seven letter word for liar 7/19
She did hesitate. Two years ago, she would have given anything to hear him extend any such offer, even if he was in a drunken stupor. She would have taken it as a sign that he was actually a human being, capable of feeling emotions such as loneliness. But, she wasn’t as gullible as she had been back then, and House certainly wasn’t any more human than he had ever been, much as she might have tried to convince herself he was. He was still House. house, md. chapter 7.
xxx
“Please?” Wilson begged. He was up to his shoulders in charts that had been accumulating rapidly from his time off. Also, with the Amber situation still a bit raw, he found himself unable to follow through on House’s latest request.
Cameron was about to decline, knowing how Chase would feel about her agreeing to Wilson’s favor, but the personal tone in Wilson’s voice made her reconsider. Of course he wouldn’t want to drive House home from the bar. House was likely to be obliterated and the whole time Wilson would be thinking of Amber. It was like a car crash waiting to happen. She cringed...bad metaphor.
She frowned, eyeing Chase sitting unknowingly on the couch, arms stretched out behind him.
“Okay,” she agreed. She lowered her voice. “I’ll call you when he’s home.”
“Thank you,” Wilson replied and she could hear the gratitude coating his voice. “I just...”
Cameron stopped him. “It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I understand.”
She could almost feel the weight lifting off of Wilson. “I would have called someone else, except...”
“Can’t think of anyone who can tolerate him sober, let alone drunk?” she joked.
“That about covers it,” Wilson laughed. “We’re the only two. Cuddy tends to jump on and off the list.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No!” Wilson agreed enthusiastically. “In fact, I think there’s something pathologically wrong with us for not hating him.”
Cameron grinned. “You might be on to something,” she agreed.
“Well, I apologize in advance,” Wilson continued. “I’m sure he’ll be as charming as always.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “I would expect no less.”
“Thanks,” Wilson repeated.
“It’s fine,” she insisted, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that said, she hung up, quite torn. She was happy to help Wilson in any way possible, and she knew it was too soon for him to be picking House up from the bar. In fact, it might always be too soon for that to start happening again. It was too personal for Wilson, and the fact that House even called him bothered her a bit. She knew he was an ass a good amount of the time, but not like this. Not to Wilson.
Chase would be livid, she knew that much. She would never understand why House was such a sore subject for him. She wasn’t dating House. She’d chosen Chase. She hated having the same fight over and over again.
And that’s precisely why when he asked why she was putting her jacket on, she told him that Wilson's car had broken down and she was going to pick him up from the hospital to drive him home.
Chase said, “Okay,” as if it didn’t matter in the least that she was helping Wilson, so she convinced herself she’d done the right thing by lying. She’d been lying a lot lately, but wasn’t it better than hurting him? You weren’t supposed to hurt the ones you loved, so if lying prevented them from getting hurt, perhaps it wasn’t too horrible of a thing to do.
A few minutes later she spotted House’s bike as she turned into the narrow parking lot of his favorite bar. She found it amusing that Wilson never told her where House was. He just assumed she would know. And it never even occurred to her that she ought to ask. They both knew she knew.
She pushed into the smoky bar, eyes instantly blinking to adjust to the dull light. She instinctively tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a defense mechanism she often felt herself repeating when slightly anxious. Rather than worry about all of the normal concerns that ran through her mind when she was alone with House, she set her mind on the task at hand. After all, she was just doing this for Wilson. It was a chore, nothing more.
Spotting him proved to be a simple task. His face was slightly red and she wondered how many times he had fallen off of his barstool. The bartender, a young guy who appeared to be in his early 20s, looked overly annoyed with House. His crazed expression brought a slight smile to her face as he slowly recognized her and processed why she was standing right in front of him. He reeked of booze and the faint lingering aftermath of the usual cologne he always wore.
“Either Wilson got hot or I’m hallucinating again.”
Cameron smirked. “Wilson’s bombarded at work,” she offered simply, not accepting the alternate barstool he patted for her. She stood concretely.
“He’s not busy,” House insisted. “He didn’t want to come.”
Cameron furrowed a brow. “Can you blame him?”
House didn’t answer. She hadn’t really expected him to. He couldn’t deal with any emotions associated with sadness or guilt. He’d just pretend they weren’t having the conversation they were having. It was how he dealt.
“Come on,” she said, extending her arm.
“Where are we going?” he toyed. “Your place or mine? Because, I’ve got better cable, but I have a feeling you have better sheets.”
Cameron pulled him off of the barstool. She stuck out her hand. “Money?” she asked.
House couldn’t have been more delighted. “So we are going to have sex,” he grinned.
Cameron smacked his shoulder. “For your tab!” she remarked, gesturing to the agitated bartender who stood in front of them.
House shrugged. “Oops, must have forgot my wallet in my other jeans.”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “You owe me,” she hissed, fishing a credit card out of her purse. She handed it to the bartender.
House grinned at the bartender. “The misses always gets so touchy when I don’t come right home after work.”
It was Cameron’s turn to strike. She took the card back from the bartender and smiled. “He’s actually my grandfather. He just hasn’t been the same since the war,” she replied, smirking at House.
House reluctantly took a hold of Cameron’s arm to steady himself on their way out.
“You know,” he began as soon as they had stepped foot outside. “I don’t think that bartender will ever be the same again. One minute I’m hitting on you, and the next you’re telling him I’m your grandfather? That’s enough to mess someone up for life.”
“He’ll survive,” Cameron insisted.
“And nice attempt at trying to insult me with the grandfather crack,” he mumbled.
“I thought it was fitting,” Cameron replied, unlocking her car. “Can you get in or do you need help with that, too?” she asked, not bothering to hide her agitation.
He smiled childishly. “I may fall,” he grinned. “And if I do, I would prefer if you were underneath of me when it happened.”
Cameron shut the door on his cane, causing it to bounce back open. He smirked. She scowled.
“You know, I’m beginning to forget why I agreed to help Wilson,” she fumed, starting the ignition.
“Well, Wilson’s a nice guy,” House concluded. “Of course, the fact that you get to spend time with me and Chase can’t bitch about it...well, that’s just a hidden bonus, isn’t it?”
Cameron frowned. “If I actually wanted to spend time with you, I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because I quite frankly, have better things to do,” he insisted, leaning against the door. “What about my bike?”
“You can get it tomorrow.”
House shot her a taunting look. “I’ll walk to my bike tomorrow?”
Cameron hadn’t thought that far ahead. She wasn’t supposed to plan out how to make sure everything went all right in House’s life. That wasn’t her job anymore. In fact, as he had rudely pointed out time and time again, it never was.
She shrugged. “I’m sure Wilson can give you a ride.”
“Or,” House offered, “You could stay at my place, we’ll empty my TiVo of all programs, and then you can bring me back here in the morning.”
She did hesitate. Two years ago, she would have given anything to hear him extend any such offer, even if he was in a drunken stupor. She would have taken it as a sign that he was actually a human being, capable of feeling emotions such as loneliness. But, she wasn’t as gullible as she had been back then, and House certainly wasn’t any more human than he had ever been, much as she might have tried to convince herself he was. He was still House.
“No,” she said quickly, not even giving an explanation. The best way to reject someone like House was to leave them stunned and not feed into their inner craving for details.
“All right,” he sighed, theatrically. “You win. Your place it is.”
Cameron’s eyes widened. “You are not going to my place.”
“Is this because of the kangaroo?” House asked in his best impression of an Australian accent. “Because, I’m sure we could all come to some sort of agreement that best...”
“I’m taking you home and Wilson can figure the rest out in the morning,” she said firmly. “I didn’t sign on to babysit you all night.”
House sighed. “All right. But I’m going to need help getting into the shower.”
She couldn’t suppress her laughter. “You will never change,” she insisted, grinning as she pulled up to his apartment.
He smiled. “You wouldn’t like me if I was any different.”
She softened slightly. He was right. They both knew it. “Which makes me an idiot,” she grinned, turning his accurate statement into a joke. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
“No, I can do it,” House insisted, opening the door. Cameron shook her head as he tried to stumble up to his doorway fueled on pride. House and his ego. She should have known he’d only allow her to help up to a certain extent.
She decided to get out of her car when she saw him leaning against his front door, his leg obviously throbbing. “What’s wrong?” she called out, arm draped over her open door.
“Keys,” he muttered. “I can’t find them.”
She scanned the front seat. No sign of his keys anywhere. He must have left them at the bar. She quickly turned her car off and rushed over to him. “I’ll call the bar when I get home and have them hold them for you,” she promised, unlocking his door.
He’d given her a key during her third year of working with him, after she nearly broke down his door when he was detoxing. He just extended it to her one day, without saying a word, but she had never used it until this point. She always knocked. She knew he wanted her to knock. The key was just an attempt to show her that he did appreciate her worrying about him. It was a security feature given to her in case he ever tried something stupid again. It was his little way of giving her some sort of power over him.
No one knew she had it. She didn’t see why it would matter. Still, as she slid the key into the cylinder and turned the knob, she felt his eyes weighing down on her, and she could almost picture him traveling back through his memories to the exact moment he’d decided to give her a copy. No doubt he was even more humiliated than he had been a few minutes before. Cameron thought it best not to make any mention of this.
She stepped inside and flicked on the light switch for him. He paused at the doorway, analyzing her.
“I’ll have Wilson call you,” she said quickly in a businesslike voice. She attempted to leave, but House made no move to unblock her pathway to the door. “House,” she said severely, feeling like a mother dealing with an ornery child.
“Do you ever wonder...” he began, his eyes glazing. Whatever was running through his head was coming from a far away place, a place in his mind Cameron had long ago given up hope of ever understanding. Quite obviously, this was the alcohol talking.
“Wonder what?” she asked quietly, trying not to look at all affected by his sudden change in demeanor.
“What might have happened,” he replied ambiguously, as if that was enough to satisfy her question. She began to ask him to elaborate further, but he moved to the right, placing distance between them. “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted firmly, indicating that their discussion was over.
Cameron bowed her head down, making her way to the door. “Goodnight, House,” she said quietly, stepping outside. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She spun around to face him, but no sooner had she turned than House slammed the door shut, loudly.
She tried to combat the feeling of being rejected yet again with the logic that she shouldn’t still care whether House liked her or not. She was one of the closest things he had to a friend. She had his key. They had...a history.
He invited her to stay, began to open up, grew angry with himself for showing any signs of vulnerability, and then threw her back out of his life. It was harsh, certainly, but it was enough to convince her that House had to care, at least a little bit. He wouldn’t go through all of the trouble to hurt her otherwise.
She ambled slowly back to her car, raising her cell phone to her ear. “Wilson,” she began. “The target has reached the destination,” she smiled, faking being okay, because she’d learned that sometimes that was the best way to deal with her life. "And if anyone asks, you had a flat tire."
xXx
“Dinner possibly,” Cameron remarked, cutting the remnants of a stitch rapidly. She stepped away from her patient and turned to Chase. “I’m swamped,” she apologized, declining his lunch invitation.
Chase nodded understandingly. “I’m done in a few hours, so if you’re done early enough, give me a call.”
Cameron nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, smiling as Chase started to leave.
“Good day mate!” House mocked, sweeping past Chase as if he had barely noticed him. Chase turned to retort, but though better of it. He’d become a pro at not letting House’s childlike insults get to him. Instead he just kept walking towards the cafeteria.
Cameron shot House a disapproving look. “If you’ve come here to mock, at least grab a patient or two.”
House smirked. “Does that sound like me?”
“The mocking or the helping me part?” Cameron asked.
“Take a guess.”
“What do you want?” Cameron asked as Wilson headed over towards them.
“To give you this,” House remarked, extending his hand.
“A chart?” Cameron remarked in disbelief. “I’m up to my ears in patients and you want to tack another one onto my list?!”
“Just look at it,” House scowled, rolling his eyes.
Cameron’s lips thinned in anger, but she proceeded to open the folder.
House slapped his hand on top of the file. “Not now,” he hissed, eyeing Wilson.
“But you just said...” she started in protest.
“Turkey, lettuce, and cheese, no mayo?” Wilson replied, waving a sandwich in the air.
“Don’t mind if I do,” House began, reaching for it.
“Not for you,” Wilson muttered, turning to Cameron. “It’s for those of us who are too busy doing actual work to stop and eat.”
Cameron grinned, accepting the sandwich. She knew it was Wilson's way of thanking her again for the previous night. House looked perturbed.
He smirked. “Cameron you eat?” he joked. “Hmm...must be bulimia, then.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Wilson,” she said, turning away from House.
House pretended to look nauseated from Wilson’s act of kindness.
“Come on,” Wilson muttered, indicating that House should follow. “We can go have lunch and maybe I’ll even let you throw pickles at Cuddy again. That always cheers you up.”
“How could throwing pickles at Cuddy not cheer anyone up?” House questioned, gaining stride with Wilson.
Cameron shook her head. She set down the sandwich Wilson had brought her and turned her attention back to the file. She nearly snorted when she saw the alphabetical letters on the file’s label. The letters IOU stared back at her. There was no name in sight.
She opened the folder quickly and found a white envelope addressed to “Barbie”. She guessed that was her. She flipped open the envelope’s top and reached in. She found sixty seven dollars and a key chain with a heart on it. On the inside of the envelope in scrawled handwriting she read, “I’ll be interested in seeing which key you put this with.”
She shook her head. He was an ass.
xXx
“Here,” Cameron remarked, marching past House’s new ducklings and into his office. She held a twenty dollar bill in her hand.
House didn’t miss a beat. “I know it was good Allison, but really, I told you there was no need to pay me. I enjoyed it, too.”
Cameron set her hands on her hips, trying to look unaffected. “Your tab came to forty seven, not sixty seven,” she muttered. “And you don’t repay people for favors, so either you’ve recently become really bad with math or...”
“Or maybe I was paying you for services rendered,” he teased.
“Take it,” she instructed, setting it down on his desk. She paused and then gave in. “Okay, come on, what’s the joke I’m missing?” she demanded.
House looked up at her innocently. “Joke?”
“You’re not bad at math,” Cameron remarked. “So, just get it over with.”
House smirked. “I thought maybe you might use the extra money to fix your hair.”
“Fix my hair?” she asked, confused. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll bite. Continue.”
“That’s it,” House insisted, nodding.
“That’s it?” Cameron questioned, unsatisfied. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She furrowed her brow. “And what’s wrong with my hair?”
House shook his head. “Nothing, I suppose if you’re dim-witted and lazy and you’re name rhymes with lace.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “What are you getting at House?”
“You start dating Chase, your hair turns blonde,” he pointed out. “I’m just worried your brain might also be susceptible to this disease. I’d hate to see you’ve woken up one morning and suddenly lost that brilliant mind and started speaking in an accent that no reasonable human being could ever understand.”
Cameron scratched her head in amusement. “You really do amuse yourself, don’t you?”
House shrugged. “I liked the brown,” he said simply. “That simple.”
“It’s never simple with you,” she remarked. “And you said that you liked the blonde because...”
“It made you look like a hooker,” House nodded. “Which it does. But, maybe I don’t want you to look like a hooker.”
Cameron’s eyes challenged his. “Did you call me brilliant?” she grinned, the compliment just registering.
“Brilliant’s probably too strong of a word,” he muttered.
Cameron grinned. “I’m not changing my hair,” she said, pushing the twenty closer to him. She was eerily aware of the fact that her statement seemed to encompass all of House’s arguments. By saying she was keeping the blonde hair, House would also insinuate that she was staying with Chase.
“Yet,” House said playfully, smirking.
“No, I happen to like it this way.”
House shrugged, staring at her. “I could get used to it,” he admitted.
“Great, well that makes me feel so much better,” Cameron rolled her eyes. “I don’t care whether you like it or not.”
House nodded. “Oh, you do.”
Cameron sighed. “Keep the twenty,” she muttered, pushing her way back into the conference room and past House’s team.
xxx
“Please?” Wilson begged. He was up to his shoulders in charts that had been accumulating rapidly from his time off. Also, with the Amber situation still a bit raw, he found himself unable to follow through on House’s latest request.
Cameron was about to decline, knowing how Chase would feel about her agreeing to Wilson’s favor, but the personal tone in Wilson’s voice made her reconsider. Of course he wouldn’t want to drive House home from the bar. House was likely to be obliterated and the whole time Wilson would be thinking of Amber. It was like a car crash waiting to happen. She cringed...bad metaphor.
She frowned, eyeing Chase sitting unknowingly on the couch, arms stretched out behind him.
“Okay,” she agreed. She lowered her voice. “I’ll call you when he’s home.”
“Thank you,” Wilson replied and she could hear the gratitude coating his voice. “I just...”
Cameron stopped him. “It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I understand.”
She could almost feel the weight lifting off of Wilson. “I would have called someone else, except...”
“Can’t think of anyone who can tolerate him sober, let alone drunk?” she joked.
“That about covers it,” Wilson laughed. “We’re the only two. Cuddy tends to jump on and off the list.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No!” Wilson agreed enthusiastically. “In fact, I think there’s something pathologically wrong with us for not hating him.”
Cameron grinned. “You might be on to something,” she agreed.
“Well, I apologize in advance,” Wilson continued. “I’m sure he’ll be as charming as always.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “I would expect no less.”
“Thanks,” Wilson repeated.
“It’s fine,” she insisted, even though they both knew it wasn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that said, she hung up, quite torn. She was happy to help Wilson in any way possible, and she knew it was too soon for him to be picking House up from the bar. In fact, it might always be too soon for that to start happening again. It was too personal for Wilson, and the fact that House even called him bothered her a bit. She knew he was an ass a good amount of the time, but not like this. Not to Wilson.
Chase would be livid, she knew that much. She would never understand why House was such a sore subject for him. She wasn’t dating House. She’d chosen Chase. She hated having the same fight over and over again.
And that’s precisely why when he asked why she was putting her jacket on, she told him that Wilson's car had broken down and she was going to pick him up from the hospital to drive him home.
Chase said, “Okay,” as if it didn’t matter in the least that she was helping Wilson, so she convinced herself she’d done the right thing by lying. She’d been lying a lot lately, but wasn’t it better than hurting him? You weren’t supposed to hurt the ones you loved, so if lying prevented them from getting hurt, perhaps it wasn’t too horrible of a thing to do.
A few minutes later she spotted House’s bike as she turned into the narrow parking lot of his favorite bar. She found it amusing that Wilson never told her where House was. He just assumed she would know. And it never even occurred to her that she ought to ask. They both knew she knew.
She pushed into the smoky bar, eyes instantly blinking to adjust to the dull light. She instinctively tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a defense mechanism she often felt herself repeating when slightly anxious. Rather than worry about all of the normal concerns that ran through her mind when she was alone with House, she set her mind on the task at hand. After all, she was just doing this for Wilson. It was a chore, nothing more.
Spotting him proved to be a simple task. His face was slightly red and she wondered how many times he had fallen off of his barstool. The bartender, a young guy who appeared to be in his early 20s, looked overly annoyed with House. His crazed expression brought a slight smile to her face as he slowly recognized her and processed why she was standing right in front of him. He reeked of booze and the faint lingering aftermath of the usual cologne he always wore.
“Either Wilson got hot or I’m hallucinating again.”
Cameron smirked. “Wilson’s bombarded at work,” she offered simply, not accepting the alternate barstool he patted for her. She stood concretely.
“He’s not busy,” House insisted. “He didn’t want to come.”
Cameron furrowed a brow. “Can you blame him?”
House didn’t answer. She hadn’t really expected him to. He couldn’t deal with any emotions associated with sadness or guilt. He’d just pretend they weren’t having the conversation they were having. It was how he dealt.
“Come on,” she said, extending her arm.
“Where are we going?” he toyed. “Your place or mine? Because, I’ve got better cable, but I have a feeling you have better sheets.”
Cameron pulled him off of the barstool. She stuck out her hand. “Money?” she asked.
House couldn’t have been more delighted. “So we are going to have sex,” he grinned.
Cameron smacked his shoulder. “For your tab!” she remarked, gesturing to the agitated bartender who stood in front of them.
House shrugged. “Oops, must have forgot my wallet in my other jeans.”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “You owe me,” she hissed, fishing a credit card out of her purse. She handed it to the bartender.
House grinned at the bartender. “The misses always gets so touchy when I don’t come right home after work.”
It was Cameron’s turn to strike. She took the card back from the bartender and smiled. “He’s actually my grandfather. He just hasn’t been the same since the war,” she replied, smirking at House.
House reluctantly took a hold of Cameron’s arm to steady himself on their way out.
“You know,” he began as soon as they had stepped foot outside. “I don’t think that bartender will ever be the same again. One minute I’m hitting on you, and the next you’re telling him I’m your grandfather? That’s enough to mess someone up for life.”
“He’ll survive,” Cameron insisted.
“And nice attempt at trying to insult me with the grandfather crack,” he mumbled.
“I thought it was fitting,” Cameron replied, unlocking her car. “Can you get in or do you need help with that, too?” she asked, not bothering to hide her agitation.
He smiled childishly. “I may fall,” he grinned. “And if I do, I would prefer if you were underneath of me when it happened.”
Cameron shut the door on his cane, causing it to bounce back open. He smirked. She scowled.
“You know, I’m beginning to forget why I agreed to help Wilson,” she fumed, starting the ignition.
“Well, Wilson’s a nice guy,” House concluded. “Of course, the fact that you get to spend time with me and Chase can’t bitch about it...well, that’s just a hidden bonus, isn’t it?”
Cameron frowned. “If I actually wanted to spend time with you, I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because I quite frankly, have better things to do,” he insisted, leaning against the door. “What about my bike?”
“You can get it tomorrow.”
House shot her a taunting look. “I’ll walk to my bike tomorrow?”
Cameron hadn’t thought that far ahead. She wasn’t supposed to plan out how to make sure everything went all right in House’s life. That wasn’t her job anymore. In fact, as he had rudely pointed out time and time again, it never was.
She shrugged. “I’m sure Wilson can give you a ride.”
“Or,” House offered, “You could stay at my place, we’ll empty my TiVo of all programs, and then you can bring me back here in the morning.”
She did hesitate. Two years ago, she would have given anything to hear him extend any such offer, even if he was in a drunken stupor. She would have taken it as a sign that he was actually a human being, capable of feeling emotions such as loneliness. But, she wasn’t as gullible as she had been back then, and House certainly wasn’t any more human than he had ever been, much as she might have tried to convince herself he was. He was still House.
“No,” she said quickly, not even giving an explanation. The best way to reject someone like House was to leave them stunned and not feed into their inner craving for details.
“All right,” he sighed, theatrically. “You win. Your place it is.”
Cameron’s eyes widened. “You are not going to my place.”
“Is this because of the kangaroo?” House asked in his best impression of an Australian accent. “Because, I’m sure we could all come to some sort of agreement that best...”
“I’m taking you home and Wilson can figure the rest out in the morning,” she said firmly. “I didn’t sign on to babysit you all night.”
House sighed. “All right. But I’m going to need help getting into the shower.”
She couldn’t suppress her laughter. “You will never change,” she insisted, grinning as she pulled up to his apartment.
He smiled. “You wouldn’t like me if I was any different.”
She softened slightly. He was right. They both knew it. “Which makes me an idiot,” she grinned, turning his accurate statement into a joke. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
“No, I can do it,” House insisted, opening the door. Cameron shook her head as he tried to stumble up to his doorway fueled on pride. House and his ego. She should have known he’d only allow her to help up to a certain extent.
She decided to get out of her car when she saw him leaning against his front door, his leg obviously throbbing. “What’s wrong?” she called out, arm draped over her open door.
“Keys,” he muttered. “I can’t find them.”
She scanned the front seat. No sign of his keys anywhere. He must have left them at the bar. She quickly turned her car off and rushed over to him. “I’ll call the bar when I get home and have them hold them for you,” she promised, unlocking his door.
He’d given her a key during her third year of working with him, after she nearly broke down his door when he was detoxing. He just extended it to her one day, without saying a word, but she had never used it until this point. She always knocked. She knew he wanted her to knock. The key was just an attempt to show her that he did appreciate her worrying about him. It was a security feature given to her in case he ever tried something stupid again. It was his little way of giving her some sort of power over him.
No one knew she had it. She didn’t see why it would matter. Still, as she slid the key into the cylinder and turned the knob, she felt his eyes weighing down on her, and she could almost picture him traveling back through his memories to the exact moment he’d decided to give her a copy. No doubt he was even more humiliated than he had been a few minutes before. Cameron thought it best not to make any mention of this.
She stepped inside and flicked on the light switch for him. He paused at the doorway, analyzing her.
“I’ll have Wilson call you,” she said quickly in a businesslike voice. She attempted to leave, but House made no move to unblock her pathway to the door. “House,” she said severely, feeling like a mother dealing with an ornery child.
“Do you ever wonder...” he began, his eyes glazing. Whatever was running through his head was coming from a far away place, a place in his mind Cameron had long ago given up hope of ever understanding. Quite obviously, this was the alcohol talking.
“Wonder what?” she asked quietly, trying not to look at all affected by his sudden change in demeanor.
“What might have happened,” he replied ambiguously, as if that was enough to satisfy her question. She began to ask him to elaborate further, but he moved to the right, placing distance between them. “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted firmly, indicating that their discussion was over.
Cameron bowed her head down, making her way to the door. “Goodnight, House,” she said quietly, stepping outside. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She spun around to face him, but no sooner had she turned than House slammed the door shut, loudly.
She tried to combat the feeling of being rejected yet again with the logic that she shouldn’t still care whether House liked her or not. She was one of the closest things he had to a friend. She had his key. They had...a history.
He invited her to stay, began to open up, grew angry with himself for showing any signs of vulnerability, and then threw her back out of his life. It was harsh, certainly, but it was enough to convince her that House had to care, at least a little bit. He wouldn’t go through all of the trouble to hurt her otherwise.
She ambled slowly back to her car, raising her cell phone to her ear. “Wilson,” she began. “The target has reached the destination,” she smiled, faking being okay, because she’d learned that sometimes that was the best way to deal with her life. "And if anyone asks, you had a flat tire."
xXx
“Dinner possibly,” Cameron remarked, cutting the remnants of a stitch rapidly. She stepped away from her patient and turned to Chase. “I’m swamped,” she apologized, declining his lunch invitation.
Chase nodded understandingly. “I’m done in a few hours, so if you’re done early enough, give me a call.”
Cameron nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, smiling as Chase started to leave.
“Good day mate!” House mocked, sweeping past Chase as if he had barely noticed him. Chase turned to retort, but though better of it. He’d become a pro at not letting House’s childlike insults get to him. Instead he just kept walking towards the cafeteria.
Cameron shot House a disapproving look. “If you’ve come here to mock, at least grab a patient or two.”
House smirked. “Does that sound like me?”
“The mocking or the helping me part?” Cameron asked.
“Take a guess.”
“What do you want?” Cameron asked as Wilson headed over towards them.
“To give you this,” House remarked, extending his hand.
“A chart?” Cameron remarked in disbelief. “I’m up to my ears in patients and you want to tack another one onto my list?!”
“Just look at it,” House scowled, rolling his eyes.
Cameron’s lips thinned in anger, but she proceeded to open the folder.
House slapped his hand on top of the file. “Not now,” he hissed, eyeing Wilson.
“But you just said...” she started in protest.
“Turkey, lettuce, and cheese, no mayo?” Wilson replied, waving a sandwich in the air.
“Don’t mind if I do,” House began, reaching for it.
“Not for you,” Wilson muttered, turning to Cameron. “It’s for those of us who are too busy doing actual work to stop and eat.”
Cameron grinned, accepting the sandwich. She knew it was Wilson's way of thanking her again for the previous night. House looked perturbed.
He smirked. “Cameron you eat?” he joked. “Hmm...must be bulimia, then.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Wilson,” she said, turning away from House.
House pretended to look nauseated from Wilson’s act of kindness.
“Come on,” Wilson muttered, indicating that House should follow. “We can go have lunch and maybe I’ll even let you throw pickles at Cuddy again. That always cheers you up.”
“How could throwing pickles at Cuddy not cheer anyone up?” House questioned, gaining stride with Wilson.
Cameron shook her head. She set down the sandwich Wilson had brought her and turned her attention back to the file. She nearly snorted when she saw the alphabetical letters on the file’s label. The letters IOU stared back at her. There was no name in sight.
She opened the folder quickly and found a white envelope addressed to “Barbie”. She guessed that was her. She flipped open the envelope’s top and reached in. She found sixty seven dollars and a key chain with a heart on it. On the inside of the envelope in scrawled handwriting she read, “I’ll be interested in seeing which key you put this with.”
She shook her head. He was an ass.
xXx
“Here,” Cameron remarked, marching past House’s new ducklings and into his office. She held a twenty dollar bill in her hand.
House didn’t miss a beat. “I know it was good Allison, but really, I told you there was no need to pay me. I enjoyed it, too.”
Cameron set her hands on her hips, trying to look unaffected. “Your tab came to forty seven, not sixty seven,” she muttered. “And you don’t repay people for favors, so either you’ve recently become really bad with math or...”
“Or maybe I was paying you for services rendered,” he teased.
“Take it,” she instructed, setting it down on his desk. She paused and then gave in. “Okay, come on, what’s the joke I’m missing?” she demanded.
House looked up at her innocently. “Joke?”
“You’re not bad at math,” Cameron remarked. “So, just get it over with.”
House smirked. “I thought maybe you might use the extra money to fix your hair.”
“Fix my hair?” she asked, confused. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll bite. Continue.”
“That’s it,” House insisted, nodding.
“That’s it?” Cameron questioned, unsatisfied. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She furrowed her brow. “And what’s wrong with my hair?”
House shook his head. “Nothing, I suppose if you’re dim-witted and lazy and you’re name rhymes with lace.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “What are you getting at House?”
“You start dating Chase, your hair turns blonde,” he pointed out. “I’m just worried your brain might also be susceptible to this disease. I’d hate to see you’ve woken up one morning and suddenly lost that brilliant mind and started speaking in an accent that no reasonable human being could ever understand.”
Cameron scratched her head in amusement. “You really do amuse yourself, don’t you?”
House shrugged. “I liked the brown,” he said simply. “That simple.”
“It’s never simple with you,” she remarked. “And you said that you liked the blonde because...”
“It made you look like a hooker,” House nodded. “Which it does. But, maybe I don’t want you to look like a hooker.”
Cameron’s eyes challenged his. “Did you call me brilliant?” she grinned, the compliment just registering.
“Brilliant’s probably too strong of a word,” he muttered.
Cameron grinned. “I’m not changing my hair,” she said, pushing the twenty closer to him. She was eerily aware of the fact that her statement seemed to encompass all of House’s arguments. By saying she was keeping the blonde hair, House would also insinuate that she was staying with Chase.
“Yet,” House said playfully, smirking.
“No, I happen to like it this way.”
House shrugged, staring at her. “I could get used to it,” he admitted.
“Great, well that makes me feel so much better,” Cameron rolled her eyes. “I don’t care whether you like it or not.”
House nodded. “Oh, you do.”
Cameron sighed. “Keep the twenty,” she muttered, pushing her way back into the conference room and past House’s team.