Past/Present - Part 3b
It's been a little while, but here's the next part in this collaborative fic with jovsg! We're coming down to the good stuff people, so enjoy the ride!
As always my thanks to my partner in crime, who has made this process so much fun :)
Past/Present - Part 3b
Cameron woke up the next morning, still exhausted and feeling horribly hungover. Then she remembered the three glasses of wine she’d drunk just before going to bed, and her dry mouth and niggling headache made more sense. She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, memorizing the swirls in the plaster because it enabled her to concentrate on something besides the conflicting feelings that seemed to be swirling somewhere between her stomach and her chest.
Joe was out of her life again, as quickly as he’d returned to it. She knew he’d never really disappear. They would remain friends, with telephone calls, Christmas cards, maybe the occasional visit, but it wouldn’t be the same. The memory of their failed relationship attempt would always be between them now, just as the memory of Cameron’s husband had stood between them for so long.
She knew that she’d done the right thing. Stringing him along when she knew her feelings weren’t completely sincere, would have just been cruel in the long run. The lump in her chest and the knot in her stomach didn’t seem to agree. They were telling her that she’d thrown away her chance for any normal kind of happiness, even if it wouldn’t have been the ‘over the moon’ sort of happiness and love she was hoping for. She’d thrown it all away because of a man who would laugh in her face for even wishing for such things.
With a long, drawn-out sigh, she rolled over and pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders. She decided she’d just be a few minutes later than usual. She’d still beat House to the office.
When Cameron walked through the hospital doors and into the clinic lobby, it was eight thirty. She was half an hour later than usual, but she still knew that she wouldn’t see House. At least not unless he’d arrived unnaturally early. She hadn’t bargained on Wilson being there or on the fact that seeing him, House’s best friend - House’s only friend - would make her feel almost as uncomfortable. He obviously didn’t know her as well as House did, but he had his own brand of intuition and they had a tentative friendship growing between them. Seeing him meant that she would be forced to talk, and probably about things she didn’t want to discuss. When he turned and smiled at her as she passed by, she gave a weak smile of her own, and a short greeting, but didn’t say anything else as she double-checked the clinic schedule. She knew he’d say something, and she was right.
“How have things been going?”
“Aside from House being nastier than usual?” she replied, feeling a bit safer with the ability to lob off one-liners.
Wilson turned those dark brown, serious eyes towards her. “You know why he’s acting that way, don’t you?”
Cameron gave him a look that held just a touch of amusement beneath a layer of sarcasm. “If you tell me it’s because he really, really likes me, I’m going to have to hit you.”
Wilson just looked at her.
“This isn’t grade school,” she said, sounding tired. “Acting like an asshole doesn’t tell me he’s madly in love with me, it just tells me he’s a jerk.”
“Unless the asshole in question is a jerk who still happens to have some complicated feelings for you,” Wilson replied mildly.
He could tell that something had happened since he’d last seen her, walking out of the hospital with a relatively contented look on her face and a lightness in her step. He was sorry to see those things gone, but also wondered if perhaps their absence would be a sign for House to finally make a move. On the other hand, he could just as easily use it as an excuse to put it off until his “claim” was threatened again.
“His complicated feelings…” Cameron said, and then cut herself off with a sigh. “He’s not the only one to have them,” she mumbled.
Wilson’s face took on his patented ‘caring’ look and he tilted his head to catch her eye. Cameron saw him a let out a dry laugh.
“I’m not one of your patients,” she said, wondering if he knew just how obvious his various expressions were. She knew that they were rooted in real feelings though, and couldn’t hold them against him. “Sorry,” she told him. “I must need more coffee.”
She expected him to give a little nod and let her continue on her way to the cafeteria - she didn’t think she could handle heading to the office yet. She was surprised then, to find him falling into step beside her.
“I could use some too,” he said, by way of explanation when she glanced over at him speculatively.
“You always get your coffee from the Diagnostics department.”
“Yeah, but you’re not there to make it,” he said, reasonably.
“Ah, I see. Well, if today’s coffee is Chase’s Down Under Mud Surprise, I truly don’t wish that on anyone.”
They looked at each other and gave matching, exaggerated shudders before laughing a bit and heading towards the coffee bar. Wilson got his usual and Cameron ordered something with chocolate and whipped cream, which she only got when she needed some comfort in caffeinated form. She reached for her pocketbook as they came to the front of the line, but Wilson laid his hand on hers to stop her in a silent offer to pay. She wanted to argue with him, but when she opened her mouth, Wilson bade off her protests.
“No, let me, please. Trust me, it feels good to actually pay willingly for someone’s coffee for a change. Besides, you look like you could use it. You’ve had a rough time of it lately.” His look wasn’t as piercing as House’s, but it relayed more knowledge than his words, and Cameron felt her cheeks flush.
“I was hoping I wasn’t that transparent,” she said, and Wilson had the good grace to loom embarrassed about setting her more on edge.
“Allison, I was going upstairs myself to finish some charting. Why don’t I just walk you? Maybe we can talk in my office.”
Again, Cameron was about to decline, but she stopped her own words before they were fully formed. Wilson knew more about her relationship with Joe than anyone else, but she still didn’t feel like thinking about it anymore, when she was trying so hard to act as if everything was fine. One look at Wilson’s face, though, and she knew that he wouldn’t buy any trite declaration of personal contentment. She sighed heavily and considered her options. She was still feeling heavy-headed from her hangover, and she knew that most people would love to have Wilson’s caring shoulder to cry on. She gave another nod of consent and followed Wilson to the elevators.
As the elevator ascended, and the two of them watched the buttons light up in sequence, the silence became heavy around them. Wilson was the one to try to alleviate it.
“I didn’t mean what I said downstairs. I’m sorry I phrased it like that. I-”
Cameron cut him off, not wanting him to feel responsible for her mood. “It’s OK. I…haven’t been myself lately, you’re right. I’ve been preoccupied.”
They were quiet again during the walk to Wilson’s office, but it was less strained, and once inside, Cameron sank gratefully into one of the cushioned guest chairs, while Wilson stood behind his desk and shuffled some papers. He cast half a dozen glances at her before finally speaking.
“So…” It was only one word, but spoken in that leading, suggestive way that told Cameron that yes, he wanted to talk about her and Joe.
She took a sip of her coffee and tugged at her lower lip before answering. “Go ahead. Ask. I figured you might.”
Wilson looked relieved, and he sat down and wrapped his hands around his cup, forearms resting lightly on the desktop.
“Okay… How are things…progressing…with Joe? I just assumed that since I’ve seen him around here, you two were rekindling the friendship.”
Cameron had to admire his diplomacy, since she was quite sure that the news of her budding relationship had been gossip fodder since Joe’s first appearance.
“It was going great. Perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a more functional, ideal potential for a healthy relationship.” She took another drink of coffee and then set it down on the desk, choosing to link and unlink her fingers instead. “Just like out of a book… until I asked him to leave,” she finished, concentrating on one slightly ragged cuticle and avoiding Wilson’s gaze.
“Why? What happened?”
Those words made her head spring up, and she looked at him, the reason plainly read in her eyes, and plainly saying that he should have known better than to ask. There was something else there, something sad and resigned, and it poked at Wilson’s conscience and made him walk around the desk and sit closer to her.
“Allison, what are you gonna do?” he asked, not even noticing the intimate shift into using her given name.
“I don’t know, Wilson! I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know if I made the right choice, if I may have thrown away my best chance at happiness…for what? The possibility that my notoriously emotionally defunct boss kind of, sort of maybe might have complicated feelings for me?”
“You know that as long as you harbor feelings for House-”
“Well, that might just be the problem. I’ll always carry them. I just don’t know if it’s enough anymore, you know? It used to be that no matter how convoluted and complex the stuff between House and I got, no matter how many rude and awful stunts he’d pull, there would be that one moment where he’d look at me, or say something in just the right way, or accidentally brush over my hand as I’d hand over a file, and it would keep me going for days. And now, it just sounds stupid and naïve. At a certain point, it stops being enough.”
Wilson sighed and then he shrugged his shoulders and nodded in understanding. It hadn’t been very long since he’d felt the same way. His divorce and House’s reactions to it had made him feel like he was in a purely one-sided friendship, and it had taken some time for things between them to feel normal again. House had actually been forced into putting some actual effort into the relationship. It was the same effort that he needed to show Cameron, but even Wilson had his doubts about whether or not that would ever happen without a huge push from some outside force. Joe had seemed like the perfect outside source, but if he was gone…
“You remember when I told you that if you wanted a relationship with House, you’d better be serious about it, for the sake of his heart?” Wilson asked, and Cameron just gave a not-very-ladylike snort in reply. “Well, I suppose what I forgot to add was that getting to the heart is no easy feat. He’s a complicated man. He’s never going to serenade you with wine and roses and drop to his knees to declare his love.”
“I’m not asking for any of that. Is that what you think I expect of him?”
“Well the fact that he’s been acting like a petulant five-year-old child lately should tell you something.”
Cameron’s lips pressed tightly together and she stood up from her chair, grabbing her coffee on the way. She didn’t want to be told that she just needed to wait for him. She already knew that. She knew it and she was tired, tired to the bone from waiting.
“It tells me that he’s acting like a petulant five-year-old child. Nothing more.” Her long sigh seemed to come from her very toes, and she stared down at her coffee for a moment before raising her eyes to Wilson’s. “If I go to him and let his temper tantrums do his communicating, then I’m always going to be his territory. He’ll always mark it when someone else threatens it, but never feel compelled enough to stake a claim either. I’d…really appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything about Joe leaving.”
Wilson stood up and looked taken aback by her request although he tried to hide it. The fact that it must be so obvious that he’d been gossiping about her to House, did not rest easy on him. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he lied, “but maybe it would be better if he knew.” He absent-mindedly ran his fingers through his hair before settling both hands on his hips.
Cameron had moved to the door, and she shook her head. “Please don’t interfere with this. I know that you think if you don’t say anything, he’ll never make a move, or that you need to be the intermediary for something to happen here. I’m asking you to respect my wishes and not say anything.”
Her words made him straighten up. He didn’t like being the intermediary. In fact, he hated being in that position, but she and House continued to dance around each other, he felt he had to do something.
“You obviously asked Joe to leave for a reason…”
“I did. And I want House to come to me for a reason. You of all people should sympathize with my position.”
“I sympathize with both of you. And you’re both being ridiculous.”
Cameron’s hand tightened on the door handle, and an unreadable smile touched the corners of her mouth before quickly slipping away.
“It’s a funny thing about complicated feelings, I guess. They’re complicated,” she said, and then she was pulling the door open and walking away, while Wilson stood there, hands still on his hips, wondering what his next move should be, and if he should even make one.
************************
House watched Cameron pick up her pager, push the patient folder away from her and stand up from the conference room table. He watched the tiny muscles in her face tighten and her eyes darken, and then he watched her walk out of the diagnostics department with her head held stiffly upright, her stride long and quick.
“Good going,” Foreman muttered reproachfully.
The urge to say something scathing and smack Foreman with his cane was strong, but he ground his teeth and retreated to his office instead.
“Get the damn tests run,” he spat out as he left. “The ANA too.” The one she had suggested and he had mocked.
He slumped down into his comfortable chair and used his right hand to help swing his bad leg up onto the footrest. He felt tired and defeated and it didn’t even have anything to do with the patient. This was why he didn’t get involved with people.
His morning had been downhill pretty much from the moment he woke up. The pain in his leg was more severe than usual, and even an extra long shower had failed to loosen up the remaining muscle and scar tissue. He’d been tagged by Cuddy on his way through the lobby and cited for being late for clinic duty. Naturally he’d retaliated by not going to the clinic at all, but upon arriving at his department, he’d discovered that Cameron wasn’t there and that Chase had gotten his hands on the coffee maker, therefore guaranteeing that the contents of the pot were undrinkable. He’d settled down to listen to The Stones and read trashy online blogs to distract himself from life, but then Wilson had wandered in and made that impossible.
Wilson had been his usual conspicuous self, which is to say that he’d stood awkwardly in the doorway, clearly with something on his mind. House had spent a few minutes trying to pry the information from him, but for once, it hadn’t worked. Then House had flat out asked if it had something to do with Cameron, and Wilson’s reply of “Maybe” had made it obvious that it was. Which of course had led to him being extra nasty to her from the moment she walked into the department until the moment she walked out.
It was a knee-jerk reaction.
If Wilson had information about Cameron, then that information also had to be about the thick-necked, broad-shouldered, lunkhead she was dating. He’d envisioned a host of interesting gossip tidbits before she’d arrived, and each one had made him more irritated at her. Either he was moving in with her, or she was moving in with him, or they’d been seen in the new swanky restaurant necking, or she’d popped into the clinic for a pregnancy test. He knew, that in reality, all of those guesses were probably wrong, but since when had reality ever stopped him from jumping to conclusions where she was concerned?
Surprisingly, he actually felt a regretful pang in his stomach at some of his words, as he sat with his head resting back against his chair and the image of her face clear in his minds’ eye. That face hadn’t held the glow of a woman in love. He released a long, exhausted sounding breath, and planted the end of his cane resolutely on the floor, using it to hoist himself to his feet. He had an immunologist to track down.
***********************************
Allison Cameron had always loved to observe people, especially from a distance. She had spent a fair portion of her life either lonely, as a loner, or an outsider looking in, and had become an adept, and avid, people-watcher. More than anything, she loved sweeping city views, a seemingly endless expanse of lights and possibilities emanating beneath her tiny frame. The anonymity and grandeur of it all led her to ponder, sometimes, about all those lives being lived right in front of her. Were the people down below happy, brilliant families, or lonely and sad, searching for their place in the world just like her? So it was that she’d escaped to the rooftop of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, lab coat flapping behind her, hands splayed on the cement of the brick wall, pulled to the comfort of her old pastime.
The air in the office had suddenly become too thick, the proximity of House too near, for her comfort. She’d felt the walls closing in on her. She wasn’t certain what she would do when she returned or how much longer things could stay static between herself and House, but for now, she was simply content to breathe in the refreshing spring evening breeze instead of the antiseptic hospital smell and to observe the lit campus and bustling city beyond. It might have been her currently relaxed state that caused her to flinch a little more than she normally would when the heavy metal door slammed open, followed by a familiarly obnoxious throat clearing. She didn’t bother turning her head to recognize the step-thump making its way towards her.
“Figured I’d find you up here. It was either here or your other two sulking salons, the locker room and the chapel. You know, come to think of it, for an atheist, you sure do have a love affair going with that place.” Cameron stood unresponsively against the brick siding, prompting House to repeat himself slightly louder.
“I say, for an atheist, you have a real-”
“I heard you the first time,” she replied steadfastly, back still facing him.
House quirked his eyebrows and pursed his lips slightly at the frosty reception. “I thought it was clever,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m here,” he limped slightly closer to where she was standing, “out of concern for our patient. I think his symptoms fit an allergic reaction of some sort, and well, it always amazes me how much an immunologist can come in handy when the differential involves the immune system.”
“The patient is not having an allergic, or any other immune, reaction. His T cell counts are within normal range, none of the bloodwork showed any abnormaliites, and he isn’t prsenting with either a fever or a rash. Not to mention the fact that if you did think he was having an allergic reaction, you’d certainly start a treatment without consulting us about it. And since when do you show concern for our patients?” She kept her voice steady in pitch and resolve. His thinly veiled attempts to circomlocute around an apology were painfully obvious. But if House wanted to invade her solitude and space to talk, she certainly wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
House’s eyes widened in brief surprise at her forthright dismissal, but recovered quickly enough to not let on that she’d affected him. “Why Dr. Cameron, are you doubting my empathy and commitment towards the people entrusted to our care? Don’t you know what a hardship it is for a cripple to walk up that many flights of stairs to get up here?”
Cameron rolled her eyes at his overemoted sentimentality. “You don’t care about the patients, just their diseases. And we both know you took the elevator. What do you want, House?”
“OK, fine you got me. I’m really here because I’m rounding people up for a mid-afternoon game of strip poker in Cuddy’s office, and Foreman and Chase keep insisting on practicing medicine. Killjoys.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” Cameron finally turned around to face him, folding her arms protectively in front of her. “I’m all out of cash. Plus I wore my old-lady undergarments today. Why are you here?”
If House were a man to be taken aback on a regular basis, Cameron calling his bluff would have done it. He figured that concern for her patient might have sidetracked her or that a crude joke might distance her, but she was definitely a stronger and more astute woman than people gave her credit for. He let out a sigh of half-frustration, half-trepidation. When had shy, sweet Allison Cameron become that good at reading him, at recognizing and deflecting the superficial jabber that managed to keep everyone else at bay, at forcing him to confront and expose long-sealed-off barriers to her? And when had her barbs gotten so good at matching his own? He felt vulnerable and trapped under the weight of her expectant stare. With only his cane as a viable distraction, House looked away from her and tapped out some inane pattern with the rubber tip.
“Guess I’m curious. Why did you just sit there?” He finally spat out quickly.
Cameron’s lips parted and her arms dropped to her sides at House’s bluntness. He was finally being serious with her, she could tell by his features and the way he gripped his cane nervously. At the same time, she wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. Sit where? When? He answered her questions with his next words.
“Why would you let me say all those things about you, about your husband,” he added quietly. “None of it was true, was it? Why not say something, prove me wrong?”
She turned away, focusing her sight back into the safety of the well-lit horizon. She realized that this was as good of an opening as he would ever give her, as much as he could ever concede or reveal. In his own warped, emotionally-repressed way, she knew he was giving them a chance, opening himself up as best as he knew how. She just wasn’t certain how much to give of herself, or if she had anything left to give.
“You’re a puzzle solver, the best I’ve ever known,” she broached carefully. She could feel the hole his eyes bore into her back, silently willing her to go on. He didn’t say anything, instead waiting as she paused to gather herself. It might have been the first time since she’d met him that she witnessed him exercising patience and courtesy. “Great puzzle solvers don’t like to be given hints or answers, even if it means they’re wrong initially. They like to solve things on their own.”
House absorbed her answer with a frown, resuming his even tapping against the ground. “Why is it that our conversations always have to be so weird? Do you suppose it’ll always be that way?” he mused.
Cameron huffed out an amused snort. “Oh, I don’t know. Weird works for us, I guess.” The change in her tone caused House to look up and note the sideways glance that she threw him. The slight curl of her lips revealing the soft dimple in her cheek was all the courage he needed to probe a little deeper.
“I suppose…Joe figured out the puzzle right away. Didn’t need to insult you or anything.” House’s eyes darted around nervously. At his cane, the ground, off in the distance, anywhere but directly at Cameron.
“True,” she admitted softly. “But, he did cheat. He already had all the answers.”
“He’s good for you. He can give you everything you need,” House intoned bitterly, the self-loathing evident.
“I’ve spent a third of my life mourning the only meaningful relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t need you to decide for me what I need!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled with a scowl. “I’d better get back downstairs-” As fast as House had begun to open up, he shut down and drew back from Cameron. It was as though she’d physically burned him with her reproach. He started to turn and she knew that this was the split-second moment where everything would change for them, that if she let him walk away now, it would shut the door forever on their chances.
“He’s gone.”
“What?”
“I…I asked Joe to leave.”
“Well, call me an old-fashioned romantic, but that’s gonna put a real kink in your relationship,” he probed cautiously, feigning confusion.
“There is no relationship, House. Things between us weren’t working out.”
“What changed?”
“I did. He didn’t. Maybe that was the whole problem. Can’t always re-create the past, even if it is less scary than the unknown.”
“No, I guess you can’t. Something to be said for closure, though.” The weight in his words made it clear that they were no longer just talking about Joe. “Well, I didn’t like him, anyway. Never trust someone with a lopsided head, I always say.”
“Yeah,” Cameron nodded gravely with a grin. “Or a limp, as I always say.”
“Ha!”
They settled into a palpably awkward silence. They were broaching new territory for them. If they fought, it was over a diagnosis or other patient-related issue. If things veered to the personal, there was a more choreographed, predictable advance and retreat. Cameron pushed, House snarked, she backed down. They suddenly found themselves at an odd crossroads; they weren’t fighting, the banter had been almost comfortable, and they weren’t retreating, but neither seemed at ease with advancing to the next step, either.
“I remember the last time we were up here together. You practically jumped me,” House announced.
“What?! I did not!” Cameron retorted defensively.
“Ever since then, I’m afraid to be alone with you, without my protection anyway,” he lifted the cane in the air, even wiggling it around for emphasis. “I’m crippled and defenseless, and you can’t keep your hands off of me.”
Cameron opened her mouth to protest further, but decided to give House a taste of his own medicine. “That’s impossible. Isn’t there a rule that every time I kiss you some poor fairy never gets her wings?”
“Oh, snap! She’s on fire. Every time? Oh, so now I’m gonna let you kiss me multiple times? That’s one hell of an ego you have there, Dr. Cameron.”
“Pfft. Like you’d push me away.”
“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t beat you with my cane or anything,” he grumbled.
“And with charm like that you have to settle for hiring hookers? Shocking!”
“What do you expect? It’s not like I asked for any of…this,” he waved his hand between them, attempting to label the unnamed connection between them. “You irritate me. You’re like a, like a pest of some sort. Like a tic.”
“Oh don’t lay it on so thick, please! I might have to reach for my smelling salts.”
“It crawls into your arm, and no matter how hard you scratch, it won’t go away,” he disregarded her snark. “It’s practically impossible to get rid of you.”
“Do you want to?” Cameron’s pointed, earnest look was enough to strike House with a permanent sense of déjà vu. But they were lifetimes removed from the hallway outside his office. Cameron was no longer that doe-eyed girl, and House was certainly not the man he was then, for better and worse. They had traversed so much together, and she’d stood by him through it all. Her faith and loyalty were interminable. None of the excuses that he’d used to push her away the last time she looked at him this way could apply now. There would only be so many opportunities to take a step forward before there were no more chances. He hoped that she’d reconcile his nonchalant House-speak with the tender look that accompanied it.
“Eh, you’re mostly harmless. I’ll bet you wouldn’t even have the guts to kiss me.”
“Now you’re daring me to kiss you? What are we, five?” Cameron matched his half-smile as they fell back into the security of coded banter and small steps forward.
“Scaredy-cat!”
“Oh you think so, huh? I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve yet, Dr. House.”
“Oh yeah? You gonna do it?” He fixed her with a wide, inquisitive stare, bright blue eyes popping comically out of their sockets. House’s expression was that of an adorably mischievous little boy. Cameron realized at that moment that it would be impossible for her to ever stay angry with him when he looked at her like that.
“You’re a tremendously annoying human being,” Cameron’s lame attempt at staving him off with austerity was masked by the obvious affection in her voice.
“Doesn’t answer my question,” he prodded at her shoe with the tip of his cane, leaning in a bit closer into her personal space. “You gonna?”
“Mayyyyybe,” Cameron drawled, coyly. “You gonna pretend this conversation never happened when we come into work tomorrow morning?”
House lifted his chin in the air, pretended to mull her question over, and shrugged noncommittally with one shoulder. “Maybe,” he mimicked her theatrically. She could see the indecision flickering in his eyes when she looked up at him, even amidst their playful banter. He was just as scared as she was. After all their missteps, miscommunication, and passed chances, it would be the only way this thing between them would ever work. Painfully slow baby steps. Cameron decided she would take it, as she closed the last centimeters between them with one last stride.
“Okay,” she whispered. She didn’t kiss him then, or say anything else. Instead, they turned back toward the skyline and stood side-by-side quietly for an indeterminate period of time, refraining from uttering platitudes about what a beautiful night it was, how grateful they were that they’d finally found a way towards one another, how happy they might be, or any of the other multitude of climactic clichés that other couples would settle for in this situation. They never stared deeply into each other’s eyes, though Cameron stole more than one discreet glance in his direction, and no orchestral music swelled in the background, though she could swear she heard the crumbling of a thousand walls as she dared to finally brush her knuckles softly against his. The city lights glowed invitingly beneath them, the moon gently illuminated their figures, and it was enough. This was their beginning.
Fin.
As always my thanks to my partner in crime, who has made this process so much fun :)
Past/Present - Part 3b
Cameron woke up the next morning, still exhausted and feeling horribly hungover. Then she remembered the three glasses of wine she’d drunk just before going to bed, and her dry mouth and niggling headache made more sense. She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, memorizing the swirls in the plaster because it enabled her to concentrate on something besides the conflicting feelings that seemed to be swirling somewhere between her stomach and her chest.
Joe was out of her life again, as quickly as he’d returned to it. She knew he’d never really disappear. They would remain friends, with telephone calls, Christmas cards, maybe the occasional visit, but it wouldn’t be the same. The memory of their failed relationship attempt would always be between them now, just as the memory of Cameron’s husband had stood between them for so long.
She knew that she’d done the right thing. Stringing him along when she knew her feelings weren’t completely sincere, would have just been cruel in the long run. The lump in her chest and the knot in her stomach didn’t seem to agree. They were telling her that she’d thrown away her chance for any normal kind of happiness, even if it wouldn’t have been the ‘over the moon’ sort of happiness and love she was hoping for. She’d thrown it all away because of a man who would laugh in her face for even wishing for such things.
With a long, drawn-out sigh, she rolled over and pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders. She decided she’d just be a few minutes later than usual. She’d still beat House to the office.
When Cameron walked through the hospital doors and into the clinic lobby, it was eight thirty. She was half an hour later than usual, but she still knew that she wouldn’t see House. At least not unless he’d arrived unnaturally early. She hadn’t bargained on Wilson being there or on the fact that seeing him, House’s best friend - House’s only friend - would make her feel almost as uncomfortable. He obviously didn’t know her as well as House did, but he had his own brand of intuition and they had a tentative friendship growing between them. Seeing him meant that she would be forced to talk, and probably about things she didn’t want to discuss. When he turned and smiled at her as she passed by, she gave a weak smile of her own, and a short greeting, but didn’t say anything else as she double-checked the clinic schedule. She knew he’d say something, and she was right.
“How have things been going?”
“Aside from House being nastier than usual?” she replied, feeling a bit safer with the ability to lob off one-liners.
Wilson turned those dark brown, serious eyes towards her. “You know why he’s acting that way, don’t you?”
Cameron gave him a look that held just a touch of amusement beneath a layer of sarcasm. “If you tell me it’s because he really, really likes me, I’m going to have to hit you.”
Wilson just looked at her.
“This isn’t grade school,” she said, sounding tired. “Acting like an asshole doesn’t tell me he’s madly in love with me, it just tells me he’s a jerk.”
“Unless the asshole in question is a jerk who still happens to have some complicated feelings for you,” Wilson replied mildly.
He could tell that something had happened since he’d last seen her, walking out of the hospital with a relatively contented look on her face and a lightness in her step. He was sorry to see those things gone, but also wondered if perhaps their absence would be a sign for House to finally make a move. On the other hand, he could just as easily use it as an excuse to put it off until his “claim” was threatened again.
“His complicated feelings…” Cameron said, and then cut herself off with a sigh. “He’s not the only one to have them,” she mumbled.
Wilson’s face took on his patented ‘caring’ look and he tilted his head to catch her eye. Cameron saw him a let out a dry laugh.
“I’m not one of your patients,” she said, wondering if he knew just how obvious his various expressions were. She knew that they were rooted in real feelings though, and couldn’t hold them against him. “Sorry,” she told him. “I must need more coffee.”
She expected him to give a little nod and let her continue on her way to the cafeteria - she didn’t think she could handle heading to the office yet. She was surprised then, to find him falling into step beside her.
“I could use some too,” he said, by way of explanation when she glanced over at him speculatively.
“You always get your coffee from the Diagnostics department.”
“Yeah, but you’re not there to make it,” he said, reasonably.
“Ah, I see. Well, if today’s coffee is Chase’s Down Under Mud Surprise, I truly don’t wish that on anyone.”
They looked at each other and gave matching, exaggerated shudders before laughing a bit and heading towards the coffee bar. Wilson got his usual and Cameron ordered something with chocolate and whipped cream, which she only got when she needed some comfort in caffeinated form. She reached for her pocketbook as they came to the front of the line, but Wilson laid his hand on hers to stop her in a silent offer to pay. She wanted to argue with him, but when she opened her mouth, Wilson bade off her protests.
“No, let me, please. Trust me, it feels good to actually pay willingly for someone’s coffee for a change. Besides, you look like you could use it. You’ve had a rough time of it lately.” His look wasn’t as piercing as House’s, but it relayed more knowledge than his words, and Cameron felt her cheeks flush.
“I was hoping I wasn’t that transparent,” she said, and Wilson had the good grace to loom embarrassed about setting her more on edge.
“Allison, I was going upstairs myself to finish some charting. Why don’t I just walk you? Maybe we can talk in my office.”
Again, Cameron was about to decline, but she stopped her own words before they were fully formed. Wilson knew more about her relationship with Joe than anyone else, but she still didn’t feel like thinking about it anymore, when she was trying so hard to act as if everything was fine. One look at Wilson’s face, though, and she knew that he wouldn’t buy any trite declaration of personal contentment. She sighed heavily and considered her options. She was still feeling heavy-headed from her hangover, and she knew that most people would love to have Wilson’s caring shoulder to cry on. She gave another nod of consent and followed Wilson to the elevators.
As the elevator ascended, and the two of them watched the buttons light up in sequence, the silence became heavy around them. Wilson was the one to try to alleviate it.
“I didn’t mean what I said downstairs. I’m sorry I phrased it like that. I-”
Cameron cut him off, not wanting him to feel responsible for her mood. “It’s OK. I…haven’t been myself lately, you’re right. I’ve been preoccupied.”
They were quiet again during the walk to Wilson’s office, but it was less strained, and once inside, Cameron sank gratefully into one of the cushioned guest chairs, while Wilson stood behind his desk and shuffled some papers. He cast half a dozen glances at her before finally speaking.
“So…” It was only one word, but spoken in that leading, suggestive way that told Cameron that yes, he wanted to talk about her and Joe.
She took a sip of her coffee and tugged at her lower lip before answering. “Go ahead. Ask. I figured you might.”
Wilson looked relieved, and he sat down and wrapped his hands around his cup, forearms resting lightly on the desktop.
“Okay… How are things…progressing…with Joe? I just assumed that since I’ve seen him around here, you two were rekindling the friendship.”
Cameron had to admire his diplomacy, since she was quite sure that the news of her budding relationship had been gossip fodder since Joe’s first appearance.
“It was going great. Perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a more functional, ideal potential for a healthy relationship.” She took another drink of coffee and then set it down on the desk, choosing to link and unlink her fingers instead. “Just like out of a book… until I asked him to leave,” she finished, concentrating on one slightly ragged cuticle and avoiding Wilson’s gaze.
“Why? What happened?”
Those words made her head spring up, and she looked at him, the reason plainly read in her eyes, and plainly saying that he should have known better than to ask. There was something else there, something sad and resigned, and it poked at Wilson’s conscience and made him walk around the desk and sit closer to her.
“Allison, what are you gonna do?” he asked, not even noticing the intimate shift into using her given name.
“I don’t know, Wilson! I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know if I made the right choice, if I may have thrown away my best chance at happiness…for what? The possibility that my notoriously emotionally defunct boss kind of, sort of maybe might have complicated feelings for me?”
“You know that as long as you harbor feelings for House-”
“Well, that might just be the problem. I’ll always carry them. I just don’t know if it’s enough anymore, you know? It used to be that no matter how convoluted and complex the stuff between House and I got, no matter how many rude and awful stunts he’d pull, there would be that one moment where he’d look at me, or say something in just the right way, or accidentally brush over my hand as I’d hand over a file, and it would keep me going for days. And now, it just sounds stupid and naïve. At a certain point, it stops being enough.”
Wilson sighed and then he shrugged his shoulders and nodded in understanding. It hadn’t been very long since he’d felt the same way. His divorce and House’s reactions to it had made him feel like he was in a purely one-sided friendship, and it had taken some time for things between them to feel normal again. House had actually been forced into putting some actual effort into the relationship. It was the same effort that he needed to show Cameron, but even Wilson had his doubts about whether or not that would ever happen without a huge push from some outside force. Joe had seemed like the perfect outside source, but if he was gone…
“You remember when I told you that if you wanted a relationship with House, you’d better be serious about it, for the sake of his heart?” Wilson asked, and Cameron just gave a not-very-ladylike snort in reply. “Well, I suppose what I forgot to add was that getting to the heart is no easy feat. He’s a complicated man. He’s never going to serenade you with wine and roses and drop to his knees to declare his love.”
“I’m not asking for any of that. Is that what you think I expect of him?”
“Well the fact that he’s been acting like a petulant five-year-old child lately should tell you something.”
Cameron’s lips pressed tightly together and she stood up from her chair, grabbing her coffee on the way. She didn’t want to be told that she just needed to wait for him. She already knew that. She knew it and she was tired, tired to the bone from waiting.
“It tells me that he’s acting like a petulant five-year-old child. Nothing more.” Her long sigh seemed to come from her very toes, and she stared down at her coffee for a moment before raising her eyes to Wilson’s. “If I go to him and let his temper tantrums do his communicating, then I’m always going to be his territory. He’ll always mark it when someone else threatens it, but never feel compelled enough to stake a claim either. I’d…really appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything about Joe leaving.”
Wilson stood up and looked taken aback by her request although he tried to hide it. The fact that it must be so obvious that he’d been gossiping about her to House, did not rest easy on him. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he lied, “but maybe it would be better if he knew.” He absent-mindedly ran his fingers through his hair before settling both hands on his hips.
Cameron had moved to the door, and she shook her head. “Please don’t interfere with this. I know that you think if you don’t say anything, he’ll never make a move, or that you need to be the intermediary for something to happen here. I’m asking you to respect my wishes and not say anything.”
Her words made him straighten up. He didn’t like being the intermediary. In fact, he hated being in that position, but she and House continued to dance around each other, he felt he had to do something.
“You obviously asked Joe to leave for a reason…”
“I did. And I want House to come to me for a reason. You of all people should sympathize with my position.”
“I sympathize with both of you. And you’re both being ridiculous.”
Cameron’s hand tightened on the door handle, and an unreadable smile touched the corners of her mouth before quickly slipping away.
“It’s a funny thing about complicated feelings, I guess. They’re complicated,” she said, and then she was pulling the door open and walking away, while Wilson stood there, hands still on his hips, wondering what his next move should be, and if he should even make one.
************************
House watched Cameron pick up her pager, push the patient folder away from her and stand up from the conference room table. He watched the tiny muscles in her face tighten and her eyes darken, and then he watched her walk out of the diagnostics department with her head held stiffly upright, her stride long and quick.
“Good going,” Foreman muttered reproachfully.
The urge to say something scathing and smack Foreman with his cane was strong, but he ground his teeth and retreated to his office instead.
“Get the damn tests run,” he spat out as he left. “The ANA too.” The one she had suggested and he had mocked.
He slumped down into his comfortable chair and used his right hand to help swing his bad leg up onto the footrest. He felt tired and defeated and it didn’t even have anything to do with the patient. This was why he didn’t get involved with people.
His morning had been downhill pretty much from the moment he woke up. The pain in his leg was more severe than usual, and even an extra long shower had failed to loosen up the remaining muscle and scar tissue. He’d been tagged by Cuddy on his way through the lobby and cited for being late for clinic duty. Naturally he’d retaliated by not going to the clinic at all, but upon arriving at his department, he’d discovered that Cameron wasn’t there and that Chase had gotten his hands on the coffee maker, therefore guaranteeing that the contents of the pot were undrinkable. He’d settled down to listen to The Stones and read trashy online blogs to distract himself from life, but then Wilson had wandered in and made that impossible.
Wilson had been his usual conspicuous self, which is to say that he’d stood awkwardly in the doorway, clearly with something on his mind. House had spent a few minutes trying to pry the information from him, but for once, it hadn’t worked. Then House had flat out asked if it had something to do with Cameron, and Wilson’s reply of “Maybe” had made it obvious that it was. Which of course had led to him being extra nasty to her from the moment she walked into the department until the moment she walked out.
It was a knee-jerk reaction.
If Wilson had information about Cameron, then that information also had to be about the thick-necked, broad-shouldered, lunkhead she was dating. He’d envisioned a host of interesting gossip tidbits before she’d arrived, and each one had made him more irritated at her. Either he was moving in with her, or she was moving in with him, or they’d been seen in the new swanky restaurant necking, or she’d popped into the clinic for a pregnancy test. He knew, that in reality, all of those guesses were probably wrong, but since when had reality ever stopped him from jumping to conclusions where she was concerned?
Surprisingly, he actually felt a regretful pang in his stomach at some of his words, as he sat with his head resting back against his chair and the image of her face clear in his minds’ eye. That face hadn’t held the glow of a woman in love. He released a long, exhausted sounding breath, and planted the end of his cane resolutely on the floor, using it to hoist himself to his feet. He had an immunologist to track down.
***********************************
Allison Cameron had always loved to observe people, especially from a distance. She had spent a fair portion of her life either lonely, as a loner, or an outsider looking in, and had become an adept, and avid, people-watcher. More than anything, she loved sweeping city views, a seemingly endless expanse of lights and possibilities emanating beneath her tiny frame. The anonymity and grandeur of it all led her to ponder, sometimes, about all those lives being lived right in front of her. Were the people down below happy, brilliant families, or lonely and sad, searching for their place in the world just like her? So it was that she’d escaped to the rooftop of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, lab coat flapping behind her, hands splayed on the cement of the brick wall, pulled to the comfort of her old pastime.
The air in the office had suddenly become too thick, the proximity of House too near, for her comfort. She’d felt the walls closing in on her. She wasn’t certain what she would do when she returned or how much longer things could stay static between herself and House, but for now, she was simply content to breathe in the refreshing spring evening breeze instead of the antiseptic hospital smell and to observe the lit campus and bustling city beyond. It might have been her currently relaxed state that caused her to flinch a little more than she normally would when the heavy metal door slammed open, followed by a familiarly obnoxious throat clearing. She didn’t bother turning her head to recognize the step-thump making its way towards her.
“Figured I’d find you up here. It was either here or your other two sulking salons, the locker room and the chapel. You know, come to think of it, for an atheist, you sure do have a love affair going with that place.” Cameron stood unresponsively against the brick siding, prompting House to repeat himself slightly louder.
“I say, for an atheist, you have a real-”
“I heard you the first time,” she replied steadfastly, back still facing him.
House quirked his eyebrows and pursed his lips slightly at the frosty reception. “I thought it was clever,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m here,” he limped slightly closer to where she was standing, “out of concern for our patient. I think his symptoms fit an allergic reaction of some sort, and well, it always amazes me how much an immunologist can come in handy when the differential involves the immune system.”
“The patient is not having an allergic, or any other immune, reaction. His T cell counts are within normal range, none of the bloodwork showed any abnormaliites, and he isn’t prsenting with either a fever or a rash. Not to mention the fact that if you did think he was having an allergic reaction, you’d certainly start a treatment without consulting us about it. And since when do you show concern for our patients?” She kept her voice steady in pitch and resolve. His thinly veiled attempts to circomlocute around an apology were painfully obvious. But if House wanted to invade her solitude and space to talk, she certainly wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
House’s eyes widened in brief surprise at her forthright dismissal, but recovered quickly enough to not let on that she’d affected him. “Why Dr. Cameron, are you doubting my empathy and commitment towards the people entrusted to our care? Don’t you know what a hardship it is for a cripple to walk up that many flights of stairs to get up here?”
Cameron rolled her eyes at his overemoted sentimentality. “You don’t care about the patients, just their diseases. And we both know you took the elevator. What do you want, House?”
“OK, fine you got me. I’m really here because I’m rounding people up for a mid-afternoon game of strip poker in Cuddy’s office, and Foreman and Chase keep insisting on practicing medicine. Killjoys.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” Cameron finally turned around to face him, folding her arms protectively in front of her. “I’m all out of cash. Plus I wore my old-lady undergarments today. Why are you here?”
If House were a man to be taken aback on a regular basis, Cameron calling his bluff would have done it. He figured that concern for her patient might have sidetracked her or that a crude joke might distance her, but she was definitely a stronger and more astute woman than people gave her credit for. He let out a sigh of half-frustration, half-trepidation. When had shy, sweet Allison Cameron become that good at reading him, at recognizing and deflecting the superficial jabber that managed to keep everyone else at bay, at forcing him to confront and expose long-sealed-off barriers to her? And when had her barbs gotten so good at matching his own? He felt vulnerable and trapped under the weight of her expectant stare. With only his cane as a viable distraction, House looked away from her and tapped out some inane pattern with the rubber tip.
“Guess I’m curious. Why did you just sit there?” He finally spat out quickly.
Cameron’s lips parted and her arms dropped to her sides at House’s bluntness. He was finally being serious with her, she could tell by his features and the way he gripped his cane nervously. At the same time, she wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. Sit where? When? He answered her questions with his next words.
“Why would you let me say all those things about you, about your husband,” he added quietly. “None of it was true, was it? Why not say something, prove me wrong?”
She turned away, focusing her sight back into the safety of the well-lit horizon. She realized that this was as good of an opening as he would ever give her, as much as he could ever concede or reveal. In his own warped, emotionally-repressed way, she knew he was giving them a chance, opening himself up as best as he knew how. She just wasn’t certain how much to give of herself, or if she had anything left to give.
“You’re a puzzle solver, the best I’ve ever known,” she broached carefully. She could feel the hole his eyes bore into her back, silently willing her to go on. He didn’t say anything, instead waiting as she paused to gather herself. It might have been the first time since she’d met him that she witnessed him exercising patience and courtesy. “Great puzzle solvers don’t like to be given hints or answers, even if it means they’re wrong initially. They like to solve things on their own.”
House absorbed her answer with a frown, resuming his even tapping against the ground. “Why is it that our conversations always have to be so weird? Do you suppose it’ll always be that way?” he mused.
Cameron huffed out an amused snort. “Oh, I don’t know. Weird works for us, I guess.” The change in her tone caused House to look up and note the sideways glance that she threw him. The slight curl of her lips revealing the soft dimple in her cheek was all the courage he needed to probe a little deeper.
“I suppose…Joe figured out the puzzle right away. Didn’t need to insult you or anything.” House’s eyes darted around nervously. At his cane, the ground, off in the distance, anywhere but directly at Cameron.
“True,” she admitted softly. “But, he did cheat. He already had all the answers.”
“He’s good for you. He can give you everything you need,” House intoned bitterly, the self-loathing evident.
“I’ve spent a third of my life mourning the only meaningful relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t need you to decide for me what I need!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled with a scowl. “I’d better get back downstairs-” As fast as House had begun to open up, he shut down and drew back from Cameron. It was as though she’d physically burned him with her reproach. He started to turn and she knew that this was the split-second moment where everything would change for them, that if she let him walk away now, it would shut the door forever on their chances.
“He’s gone.”
“What?”
“I…I asked Joe to leave.”
“Well, call me an old-fashioned romantic, but that’s gonna put a real kink in your relationship,” he probed cautiously, feigning confusion.
“There is no relationship, House. Things between us weren’t working out.”
“What changed?”
“I did. He didn’t. Maybe that was the whole problem. Can’t always re-create the past, even if it is less scary than the unknown.”
“No, I guess you can’t. Something to be said for closure, though.” The weight in his words made it clear that they were no longer just talking about Joe. “Well, I didn’t like him, anyway. Never trust someone with a lopsided head, I always say.”
“Yeah,” Cameron nodded gravely with a grin. “Or a limp, as I always say.”
“Ha!”
They settled into a palpably awkward silence. They were broaching new territory for them. If they fought, it was over a diagnosis or other patient-related issue. If things veered to the personal, there was a more choreographed, predictable advance and retreat. Cameron pushed, House snarked, she backed down. They suddenly found themselves at an odd crossroads; they weren’t fighting, the banter had been almost comfortable, and they weren’t retreating, but neither seemed at ease with advancing to the next step, either.
“I remember the last time we were up here together. You practically jumped me,” House announced.
“What?! I did not!” Cameron retorted defensively.
“Ever since then, I’m afraid to be alone with you, without my protection anyway,” he lifted the cane in the air, even wiggling it around for emphasis. “I’m crippled and defenseless, and you can’t keep your hands off of me.”
Cameron opened her mouth to protest further, but decided to give House a taste of his own medicine. “That’s impossible. Isn’t there a rule that every time I kiss you some poor fairy never gets her wings?”
“Oh, snap! She’s on fire. Every time? Oh, so now I’m gonna let you kiss me multiple times? That’s one hell of an ego you have there, Dr. Cameron.”
“Pfft. Like you’d push me away.”
“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t beat you with my cane or anything,” he grumbled.
“And with charm like that you have to settle for hiring hookers? Shocking!”
“What do you expect? It’s not like I asked for any of…this,” he waved his hand between them, attempting to label the unnamed connection between them. “You irritate me. You’re like a, like a pest of some sort. Like a tic.”
“Oh don’t lay it on so thick, please! I might have to reach for my smelling salts.”
“It crawls into your arm, and no matter how hard you scratch, it won’t go away,” he disregarded her snark. “It’s practically impossible to get rid of you.”
“Do you want to?” Cameron’s pointed, earnest look was enough to strike House with a permanent sense of déjà vu. But they were lifetimes removed from the hallway outside his office. Cameron was no longer that doe-eyed girl, and House was certainly not the man he was then, for better and worse. They had traversed so much together, and she’d stood by him through it all. Her faith and loyalty were interminable. None of the excuses that he’d used to push her away the last time she looked at him this way could apply now. There would only be so many opportunities to take a step forward before there were no more chances. He hoped that she’d reconcile his nonchalant House-speak with the tender look that accompanied it.
“Eh, you’re mostly harmless. I’ll bet you wouldn’t even have the guts to kiss me.”
“Now you’re daring me to kiss you? What are we, five?” Cameron matched his half-smile as they fell back into the security of coded banter and small steps forward.
“Scaredy-cat!”
“Oh you think so, huh? I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve yet, Dr. House.”
“Oh yeah? You gonna do it?” He fixed her with a wide, inquisitive stare, bright blue eyes popping comically out of their sockets. House’s expression was that of an adorably mischievous little boy. Cameron realized at that moment that it would be impossible for her to ever stay angry with him when he looked at her like that.
“You’re a tremendously annoying human being,” Cameron’s lame attempt at staving him off with austerity was masked by the obvious affection in her voice.
“Doesn’t answer my question,” he prodded at her shoe with the tip of his cane, leaning in a bit closer into her personal space. “You gonna?”
“Mayyyyybe,” Cameron drawled, coyly. “You gonna pretend this conversation never happened when we come into work tomorrow morning?”
House lifted his chin in the air, pretended to mull her question over, and shrugged noncommittally with one shoulder. “Maybe,” he mimicked her theatrically. She could see the indecision flickering in his eyes when she looked up at him, even amidst their playful banter. He was just as scared as she was. After all their missteps, miscommunication, and passed chances, it would be the only way this thing between them would ever work. Painfully slow baby steps. Cameron decided she would take it, as she closed the last centimeters between them with one last stride.
“Okay,” she whispered. She didn’t kiss him then, or say anything else. Instead, they turned back toward the skyline and stood side-by-side quietly for an indeterminate period of time, refraining from uttering platitudes about what a beautiful night it was, how grateful they were that they’d finally found a way towards one another, how happy they might be, or any of the other multitude of climactic clichés that other couples would settle for in this situation. They never stared deeply into each other’s eyes, though Cameron stole more than one discreet glance in his direction, and no orchestral music swelled in the background, though she could swear she heard the crumbling of a thousand walls as she dared to finally brush her knuckles softly against his. The city lights glowed invitingly beneath them, the moon gently illuminated their figures, and it was enough. This was their beginning.
Fin.