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Bird of Prey
by Nuala
Summary: Cameron's working late, and hurting. So's Stacy.
Warning: Dubious consent.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is something I don't own. I am not making any money from this.
A/N: Every fandom needs more femmeslash, including this one -- the boys aren't the only ones who can have fucked-up relationships. Also, I don't necessarily think that Stacy is at all like this -- it's fiction, people -- but I think she has the potential to be similar to this.
***
Stacy wandered through the still-unfamiliar halls of Princeton-Plainsboro. The half-full paper cup of coffee in her hand -- sugar and no milk, these days -- was stone cold. Her head ached, and she was tired, but she knew it would be impossible for her to sleep. There was no real reason for her malaise. She loved her job here. Mark was healthy again.
But she knew what was bothering her. Seeing Greg again, now that the anxiety of Mark's illness was past, was... disconcerting. She hated not knowing where she stood with him.
She'd thought she'd come to terms with the end of their relationship. She had done the right thing, ending it, and Greg knew it, but both of them were too proud to forgive the things that had happened during those last, hellish weeks before the final breakup. Most of the time, she knew that it was over. It had less to do with her, and more to do with Greg's pride. And Greg's pain. The two things that were the driving factors in his existence, the things that didn't really leave room for another person. Stacy was mature enough, and had a high enough sense of her own worth, to know that whatever she'd had with Greg was over forever.
But she couldn't help.... Mark's personality had been shifting, ever since his illness. Their relationship was becoming more and more tense in that all-too-familiar way. She was wavering, and she hated herself for it. She would remember old lovers, comparing, and none had been as passionate and devoted as Greg. It was too easy to fall into the stereotypical pattern -- neglected wife fantasizes about lovers gone by -- and she resisted it.
In the flesh, anyway. At least she hadn't actually touched him, really. They danced around each other like nervous high school kids, never revealing too much, never fully retreating, always baiting each other. It was exhausting. It was beneath them both. Stacy resented Greg for being the cause of it, and hated herself for being weak enough to be drawn into it.
She delicately crushed the paper cup in her hand, the dregs of her coffee running over her skin. She cursed silently, looking around for somewhere to clean up.
She had dropped the ruined cup in a trashcan and was searching for the nearest ladies' room when a figure slumped over a machine in a glass-walled laboratory caught her eye. Stacy immediately recognized the sleeping figure as Dr. Allison Cameron, one of Greg's lackeys. The one who'd dated him. One of Stacy's conversations with James had revealed that the girl had left, and then returned. James hadn't speculated as to why she'd left or returned, and the girl herself hadn't exactly been forthcoming in their first conversation, but Stacy had inferred enough to know what had probably happened. Harassment on Greg's part was unlikely -- not with the way Greg acted around her, careful and distant, like she was either breakable or contagious. No, more likely she'd sacrificed herself, thinking it would make her more desirable, or him more accessible. And then Greg had lured her back, poor girl, Stacy was sure of it. If he'd hired her in the first place, it meant she was the best there was, and Greg would do anything possible to retain her.
So what had made her come back? What had Greg promised her?
Stacy opened the door silently and stepped into the lab. Dr. Camerson didn't move. The hospital was kept cool as a general rule, but this room was noticeably warm. Dr. Cameron wore only a thin blouse, no lab coat or even vest.
Stacy examined the slumbering girl. Fallen asleep over a re-examination of some patient's tests, apparently, trying to see something the others had missed. She sat in a chair, slumped forward to lean on the table, her hair obscuring her face. Even in this state, one could see that Dr. Cameron was undeniably very attractive. Stacy's eye took in the glossy hair, the graceful arms, the slender body of this bright young doctor. She had to be fiercely intelligent, to be working for Greg. Stacy knew she was also vulnerable and sensitive, and easily manipulated, from what she'd seen. It had been obvious to Stacy from the first glimpse she'd had of her why James's eyes softened when he spoke of her, why Dr. Chase followed her with nervous glances.
Suddenly Dr. Cameron looked up, peering at Stacy with mingled confusion and politeness. Stacy was struck by how very young she looked, blinking in the lab's soft light. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. Working late could do that. So could being in love with a wounded jackal.
"Can I help you?" asked Dr. Cameron, her voice thick.
Stacy held up her sticky hand. "Anywhere I can clean up?" she asked.
The girl blinked, then gestured with her chin toward a box of KimWipes on the counter. Stacy wiped her hand in silence. At least none had gotten on the sleeve of her dry-clean-only jacket. She was turning to leave, but instead she moved to face Dr. Cameron. Stacy tilted her head to one side. "What made you come back?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" Dr. Cameron's hand unconsciously smoothed back her hair.
"When you left. What did Greg offer you to get you back?"
Dr. Cameron closed her eyes. "My job," she said tersely, "is none of your business."
"I'm going to be working with Dr. Cuddy on your team's legal liabilities for the next several months at least," Stacy pointed out, "I'm being paid to make your job my business."
The younger woman's eyes opened, resentment snapping through her exhaustion. "Then I suggest you ask Dr. House." She efficiently shut down the machine she sat at. "It's late. I'm going home." She stuffed something into a file and brushed past Stacy, making for the door.
Stacy caught her arm. "Wait," she said. Dr. Cameron looked at her expectantly. Stacy decided to switch tactics. "I know how you feel," she said.
Dr. Cameron's eyebrows shot up, outrage temporarily beating back fatigue. "I beg your pardon?"
"I mean about Greg. I know how... fascinating he can be. I understand how you're drawn to him, how you want to help him. But please believe me, you'll only end up hurt."
"I don't think -- "
"He doesn't know how to be loved," Stacy interrupted softly. Dr. Cameron fell silent, the energy draining out of her almost visibly. They gazed at each other, unfathomable eyes meeting exhausted ones. Stacy marvelled at the strength she felt in the slim arm she still held. Somehow she'd expected Dr. Cameron to feel light and fragile, like a bird. But this was a woman who could turn an unconscious patient, who could cut through bone, who could pound a stilled heart back to life. She had muscle that didn't show until she used it.
She was using it now, pulling out of Stacy's grip. "You have no idea how to love him," she said flatly.
Stacy laughed at this defiant show of naivete, but it was a sharp, humourless sound. How young this girl was! The enraged look Dr, Cameron shot her quieted the laughter. Stacy recognized the look from her own mirror. It was the look of a woman stripped of her dignity, unable to regain the footing she was once so sure of. It was disconcerting to see it on Dr. Cameron's face.
"Love has nothing to do with Greg's world," Stacy said gently. "He hates everything and everyone, including himself. If you make the mistake of involving yourself emotionally, all he'll do is drag you into his pain." Stacy was surprised at the raw pain in her own voice.
Dr. Cameron's eyes flickered. Her head tilted. "He hurt you," she remarked.
Stacy nodded. "And he'll hurt you. It's how he defends himself," she went on, "how he keeps people at arm's length. He'll never let you through, no matter how hard you try. And you'll carry that pain all your life."
"But you moved on. You loved again." Dr. Cameron's eyes were clouded, struggling to understand.
Stacy shook her head. As she did, she caught a dark shape in the hallway. Was that the figure of a man, standing in the shadows? Was that line of light reflected off a cane?
Stacy turned to Dr. Cameron. "He took a part of me. I'll never get it back."
"Oh." The syllable, more a sigh than a word, held understanding and utter fatigue. The young woman swayed where she stood, almost asleep on her feet. Stacy touched Dr. Cameron's arm again, steadying her.
"I can see what he's doing to you," she told the young woman. "I know he's attracted to you -- you're intelligent and beautiful," she said, raising her hand to delicately lift a lock of hair out of Dr. Cameron's face. She shot Stacy a startled look and tensed, but didn't pull away. Stacy stepped closer, kept her hand on the side of Dr. Cameron's face. Her cheek was soft and almost fever-hot. "I would hate to see you hurt."
"Like you were?" Dr. Cameron's voice was soft, like a child's.
"Like I was," Stacy agreed. Her other hand crept up to the doctor's shoulder, lightly rubbing. "I can feel how tense you are," she said, her voice low. She could see Dr. Cameron responding to the touch, and decided to take a calculated risk. "It's been hard," Stacy told her softly. "I sometimes think about maybe taking another chance on him." The younger woman's eyes widened, startled. "I know," Stacy sighed. "It's stupid. It's impossible. But Mark was sick for so long. And now. We don't... touch anymore. I guess I'm just..."
"Lonely?" Dr. Cameron asked wistfully.
"Yeah," Stacy agreed. She softly stroked the younger woman's shoulders. Stacy's eyes dropped. "I know it's pathetic. I have no reason to feel that way, really, but..."
"I understand," Dr. Cameron said. "Everyone gets lonely," she whispered.
"Allison," Stacy whispered. She dropped her arms to clasp the girl's slim waist, raised her eyes to look at Allison's face, inches away from her own. Her eyes were closed. The young doctor leaned heavily in Stacy's arms.
"I'm just so tired," Allison murmured.
"I know, honey," Stacy said soothingly. "It's been a long day."
"Mmm." Allison nodded. "I need to go home..." she said, pulling halfheartedly away.
Stacy slowly leaned forward, her eyes locked on Allison's slack lips. She pressed a soft kiss to them. The younger woman immediately pulled back, shock written on her features.
Stacy took a step back, murmuring, "God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Maybe I'm going a little crazy, working with Greg all day." Which was terribly true, of course. "And I can't count on support from Mark, not now. I don't have anyone to turn to..." Stacy said quietly, letting a hint of a sob steal into her voice.
"Oh," said Allison, another soft exhalation.
"I just thought... I didn't think. I just did what felt good, what felt right, and it was obviously the wrong thing. I'm sorry. Truly. I should go," Stacy said tremulously, turning to leave. She thought she saw a figure down the hallway retreat further into the shadows.
A hand on her arm stopped her. "Wait," Allison said, breathlessly. Stacy turned back to face her. The young woman's eyes were hooded, fatigue dragging her eyelids down. "Please don't feel badly," she went on in a concilliatory voice. "I'm not offended. Just surprised. I'm tired, and to tell the truth, I was a little angry with you before. I didn't know how much you were hurting, and you... took me by surprise. I know what it can be like when someone you love is sick, and I certainly know what it's like to try to deal with Dr. House. I'd like to be there for you, if I can."
Stacy smiled bravely. "I'd like to spend time with you," she said. "But right now, I think I want... I need more than a shoulder to cry on." She hung her head. "I... I'm so sorry. I'd really better go -- "
Stacy was interrupted by Allison's hands clasping her face, lifting her head. "Don't go," she whispered. "I understand. I can help..." Her voice trailing off, Allison seemed to steel herself, then leaned in and returned the chaste kiss of a few moments ago.
Stacy let her take the lead. Allison's lips were dry; she moved them so tentatively over Stacy's mouth that Stacy had to remind herself not to take over. Don't scare her off, she thought to herself.
Allison turned her head at an angle, opening her lips and deepening the kiss, closing her eyes. Stacy stole a quick glance back into the hallway before circling her arms around the younger woman's waist. Allison leaned into the embrace, allowing Stacy to bear up most of her slight weight. Stacy pulled her close, slowly, and began moving her arms up and down Allison's back, gently caressing.
Allison seemed to be soothed by this, relaxing even more into Stacy's grip. Her mouth softened beneath Stacy's, and Stacy, daring, slid the tip of her tongue across Allison's teeth. The intake of breath from Allison was not quite a gasp, and sounded like encouragement, so Stacy gently slid her tongue deeper, caressing, seducing.
After a moment, Stacy pulled back, still clasping Allison closely. Allison's eyes remained softly closed, her head lolled slightly, her breathing coming slowly and gently. Stacy allowed herself a small smile before leaning in to plant kisses along the smooth white skin of Allison's neck. This was so different from being intimate with a man, and Stacy felt drunk with the thrilling strangeness of it. The young doctor received her attentions passively, encouraging them only by a slight arching of her back and a series of soft moans almost too quiet to be heard.
Stacy decided to up the ante, shifting Allison's weight to one arm and reaching the other hand around to stroke its way up Allison's ribcage. She stopped just short of cupping her breast. Continuing to mouth Allison's neck, Stacy could feel lace and wire through the thin fabric of Allison's blouse. Carefully, slowly, she slid her fingers up and over the small, soft mound of the other woman's breast. This earned a louder moan, only half in protest, and a furrowing of Allison's brow.
Stacy murmurred, "Tell me to stop and I will," against Allison's skin.
"Mmmm," came the breathy reply.
It wasn't an obvious protest. Stacy moved her fingers up to where the low-cut blouse ended and the heated skin of Allison's chest began. She ran her fingertips lightly over the exposed skin, marveling at how soft and hot it was, before slipping them smoothly into the cup of Allison's bra.
Allison gasped softly and writhed weakly in Stacy's grasp. "Shhh, shhh," Stacy soothed into the girl's ear, allowing her lips to brush it the tiniest bit. She rubbed her fingers slowly around Allison's breast for long moments, until she was relaxed and calm once more, almost asleep in Stacy's arms.
Then Stacy began lightly rubbing Allison's nipple. Allison gasped again, moaned under her breath and arched her back, but remained essentially passive. Stacy continued to circle the hardening nipple with her fingertips, pulling the fabric of the blouse and bra down to expose it to the air. "You're so perfectly beautiful," she whispered in Allison's ear, before moving her mouth down, down to her exposed breast. She gently licked and sucked while her hand played with the other breast. Allison was silent and still, except for a deepening of the breath.
When Allison did move, it was to shift her hips slightly, thrusting them forward. Stacy pulled back and took Allison in both arms once more, pressing a deep kiss to her mouth before backing her gently against the worktable. She carefully lifted Allison until she was seated on the edge of the worktable and leaning against the wall behind it, then slid herself down. She pressed kisses to Allison's collarbone, her bare breasts, over her fabric-covered belly, and along the waistband of her trousers. Without pausing or slowing down, but without speeding up or increasing her intensity, Stacy opened the button and zipper and slid her hand gently in to stoke Allison through her panties.
Allison's breathing hitched, but she didn't protest so Stacy kept caressing her. Without stilling her hand, she moved her face up to Allison's and kissed her, stroking her tongue inside Allison's soft mouth. The younger woman's eyes never opened.
Stacy's other hand began softly massaging one of Allison's breasts, her thumb going over the nipple again and again. She could feel the young woman's response, feel the wetness in her panties with the hand that ever stopped stroking between her legs. Stacy moved her mouth down to suckle at the other nipple. At the same time, she moved the crotch of Allison's panties to one side and slid her fingers into the soft, wet folds underneath.
Allison moaned, louder this time. "Wait," she said, her voice breathy. "Don't."
"Shhh," Stacy said into the soft flesh of Allison's breast. "Just let me."
Allison moaned and shook her head, but didn't say any more. Her breath was coming faster now, and she moved her body against Stacy's fingers. Stacy kept rubbing and suckling the girl's nipples, stiff under her fingers and tongue. She stroked deeper between Allison's legs, sliding on finger deep inside while her other fingers tickled and toyed with the hard little nub of her clitoris.
"Please... please...." Allison moaned breathily, her body moving in waves against Stacy. Stacy was unrelenting, expertly bringing Allison more and more pleasure. She could feel how wet the girl was, could feel her muscles pulsing and tightening around her finger.
Finally, Allison went perfectly still for one second. "Aaahhh, ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhhhh..." she groaned, arching her body, pulsing hard against the finger Stacy kept still inside her. "Ohhhhh..." Allison sighed, her body slumping forward into Stacy's arm. She held Allison tenderly, carefully pulling her finger free and refastening her trousers. "Oh my God," Allison whispered brokenly into the crook of Stacy's neck.
"Shhh," Stacy said again. "It's okay, it's okay, you're wonderful," she murmured into Allison's hair. "Shhh. You're so tired. I know. It's okay. Let me drive you home."
"Ohhhhhhh," Allison groaned again, but she allowed Stacy to pull her to her feet. "Wait," she said groggily, "this file... I...."
"We'll drop it at the nurse's station on the way out," Stacy said soothingly. "Here, you can lean on me."
They walked slowly out of the building, Allison leaning on Stacy, who kept a steadying (or perhaps possessive) arm around the younger woman's waist. Stacy deposited the file at the nurse's station, then led them towards the parking lot where her car was. This took them past the shadowy alcove where Stacy thought she'd seen the shadow of a man earlier, but it was empty now. Stacy wondered, but kept walking.
Stacy took Allison to her car and drove them off, heading for the hotel where Stacy had been staying. Allison fell asleep in the passenger sat almost immediately. Stacy allowed herself a satisfied smile.
I hope we break his heart, she thought to herself.
***
Please read & review. Con crit especially welcome.
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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