Beneath the Surface - Pt 56
Here it is, the final part of this story (aside from the epilogue). Wow, this has been one heck of a trip! I'm actually slightly unsure of the end. I could add a page or two to tie things up more cleanly, or I could just let the epilogue do that. Your opinions on the matter would be very welcome. My heart is so full of affection for this comm and all of you. You've really helped me during some pretty rough times, and I know you'll continue to be here in the future. I consider that to be a wonderful gift, and if my writing here makes people happy, I'd say it's a pretty even trade.
Beneath the Surface - Pt 56
The two of them walked through the clinic and when a nurse made a move to call to them, House made a rude gesture in her general direction and ushered Cameron out ahead of him. Walking out through the side door and down the little hall and through the double doors to the garage, House kept himself within a step of Cameron, but didn’t actually touch her. The door they went through led to a side area of the garage that they rarely parked in because it was further from the elevators.
Cameron looked around for the Corvette, surprised that House had taken them on such a roundabout route, but guessing that it was all part of his “kidnapping” ploy.
“This way,” House said, walking past her and heading towards the corner.
There weren’t any cars parked over there because it was the area reserved for motorcycles. It was conveniently close to the doors, but had smaller spots so that they didn’t take up as much space. Cameron looked at him askance and followed him as he passed a silver Honda sport bike and a fully loaded BMW cruiser which she’d seen one of the surgeons riding. He stopped in front of a black, retro-style bike with leather saddlebags and two helmets attached to the rear seat sissy bar with a cable lock.
“What is this?” Cameron asked, immediately knowing that he’d respond with some sort of sarcastic quip.
“Funny, I didn’t realize you’d led such a sheltered life,” he said, predictable he knew, but still unable to resist.
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, what are you doing with it? What’s going on?”
“Told you. Kidnapping,” he replied as he unlocked the helmets and tossed one to her before opening one of the saddlebags and pulling out a leather jacket. He threw that to her too, and she did a quick juggling move to catch it without dropping the helmet. “This is the getaway vehicle.”
“This is yours?”
“It is now. Bought it two days ago. Now hop on and hold on tight.” He put on his helmet, slid his cane into a couple of custom mounts on the right side of the bike and swung his leg over in a move that, while not exactly graceful, appeared much more natural than Cameron would have expected.
“I thought I was your mid-life crisis,” she joked.
House smirked at her over his shoulder but didn’t say anything.
Cameron was still shaking her head in bemusement as she slipped into the new jacket, which was a perfect fit, and tucked her pocketbook into the saddlebag. He wasn’t going to explain anything else at the moment. There was only a second of hesitation before she grabbed onto House’s shoulders for balance, stepped up onto the rear seat foot-peg and climbed aboard. Settling herself onto the seat behind him was unnerving and exciting and strangely comforting all at the same time. She’d had a friend in college whose boyfriend had given her rides once in a while, but her youthful enthusiasm in taking that slight step on the wild side hadn’t made her heart race nearly as fast as it was now.
House reached back and grabbed her wrists, pulling her forward and forcing her arms to wrap around his midsection.
“I believe I told you to hold on,” he said, and then revved the engine to life, kicked off and sped down the aisle and out of the garage.
It normally took between fifteen and twenty minutes to drive out of Princeton, but House steered the bike expertly between cars and in and out of lanes, missing all the lights, and barely pausing for the stop signs. They had the hospital, the university and everything else in their rear view mirror within ten minutes.
Even with the helmet on, Cameron could feel the rush of air tugging at her hair as it rippled over and around them. As each minute passed she felt tense muscles letting go and dark thoughts moving back to the shadows, until all that occupied her consciousness was the smell of leather and springtime, the warm strength of House’s body, and the roar of the machine that held them both.
House, with his fingers wrapped firmly around the handlebars, eyes fixed on the road and reading every dip and turn ahead of time, was also acutely aware of Cameron at his back. He felt when she relaxed and leaned against him more, and the slight, subtle shift of her hands around his waist. He knew that the rumbling of the engine was what was thrumming through him, but he imagined he could feel her heart beat when she held tight around a sweeping curve. He even thought that he could smell her hair.
No matter how inept he had been with her at times, and no matter how sarcastic and misanthropic and self-absorbed everyone knew he could be, he had never taken the feel of her body against his for granted. That very first night he’d held her hand in the hospital without her knowledge had been the start of him never taking it for granted. He knew how close he’d come to never touching more of her than her naked heart. He knew he held it now in an entirely different way, but it didn’t feel like any less of a responsibility. A responsibility that he was now unashamed to admit to himself that he was happy to bear.
Maybe he would even admit it to a few other people.
It had startled him how angry he’d become at Wilson at the idea that he could have forgotten what day it was. The not-so-subtle insinuation being that he still held himself and his needs at such a level above everyone else that he wouldn’t know what was going on with Cameron. Wilson’s apologetic look had told him that the man didn’t really think that, but the subtle accusation had still struck a bad chord.
For all intents and purposes, he was the same man now that he had been a year ago. He still mixed his moments of brilliance at the hospital with bitter sarcasm, insults and brutal honesty. He still made fun of Wilson’s ties, and Cuddy’s cleavage, and Chase’s accent. Mooching food off of Wilson had decreased only slightly and in direct proportion to the amount he now mooched off of Cameron. Most of the nurses still feared him, the other doctors grudgingly admired him in between scoffing at his unorthodox ways, and he went through his days very much the same way he always had: speaking loudly and still carrying a big stick.
But all of that was his professional life. It was the only life he’d imagined himself capable of for over five years. A lot had changed in a year. He still woke up in pain, but he didn’t wake up alone. Cameron hadn’t exactly dulled his sharp edges, but she had inspired him to use them with slightly more caution outside the walls of the hospital. She’d seen a softer side of him and he’d seen a stronger side of her. He’d opened up to her as much as he’d ever opened up to anyone. More. And it wasn’t because she’d asked him too, or used girly pouts or tricks to wrap him around her finger. It was because he’d wanted to. He’d wanted the release that came with actually showing emotions. With caring for another person. With loving another person.
That was why Wilson’s ill-thought remark had triggered such an extreme response. He didn’t want everyone to know of the changes in his life and his priorities, but he expected certain people to know. Wilson was one of those people, and given that man’s reaction to his outburst, as well as his almost annoying level of support, House figured that he’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
The other person was Allison Cameron, the small, surprisingly feisty woman who was currently clinging to him. He’d given her a few reasons to doubt his commitment but after just a few initial bumps, she never had. She’d doubted herself and the situation and life in general, but not him. It was something he still found somewhat unbelievable. When Wilson had asked him if he’d forgotten what day it was, for just a flash of an instant, he’d wondered if Cameron had thought the same thing, but that idea had flown almost as soon as it had landed, because he knew that while she didn’t expect him to be perfect, and even expected him to hurt her inadvertently on occasion, she also knew his biggest secret. The misanthropic bastard held her deepest needs above his own.
An hour past and the sleek motorcycle sped past little towns and larger cities and then down a series of ever-smaller roads that passed under arching tree branches and beside crumbling stone walls. The deteriorating condition of the roads made House decrease speed and Cameron sat up a bit straighter and looked around, wondering where on Earth he was taking them. She didn’t have too much longer to wonder because House suddenly turned off the paved road and onto a dirt service road that led to a wide empty field. There wasn’t a house or a barn anywhere in sight, and there was just a sea of long grass waving in the light breeze and surrounded by trees.
House cut the engine and the silence that followed was profound. Without saying anything, they each got off the bike and removed their helmets, looking around at the surroundings and each other. Cameron was the one to finally break the silence as she shook her head and looked at him quizzically.
“Where are we? And why did you bring us here?”
House limped a few paces from the bike, looking at the field, at the trees, at the pebble-strewn dirt they had just driven over.
“Looks just the same,” he commented.
“You’ve been here before?”
“About six years ago. Yeah. Rode another motorcycle up here.”
Cameron’s mouth pricked up into a smile and she squinted in the sunshine. “I had a feeling this wasn’t your first.”
“Nope.”
“But why did you come up here back then? And why now?”
He seemed overly interested in his cane and the way it made silvery lines through the grass as he swung it. He kept his eyes on it instead of on her and she knew he was trying to decide whether or not he really wanted to tell her what he was thinking about. She wasn’t stupid. Six years ago was just after his infarction and she knew that whatever his reason for bringing her to a field in the middle of nowhere, it had something to do with that.
“I have my anniversaries too,” he said abruptly. “I spent the first one here.” Cameron didn’t say anything, but she kept her gaze focused on him and waited for him to look up and catch her eye. It didn’t take long, and then it appeared that he came to a final decision in his mind and his words came faster. “I’d had a bike before the infarction. Rode it everywhere as long as it wasn’t raining, snowing or freezing cold. After the infarction, I wouldn’t even look at it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ride around on it with a cane strapped to the side. I spent a year turning myself into an even more miserable bastard than I’d already been. People will tell you I didn’t change much, but that’s because I’d never let them close to me in the first place. I’d always acted miserable, but I hadn’t always been miserable. Not that miserable, anyway.”
Cameron had moved closer, and they were both leaning against the low stone wall and looking out over the field with the bike right in front of them. She turned towards him and saw the shades of memory in his eyes.
“You rode that old bike up here.”
“On my first anniversary,” he said, the words still bitter in his mouth. “Not a year after the day I was diagnosed, but a year after the day I woke up with only half of my right thigh,” he told her. “And I still didn’t strap a cane to the side of the bike. I used my old lacrosse stick and fastened it on with duct tape. Then I came up here. I just found the place accidentally, and I drove into this field and got off and beat that motorcycle until it was barely more than scrap metal. When I was done, I called Wilson and made him drive all the way up here to get me.”
The way Cameron’s throat had closed, prevented her from speaking, and she swallowed hard a few times, surprised by how emotional she was getting just thinking about House all those years ago, alone and bitter and angry with life and everything in it. House hadn’t told her the story to win her sympathy, but he knew how she was and knew how she would react, and he covered her hand with his and didn’t expect her to say anything for a few minutes.
“So that’s why you brought me up here?” she said, when the pricking behind her eyes had subsided. “So that I could destroy another motorcycle? I really don’t think I have it in me to hurt such a cool ride,” and she looked up and saw a smirk appearing on House’s face.
“No, I don’t think we’ll be sacrificing the bike today,” he agreed. “I was alone when I came up here. If I’d had more guts I’d have brought a gun and finished what the infarction started, but my ego wouldn’t let me. I brought you up here because I didn’t want you thinking you were alone. Not today. You’ve got this big open field all to yourself. You can scream bloody murder out here and I’m the only one who’ll hear you. And when you’re done, we’ll get back on the bike and we’ll go get something to eat, and then we’ll go home.” Home. The word felt slightly odd in his mouth and he realized it was the first time he’d said it since Cameron had moved in.
“Will I feel like this every year?” Cameron asked, already knowing the answer. Every year would be a little better, but nothing would ever completely erase what had happened to her.
“Some years will be better than others,” House said, honestly.
“For you too?” she asked, acknowledging what no one else had; that he was almost as affected by her attack as she was.
“Yeah, I think so.”
She nodded and turned her hand in his until she could grasp his firmly. “I think I’ll be all right if you’re around.”
He squeezed her hand hard before releasing it and motioning for her to get up and go off into the field. “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he said, and he watched her make her way to the middle of the grassy expanse, tilt back her head and scream.
Beneath the Surface - Pt 56
The two of them walked through the clinic and when a nurse made a move to call to them, House made a rude gesture in her general direction and ushered Cameron out ahead of him. Walking out through the side door and down the little hall and through the double doors to the garage, House kept himself within a step of Cameron, but didn’t actually touch her. The door they went through led to a side area of the garage that they rarely parked in because it was further from the elevators.
Cameron looked around for the Corvette, surprised that House had taken them on such a roundabout route, but guessing that it was all part of his “kidnapping” ploy.
“This way,” House said, walking past her and heading towards the corner.
There weren’t any cars parked over there because it was the area reserved for motorcycles. It was conveniently close to the doors, but had smaller spots so that they didn’t take up as much space. Cameron looked at him askance and followed him as he passed a silver Honda sport bike and a fully loaded BMW cruiser which she’d seen one of the surgeons riding. He stopped in front of a black, retro-style bike with leather saddlebags and two helmets attached to the rear seat sissy bar with a cable lock.
“What is this?” Cameron asked, immediately knowing that he’d respond with some sort of sarcastic quip.
“Funny, I didn’t realize you’d led such a sheltered life,” he said, predictable he knew, but still unable to resist.
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, what are you doing with it? What’s going on?”
“Told you. Kidnapping,” he replied as he unlocked the helmets and tossed one to her before opening one of the saddlebags and pulling out a leather jacket. He threw that to her too, and she did a quick juggling move to catch it without dropping the helmet. “This is the getaway vehicle.”
“This is yours?”
“It is now. Bought it two days ago. Now hop on and hold on tight.” He put on his helmet, slid his cane into a couple of custom mounts on the right side of the bike and swung his leg over in a move that, while not exactly graceful, appeared much more natural than Cameron would have expected.
“I thought I was your mid-life crisis,” she joked.
House smirked at her over his shoulder but didn’t say anything.
Cameron was still shaking her head in bemusement as she slipped into the new jacket, which was a perfect fit, and tucked her pocketbook into the saddlebag. He wasn’t going to explain anything else at the moment. There was only a second of hesitation before she grabbed onto House’s shoulders for balance, stepped up onto the rear seat foot-peg and climbed aboard. Settling herself onto the seat behind him was unnerving and exciting and strangely comforting all at the same time. She’d had a friend in college whose boyfriend had given her rides once in a while, but her youthful enthusiasm in taking that slight step on the wild side hadn’t made her heart race nearly as fast as it was now.
House reached back and grabbed her wrists, pulling her forward and forcing her arms to wrap around his midsection.
“I believe I told you to hold on,” he said, and then revved the engine to life, kicked off and sped down the aisle and out of the garage.
It normally took between fifteen and twenty minutes to drive out of Princeton, but House steered the bike expertly between cars and in and out of lanes, missing all the lights, and barely pausing for the stop signs. They had the hospital, the university and everything else in their rear view mirror within ten minutes.
Even with the helmet on, Cameron could feel the rush of air tugging at her hair as it rippled over and around them. As each minute passed she felt tense muscles letting go and dark thoughts moving back to the shadows, until all that occupied her consciousness was the smell of leather and springtime, the warm strength of House’s body, and the roar of the machine that held them both.
House, with his fingers wrapped firmly around the handlebars, eyes fixed on the road and reading every dip and turn ahead of time, was also acutely aware of Cameron at his back. He felt when she relaxed and leaned against him more, and the slight, subtle shift of her hands around his waist. He knew that the rumbling of the engine was what was thrumming through him, but he imagined he could feel her heart beat when she held tight around a sweeping curve. He even thought that he could smell her hair.
No matter how inept he had been with her at times, and no matter how sarcastic and misanthropic and self-absorbed everyone knew he could be, he had never taken the feel of her body against his for granted. That very first night he’d held her hand in the hospital without her knowledge had been the start of him never taking it for granted. He knew how close he’d come to never touching more of her than her naked heart. He knew he held it now in an entirely different way, but it didn’t feel like any less of a responsibility. A responsibility that he was now unashamed to admit to himself that he was happy to bear.
Maybe he would even admit it to a few other people.
It had startled him how angry he’d become at Wilson at the idea that he could have forgotten what day it was. The not-so-subtle insinuation being that he still held himself and his needs at such a level above everyone else that he wouldn’t know what was going on with Cameron. Wilson’s apologetic look had told him that the man didn’t really think that, but the subtle accusation had still struck a bad chord.
For all intents and purposes, he was the same man now that he had been a year ago. He still mixed his moments of brilliance at the hospital with bitter sarcasm, insults and brutal honesty. He still made fun of Wilson’s ties, and Cuddy’s cleavage, and Chase’s accent. Mooching food off of Wilson had decreased only slightly and in direct proportion to the amount he now mooched off of Cameron. Most of the nurses still feared him, the other doctors grudgingly admired him in between scoffing at his unorthodox ways, and he went through his days very much the same way he always had: speaking loudly and still carrying a big stick.
But all of that was his professional life. It was the only life he’d imagined himself capable of for over five years. A lot had changed in a year. He still woke up in pain, but he didn’t wake up alone. Cameron hadn’t exactly dulled his sharp edges, but she had inspired him to use them with slightly more caution outside the walls of the hospital. She’d seen a softer side of him and he’d seen a stronger side of her. He’d opened up to her as much as he’d ever opened up to anyone. More. And it wasn’t because she’d asked him too, or used girly pouts or tricks to wrap him around her finger. It was because he’d wanted to. He’d wanted the release that came with actually showing emotions. With caring for another person. With loving another person.
That was why Wilson’s ill-thought remark had triggered such an extreme response. He didn’t want everyone to know of the changes in his life and his priorities, but he expected certain people to know. Wilson was one of those people, and given that man’s reaction to his outburst, as well as his almost annoying level of support, House figured that he’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
The other person was Allison Cameron, the small, surprisingly feisty woman who was currently clinging to him. He’d given her a few reasons to doubt his commitment but after just a few initial bumps, she never had. She’d doubted herself and the situation and life in general, but not him. It was something he still found somewhat unbelievable. When Wilson had asked him if he’d forgotten what day it was, for just a flash of an instant, he’d wondered if Cameron had thought the same thing, but that idea had flown almost as soon as it had landed, because he knew that while she didn’t expect him to be perfect, and even expected him to hurt her inadvertently on occasion, she also knew his biggest secret. The misanthropic bastard held her deepest needs above his own.
An hour past and the sleek motorcycle sped past little towns and larger cities and then down a series of ever-smaller roads that passed under arching tree branches and beside crumbling stone walls. The deteriorating condition of the roads made House decrease speed and Cameron sat up a bit straighter and looked around, wondering where on Earth he was taking them. She didn’t have too much longer to wonder because House suddenly turned off the paved road and onto a dirt service road that led to a wide empty field. There wasn’t a house or a barn anywhere in sight, and there was just a sea of long grass waving in the light breeze and surrounded by trees.
House cut the engine and the silence that followed was profound. Without saying anything, they each got off the bike and removed their helmets, looking around at the surroundings and each other. Cameron was the one to finally break the silence as she shook her head and looked at him quizzically.
“Where are we? And why did you bring us here?”
House limped a few paces from the bike, looking at the field, at the trees, at the pebble-strewn dirt they had just driven over.
“Looks just the same,” he commented.
“You’ve been here before?”
“About six years ago. Yeah. Rode another motorcycle up here.”
Cameron’s mouth pricked up into a smile and she squinted in the sunshine. “I had a feeling this wasn’t your first.”
“Nope.”
“But why did you come up here back then? And why now?”
He seemed overly interested in his cane and the way it made silvery lines through the grass as he swung it. He kept his eyes on it instead of on her and she knew he was trying to decide whether or not he really wanted to tell her what he was thinking about. She wasn’t stupid. Six years ago was just after his infarction and she knew that whatever his reason for bringing her to a field in the middle of nowhere, it had something to do with that.
“I have my anniversaries too,” he said abruptly. “I spent the first one here.” Cameron didn’t say anything, but she kept her gaze focused on him and waited for him to look up and catch her eye. It didn’t take long, and then it appeared that he came to a final decision in his mind and his words came faster. “I’d had a bike before the infarction. Rode it everywhere as long as it wasn’t raining, snowing or freezing cold. After the infarction, I wouldn’t even look at it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ride around on it with a cane strapped to the side. I spent a year turning myself into an even more miserable bastard than I’d already been. People will tell you I didn’t change much, but that’s because I’d never let them close to me in the first place. I’d always acted miserable, but I hadn’t always been miserable. Not that miserable, anyway.”
Cameron had moved closer, and they were both leaning against the low stone wall and looking out over the field with the bike right in front of them. She turned towards him and saw the shades of memory in his eyes.
“You rode that old bike up here.”
“On my first anniversary,” he said, the words still bitter in his mouth. “Not a year after the day I was diagnosed, but a year after the day I woke up with only half of my right thigh,” he told her. “And I still didn’t strap a cane to the side of the bike. I used my old lacrosse stick and fastened it on with duct tape. Then I came up here. I just found the place accidentally, and I drove into this field and got off and beat that motorcycle until it was barely more than scrap metal. When I was done, I called Wilson and made him drive all the way up here to get me.”
The way Cameron’s throat had closed, prevented her from speaking, and she swallowed hard a few times, surprised by how emotional she was getting just thinking about House all those years ago, alone and bitter and angry with life and everything in it. House hadn’t told her the story to win her sympathy, but he knew how she was and knew how she would react, and he covered her hand with his and didn’t expect her to say anything for a few minutes.
“So that’s why you brought me up here?” she said, when the pricking behind her eyes had subsided. “So that I could destroy another motorcycle? I really don’t think I have it in me to hurt such a cool ride,” and she looked up and saw a smirk appearing on House’s face.
“No, I don’t think we’ll be sacrificing the bike today,” he agreed. “I was alone when I came up here. If I’d had more guts I’d have brought a gun and finished what the infarction started, but my ego wouldn’t let me. I brought you up here because I didn’t want you thinking you were alone. Not today. You’ve got this big open field all to yourself. You can scream bloody murder out here and I’m the only one who’ll hear you. And when you’re done, we’ll get back on the bike and we’ll go get something to eat, and then we’ll go home.” Home. The word felt slightly odd in his mouth and he realized it was the first time he’d said it since Cameron had moved in.
“Will I feel like this every year?” Cameron asked, already knowing the answer. Every year would be a little better, but nothing would ever completely erase what had happened to her.
“Some years will be better than others,” House said, honestly.
“For you too?” she asked, acknowledging what no one else had; that he was almost as affected by her attack as she was.
“Yeah, I think so.”
She nodded and turned her hand in his until she could grasp his firmly. “I think I’ll be all right if you’re around.”
He squeezed her hand hard before releasing it and motioning for her to get up and go off into the field. “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he said, and he watched her make her way to the middle of the grassy expanse, tilt back her head and scream.