Title: How Many Times Can One Sky Fall
Fandom: House MD
Character/Pairing(s): Cameron, various
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cameron was jaded, and Allison just didn't exist anymore.
Author's Notes: This was written for the wetakefive fic-a-thon. This turned a whole lot darker than I intended, but anyways. I have a million thanks to GabbyAbby for editing this for me. She is amazing in more ways than I can say.
Prompt: Myth: an unproved or false collective belief that is used to justify a social institution.

There is a photo album in the back of her closet filled with memories of a simpler time, of a time when it was easier to lie to herself and pretend she was happy. She wonders when she stopped being the Allison of those pictures. When exactly was it that she turned into the woman she sees in the mirror every morning?

Did it mean something? Was it supposed to?

A small part of her hopes so. It seems a waste if it was all for nothing.

Cameron was jaded, and Allison just didn't exist anymore. Unlike Allison, Cameron wasn't lost in a world too big. Cameron knew exactly where she was. She just didn't know if she liked it.

Like all little girls, Allison was told fairytales, cleverly woven deceptions of damsels needing to be saved by dashing princes. She would just laugh as her mother told her the stories; she would take any moment of pause to ask if she could go outside and play with her brothers instead. The fairytales hadn't meant anything until her mother wasn't around to tell them anymore.

No one could have saved Allison's mother. The atrocious reality of a patch of ice and a reckless drunk driving too fast, were no match for the tales her mother always told with a wistful note in her voice.

They had told her it was painless, but she hadn't believed them. She had been in the car too. She had seen her mother's broken body and at times she could still hear her mother screaming. Although, it might have been herself. Everything seems to blend in those last horrifyingly, guilty seconds. She was too young to comprehend why she was able to walk away, when her mother had not.

Allison had tied a bow in her hair the color of mourning. She sat still through the whole funeral service. She was quite and polite to all her relatives; she even let Aunt Martha pinch her cheek. She was everything her mother wanted her to be and her father still looked at her as if it broke his heart to do so.

She hadn't known how to make it right. That had always been her mother's job.

Allison then resolved that she wasn't going to wait for any to save her. She could do all the saving on her own.

Michael was everything the she should have wanted. He was the kind of man her mother had always hoped she would end up with.

Allison had worn white on her wedding day and almost wanted to believe again. She had wanted to give that to him. If they could get lost in the mindless preparations, then maybe they could have hold out a little longer. She would close her eyes, and hold his hand, and hope with everything she had left.

But, Allison knew it wouldn't be enough. As he slipped away, so did she. Allison would constantly find excuses to not be at his bedside. Michael would just look at her with knowing eyes, forgiving her without the cumbersome words. She had constantly wished he would snap and yell at her for being so selfish. But all Michael did was make sure his best friend was there to look after her. It had only made her guilt worse.

She hadn't been by his side when Michael passed on. She had heard them calling the code from the hallway and she bolted in the other direction instead. She left the hospital running, trying to get away from the death that seemed to follow her everywhere.

Joe found her later, sitting under the shower's frigid spray. He held her until they both stopped crying. The tears tore jagged holes through their hearts.

Was this her fall from grace?

Chase wasn't a good man. He wasn't selfless or sensitive or honest to a fault like Michael. Chase definitely didn't share Michael's "white knight" complex.

Chase never used her first name. It did not matter if they were sharing a meal or a supply closet; it was always 'Cameron'. He'd never be comfortable enough around her to call her anything else. She never called him 'Robert' either, so she guessed they were even.

Cameron hadn't lied when she said she wouldn't love him. But she could see it in his eyes sometimes, so she pushed. He followed her example, took what she gave, and didn't push back. That just proved it. That was why she could never love him.

It didn't make him any less of a good distraction. She could still taste House on her tongue, as she dragged Chase back to her place, as she pushed him up against the closed door.

Her mouth brushed against everything but his. Cameron didn't want his taste to fade. When she closed her eyes, it wasn't hard to imagine House above her.

For once, the guilt wasn't there.

She would relive their kiss. It was shrouded in deception, just the way he liked it.

But House kissed back. It was everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

She remembered how he grabbed her wrist, and how all she wanted at that moment was for him to toss her on his desk and continue what they started. Cameron wanted his hands on her. His strong fingers punishing her for sins he only thought she committed. If she could have had him in that moment, she would have willingly let him believe the lie.

All she really longed for was to hear House say, "Alison…" her name coming twisted with passion from his lips as they grazed her skin. She wanted to hear it, and pretend she still existed.

Instead, she walked away. A quick quip and she left him behind. That was her real sin; the rest was just a myth. It felt like it was all she was. She was the girl who walked away from the dying.