Title: Tragic
Rating: R (language)
Summary: Cameron's life full of tragedy... (Cam's POV - Please keep this in mind as you read! It's a little different!) Cameron's life in her eyes, and how she copes - or doesn't.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, just playing...

Note: As always, I hate good punctuation, I am horrible with grammar, and I reserve everything to be a work in progress...

Note: For those of you who were interested in "Cooking," I wasn't planning on continuing it. However, after much urging from others, I will continue it... But I have started working on this piece, which has become quite long, so it may be a while before I get to "Cooking," but I will! (I would love to hear any suggestions for it, btw!) Also, love to hear feedback in general...good or bad!


You think your life is part Greek tragedy, part comedy because you just can't make this shit up (well, and sometimes have a harder time seeing the comedy too). Your life just feels like the never ending abyss that you have been falling into, where there has been the occasional ledge of light that you can grab onto for a short while. You figure there has to be a point when you reach the bottom.

You finally realize that your life has to move on. You know deep down that your heart won't, but maybe after time it won't hurt so much. You're still working at Princeton Plainsboro. You love it, and as much as you love him (deeply and hatefully), you respect and love working with House and the rest of the team. They have become your family, because honestly, you have none left and you're really alone in this world. It's dysfunctional, but it works for you. So your world is a little difficult, but you deal, and that's okay.

You meet a nice man, another doctor, Ryan. He's nice. It's been a long time. And you're just tired. You're tired of being alone. He's good to you. You don't feel the same animal draw that you used to feel (please, be real) towards House, and Ryan doesn't always seem to understand the depths of your soul, but you seem to work well together. You balance each out, it works. You get engaged. Your mother used to tell you that things happen for a reason and you try to believe her words.

You walk around trying (pretending) to be blissfully happy for a while with your shiny platinum solitaire ring happily on your finger. House actually congratulates you and kisses you on the cheek. You're shocked. You feel the heat on your cheek for hours after his lips touched you there. It makes you so wet, you need to rush home after work to masturbate. You haven't felt so liberated, and so hot and bothered in so long, you surprise yourself. You shower before you have dinner with Ryan that night. He thinks the glow in your cheeks is the glow of a bride-to-be. You make love that night with an animalistic fervor that he's never seen in you. He thinks it's the excitement of getting married, you know deep down it's because House touched you and you can't get it out of your head because all you see when you're fucking Ryan (and yes, you're doing the fucking) is House approaching you and gently laying his lips softly and slightly wet on your cheek.

His parents don't like you. They want to control the wedding of their only son and child. Because you have no time, and you've been married before, you really don't care, you let them do most of the planning, maybe they will like you more. You don't know why they don't like you, but you think it's just because you're the woman who is 'taking their son away.' What a fucking cliché. Maybe because your smart and educated and not submissive (at least not outside the bedroom). They don't know you at all. Let House describe you to them, and they'll know you're 'Grandma's stuffed animal' oozing with goodness. (Maybe).

You think you're never meant to be happy, not ever, though you try to show everyone that you are or at least try to be. Ryan is killed in a car crash by a drunk driver. He is killed on impact. There was nothing anyone could do, well except if the drunk had never gotten in the car. You think perhaps you were never supposed to experience marital bliss. What the hell is that anyway? You think it's fiction created by the wedding industry anyway. You find out about the accident the next morning at work, and you crumple like a folding chair that needs to be put back in the closet the day after a large holiday dinner.

You think you're a bad person, because deep down, in some ways, you're relieved. It's not because he died, but because you don't have to marry him or his family. He was a wonderful person, and you will miss his companionship, but you know in the depths of your being that he wasn't your soul mate, whatever that really is (and you know who it really is, at least you think so, but the difficulty of it make it seem not so at times). You're glad you weren't living together when he died, that would have made it so much worse, especially having to deal with his parents. Their grief is tremendous, you can't compete with them.

At work everyone walks on egg shells around you. You feel more fragile than usual. You feel if something jarred you just a bit you would crumble into dust, but your tears would fall on you like rain turning you into mud, making the floor a mess, just like your life. You are angry, because you don't understand life, and why these horrible things keep happening to you. You would have been a little happy with Ryan. Yes, it would have been a little forced, but it would have been normalcy and consistency and he cared and loved you more than you had seen in a long time. And you need that.

The wake and the funeral are a blur of black and rain. You don't know who at the time, but someone was guiding you for days - making sure you slept (with the aid of drugs), ate, showered, dressed, showed up at the funeral events at the right time and the right place. You are in shock. You are living in your mind, and the curtains are pulled tight and you feel truly alone. You find out later, that for the most part, House was taking care of you. You're surprised, but you're too numb to feel that or to react to it. You find out from a friend, Ryan's parents are offended, because House was your mouth too because you couldn't speak, and they didn't understand your relationship with him (you don't either). You don't care. You don't have to have a relationship with them anymore. Three days after the funeral Ryan's mother demands your engagement ring back. House defends your solitaire and says that you don't have to return a gift, particularly one that's not a heirloom (it wasn't). You don't care. You think he thinks that this "token of promise and love" will be important to you. Later on, his foresight is impressive.

You are shaken by Ryan's mother demand, and sink further into depression. You don't work for weeks. You don't eat, shower, sleep. You lay on the couch staring into space. Your co-workers take turns coming by to check on you, bringing you food, trying to get you to eat a bit. House stays with you at night. First falling asleep in the arm chair, but then finding that ridiculous. He brings you to your bed and lays down next to you. He's worried about you, and has voiced it. He's afraid you're going to hurt yourself. One day a nurse shows up to spend the day with you. You know now that this is bad and that you need to do something to help yourself, at least for his sake. You're worrying him so bad, he has the nurse check in with him every hour. You shower and call him from the phone in the bedroom. Sitting in your towel, your wet hair dripping down your shoulders you tell him you'll start seeing a shrink. But you know you need to get your shit together, because you can't go on living like this, because it's just not living. Your face is wet, you're sure it's from your hair.

You're mother always told you things happen for a reason. Shortly after you start seeing the shrink, you go back to work and you're functioning a bit. It's good. But life happens. You find out that you're six weeks pregnant, and the tragedy really begins.