(no subject)
Title: Apeirophobia
Pairing: Cuddy/Cameron
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: House, M.D. is not mine.
Note: Follows Nostophobia.
Infinity was horrifying.
Cuddy was a doctor, even if her current position had far more emphasis on paper-pushing than working with patients. As a doctor, she was used to dealing with finite amounts of time. It was part of the job. A patient either had zero broken bones or one. They either had sixty years to live, or sixty hours.
No one lived forever.
But no one was supposed to die before their first breath, either.
As the weeks progressed, Cuddy knew she had to make a decision. Either she could sell the house, or she could move back in; both decisions resulted in having to face the pink-and-orange baby rattle and unopened packages of extra-soft diapers.
Cameron had spent weeks avoiding the subject skillfully, but Cuddy knew she wanted her to make a decision. As long as she stalled deciding, she would never be able to begin healing.
Cameron's silence did nothing to dispel the anxiety twisting a rancid, rotting hole in Cuddy's gut as she anticipated the day, hour--minute, even--that Cameron would eventually confront her.
Then the day came.
"If you don't want to go back," offered Cameron, "you could stay here forever."
Cuddy wanted nothing more than to say yes, but she wasn't ready. She was afraid that if she let go of the past and allowed herself to love Cameron, she would lose her like she had lost the baby; and she wasn't strong enough to face infinity all alone.
Pairing: Cuddy/Cameron
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: House, M.D. is not mine.
Note: Follows Nostophobia.
Infinity was horrifying.
Cuddy was a doctor, even if her current position had far more emphasis on paper-pushing than working with patients. As a doctor, she was used to dealing with finite amounts of time. It was part of the job. A patient either had zero broken bones or one. They either had sixty years to live, or sixty hours.
No one lived forever.
But no one was supposed to die before their first breath, either.
As the weeks progressed, Cuddy knew she had to make a decision. Either she could sell the house, or she could move back in; both decisions resulted in having to face the pink-and-orange baby rattle and unopened packages of extra-soft diapers.
Cameron had spent weeks avoiding the subject skillfully, but Cuddy knew she wanted her to make a decision. As long as she stalled deciding, she would never be able to begin healing.
Cameron's silence did nothing to dispel the anxiety twisting a rancid, rotting hole in Cuddy's gut as she anticipated the day, hour--minute, even--that Cameron would eventually confront her.
Then the day came.
"If you don't want to go back," offered Cameron, "you could stay here forever."
Cuddy wanted nothing more than to say yes, but she wasn't ready. She was afraid that if she let go of the past and allowed herself to love Cameron, she would lose her like she had lost the baby; and she wasn't strong enough to face infinity all alone.