pints of blood, pounds of flesh, the units of pigment that colour your skin, your hair, the grey-green depths of your eyes. How could I ever, in a million lifetimes, begin to measure all the things that solidify themselves in you. How could this methodological medical mind of mine even begin to process something so instinctive and raw.

The answer is simple. It's in the breaths you take away from me when you glance my way. It's in the heartbeats that merge into one long tremor with every smile that breaks across your face.

Most of all it's in the whispers

I love you. I love you. I love you.

that radiate across my skin and warm my entire being right to the core, even in the days when I can no longer reach out to feel your warmth beneath sheets.