Stay With Me Chapter 4
Stay With Me Chapter 4
She walked over to where the answering machine sat, and gently ran her fingers over it. As if by touching it she connected with him in some small way. He had broken, come to her. He played again. It was what she had wished for, hoped so desperately for. After a couple of minutes, the recording ended. Her heart ached to be with him now. She knew it must have taken unfathomable strength from him to come to that realization. To let her be right for a change. It took her a few minutes of contemplation, as she paced the floor holding her phone. If only she could get rid of her cursed migraine so she could think. Her fingers slowly tapped out the number that was burned into her mind. Hoping that he would pick up the phone, knowing in reality, he probably wouldn’t. After six rings, a voice finally came to her, “Cameron…I’m sorry…. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Are you alright, House?”
“Fine. No need to worry. Go to bed, Cameron. I can tell you’re tired. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, House.” Click on the opposite end.
Her head felt like it would split in two, over worrying, lack of sleep, lack of being near him, where she could at least see him, know that he’s safe. She was in total lack of control. Over her personal life, everything right at this moment.
The next day, she was back in her old routine. Emergency room, reporting for duty at 8am for her shift. Everything to remain as normal, when inside she knew it was not. Her head still reminded her. The day wore on into the afternoon, when the charge nurse came to her.
“New patient in the Treatment Room. Status post MI a week ago, seizures, complaining of leg pain… wants to see you,” as she looked at Cameron, holding a fake admission file in her hand.
The treatment room, isolated in the back of the ER, was reserved for special procedures, emergency deliveries, and severe traumas. Away from the hustle and noise of the rest of the department.
The leaded door of the room was slowly pushed open, and the curtain from around the patient glided along it’s track.
“Had lunch with Jimmy today. Just thought you’d like to know.”
She rolled up a black stool beside the bed, and listened intently.
“And?” she asked.
“It was tense, unpleasant, couldn‘t eat, he looks like crap, wants to resign. Want to hear more?”
“I do, actually.”
“We talked. For about an hour. It was just about as much as either of us could stand.”
“It’s a start, House. He wants to try, or else he wouldn’t have agreed to it. I’m proud of you. And?…..”
“I can’t sleep. Haven’t slept since you left. Would you, I mean do you think you could…come over, stay until I…”
“If you mean sleep in that awful chair of yours…”
He paused, and took in a deep breath. “I wasn’t thinking about the chair.” he said, as he looked at the opposite side of the room, to avert her gaze, as if to dismiss the thought that he wanted her there, to admit he needed her.
She reached over to put her hand on his arm, as he sat there holding his cane.
“I’ll be there as soon as my shift ends. Today was a good thing, House.”
He finally looked at her, her eyes circled by gray, her face drawn, pale, and he knew she had her own battle to fight, and it was winning.
“How long have you had that migraine?”
“Just a tension headache, is all. I’ll take something when I get off.”
“Your pupils say no… Dilated. The tense of your face and your pallor say different. The charge nurse said you haven’t had a break all day, just coffee. Trying to stave off the migraine. Nausea. You need food, sleep, and a narcotic to get rid of it. Just so happens I can give you all three. Get your coat. I’m driving.”
“You can’t, shouldn’t, you just had an MI last week.”
“And who do you think is the safer one? You’re having trouble focusing as it is. And you’ve had nothing to eat all day. Get your coat.”
A small grin came over the older charge nurse’s face, as she saw them walk out together. She had seen many things come and go in her time, and had known House for many years. Never had she seen him give in to anyone. Today she saw it in his eyes, when she was irate with him over taking up her Treatment room. She had raised her voice to him to get out and take up space in his own office, not in her department, taking up a clean bed, as she spoke in a raised voice looking over a pair of reading glasses precariously perched on her nose. She pointed her finger towards the door, ordering him to leave, when he stopped her.
“I need to see Dr. Cameron. Please. Could you please get her for me. It’s important,” he asked, with sincerity in his voice. Then she knew. She promptly stopped her tirade, drew the curtain, and walked out to find Cameron. It was of the utmost importance, for both of them. Advanced in years was the nurse, but not in the heart.