Broken - Chapter 7
Author:
2tailswaggin
Title: Broken
Chapter: 7
Previous Chapters: 1 > 2 > 3 > 4 > 5 > 6
Prequel: Happiness
Rating: PG
Pairings: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Early Season 3
Thanks yet again to
bmax67 for all her help and input and patience and..... :)
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Chapter 7
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Cameron woke up to the warm feeling of House lying next to her and to a familiar light snoring sound that she hadn’t heard in over a month. In the beginning, she would notice it a lot more but it never bothered her. It was more of a reminder of where she was. Now, hearing that sound again gave her a feeling of relief that felt like the weight of everything that had happened had finally lifted.
House had said he was sorry and Cameron knew how difficult that must have been for him. All the conversations she’d rehearsed in her head, all of his rationale and logic she knew she’d have to battle, all of it had been relegated to two words that punctuated the whole issue for her. Everything she’d planned to say just melted along with the knot that she’d had in her stomach for weeks now.
House never apologized, mostly because he was rarely sorry about anything. He barged through life doing his version of the right thing, or more specifically what was right for him, leaving victims in his wake and never looking back. So it hardly seemed fair that when he did apologize, it seemed to carry more meaning, but somehow it did.
Cameron wanted to roll onto her back to ease the soreness from her therapy but she knew there really wasn’t enough room in this bed. Instead, she just shifted a little and leaned more into him, changing her position just enough to feel some relief. His cast that was between them was cold, rough and bulky and she wished it were gone so he could put his arm around her like he so often had.
When she moved closer to him, she was made keenly aware that she was lying up next to his injured leg. As curious as she was, she decided it was best to just go on like nothing was different, at least until he was ready to address it. So far he hadn’t even acknowledged that anything had happened at all, like the obvious missing limb was still there just like it always had been. But not everything needed to be talked about. That was something she was slowly learning to deal with as a side effect of being with House.
After all, how do you approach a person who’s had four weeks to think about the reality that they’ve lost their leg and open up a conversation about the fact that they’ve…lost their leg? She’d be doing nothing more than stating the obvious and she knew it wouldn’t go over well with him at all. So the topic would be put on the top shelf for when he decided to take it down, and she was okay with that.
Cameron could stay like this all night. Sleep would be nice but lying here on his shoulder with her arm around him was even better. She tried to clear her mind and just listen to the rumbling in his chest and as she did she felt her thoughts become hazy as she drifted back to sleep.
Just as her consciousness started to fade, she felt House’s body jerk slightly and she opened her eyes. Within a few moments, he jerked harder this time and tried reaching for his leg. He settled back down and she lifted her head just enough to look at him. He had a sleepy scowl on his face but he didn’t seem to be awake. She put her head back down on his chest and slid her hand under his shirt and rubbed his stomach lightly.
"I need to leave," he surprised her when he croaked out in a sleepy and raspy voice.
"Why?" She asked into his chest.
"This damn leg is going to keep us both awake," he explained.
"I don’t care," Cameron said lifting her head and looking at him.
"Well, I do," he said, avoiding her and sitting up on the bed forcing her to move away from him. He dropped his left foot to the floor, then using his left arm he pushed himself up and off the bed then pivoted himself back into his wheelchair.
Cameron moved back to the middle of the bed, feeling where House had been lying and watched him clumsily make his way towards the door. She wanted to tell him not to leave and to ask him what was wrong but she didn’t know what to say or how to say it.
"House," Cameron said softly. He stopped, his back facing her.
"Are we okay now?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied, sounding distracted then paused only for a second before disappearing into the hallway.
Cameron finally rolled onto her back and rested her arm over her closed eyes, wondering yet again what was so hard about this. Her foolish illusion that things had gone back to the way they were slowly dissolved into the reality that nothing was ever that easy with House. Sleep was going to be so easy to recapture while House was still lying beside her but now all she could do was fight with one doubtful thought after another. But everything that had just happened was better than the avoidance that she’d gotten from him up to this point, and she held onto that.
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House was sitting on the edge of his bed, anxious about Mike showing up to get him back down to PT this morning. He leaned over and reached for one of the journals Wilson had dropped on the end of his bed. Leaning over was even a different experience than it had been for forty-five years of his life.
When he tried pushing himself back up, every muscle and joint from his shoulders down to his remaining foot complained about it. The effects of walking with a cane for five years had been mostly corrected after the Ketamine treatment when his body was finally in shape again. But of course that had been shot to hell when his pain returned. His hip and back were going to have to be reintroduced to walking without a limp again, hopefully for the last time, and his right shoulder would get a well-deserved vacation.
Still no Mike. He started flipping through the magazine and got another stark reminder that his body just wasn’t quite what it used to be. Eyeing his glasses on the stand beside his bed, he prepared himself to lean the opposite way this time, giving the other side of his body the pep talk it needed to make the reach.
After his bitching and moaning about being bored, Wilson had finally brought him some things to keep him occupied along with some fresh clothes. It felt good to be in something other than those boring grey sweats that were starting to reek like a junior high school locker room.
His typically lame friend even had a brief moment of coolness and picked out some of his favorite shirts to bring him. House had reached in his bag and grabbed the first one he got his hands on, which happened to be sporting a very faded and by definition even cooler biker skull. From the smell of it Wilson had taken the time to freshly wash them for him, too. House grinned to himself when he realized Wilson would probably make a better wife than a husband. Maybe that’s been his problem all along.
He was ready to be surrounded by his own things again; to sleep in his own bed, walk to the fridge for a beer whenever he wanted, TiVo, pee with the bathroom door open, get up and play the piano when he couldn’t sleep, and his pal, Steve. So many things he missed like scooting over to Cameron’s warm side of the bed when he got cold at night. But he knew none of those things could happen until he got on his feet, and that’s what today was going to be all about.
Thinking about being home made him remember how good it had felt to be next to Cameron last night - not that he hadn’t already thought of her more times than he could count this morning. She, and the hope that the distance between them was gone, was the first thing on his mind when he woke up. He knew he had been the cause of it and even so, she had made fixing it way too easy on him. He couldn’t help but wonder if, like a cat, their relationship had nine lives and he’d just foolishly used up one of them. He didn’t want to think about how many might be left.
His mind drifted back to lying next to her. He’d fought any kind of restful sleep since he’d been stuck here but last night, even if for a little while, had helped him forget where he was. It was all good until his damn leg that wasn’t even there started giving him trouble.
The possibility that he might continue to have painful phantom spasms was something he was trying to avoid at all costs. So far it had only been some tingling and occasional itching sensations, but the possibility of that little twerp, Fulton, keeping him here any longer than absolutely necessary was also something he was trying to avoid. So this little problem would stay between him and his non-existent leg.
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Cameron walked over to House’s room wanting to see him after last night but when she got there he was gone. She saw his iPod and some of his journals, some lying on the bed and some on the table. She looked at the few articles of clothing draped over his chair and his glasses on the bedside table. She missed being around his things.
Then she remembered he had PT this morning and would be trying out his prosthetic for the first time. When she arrived she didn’t have to look far to find him because she heard him before she’d spotted him.
"What part of NO do you not understand?"
A battle of wills was unfolding between House and the two people trying to persuade him to use the walker sitting in front of him. It looked as if it was specifically designed to help support his right arm which, to House’s dismay and hers, was still in a cast.
Cameron saw him eyeing the contraption with disdain. "Do I look like an eighty-five year old geriatric case to you? It’s bad enough I’ve had to endure your medieval forms of torture on a daily basis and now you want to humiliate me too? That’s supposed to be my job."
Ben, the prosthetist, patiently explained, "You can’t use the parallel bars until your arm heals, so this is your only option if you want to get up and start walking on that leg."
"I’m sure your brilliant minds can come up with an alternative or I guess we’ll be sitting here a while." House smugly proclaimed. He leaned back against the wall, right leg sticking out in front of him. Crossing his arms best he could, he aimed for a look of defiance but came across more like a pouting three year old who wasn’t getting his way.
Lorraine rolled her eyes at her juvenile patient before leaning towards Ben to discuss something too quietly for Cameron to hear.
Cameron was a little concerned with House’s disposition this morning. When he left last night, she was still confused about where things stood. When he’d crawled into bed with her, she’d hoped things had returned to some sort of normality but when he left without any explanation she began to worry again. Now she couldn’t tell if this was just House being House or if there were still other things, mainly them, still on his mind.
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House continued sitting on the bench, watching Ben and Lorraine whisper and gesture toward the parallel bars on occasion. He was adamant about not using the walker. He was not an invalid, a cripple maybe, but not an invalid. If he didn’t have that damn cast on his arm he would’ve been up and mobile weeks ago.
He stared down at the high tech contraption currently attached to his upper thigh. This cyborg-like thing was now his leg. He had to admit it was an amazing piece of machinery. House had done his research while lying in bed recovering and decided on the C-Leg, a state of the art prosthetic that would give him the most chance of resuming his everyday activities, and hopefully more. Besides, it looked the coolest.
The socket, where his thigh and hip were currently encased, was made of carbon fiber, some new space-aged plastic replacement, and was custom made to fit his leg. The hydraulic knee attached to the calf area was computerized and would eventually be programmed to mimic his gait. It consisted of a small black box just above what was now his knee joint. He’d be able to switch feet, depending on his activities. It was a seriously cool piece of equipment, and if he weren’t so nervous about learning to use it, he’d be much more excited.
Ben had told him that the foot attached now was designed for everyday walking. It was covered with a silicone outer shell that mirrored his left foot and currently sported a white sock and a familiar black and silver Nike.
He reached down and touched the hard carbon fiber shell. His hand continued down to where the lower leg started. It was strange to not have any sensation as he touched the leg, the cold metal taking the place of his shin. This piece of foreign material was going to be a part of him for the rest of his life.
"We’ve got an idea." House’s thoughts were interrupted. He looked up to see Ben standing over him. He raised his eyebrows waiting for their alternative to making him use the walker because that still simply was not going to happen.
Lorraine walked over and chimed in, "We’re going to let you give the parallel bars a try but only if I support your right side."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, House looked up at the ceiling.
"It’s this or nothing. You either agree to one of our options or you go back to your room and wait another two or three weeks to have the cast removed and build up enough strength to be able to support your own weight. Your choice."
"Fine." House whined. "You win. Happy?"
"Good. Now, let’s go. On your feet," she ordered as she made an upward gesture with her hands, making no effort to offer any assistance.
House flashed a scathing look in her direction as he rocked himself onto his feet, the majority of his weight balanced on his left leg. Once he was upright, he slowly allowed more of his weight to be taken by the prosthetic.
The parallel bars were only a step away and Lorraine took his right arm as he reached for the bar with his left hand.
Suddenly, memories of the infarction came flooding back. He remembered standing in this exact position, weak from the combination of pain medication and too much time spent in bed recovering, arms shaking with the effort of supporting his weight. His memories of the pain, frustration and betrayal were all a swirling mass inside his head.
He closed his eyes and could see Stacy encouraging him like he was some kind of toddler trying to cross the living room for the first time. He sensed early on that guilt over what she had done had overtaken her and to him it felt too much like pity. He assumed she only came here to cheer him on to relieve her own conscience.
House opened his eyes, trying hard to shake the memories this was bringing back for him. As much as it sucked that he was finding himself in this familiar place, he had to remind himself that the circumstances surrounding it couldn’t be more different.
He was the one that felt guilty this time. Everything had been his fault and no one else’s. He had put himself back here at these parallel bars learning to walk again and to a certain extent he had drug Cameron along with him.
He looked up, wanting these memories out of his mind and ready to get on with it when he spotted Cameron across the room leaning on her crutches. She happened to glance in his direction and their eyes met briefly as she gave him a slight smile. He looked away, staring back down at his shoes. She had obviously forgiven him for what had happened, why couldn’t he forgive himself?
"Ready?"
House slightly nodded then licked his lips as he began to concentrate on what he needed to do.
"Just like we discussed, right leg first. Lift the leg forward and let it swing out until full extension," Ben explained.
House complied, staring down at his shoes as he watched the leg swing out in a controlled, fluid motion. The leg felt heavy, cumbersome, as if he had a giant pendulum attached to his thigh. The heel touched the mat about two feet in front of him.
"Now transfer your weight to the right and continue your stride," Lorraine encouraged him from under his right shoulder.
His left hand clinging to the bar, House transferred his weight to the prosthetic and as he felt it follow through and start to trail behind him, he quickly stepped forward with his left foot.
"It’s not going to collapse. You’ve got to have confidence," Ben tried to reassure him, "Try it again."
House took another step with the right leg and this time he leaned a bit more on that side, feeling the pressure of his weight focusing on his hip and outer thigh. He fought the urge to catch himself as the prosthetic leg continued through the walking motion.
"Keep looking forward. Quit staring at your feet. You’ll find yourself hunched over and out of balance."
Exasperated, House replied " Yeah, well it’s kinda weird having no idea where your leg is when you can’t feel the damn thing."
Continuing to stare at his feet, he thought back to when he was a kid learning how to walk on stilts. This felt the same except now he only had one stilt but it had two flexible joints making it feel wobbly and unsteady.
He chanced a quick glance in Cameron’s direction. She gave him a reassuring smile as he pursed his lips and looked away, he hated feeling weak in front of her.
Fifteen minutes later, House was feeling a bit more confident and was starting to put a few strides together, his posture more upright and the walking motion more fluid. On the next step, he caught the toe of his right foot on the mat and slightly stumbled forward, catching himself with his left hand while Lorraine strained to hold up his right side.
"Get that left leg under you," Lorraine strained to push him upright.
House muttered a string of curses aimed at his leg and anything else within striking distance.
"You’re just getting tired," Ben tried explaining the reason for stumbling, "I think you’ve had…"
"No," House interrupted, "I’m not tired."
"You’re leg isn’t as strong as it used to be. You just didn’t lift your right one quite high enough. Not a big deal." Ben tried again to reassure House, checking the leg and making sure it was okay.
"Couple more steps." House demanded, angrily positioning himself between the bars again. He didn’t even wait to make sure Lorraine was ready. He started his stride, followed through, then stepped forward with the left and immediately stepped again with the right bringing him to the opposite end of the bars. He repeated the effort one more time ending up where he’s started.
House grimaced slightly as he pivoted around and sat down heavily. His hand immediately reached for his thigh out of habit but all he felt was the hard outer shell of the prosthetic. It felt good to be able to walk again, no matter how unsteady or jerky the steps had been.
Ben kneeled in front of him and began helping remove the leg. "You did good but you’re still limping. Try to think about distributing your weight evenly as you step forward with your left leg."
How many years had he needed to avoid using that leg, fearful of putting too much strain on the damaged muscles and nerves causing the inevitable bolt of lightning to radiate from his knee to his hip? Learning to get over that fear was not going to be easy.
Ben pulled the prosthetic off and House started unrolling the sock covering his remaining limb.
As he was placing House’s leg by the wall, Ben reminded him, "Make sure to put that shrinker sock back on to keep the stump from swelling. You’ll have a hard time fitting it into the prosthesis if you don’t."
House cringed, "Do you have to use that word? It’s not a damn tree you know."
"What word? Stump?" Ben smiled trying to lighten House’s mood a bit.
"Just use something else like…hmmm," he placed his finger on his chin and looked up in mock thought, "I don’t know…how about leg," he pronounced, glaring directly at Ben.
He got the hint. "Also make sure to massage the st...leg at least a few times a day to increase circulation."
"Yeah, that’s been a little tough on account of this thing." House held up the heavy cast on his right arm.
"Things will get much easier once that comes off," Ben added, "How much longer?"
"Not soon enough," House grumbled under his breath as he struggled with the elastic sock that he was trying to put over his leg. Ben gave him a hand and House transferred back to his wheelchair.
Ben pushed House towards the doors where Cameron was standing, "Is Dr Wilson getting you today or do we need to page Mike?"
"Page Wilson," he answered.
"Okay," Ben laughed smiling at Cameron.
"Doesn’t he ever get tired of you?" Ben directed back at House.
"Wilson? Naah, he lives for this stuff. Satisfies his neediness quota for the day."
Ben just walked away, shaking his head.
"Hey," Cameron offered.
"Hi," is all he could say still feeling uncomfortable about feeling so weak in front of her, or anyone else for that matter, but especially her.
"Cool leg," she said sounding a little hesitant.
"Totally. Serious babe magnet," he looked up at her and finally smiled. He never felt at all attractive using his cane because it mostly made him feel old and weak, but this little baby had potential. He was glad she hadn’t felt compelled to tell him how good of a job he’d done. He wasn’t a puppy who needed praising. This was going to be a grueling process but at least the first day was behind him.
"Planning on trolling for chicks when you get out of here are ya?" she asked with a hint of playful jealously in her voice.
"Hell yeah," he replied then indicating the leg sitting at the end of the bench. "That thing’s made of some high tech stuff like what they use in spy planes and military weapons. How cool is that? Chicks will be falling all over me," he said, refusing to give in to her insinuations.
Cameron cracked the side of his wheelchair with one of her crutches as Wilson came through the doors, "You rang?" he asked in a low sing-songy voice.
"Get me out of here," House demanded.
"Yes sir. I exist only to serve you, sir," Wilson rolled his eyes and bowed reverently before grabbing the handles of his chair.
"Dare I ask you if you want a ride again today?" Wilson risked, hesitantly looking at Cameron out of the corner of his eye.
House looked up at her, feeling a little more comfortable about it today than he did yesterday.
She grinned at House, "As much as I’d like to," then she turned her eyes to Wilson and continued, "Fulton told me to try to bear as much weight on my knee as I could today. So I think I’ll walk…but thanks."
"Your loss," House mumbled as Wilson started them out the door. Cameron followed, her crutches still tucked under her arms but only as a safety net. Putting weight on her knee felt good to the rest of her body but her leg still wasn’t too sure about it.
On their way to the elevator House ordered, "Let’s take a left here."
"Not the way back to the room," Wilson said in an obvious sarcastic tone.
"Do you think I’m an idiot? Just do it," he clipped back.
Wilson tilted his head to the side, lifted his eyebrows, and put on an expression of ‘I know I’m going to regret this’ then did what he asked.
"Take a right down here and to the end of the hall," House added.
"Isn’t that the maintenance room?" Cameron asked.
"You actually showed up for the new employee orientation tour?" he crunched up his face and turned to look at her. Cameron’s expression moved from serious to a little embarrassed for always following the rules.
"Figures…" House mumbled and faced down the hall.
When they arrived at the door, Wilson tried turning the doorknob.
"Locked, too bad," Wilson said in mock disappointment pulling back on House’s wheelchair to turn him around.
House grabbed the left tire and whined, "Have I taught you nothing?"
Wilson rolled his eyes and looked at Cameron then gave up trying to move his wheelchair any further.
House made overly exaggerated gestures to pat down the pockets on his pants then looked at Wilson, "Holy pocket-protector Batman, you’ve surely got something useful in that utility belt," House smirked.
For Wilson’s sake, Cameron tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help herself and it finally escaped partially through her nose and came out as a slight snort.
Wilson smacked his own chest in disgust and pulled the plastic pouch out of his breast pocket and handed it over to House, surrendering all fear of getting into serious trouble with Cuddy.
House rummaged around until he found a sturdy paperclip and pulled it out. He lifted it up and eyed it like it was the answer to his prayers and said, "You’re such a trusty side-kick," shifting his eyes from the make shift tool then over to Wilson.
"Side-kick? I thought I was Batman?" Wilson droned on like this was just another one of House’s antics that he’d gotten wrapped up in that would inevitably end up bad…for him.
House let out an overly obnoxious laugh, "Yeah, right," rolling his eyes away from him and towards Cameron who just smiled at him. She was enjoying the comedy act so long as she wasn’t involved.
House unfolded the paperclip and stuck it into the keyhole on the doorknob. He rolled his eyes up while he concentrated, trying to feel for the click, like that would help somehow. After several tries he mumbled, "Where’s a good car thief when you need one anyway?"
"He quit because you were strung out on Vicodin, remember?" It was Wilson’s turn to smirk.
"Oh yeah…that’s right," House acknowledged as he continued to concentrate on the lock.
One last try then he heard what he’d been hoping for, "Ppfftt, who needs him anyway?" He swung the door inward toward the dark cluttered room full of tools and gadgets of all kinds.
"Now if I were a saw, where would I hide?" House questioned, tapping his finger on his chin.
"No way," Wilson protested holding his hands out to his side.
"Way," House wrinkled his face up at Wilson using his snarkiest valley girl impersonation. He wheeled himself inside searching for what he needed.
Wilson spied the cast saw lying on the workbench. He tried nonchalantly stepping in front of it while acting like he was actually helping him look, but hoping to hide it from House’s view.
"I really haven’t taught you anything have I?" House said, disappointed, "Move."
"So just who do you think you’re going to talk into doing that for you? It’s not like you have two good hands, and even if you did I wouldn’t let you within a mile of me with a power tool," Wilson warned.
House reached around Wilson and grabbed the saw and announced, "Cameron would," then he turned and looked at her, "wouldn’t ya?" Cameron turned three shades of red, "Oh…my…god," she mumbled, glaring back at him. This time Wilson was the one that snorted through his nose then turned a little red himself. It had been a while since he’d been able to catch Cameron off guard like that and the familiar feeling of it felt good.
"Make yourself useful and plug this in," he ordered, nodding in the direction of the outlet down by her feet, and handing the electrical cord to her.
"You think you’re so smart. Do it yourself," still glaring at him, while her natural color hadn’t yet returned to her cheeks.
House locked on to her eyes accepting her challenge, "Okay, I will," not moving his eyes from her he reached over and after a try or two managed to plug the saw into the outlet that he’d spotted mounted on the workbench.
"Nice…" was all Cameron could say while trying to hide her grin, unable to stay pissed when he was in such a playful mood.
House flipped on the saw and started hacking away at his cast with his one free hand.
"You want to lose a couple fingers, too?" Wilson blurted out then turned a little sheepish.
House just glared at him and turned off the saw then handed it to him.
"I can’t believe I’m doing this," Wilson relented and slowly shook his head from side to side.
After about ten minutes, House was free of his cast. His arm was pale and wrinkled and smelled a bit like an old pair of sweaty tennis shoes. He immediately began scratching at the flaky skin, letting out a satisfying sigh then he slowly bent his arm at the elbow a few times while flexing his hand. He had lost a considerable amount of muscle tone and was going to need some serious physical therapy on it but now it would be sooner than later.
House wasn’t able to wheel himself back to the rehab wing just yet, but he went through the motions while Wilson pushed him. If everything went as planned, he’d be out of this damn chair soon enough.
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Wilson opened the door to Cameron’s room and she walked in, still holding her crutches under her just for support.
"This is my stop, too," House said.
Cameron turned and smiled at Wilson while House wheeled himself in. It was still a slow process but he managed it himself. Wilson stood awkwardly just inside the door then finally unconvincingly announced he had a patient appointment in a few minutes.
"Close the door on your way out," House ordered, not turning around to look at him and headed for the sink in the corner of her room.
"Yeah, okay…well…you’re welcome," he snipped out at House and lifted one corner of his mouth in a pleased grin at Cameron.
"Thanks, Wilson," she offered, raising her hand in a lazy wave.
Cameron watched as House parked himself next to her sink and pulled his shirt off. He turned on the faucet and held his right arm under the warm running water. She saw him close his eyes and she imagined how good that must feel to him.
"You need anything?" she asked.
"Got any soap? Something that doesn’t smell like a girl?" he said.
Cameron chucked out a ‘maybe’ then went into the shower and grabbed a bar of hospital-issued soap and grabbed a clean towel. She walked over to the sink and leaned her crutches up against the wall.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"I can manage," he said rubbing the warm water over his wrinkled and pale skin.
"I know you can," she answered trying to imply she wanted to help anyway.
House looked up at her as she ran the dry bar of soap under the warm water and started gently rubbing it up and down his arm, "It’s not sore is it?"
"Not really, just a little stiff," he answered looking back down at his arm.
Cameron admitted, "I’m glad that thing is finally off."
"You? I’m the one that’s been wearing the damn thing," he countered then looked up at her.
"I know," she smiled at him, locking onto his eyes. He smiled back and Cameron’s heart skipped. She was glad the awkwardness that had come between them was finally gone. She couldn’t say things were completely back to normal but the improvement over yesterday was significant. She could imagine House still had a lot on his mind and living here in the rehab wing was sure to be affecting both of them to some extent.
Cameron put the soap on the side of the sink and cupped her hands together gathering water and pouring it down his arm while she rinsed the suds away. He just watched the water spill into the sink. When his arm was soap-free, Cameron picked up the towel and dried him off. When she was done, House picked up his shirt and put it back on, and Cameron dried her hands off on the towel.
"You’re gonna need some lotion on that," she said, looking at the condition of his skin.
"Does it smell like a girl?" he asked.
"Probably," she laughed.
"No thanks," he replied looking at his arm and running his hand over the newly exposed skin.
"Do you think you can stand up?" she asked.
His eyes questioned her, and she added, "I could help you…or you could use my crutches."
He hesitated. Cameron knew outside of the PT room that he’d only attempted transferring himself from one place to another, nothing more. Standing and balancing himself on his remaining leg without his new prosthetic and the assurance of someone strong enough to help him was something she figured he wasn’t too sure about.
"I’m twice your size," he argued quietly, "and you’re not exactly steady yourself."
"Then use my crutches," she countered.
House thought for a minute then locked the wheels on his chair and leaned forward figuring just how he was going to manage to pull this off. Cameron moved over to his right side, leaned over and pulled his arm around her shoulder. Using the sink and his left hand he tried lifting himself up. Pausing just for a second to balance himself and pivot his foot squarely under him, he pushed himself the rest of the way up and Cameron grabbed one of the crutches. She put it under his right arm as she cautiously moved away, her hands still touching him and smiled, leaving him one good leg and one crutch to hold himself up.
"Don’t ask me to go anywhere, cause that ain’t happenin’," he lifted his eyebrows and chuckled nervously.
"I don’t want you to go anywhere," she said as she stepped close to him, slid her arms around his waist, and looked up at him. His eyes said he was still uncertain about this being a good idea.
"We can do this," she said with quiet confidence as she held him tighter, taking the crutch out from under his arm and leaning it back on the sink. The strength in her left side complimented the weakness in his right side and visa versa.
"We’re like yin and yang, equal and opposite forces balancing each other out. Well, not exactly equal," looking up and making note of how tall he was, "but oh well," she joked lightly before resting her head on his chest then he wrapped both arms tightly around her.
"That’s all I wanted," she said completely content.
Next Chapter - click here
2tailswaggin
Title: Broken
Chapter: 7
Previous Chapters: 1 > 2 > 3 > 4 > 5 > 6
Prequel: Happiness
Rating: PG
Pairings: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Early Season 3
Thanks yet again to
bmax67 for all her help and input and patience and..... :)
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Chapter 7
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Cameron woke up to the warm feeling of House lying next to her and to a familiar light snoring sound that she hadn’t heard in over a month. In the beginning, she would notice it a lot more but it never bothered her. It was more of a reminder of where she was. Now, hearing that sound again gave her a feeling of relief that felt like the weight of everything that had happened had finally lifted.
House had said he was sorry and Cameron knew how difficult that must have been for him. All the conversations she’d rehearsed in her head, all of his rationale and logic she knew she’d have to battle, all of it had been relegated to two words that punctuated the whole issue for her. Everything she’d planned to say just melted along with the knot that she’d had in her stomach for weeks now.
House never apologized, mostly because he was rarely sorry about anything. He barged through life doing his version of the right thing, or more specifically what was right for him, leaving victims in his wake and never looking back. So it hardly seemed fair that when he did apologize, it seemed to carry more meaning, but somehow it did.
Cameron wanted to roll onto her back to ease the soreness from her therapy but she knew there really wasn’t enough room in this bed. Instead, she just shifted a little and leaned more into him, changing her position just enough to feel some relief. His cast that was between them was cold, rough and bulky and she wished it were gone so he could put his arm around her like he so often had.
When she moved closer to him, she was made keenly aware that she was lying up next to his injured leg. As curious as she was, she decided it was best to just go on like nothing was different, at least until he was ready to address it. So far he hadn’t even acknowledged that anything had happened at all, like the obvious missing limb was still there just like it always had been. But not everything needed to be talked about. That was something she was slowly learning to deal with as a side effect of being with House.
After all, how do you approach a person who’s had four weeks to think about the reality that they’ve lost their leg and open up a conversation about the fact that they’ve…lost their leg? She’d be doing nothing more than stating the obvious and she knew it wouldn’t go over well with him at all. So the topic would be put on the top shelf for when he decided to take it down, and she was okay with that.
Cameron could stay like this all night. Sleep would be nice but lying here on his shoulder with her arm around him was even better. She tried to clear her mind and just listen to the rumbling in his chest and as she did she felt her thoughts become hazy as she drifted back to sleep.
Just as her consciousness started to fade, she felt House’s body jerk slightly and she opened her eyes. Within a few moments, he jerked harder this time and tried reaching for his leg. He settled back down and she lifted her head just enough to look at him. He had a sleepy scowl on his face but he didn’t seem to be awake. She put her head back down on his chest and slid her hand under his shirt and rubbed his stomach lightly.
"I need to leave," he surprised her when he croaked out in a sleepy and raspy voice.
"Why?" She asked into his chest.
"This damn leg is going to keep us both awake," he explained.
"I don’t care," Cameron said lifting her head and looking at him.
"Well, I do," he said, avoiding her and sitting up on the bed forcing her to move away from him. He dropped his left foot to the floor, then using his left arm he pushed himself up and off the bed then pivoted himself back into his wheelchair.
Cameron moved back to the middle of the bed, feeling where House had been lying and watched him clumsily make his way towards the door. She wanted to tell him not to leave and to ask him what was wrong but she didn’t know what to say or how to say it.
"House," Cameron said softly. He stopped, his back facing her.
"Are we okay now?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied, sounding distracted then paused only for a second before disappearing into the hallway.
Cameron finally rolled onto her back and rested her arm over her closed eyes, wondering yet again what was so hard about this. Her foolish illusion that things had gone back to the way they were slowly dissolved into the reality that nothing was ever that easy with House. Sleep was going to be so easy to recapture while House was still lying beside her but now all she could do was fight with one doubtful thought after another. But everything that had just happened was better than the avoidance that she’d gotten from him up to this point, and she held onto that.
+++++++
House was sitting on the edge of his bed, anxious about Mike showing up to get him back down to PT this morning. He leaned over and reached for one of the journals Wilson had dropped on the end of his bed. Leaning over was even a different experience than it had been for forty-five years of his life.
When he tried pushing himself back up, every muscle and joint from his shoulders down to his remaining foot complained about it. The effects of walking with a cane for five years had been mostly corrected after the Ketamine treatment when his body was finally in shape again. But of course that had been shot to hell when his pain returned. His hip and back were going to have to be reintroduced to walking without a limp again, hopefully for the last time, and his right shoulder would get a well-deserved vacation.
Still no Mike. He started flipping through the magazine and got another stark reminder that his body just wasn’t quite what it used to be. Eyeing his glasses on the stand beside his bed, he prepared himself to lean the opposite way this time, giving the other side of his body the pep talk it needed to make the reach.
After his bitching and moaning about being bored, Wilson had finally brought him some things to keep him occupied along with some fresh clothes. It felt good to be in something other than those boring grey sweats that were starting to reek like a junior high school locker room.
His typically lame friend even had a brief moment of coolness and picked out some of his favorite shirts to bring him. House had reached in his bag and grabbed the first one he got his hands on, which happened to be sporting a very faded and by definition even cooler biker skull. From the smell of it Wilson had taken the time to freshly wash them for him, too. House grinned to himself when he realized Wilson would probably make a better wife than a husband. Maybe that’s been his problem all along.
He was ready to be surrounded by his own things again; to sleep in his own bed, walk to the fridge for a beer whenever he wanted, TiVo, pee with the bathroom door open, get up and play the piano when he couldn’t sleep, and his pal, Steve. So many things he missed like scooting over to Cameron’s warm side of the bed when he got cold at night. But he knew none of those things could happen until he got on his feet, and that’s what today was going to be all about.
Thinking about being home made him remember how good it had felt to be next to Cameron last night - not that he hadn’t already thought of her more times than he could count this morning. She, and the hope that the distance between them was gone, was the first thing on his mind when he woke up. He knew he had been the cause of it and even so, she had made fixing it way too easy on him. He couldn’t help but wonder if, like a cat, their relationship had nine lives and he’d just foolishly used up one of them. He didn’t want to think about how many might be left.
His mind drifted back to lying next to her. He’d fought any kind of restful sleep since he’d been stuck here but last night, even if for a little while, had helped him forget where he was. It was all good until his damn leg that wasn’t even there started giving him trouble.
The possibility that he might continue to have painful phantom spasms was something he was trying to avoid at all costs. So far it had only been some tingling and occasional itching sensations, but the possibility of that little twerp, Fulton, keeping him here any longer than absolutely necessary was also something he was trying to avoid. So this little problem would stay between him and his non-existent leg.
++++++++
Cameron walked over to House’s room wanting to see him after last night but when she got there he was gone. She saw his iPod and some of his journals, some lying on the bed and some on the table. She looked at the few articles of clothing draped over his chair and his glasses on the bedside table. She missed being around his things.
Then she remembered he had PT this morning and would be trying out his prosthetic for the first time. When she arrived she didn’t have to look far to find him because she heard him before she’d spotted him.
"What part of NO do you not understand?"
A battle of wills was unfolding between House and the two people trying to persuade him to use the walker sitting in front of him. It looked as if it was specifically designed to help support his right arm which, to House’s dismay and hers, was still in a cast.
Cameron saw him eyeing the contraption with disdain. "Do I look like an eighty-five year old geriatric case to you? It’s bad enough I’ve had to endure your medieval forms of torture on a daily basis and now you want to humiliate me too? That’s supposed to be my job."
Ben, the prosthetist, patiently explained, "You can’t use the parallel bars until your arm heals, so this is your only option if you want to get up and start walking on that leg."
"I’m sure your brilliant minds can come up with an alternative or I guess we’ll be sitting here a while." House smugly proclaimed. He leaned back against the wall, right leg sticking out in front of him. Crossing his arms best he could, he aimed for a look of defiance but came across more like a pouting three year old who wasn’t getting his way.
Lorraine rolled her eyes at her juvenile patient before leaning towards Ben to discuss something too quietly for Cameron to hear.
Cameron was a little concerned with House’s disposition this morning. When he left last night, she was still confused about where things stood. When he’d crawled into bed with her, she’d hoped things had returned to some sort of normality but when he left without any explanation she began to worry again. Now she couldn’t tell if this was just House being House or if there were still other things, mainly them, still on his mind.
+++++++++
House continued sitting on the bench, watching Ben and Lorraine whisper and gesture toward the parallel bars on occasion. He was adamant about not using the walker. He was not an invalid, a cripple maybe, but not an invalid. If he didn’t have that damn cast on his arm he would’ve been up and mobile weeks ago.
He stared down at the high tech contraption currently attached to his upper thigh. This cyborg-like thing was now his leg. He had to admit it was an amazing piece of machinery. House had done his research while lying in bed recovering and decided on the C-Leg, a state of the art prosthetic that would give him the most chance of resuming his everyday activities, and hopefully more. Besides, it looked the coolest.
The socket, where his thigh and hip were currently encased, was made of carbon fiber, some new space-aged plastic replacement, and was custom made to fit his leg. The hydraulic knee attached to the calf area was computerized and would eventually be programmed to mimic his gait. It consisted of a small black box just above what was now his knee joint. He’d be able to switch feet, depending on his activities. It was a seriously cool piece of equipment, and if he weren’t so nervous about learning to use it, he’d be much more excited.
Ben had told him that the foot attached now was designed for everyday walking. It was covered with a silicone outer shell that mirrored his left foot and currently sported a white sock and a familiar black and silver Nike.
He reached down and touched the hard carbon fiber shell. His hand continued down to where the lower leg started. It was strange to not have any sensation as he touched the leg, the cold metal taking the place of his shin. This piece of foreign material was going to be a part of him for the rest of his life.
"We’ve got an idea." House’s thoughts were interrupted. He looked up to see Ben standing over him. He raised his eyebrows waiting for their alternative to making him use the walker because that still simply was not going to happen.
Lorraine walked over and chimed in, "We’re going to let you give the parallel bars a try but only if I support your right side."
Letting out an exasperated sigh, House looked up at the ceiling.
"It’s this or nothing. You either agree to one of our options or you go back to your room and wait another two or three weeks to have the cast removed and build up enough strength to be able to support your own weight. Your choice."
"Fine." House whined. "You win. Happy?"
"Good. Now, let’s go. On your feet," she ordered as she made an upward gesture with her hands, making no effort to offer any assistance.
House flashed a scathing look in her direction as he rocked himself onto his feet, the majority of his weight balanced on his left leg. Once he was upright, he slowly allowed more of his weight to be taken by the prosthetic.
The parallel bars were only a step away and Lorraine took his right arm as he reached for the bar with his left hand.
Suddenly, memories of the infarction came flooding back. He remembered standing in this exact position, weak from the combination of pain medication and too much time spent in bed recovering, arms shaking with the effort of supporting his weight. His memories of the pain, frustration and betrayal were all a swirling mass inside his head.
He closed his eyes and could see Stacy encouraging him like he was some kind of toddler trying to cross the living room for the first time. He sensed early on that guilt over what she had done had overtaken her and to him it felt too much like pity. He assumed she only came here to cheer him on to relieve her own conscience.
House opened his eyes, trying hard to shake the memories this was bringing back for him. As much as it sucked that he was finding himself in this familiar place, he had to remind himself that the circumstances surrounding it couldn’t be more different.
He was the one that felt guilty this time. Everything had been his fault and no one else’s. He had put himself back here at these parallel bars learning to walk again and to a certain extent he had drug Cameron along with him.
He looked up, wanting these memories out of his mind and ready to get on with it when he spotted Cameron across the room leaning on her crutches. She happened to glance in his direction and their eyes met briefly as she gave him a slight smile. He looked away, staring back down at his shoes. She had obviously forgiven him for what had happened, why couldn’t he forgive himself?
"Ready?"
House slightly nodded then licked his lips as he began to concentrate on what he needed to do.
"Just like we discussed, right leg first. Lift the leg forward and let it swing out until full extension," Ben explained.
House complied, staring down at his shoes as he watched the leg swing out in a controlled, fluid motion. The leg felt heavy, cumbersome, as if he had a giant pendulum attached to his thigh. The heel touched the mat about two feet in front of him.
"Now transfer your weight to the right and continue your stride," Lorraine encouraged him from under his right shoulder.
His left hand clinging to the bar, House transferred his weight to the prosthetic and as he felt it follow through and start to trail behind him, he quickly stepped forward with his left foot.
"It’s not going to collapse. You’ve got to have confidence," Ben tried to reassure him, "Try it again."
House took another step with the right leg and this time he leaned a bit more on that side, feeling the pressure of his weight focusing on his hip and outer thigh. He fought the urge to catch himself as the prosthetic leg continued through the walking motion.
"Keep looking forward. Quit staring at your feet. You’ll find yourself hunched over and out of balance."
Exasperated, House replied " Yeah, well it’s kinda weird having no idea where your leg is when you can’t feel the damn thing."
Continuing to stare at his feet, he thought back to when he was a kid learning how to walk on stilts. This felt the same except now he only had one stilt but it had two flexible joints making it feel wobbly and unsteady.
He chanced a quick glance in Cameron’s direction. She gave him a reassuring smile as he pursed his lips and looked away, he hated feeling weak in front of her.
Fifteen minutes later, House was feeling a bit more confident and was starting to put a few strides together, his posture more upright and the walking motion more fluid. On the next step, he caught the toe of his right foot on the mat and slightly stumbled forward, catching himself with his left hand while Lorraine strained to hold up his right side.
"Get that left leg under you," Lorraine strained to push him upright.
House muttered a string of curses aimed at his leg and anything else within striking distance.
"You’re just getting tired," Ben tried explaining the reason for stumbling, "I think you’ve had…"
"No," House interrupted, "I’m not tired."
"You’re leg isn’t as strong as it used to be. You just didn’t lift your right one quite high enough. Not a big deal." Ben tried again to reassure House, checking the leg and making sure it was okay.
"Couple more steps." House demanded, angrily positioning himself between the bars again. He didn’t even wait to make sure Lorraine was ready. He started his stride, followed through, then stepped forward with the left and immediately stepped again with the right bringing him to the opposite end of the bars. He repeated the effort one more time ending up where he’s started.
House grimaced slightly as he pivoted around and sat down heavily. His hand immediately reached for his thigh out of habit but all he felt was the hard outer shell of the prosthetic. It felt good to be able to walk again, no matter how unsteady or jerky the steps had been.
Ben kneeled in front of him and began helping remove the leg. "You did good but you’re still limping. Try to think about distributing your weight evenly as you step forward with your left leg."
How many years had he needed to avoid using that leg, fearful of putting too much strain on the damaged muscles and nerves causing the inevitable bolt of lightning to radiate from his knee to his hip? Learning to get over that fear was not going to be easy.
Ben pulled the prosthetic off and House started unrolling the sock covering his remaining limb.
As he was placing House’s leg by the wall, Ben reminded him, "Make sure to put that shrinker sock back on to keep the stump from swelling. You’ll have a hard time fitting it into the prosthesis if you don’t."
House cringed, "Do you have to use that word? It’s not a damn tree you know."
"What word? Stump?" Ben smiled trying to lighten House’s mood a bit.
"Just use something else like…hmmm," he placed his finger on his chin and looked up in mock thought, "I don’t know…how about leg," he pronounced, glaring directly at Ben.
He got the hint. "Also make sure to massage the st...leg at least a few times a day to increase circulation."
"Yeah, that’s been a little tough on account of this thing." House held up the heavy cast on his right arm.
"Things will get much easier once that comes off," Ben added, "How much longer?"
"Not soon enough," House grumbled under his breath as he struggled with the elastic sock that he was trying to put over his leg. Ben gave him a hand and House transferred back to his wheelchair.
Ben pushed House towards the doors where Cameron was standing, "Is Dr Wilson getting you today or do we need to page Mike?"
"Page Wilson," he answered.
"Okay," Ben laughed smiling at Cameron.
"Doesn’t he ever get tired of you?" Ben directed back at House.
"Wilson? Naah, he lives for this stuff. Satisfies his neediness quota for the day."
Ben just walked away, shaking his head.
"Hey," Cameron offered.
"Hi," is all he could say still feeling uncomfortable about feeling so weak in front of her, or anyone else for that matter, but especially her.
"Cool leg," she said sounding a little hesitant.
"Totally. Serious babe magnet," he looked up at her and finally smiled. He never felt at all attractive using his cane because it mostly made him feel old and weak, but this little baby had potential. He was glad she hadn’t felt compelled to tell him how good of a job he’d done. He wasn’t a puppy who needed praising. This was going to be a grueling process but at least the first day was behind him.
"Planning on trolling for chicks when you get out of here are ya?" she asked with a hint of playful jealously in her voice.
"Hell yeah," he replied then indicating the leg sitting at the end of the bench. "That thing’s made of some high tech stuff like what they use in spy planes and military weapons. How cool is that? Chicks will be falling all over me," he said, refusing to give in to her insinuations.
Cameron cracked the side of his wheelchair with one of her crutches as Wilson came through the doors, "You rang?" he asked in a low sing-songy voice.
"Get me out of here," House demanded.
"Yes sir. I exist only to serve you, sir," Wilson rolled his eyes and bowed reverently before grabbing the handles of his chair.
"Dare I ask you if you want a ride again today?" Wilson risked, hesitantly looking at Cameron out of the corner of his eye.
House looked up at her, feeling a little more comfortable about it today than he did yesterday.
She grinned at House, "As much as I’d like to," then she turned her eyes to Wilson and continued, "Fulton told me to try to bear as much weight on my knee as I could today. So I think I’ll walk…but thanks."
"Your loss," House mumbled as Wilson started them out the door. Cameron followed, her crutches still tucked under her arms but only as a safety net. Putting weight on her knee felt good to the rest of her body but her leg still wasn’t too sure about it.
On their way to the elevator House ordered, "Let’s take a left here."
"Not the way back to the room," Wilson said in an obvious sarcastic tone.
"Do you think I’m an idiot? Just do it," he clipped back.
Wilson tilted his head to the side, lifted his eyebrows, and put on an expression of ‘I know I’m going to regret this’ then did what he asked.
"Take a right down here and to the end of the hall," House added.
"Isn’t that the maintenance room?" Cameron asked.
"You actually showed up for the new employee orientation tour?" he crunched up his face and turned to look at her. Cameron’s expression moved from serious to a little embarrassed for always following the rules.
"Figures…" House mumbled and faced down the hall.
When they arrived at the door, Wilson tried turning the doorknob.
"Locked, too bad," Wilson said in mock disappointment pulling back on House’s wheelchair to turn him around.
House grabbed the left tire and whined, "Have I taught you nothing?"
Wilson rolled his eyes and looked at Cameron then gave up trying to move his wheelchair any further.
House made overly exaggerated gestures to pat down the pockets on his pants then looked at Wilson, "Holy pocket-protector Batman, you’ve surely got something useful in that utility belt," House smirked.
For Wilson’s sake, Cameron tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help herself and it finally escaped partially through her nose and came out as a slight snort.
Wilson smacked his own chest in disgust and pulled the plastic pouch out of his breast pocket and handed it over to House, surrendering all fear of getting into serious trouble with Cuddy.
House rummaged around until he found a sturdy paperclip and pulled it out. He lifted it up and eyed it like it was the answer to his prayers and said, "You’re such a trusty side-kick," shifting his eyes from the make shift tool then over to Wilson.
"Side-kick? I thought I was Batman?" Wilson droned on like this was just another one of House’s antics that he’d gotten wrapped up in that would inevitably end up bad…for him.
House let out an overly obnoxious laugh, "Yeah, right," rolling his eyes away from him and towards Cameron who just smiled at him. She was enjoying the comedy act so long as she wasn’t involved.
House unfolded the paperclip and stuck it into the keyhole on the doorknob. He rolled his eyes up while he concentrated, trying to feel for the click, like that would help somehow. After several tries he mumbled, "Where’s a good car thief when you need one anyway?"
"He quit because you were strung out on Vicodin, remember?" It was Wilson’s turn to smirk.
"Oh yeah…that’s right," House acknowledged as he continued to concentrate on the lock.
One last try then he heard what he’d been hoping for, "Ppfftt, who needs him anyway?" He swung the door inward toward the dark cluttered room full of tools and gadgets of all kinds.
"Now if I were a saw, where would I hide?" House questioned, tapping his finger on his chin.
"No way," Wilson protested holding his hands out to his side.
"Way," House wrinkled his face up at Wilson using his snarkiest valley girl impersonation. He wheeled himself inside searching for what he needed.
Wilson spied the cast saw lying on the workbench. He tried nonchalantly stepping in front of it while acting like he was actually helping him look, but hoping to hide it from House’s view.
"I really haven’t taught you anything have I?" House said, disappointed, "Move."
"So just who do you think you’re going to talk into doing that for you? It’s not like you have two good hands, and even if you did I wouldn’t let you within a mile of me with a power tool," Wilson warned.
House reached around Wilson and grabbed the saw and announced, "Cameron would," then he turned and looked at her, "wouldn’t ya?" Cameron turned three shades of red, "Oh…my…god," she mumbled, glaring back at him. This time Wilson was the one that snorted through his nose then turned a little red himself. It had been a while since he’d been able to catch Cameron off guard like that and the familiar feeling of it felt good.
"Make yourself useful and plug this in," he ordered, nodding in the direction of the outlet down by her feet, and handing the electrical cord to her.
"You think you’re so smart. Do it yourself," still glaring at him, while her natural color hadn’t yet returned to her cheeks.
House locked on to her eyes accepting her challenge, "Okay, I will," not moving his eyes from her he reached over and after a try or two managed to plug the saw into the outlet that he’d spotted mounted on the workbench.
"Nice…" was all Cameron could say while trying to hide her grin, unable to stay pissed when he was in such a playful mood.
House flipped on the saw and started hacking away at his cast with his one free hand.
"You want to lose a couple fingers, too?" Wilson blurted out then turned a little sheepish.
House just glared at him and turned off the saw then handed it to him.
"I can’t believe I’m doing this," Wilson relented and slowly shook his head from side to side.
After about ten minutes, House was free of his cast. His arm was pale and wrinkled and smelled a bit like an old pair of sweaty tennis shoes. He immediately began scratching at the flaky skin, letting out a satisfying sigh then he slowly bent his arm at the elbow a few times while flexing his hand. He had lost a considerable amount of muscle tone and was going to need some serious physical therapy on it but now it would be sooner than later.
House wasn’t able to wheel himself back to the rehab wing just yet, but he went through the motions while Wilson pushed him. If everything went as planned, he’d be out of this damn chair soon enough.
+++++++++++
Wilson opened the door to Cameron’s room and she walked in, still holding her crutches under her just for support.
"This is my stop, too," House said.
Cameron turned and smiled at Wilson while House wheeled himself in. It was still a slow process but he managed it himself. Wilson stood awkwardly just inside the door then finally unconvincingly announced he had a patient appointment in a few minutes.
"Close the door on your way out," House ordered, not turning around to look at him and headed for the sink in the corner of her room.
"Yeah, okay…well…you’re welcome," he snipped out at House and lifted one corner of his mouth in a pleased grin at Cameron.
"Thanks, Wilson," she offered, raising her hand in a lazy wave.
Cameron watched as House parked himself next to her sink and pulled his shirt off. He turned on the faucet and held his right arm under the warm running water. She saw him close his eyes and she imagined how good that must feel to him.
"You need anything?" she asked.
"Got any soap? Something that doesn’t smell like a girl?" he said.
Cameron chucked out a ‘maybe’ then went into the shower and grabbed a bar of hospital-issued soap and grabbed a clean towel. She walked over to the sink and leaned her crutches up against the wall.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"I can manage," he said rubbing the warm water over his wrinkled and pale skin.
"I know you can," she answered trying to imply she wanted to help anyway.
House looked up at her as she ran the dry bar of soap under the warm water and started gently rubbing it up and down his arm, "It’s not sore is it?"
"Not really, just a little stiff," he answered looking back down at his arm.
Cameron admitted, "I’m glad that thing is finally off."
"You? I’m the one that’s been wearing the damn thing," he countered then looked up at her.
"I know," she smiled at him, locking onto his eyes. He smiled back and Cameron’s heart skipped. She was glad the awkwardness that had come between them was finally gone. She couldn’t say things were completely back to normal but the improvement over yesterday was significant. She could imagine House still had a lot on his mind and living here in the rehab wing was sure to be affecting both of them to some extent.
Cameron put the soap on the side of the sink and cupped her hands together gathering water and pouring it down his arm while she rinsed the suds away. He just watched the water spill into the sink. When his arm was soap-free, Cameron picked up the towel and dried him off. When she was done, House picked up his shirt and put it back on, and Cameron dried her hands off on the towel.
"You’re gonna need some lotion on that," she said, looking at the condition of his skin.
"Does it smell like a girl?" he asked.
"Probably," she laughed.
"No thanks," he replied looking at his arm and running his hand over the newly exposed skin.
"Do you think you can stand up?" she asked.
His eyes questioned her, and she added, "I could help you…or you could use my crutches."
He hesitated. Cameron knew outside of the PT room that he’d only attempted transferring himself from one place to another, nothing more. Standing and balancing himself on his remaining leg without his new prosthetic and the assurance of someone strong enough to help him was something she figured he wasn’t too sure about.
"I’m twice your size," he argued quietly, "and you’re not exactly steady yourself."
"Then use my crutches," she countered.
House thought for a minute then locked the wheels on his chair and leaned forward figuring just how he was going to manage to pull this off. Cameron moved over to his right side, leaned over and pulled his arm around her shoulder. Using the sink and his left hand he tried lifting himself up. Pausing just for a second to balance himself and pivot his foot squarely under him, he pushed himself the rest of the way up and Cameron grabbed one of the crutches. She put it under his right arm as she cautiously moved away, her hands still touching him and smiled, leaving him one good leg and one crutch to hold himself up.
"Don’t ask me to go anywhere, cause that ain’t happenin’," he lifted his eyebrows and chuckled nervously.
"I don’t want you to go anywhere," she said as she stepped close to him, slid her arms around his waist, and looked up at him. His eyes said he was still uncertain about this being a good idea.
"We can do this," she said with quiet confidence as she held him tighter, taking the crutch out from under his arm and leaning it back on the sink. The strength in her left side complimented the weakness in his right side and visa versa.
"We’re like yin and yang, equal and opposite forces balancing each other out. Well, not exactly equal," looking up and making note of how tall he was, "but oh well," she joked lightly before resting her head on his chest then he wrapped both arms tightly around her.
"That’s all I wanted," she said completely content.
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