Five years - chapter four
Title: Five years
Author: snark-bait
Rating: Adult
Character/Paring: House/Cameron
Summary: House leaves prison after being convicted on drug offences, Cameron helps him readjust to his new life.
Spoilers: If you haven’t seen season 3 it's one big spoiler, but I'm going from 'Finding Judas' and just skipping very far ahead from there.
Chapter: 4
Beta'd by phineyj
Chapter four
House was humble enough to feel a pang of guilt when Cameron entered the visiting room. It was two weeks before a regular visit was due and it was the middle of the day in the middle of the week.
She looked exhausted, and he was suddenly aware of what effect these trips might be having on her life. She had a family now, a young child to consider as well as doing her job. The last thing she probably needed was to have to drive an hour out of her way so she could ferry him copied medical records.
“So, what’s going on?” she asked jadedly. House noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes and that her face had a pale quality to it, like she hadn’t been getting anywhere near enough sleep.
She sat down on the seat opposite him, opened the file and placed it directly in front of him.
“Preedy has a sick kid; he wanted me to look at her file,” House replied sheepishly.
“Yeah, I got that part. The part I didn’t get was why you agreed?”
“Does there need to be any reason other than my wanting to help people?” House challenged.
Cameron gave him a stern, ‘cut the bullshit’ look, and then folded her arms. It had always been such a defensive gesture when they’d been working together; now it seemed more out of frustration with him than anything else.
House had the good grace to look away, he found Preedy on the other side of the room, watching them anxiously. “It made more sense to say yes, than no,” he admitted. “Have you read it?”
“Yeah,” Cameron replied. “They only took her out of the self defense classes recently; it was probably just a little too physical for an eight year old. Seems she’s also been a little fatigued but not a lot else.”
Cameron shot an awkward look at Preedy. “You want a differential diagnosis? Physical abuse.”
“I already ruled that out,” House said, scanning the front two pages of the file.
“Before or after that guy kicked your ass?” Cameron said edgily.
“Apparently he can tell the difference between an eight year old child and a middle aged junkie,” he said, shooting her a quick look.
“It’s the most likely explanation for unexplained bruises,” she argued strongly.
“Perhaps, but have you completely ruled out blood clotting problems or a blood related disease?” House looked at the file. “Doesn’t look like illness or genetic condition has been ruled out either,” he added, shooting Preedy another quick look.
“Will you humor me so I can humor him?”
Cameron took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Fine, what are you thinking?”
“Thrombocytopenia,” House said simply. Cameron flipped a few pages over on the file and pointed to the lab results near the back.
“Platelet count isn’t low,” she noted.
“Did they do any clotting tests?” House asked. Cameron flicked through the file; eventually she shook her head.
“No, but platelets are normal, which rules out thrombocytopenia.”
“Bruises fit though,” House said, nodding at the picture that sat beside the labs.
“Bruises are bruises; they also kind of look like the ones you get when your dad has a bad day at work and comes home and decides to take out his frustration on you.”
House didn't agree that bruises were bruises; these were neatly circular, and strangely placed for deliberate injuries.
“How about Preedy takes his kid to that handy free clinic in Princeton, say, tomorrow and that nice lady doctor runs another platelet test?” House suggested boldly.
Cameron sat back in her seat and shook her head. “I’m not working in the clinic tomorrow.”
“But Cuddy loves it when people offer to help out for an hour; don’t tell me the clinic isn’t still short staffed?” House said hopefully. “And then you can observe what they’re like together.”
“House,” Cameron began, but when he whined a drawn out please she stopped whatever she was going to say. “All right, but if the test comes back the same, will you consider my theory?”
“Absolutely,” House said nodding solemnly, but he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. By the time the test came back negative (if it came back negative) he’d have formed some new ideas; at present nothing was jumping out at him so he didn’t have a lot to go on.
Cameron rubbed her eyes and then yawned into her hand.
“I’m sorry I’m bugging you about this, but there was no one else,” House said, sitting back in his seat.
“It’s okay,” Cameron said.
“So what’s going on with you?” House asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean how come sleeping and eating seem to have become lifestyle choices rather than daily requirements?”
“I’m fine, House,” she assured him, as if mildly irritated. “I don’t want to talk about it,’ she finished quietly.
This was frustrating: he was so far removed from everyone’s lives, he no longer had any influence, but not only that, because of his situation she never wanted to trouble him.
“Well if you don’t want to talk about it, I definitely want to talk about it,” House insisted.
Cameron folded her arms again, and this time it was an old school defensive thing; something was certainly going on.
“When you don’t want to talk about something, the conversation is over; why doesn’t that apply to other people?”
“Because when I stop talking, people find it kind of hard to keep the conversation going when I’ve completely tuned out started doing something else, or left the room.”
“So I should leave the room?” Cameron asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” House said. He wasn’t trying to piss her off, especially after doing him this favor. There was also the fact that he probably wouldn’t be having a conversation with anyone other than Preedy until the next time she visited, and conversations with Preedy were never very stimulating, because either he was annoying Preedy or Preedy was annoying him.
But then…he supposed he could also admit to himself there was the fact that he was feeling a little concerned as to why she looked like crap and wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. Cameron fixed him with a serious stare.
“If I tell you, you’re not allowed to freak out, and I don’t want you to blame yourself, because it’s not your fault,” Cameron said.
“Okay,” House replied cautiously, very sure he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.
“Jack found out that I’ve been coming here to visit and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“Found out?” House questioned.
“I never mentioned it to him until today; it’s none of his business,” she explained.
House nodded, “Well, sure it’s his business, you’re married to him, and you don’t do secrets, it’s never been your thing.”
She looked away from him; she was getting uncomfortable.
“Maybe you shouldn’t come for a while,” House suggested softly. “You look like you’re burnt out.”
“But I wanted to come, House; you’re a friend. You don’t just drop people out of your life because they make a mistake,” she said seriously. “He can’t get his head around that.”
“Forging prescriptions and getting busted for intent to supply is a bit more than one mistake,” House admitted. “I don’t blame him for getting mad.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, and if coming here is pissing your husband off, then you shouldn’t come here,” House said.
He was torn on the issue really. On the one hand, the guy was starting to come across like an out and out asshole, trying to dictate her life to her, but House certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any friction in her marriage. She’d moved on and had a family; he didn’t want to jeopardize that. He’d done enough damage to his own life.
“If I ask Preedy to go to the hospital tomorrow after lunch, would you re-do that test and let me know what you find?” House asked.
“Yeah,” Cameron said, and then she took hold of the file. “He told me to hand this to him when I leave, said he’ll give it to you later.”
House nodded; for now he needed to concentrate on what was making Preedy’s kid sick so he could get the guy off his back. But he made a mental note to come back to this conversation. As far as he was concerned, they were no way near done on the subject.
~
Present day
After Cameron had left for work, reluctant son dawdling behind her, House took the opportunity to grab the CDs he’d bought the day before from his room and listen to some music. He’d been tempted to start with some serious blues: Muddy Waters or Robert Johnson, but decided the nature of the music might drag him down. To kick off with he went with some Miles Davis instead.
He turned it up as loud as he figured he could get away with before the old couple that Cameron had mentioned lived on the end of her row called the cops. He sat in the centre of the sofa, closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of everything.
He’d decided long ago that not being able to have the simple little things that completed his life had been worse than not being able to ride his bike or sit at his piano. But, he didn’t want to dwell on what he hadn’t been able to have; instead, he wanted to focus on the feeling that he could have whatever he wanted now, and nothing could be taken away from him again.
By the end of the CD he felt lighter than he had in months (years) and he went for a shower, daring to go for some blues while he got ready. He could only just make out the music from the bathroom, but he left it on anyway. When he got into the shower the head came to the top of his chest; even after pushing it up as far as it would go he still had to hunch a little to get his head under the water. Definitely no male influence around when Cameron had been decorating the bathroom, House decided.
There was an assortment of girly bottles lining the small shelf in the shower. He didn’t really want to have a meeting with his lawyer smelling of peach apple blossom or whatever the hell it was, so he decided to use what must be Daniel’s ‘no tears’ shampoo and soap.
When he was done he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing his hand over the moisture that had fogged it over. He studied himself and considered shaving the beard off, stroking a hand across his face threateningly before deciding to give it a reprieve from extinction; he just took off the excess that was starting to creep down his neck, and left the bottom half of his face as it was. He decided he looked less like himself this way, and he preferred it for now.
He’d bought a reasonable looking dark blue shirt the day before; he coupled it with the smarter looking pair of jeans and decided to tackle the great outdoors before he lost his nerve. He grabbed his cane as he left the bedroom, took the key Cameron had left on the coffee table for him and left the house.
~
Getting used to using his cane again was strange; it didn’t feel very comfortable, and pretty soon his shoulder was outraged that it was suddenly involved with supporting the weight on his right side. He couldn’t win either way really. His leg wouldn’t be able to handle too much walking minus the cane, and his shoulder was screwed if he used it. He went with the lesser physical pain and carried on using it.
Getting someone to see him at the financial services section at the bank was taking forever because the woman before House was arguing with everything that came out of the advisor’s mouth. The advisor didn’t look a day over eighteen. It was taking every bit of determination House had not to get up and leave; he didn’t want to miss the meeting with his lawyer, but he needed to get his accounts in order. Being without a cashflow was leaving him almost as helpless as he’d been in prison.
Mouth on legs began trawling through her purse, tipping most of it onto the desk while looking for some form of ID. For some reason House noticed her car keys; there was a very noticeable BMW key tag attached to the clump. He’d noticed a beamer parked around the corner, chanced maybe she owned that one, and saw an opportunity to speed things along; he got out of his seat and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” House said politely. “I’m not sure if you heard what that gentleman over there just said,” and he pointed at the first person who looked like he worked for the bank. “You don’t have a BMW, do you? Because there is a traffic cop about to have one towed for illegal parking outside.”
The woman’s eyes widened in terror, (my god she’d have to walk somewhere) then she moved to outrage and muttered something about having paid the meter under her breath. House and the kid exchanged an eyebrow raise as she wiped everything back into her purse and got up.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she threatened, before heading outside with the determined menace of a great white shark that had just smelt drops of blood in the ocean.
~
By the time the kid in the bank had got his accounts and credit cards sorted out (they were going to take three to five working days to arrive in the post) it was almost lunchtime and House was feeling vexed and shamed in equal amounts. He’d had to explain why his accounts had been untouched for so long; he’d already decided he wasn’t lying to people about what had happened, it would take too much energy and he couldn’t be bothered.
The kid hadn’t really batted an eyelid though; he’d just listened, tapped his keyboard and done his job, something House was very grateful for. He’d even volunteered a good natured ‘good luck’ as House had got up to leave.
When House left the bank, via some evil laser beams from BMW lady, he was feeling ready to just head back to Cameron’s, but a visit to his lawyer was next on the agenda. He also needed to go to the realtor’s to pick up property brochures and then get some local papers to scan through the job section; going back to the hospital wasn’t a done deal yet.
He walked toward an area of legal buildings and offices in Princeton centre and literally bumped into Robert Chase; as he turned a corner they slammed into each other accidentally. Chase opened his mouth; House wasn’t sure whether he was about to apologize or shout, but by the time he realized who he’d bumped into, any pre-emptive words fell away.
‘House?” Chase said, he tilted his head then a grin spread across his face. Chase leaned in and patted the side of his arm once. House followed the hand with his eyes as it made contact with him, then retreated.
House observed the pretty blonde girl beside Chase and then smiled at him; “I see you’re into girls now, huh?” he played some mock puzzlement into his expression and looked between Chase and the girl. Chase smiled without showing his teeth, before turning to his companion.
“Shall I meet you in there in a few minutes?” He said politely; she nodded, gave House a strange look and then carried on without him.
“Well, you haven’t changed a bit,” Chase said with good humor as he watched her go.
House observed the girl and then looked back at him. “Neither have you by the looks of it, did she buy any of your adventure stories?”
“All of them,” Chase replied confidently. House nodded, not really sure what to say next. How have you been? How’s tricks? Nothing seemed to cut it. His mind drifted, briefly, to an almost blank piece of paper nestled in with his things back at Cameron’s place. A piece of paper that probably should have contained this man’s name.
“So, how long have you been out?” He asked.
“Yesterday,” House replied uncomfortably, the enquiry seemed obscure to him. ‘How long have you been out?’ was something you’d hear in a film, or a TV show. He didn’t like the way it sounded when it was being applied to his life.
Chase observed him for a few moments then looked away, nodding to himself. It seemed the younger man didn’t really know what to say either.
“Well, you should probably catch up with your hot date, don’t want her to start working out the logical impossibilities in your shark stories.”
Chase smiled again. “It’s good to see you,” he said, honestly. House didn’t say anything. He nodded once then went to move past him.
“House,” Chase said quickly, before House could get far, he turned and observed him again.
“I’m sorry, about what happened,” he offered. It seemed genuine enough.
“Thanks,” was all House could say before he walked away, wondering as he did, why he hadn’t been able to repeat the simple words back.
~
The potential job situation was dire. There was no way House was getting a teaching or lecturing position, not in Princeton. No prior history of lecturing and the wrong kind of priors on his record; he figured no college would take a second look at him, if his reputation hadn’t already preceded him.
His former expertise in diagnostics didn’t mean squat now he had a weighty criminal record.
He hadn’t read anything at the time, but he suspected his case made the local news: disgraced doctor formerly of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital doing time for drug offences. If his name meant something to people it wouldn’t be for anything that could help him.
Whatever Cuddy could offer was probably his only shot at working a position remotely connected to medicine. It sucked but his alternatives sucked worse. At least he knew her; going back to work was going to be hard to adjust to, it was a minor consolation that he knew what to expect from her, and she knew what to expect from him.
It would mean dealing with plenty of people who knew who he was and what he had done. It meant working a much lesser position, whatever it was. It wasn’t that he was being ungrateful, he was grateful she was giving him the chance but it was going to be hard, being around doctors but not being one.
And of course on top of everything else, there was the potential of seeing Wilson. That was going to be the hardest thing of all.
He’d managed to sort out a few things with his lawyer. He’d been holding some documents for House and the key to the lock up containing his stuff. He’d managed to get a restrictive driving license sorted out too, just until he got it restored completely. He was able to drive if he was looking for work, and then drive to and from his job when he got one. It was better than nothing House supposed, and temporary, with any luck.
After he’d left his lawyer’s office he’d gone to a coffee shop with a few property guides to look for places; he’d have to rent for the time being, but the money he had from the sale of his townhouse would cover the cost. It all seemed like a painfully slow, disjointed process but it was starting to feel like maybe the pieces of his life would click back together one day after all.
~
Cameron was already home when he arrived back; House propped his cane up by the door, took off the dark winter jacket he’d bought on the way home and rubbed his shoulder. He felt exhausted. He needed to get a car as soon as possible; he really wasn’t into the idea of using public transport when he went looking for places to rent.
He tried to console himself with today being a success of sorts. He’d sat in the park for half an hour on the way back, just enjoying the open space and the fresh air, turning various things over in his mind and wondering why everything seemed so hard and out of reach.
Cameron was on her cell phone when he walked into the living room; she waved once to acknowledge him, and then quickly left the room, talking heatedly to someone as she went.
“You do it every time, that’s why I’m annoyed,” he heard her say before she left.
Daniel was sprawled on the sofa watching cartoons. House went and sat down in the chair opposite him and massaged his leg. He sunk into the chair a little then noticed Daniel was watching him.
“How was your day?” House asked, tiredly.
“Boring,” Daniel said kicking the armrest of the sofa. “What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Sports injury,” House said. Trying to explain a myocardial infarction to a child of four was not something he felt he had the energy for.
“How long are you staying for?”
“About a week, probably,” House said, wondering who Cameron was talking to, hoping it was Jack, and hoping she was filling him in.
She reappeared a few minutes later, trying to look calm, but someone had definitely ruffled her feathers.
“Are you okay?” House enquired. Cameron leaned over the sofa and covered Daniel’s ears with her hands, “Jack is a complete ass,” Daniel squirmed away from her and looked up, “Other than that I’m fine.”
~
When Daniel had gone to bed, they sat on the sofa drinking beer; somehow House had managed to get General Hospital on without Cameron changing channel.
“I haven’t seen this show for years, but five minutes in I can work out everything I’ve missed,” House noted.
“It’s so bad, although the mispronounced medical terminology is hilarious,” she replied.
House tried to hand her the remote but she didn’t take it.
“I don’t mind watching it,” she said, taking a sip of her beer. House suspected she wasn’t much of a beer drinker, and had probably just got some in for him. She still seemed preoccupied and flustered.
“So, why is Jack an ass?” House said.
“Tonight or generally?”
“Let’s start with tonight,” House said, easing forward and placing the remote on the table in front of him.
“He was supposed to be picking Dan up first thing tomorrow so he could take him to school for me,” she said. “He normally picks him up from preschool - well school now - but he picks him up on a Friday and brings him back on Sunday. I have to be in early tomorrow, so he said he’d take him to help me out.”
“And he’s let you down?” House queried.
“He said he can pick Dan up after school as usual, but he can’t come by first thing, because he’s too busy. I’m just annoyed that he leaves it until the last minute so I have to re-arrange everything on a moment’s notice.”
“I could take him to school?” House suggested. “Admittedly my calendar is pretty full tomorrow, but I’m sure I can squeeze it in.”
“You don’t have a car,” Cameron said.
“No, but you do. If you have to be in early I could drop you off and then him. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow anyway, I’d rather pick you up after my meeting with Cuddy than tackle public transport again.”
Cameron thought about it, but didn’t respond. House sensed what was going through her mind.
“Ex junkie and child of four, sorry, forget I said anything,” House said, looking away from her and watching the TV again.
“It’s not that; I trust you, House,” she said earnestly.
“And that’s your problem, you trust everybody. This guy says he’ll help you out but he let’s you down, yet you still expect he’ll come through the next time.”
“Well, what would you do?” Cameron asked.
“I’d get the kid up and ready at six, take him round there and make him do what he said he’d do.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to Dan,” Cameron said.
“No, it wouldn’t,” House agreed. “Are you worried what Jack would think if I drop him off?”
“No, not at all; he’s let me down now so he doesn’t have a say in the matter,” Cameron said hotly.
“If you’re uncomfortable about the idea, it’s fine.”
“I’m not uncomfortable about it, House,” Cameron said dismissively. “It would really help me out actually.”
She sat up and faced him. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah,” House replied. “I think even I can handle a four year old for thirty minutes.”
Cameron sat back in her seat. “Seeing as Dan is staying with Jack this weekend, I was thinking maybe you’d like to do something?”
“Like catch up on all the girls gone wild DVDs I’ve missed since I’ve been banged up: you’re like a mind reader,” House said thoughtfully.
“Or get tickets for ‘The blue note’: it’s a jazz bar downtown,” Cameron suggested.
“You like jazz?” House said, disbelievingly.
“Not really, but you do.”
“I also like to watch adult entertainment movies where nineteen year olds soap each other with foam,” House offered.
Cameron shot him a distasteful look and he smiled, her idea couldn’t hurt, he supposed. “All right.”
A few hours later they were both slumped down on the sofa. Cameron seemed a little tipsy, so House got away with propping his feet up on her coffee table, probably because he let her get away with resting her head against his shoulder as they watched TV.
~
House met Cameron’s concerned stare when he pulled up at some traffic the next morning; he guessed it had something to do with his slightly jumpy reintroduction to the art of driving.
“It’s like riding a bike,” he assured her. “Don’t look so concerned.”
“I’m not concerned?” she said defensively. He gave her a ‘yeah right’ look, checked the mirror then pulled away.
“Okay, I’m a bit concerned, only because you need to put your foot down so we don’t get rear ended.”
She’d been pissy most of the morning. House suspected she had a bit of a hangover, even though she’d only had half the amount of beer he’d had.
“Mommy’s moody when she has a hangover huh?” House said, under his breath.
“What’s a hangover?” Daniel enquired.
“It means mommy’s a bit tired,” Cameron said quickly, “I’d really prefer that particular phrase didn’t get repeated to Jack,” she chastised him quietly.
“Sorry,” House said, smiling.
By the time they’d reached the hospital he had the driving thing down, riding a bike was next; he definitely missed the freedom of cutting in and out of traffic when it was busy. He was hit by a sudden wave of apprehension as they pulled up at the hospital.
And he knew exactly what was making him nervous.
“It’s probably too early to drop him off,” Cameron said, “Want to come in and get some breakfast first?”
House looked toward the building entrance, and then shook his head. “We’ll get something on the way, you like pancakes Dan?”
“Sure,” Daniel replied.
“Whatever you do, just don’t give him too much sugar before school,” Cameron warned him.
“No sugar, right” House replied, only half listening, as he scanned the parking lot for Wilson’s car, not that he knew what Wilson’s car looked like these days.
“Seriously, too much sugar, he becomes frightening,” Cameron reiterated.
House nodded and glanced back at her. “Right, no sugar, I got it, it’s a four year old, how hard can it be? Feed him; get him to school on time. No problem.”
Cameron didn’t appear to be entirely happy with his reassurance. House sighed and looked at Daniel in the mirror.
“Tell mommy she’s going to be late for work if she sticks around complaining,” House said.
“Go to work mommy,” he shouted at her.
She unbuckled her belt, leaned over the seat and kissed Daniel on the head. “Don’t gang up on me,” she told him. “I’ll see you back here at six?” she then said to House.
“You will,” he agreed. Cameron got out of the car and House looked at Daniel in the mirror again.
“So what happens when you eat too much sugar?” he asked. Daniel shrugged his shoulders and found an innocent, ‘I have no idea’ face.
~
Twenty minutes later inside a small restaurant, Daniel was running up and down the aisle like a maniac. House was convinced anyone who was watching would consider maybe the child had some sort of attention deficit disorder.
Maybe ice-cream and maple syrup had been a little bit excessive.
“Hey Daniel,” House shouted. Daniel spun around and threw a rolled up napkin at him, but it missed.
Okay, House decided, the sugar thing had been a valid warning he’d neglected to heed, that would not happen again. He got up slowly, cornered and grabbed Danny then guided him back to their table. He’d been responsible for him for all of twenty minutes and Daniel was now a completely different child.
“Party time is over, you need to calm down before you go to school,” House said in as stern a voice he could find.
“I’ve never been for breakfast here before,” Daniel informed him happily.
“Okay, well you need to behave or they won’t let you come again, all right?”
Daniel nodded. House started to finish his breakfast. When he looked up he found a waitress staring with concern at them, he looked back at Daniel, who was squirting his juice into a plant pot; he leaned over and turned him around.
“That’s not behaving, is it?”
“I was watering the plant,” Daniel replied earnestly.
“Plants don’t need blackcurrant, they’re cool with water.” House flashed the waitress a quick, embarrassed smile. “If you want to wreak havoc, you need to be a little bit more inconspicuous.”
“What’s incon…what’s that?” Daniel asked.
“It means do silly things when people aren’t watching you, then deny all knowledge.”
Daniel frowned and placed his juice down, he watched the waitress for a few moments, and then turned around to do it again when she’d turned her back. House had to laugh at the kid’s audacity.
“But not when you’ve already been caught,” he said, leaning over to take the juice from the boy. Deciding he wasn’t a little carbon copy of Cameron after all.
“Don’t tell your mom I gave you maple syrup and ice cream,” he said, then cringed when Cameron’s ‘he tells me everything’ speech popped into his mind.
~
House had delivered the hyperactive minor to school on time and then returned to Cameron’s place. He’d decided to spend an hour on the playstation then do something productive, like go to the lock up where his stuff was or go and extend his wardrobe, seeing as he only had two outfits.
What actually happened was he became entirely absorbed in the game he’d been playing a few days earlier, and spent most of the day trying to complete it.
When the time neared four, he blinked at the clock and figured he’d better get his butt to the hospital or he wouldn’t have time to see Cuddy.
~
When House arrived in the lot for the second time that day, he sat in the car for a moment and tried to psych himself up. He had no idea how he was going to feel about returning to the hospital, but he did know he couldn’t face Wilson yet.
He scanned the reception area nervously when he entered the building; the probability of Wilson being there just after lunch was low, probably, but the odds didn’t comfort him, didn’t help ease the apprehensive, queasy feeling out of his stomach.
He wanted to deal with things one step at a time. Today he’d deal with the job; he wanted time to build up to dealing with the Wilson thing.
The clinic was still where he’d left it five years previously, unfortunately. At least whatever job Cuddy offered him it wouldn’t involve clinic hours. That was a small relief.
A nurse House vaguely recognized was on reception in the clinic; she was called Belinda or Brenda? Something like that, he couldn’t quite remember. She looked utterly gobsmacked to see him and didn’t bother to conceal it. He ignored her and headed straight for Cuddy’s office. He looked down at the boyish looking secretary sitting outside it, who, at a guess was in his mid twenties. He looked up and smiled politely at House.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?”
“I don’t need one,” House said gruffly, glancing in at Cuddy; she was sitting behind her desk, speaking to someone on the phone.
“You know, I used to work here,” House said carefully, eyes still on Cuddy. “The sexual harassment got to me eventually,” House looked back at him, and was happy to find an uneasy look on the kid’s face, “Hopefully you’re a stronger man than I,” he finished solemnly, before entering the office.
Cuddy looked up, and was definitely surprised to see him; he found a half smile and came in until he was standing in front of the desk. He glanced around the office, the desk was still placed just in front of the big bay window; the décor had changed a little, lighter colors, plusher looking sofas but not much else.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” Cuddy said into the phone. “Thank you, goodbye.”
“House?” Cuddy said strongly. “Which part of ‘call and make an appointment’ didn’t you get?” she said glibly.
“You busy?” House said, tapping his cane against her carpet.
She shook her head before standing up and motioned to the seat in front of her desk. “I was; guess I’m not anymore.”
She picked up her phone again and tapped one number, “Nathan, could you hold all of my calls, thanks.”
“Nathan,” House said lightly. “Does Nathan look as good in a thong as you were hoping?”
She sat back down. “Could we have the serious discussion about your future before we start bitching at one another?”
“I suppose we could,” House replied, taking a seat.
Bitching was helping him stay in the room; he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. He definitely wasn’t comfortable about being in the hospital again. And he hadn’t called so Wilson couldn’t have been forewarned of his arrival.
But they needed to get this out of the way.
~
Cuddy had gone through the vacancy database three times and the only thing that House would even consider was research. Cuddy agreed it was probably the best option for now, while he got back into everything. He wouldn’t be eligible to apply for his medical license again; it was something he thought he’d dealt with years back, when survival had become a higher priority than such trivialities. He guessed the finality of it had never really hit him. He was starting to feel it now, back in this place.
House was sitting forward in his seat, turning a paperweight disguised as a snow shaker around in his hand. Cuddy was talking but his attention was on the fake snow floating around inside the glass.
“At least in research you can work on your own projects, you won’t have to answer to anyone,” she frowned, “Well, except for me.”
He nodded, absently chewing the side of his mouth. He wondered how long he’d be able to handle working in a research lab before he got bored to tears. Boredom was a dangerous, destructive thing in him.
“You can be independent and innovative in this field too,” Cuddy said optimistically. “I thought you liked to play mad scientist?”
House looked across at her, “Research is fine, as long as you’re willing to give me the position?”
“Of course, it’s yours if you want it. I’m sure in time other posts will open up. I’m convinced there would be interest in a lecture, if you wanted to put something together.”
House snorted. “Yeah, campus kids could come ask me what prison life is like; I think I’ll pass on that one.”
Cuddy leaned forward and gently took the snow shaker out of his hand, “You’ve got to start somewhere, right?”
~
House tried to appear optimistic when Cameron arrived. He was pleased he’d ventured in and out of the hospital and managed to avoid Wilson completely. He’d have felt quite proud of that feat, had Cameron not then informed him that Wilson wasn’t in today.
“At least you’ll be able to do your own thing, and there has been some really interesting brain injury research coming out of the labs recently,” Cameron said.
“You don’t have to humor me, Cuddy isn’t hiding in the back seat,” House said.
“I’m not humoring you, House, I think it’s a really big step for you.” She seemed to realize how condescending that sounded and tried again. “I’m happy for you, and it’ll be great to have you back at the hospital. I know I’ll be looking for you whenever we have a difficult case,” she offered.
“Yeah, I should come back just so you can bug me every five minutes, can’t wait,” he replied, but he made sure it sounded light. She was right, it was good for him to be going back. It was just going to be hard to get used to at first.
House was driving with a little more confidence than he had been that morning, but he was still glued to the speed limit; he couldn’t risk anything or he’d have the license revoked. So he was more than a little surprised when they were about ten minutes away from the hospital, to see two lights blink into life behind them, and then a siren started wailing out. Cameron looked to see what speed he was doing, then back at the police car.
“You’re not speeding?” she said, perplexed.
“I know,” House replied.
House pulled over and looked into the mirror again, his heart started to pound violently when he got a better look at who was now climbing out of the cruiser. Soon enough Cameron had realized who it was too and was staring worriedly at House.
“Whatever happens, stay out of this,” House said seriously.
Cameron shot a nervous look at Detective Michael Tritter as he descended on the car, “House, don’t do anything stupid,” she warned.
“I’m not going to do anything,” he assured her, as he unbuckled his safety belt.
Tritter let out a chesty cough, and then tapped on the driver’s side window.
“Step out of the vehicle please, sir,” he said calmly, then he stepped back a few paces and placed his hands on his hips. House did what was asked, even though his stomach had twisted itself into a nauseating loop. He couldn’t tell if Tritter seemed surprised to see him, or if he’d spotted House somewhere nearer the hospital and simply followed.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Tritter said, with a smile.
“I wasn’t speeding,” House replied coolly, looking away from Tritter because that saccharine smile was making him feel sick.
Tritter wandered toward the back of the car and pointed his pen at the bumper, “Back brake light is out, this your vehicle?”
“No.”
Tritter cleared his throat noisily, returned to the side of the car and then coughed for a second time. “Is it hers?” Tritter said, nodding at Cameron.
“Yes,” House replied. Wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve this.
“License and registration, please.” House stared at him for a few moments, then slowly reached into his jacket pocket and found his license. Cameron leaned over and handed him the registration. House took one step toward him and handed him the papers, eyeing the ground as he did so.
Tritter scanned his license then observed him, “This is a restrictive license, says you can drive to and from work and when looking for employment.”
“I’ve just been to a job interview,” House said, desperately trying to keep his voice low and non-confrontational.
“Where?”
“Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital,” he replied quietly.
“Can anyone corroborate that?” Tritter said, the careful endless calm in his words unsettling him.
“Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine. I’m sure you remember her.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll be able to find her number,” Tritter said, placing his pen and pad into his jacket pocket then stepping forward so he could hand House the documents back. As he did Tritter narrowed his eyes and purposefully looked House in his.
“You know, maybe it’s the light out here, but your pupils look dilated to me,” he said steadily.
House couldn’t help it, he shot Cameron a quick worried look, and everything about the look she returned pleaded with him to stay calm.
House could feel an intense anger bubble up inside of him, but he knew if he did or said anything aggressive to a police officer, he’d be back inside before he could say ‘Go fuck yourself pig’.
“Please turn around, face the car and place your hands on your head,” Tritter said politely, shifting his position then covering his mouth and coughing again. House took a deep breath but did it straight away.
“So, you’re not currently working at the hospital?” Tritter asked.
“No,” House replied, then Tritter’s hands were on him, it made his skin crawl; his heart was working overtime as he tried hard to hold his tongue and his nerve. He wanted more than anything to shove the bastard's hands away from him as he patted him down.
“I’m surprised she wants an ex-junkie back in her hospital after what happened last time,” he leaned in close. “You holding?” Tritter said quietly, before slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.
“No,” House returned, almost inaudibly. “I’m clean.”
Tritter chuckled, “You know what? I think I believe you; doubt you’d be here if your piss tests had been flooded with opiates in prison.”
Tritter’s hand slipped underneath his jacket and House felt him pat his back pockets, “Does the name Philippe Marquez mean anything to you?” Tritter asked evenly, as if they were talking about an old mutual friend.
Every nerve in House’s body suddenly tensed, and his stomach did a back-flip; his mouth ran dry and he swallowed a few times to get the moisture back. He shot Tritter a quick look, out of disbelief perhaps, his head was starting to swim a little so he wasn’t sure.
House was trying to work out how Tritter knew about Marquez, while keeping himself composed in his current situation.
He willed himself to stare ahead again and forced out a “No.” His voice sounded tight.
“Really? Because I heard…”
“Don’t,” House said, cutting him off, it was something of a quiet plea but it was pointless.
“…that he was the guy that raped you in prison,” Tritter continued letting the words exit just by his ear, but they weren’t whispered. They were loud and deliberate and hit every mark Tritter had been going for.
House closed his eyes briefly and let his breath out through his nose. He’d never believed he was capable of hating this man more than he already did, but Tritter had just proved him wrong. When he opened his eyes he could see Cameron had shifted in her seat to turn and look at him. She was staring at him like the time he’d been shot, worried and ‘you’ll be all right’ dancing in her eyes, but not really sure if she believed her own inner mantra.
For a second House felt like the world had stopped; his blood was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t breathe.
He’d spent a long time feeling ashamed, humiliated and guilty about what had happened to him. He’d spent a lot of early hours and sleepless nights blaming this particular person for it too, and he wasn’t going to shoot a defensive joke to get himself out of admitting it had happened, because he suspected that was what Tritter wanted.
He decided then and there this son of a bitch wasn’t going to use that of all things against him now, because it was one of the few things in his life that really hadn’t been his fault.
“As sure as I am that made your day when you heard about it, I’m not getting what it has to do with a busted tail light,” House said, struggling to keep his voice calm and unruffled, feeling anything but inside.
Inside, fractured thoughts and uneasy memories were getting torn up in a turbulent storm of feeling, like Tritter had kicked up a dust cloud inside his soul in the hope that it might choke him.
“Oh, we both know that it has nothing to do with a busted tail light,” Tritter admitted, as he finished patting him down. When he was done he took a step back; House remained where he was, staring over the roof of the car. “I just wanted to know if you ever wondered how different life would be if you’d just apologized in your boss’s office?”
House turned to face him, and looked him in the eyes. Tritter tilted his head to the side and jerked one grey eyebrow upwards, as if to punctuate his question.
“No, I can live with the choices I’ve made, question is, can you? Because the yellow tinge on your fingers and that dry hacking cough tells me you didn’t quit smoking for very long.”
The conceited smile wavered on Tritter’s face.
“I quit opiates in prison, yet you’re still smoking,” House dropped his arms to his side. “Don’t feel bad but I’m going to score that one to me zero to you, seeing as you think we’re still having a pissing contest.”
Tritter laughed once and shook his head. “No I don’t, because that would suggest we were still playing a game that I won a long time ago.”
House was getting defensive now; he could hear it in his voice and feel it taking hold of his posture, he felt tense and jittery. He needed to stop with the insults before he started because he wouldn’t stop. There was so much bottled up within, he was scared if the cap ever came off it, he wouldn’t get it back on.
Tritter was just trying to get a rise out of him, that was all. It had fucked him over greatly the last time. It wasn’t going to happen again. He had the option to not let it happen.
“Can I go now?”
Tritter held his stare for a few moments, then he walked back toward his car. “Get that tail light sorted,” he shouted as he went.
“Yeah, good luck with that cough,” House said smartly.
Tritter smiled his self-important little smile one last time, but he got back into his car.
House got back into Cameron’s. Nothing was said for a moment, not even a movement, until Tritter’s car had passed and disappeared out of sight.
“You hear any of that conversation?” House said lowly, hands on the wheel, eyes fixed dead ahead on the road.
“All of it,” Cameron whispered, her voice sounded sore. House nodded and started the engine.
Nothing was said for a few more seconds, eventually Cameron turned and attempted to say something, but House cut her off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” his voice was calm but there was something in the back of his tone that said the conversation was over, “Ever.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
House put the car into gear, and drove them home in silence.
Author: snark-bait
Rating: Adult
Character/Paring: House/Cameron
Summary: House leaves prison after being convicted on drug offences, Cameron helps him readjust to his new life.
Spoilers: If you haven’t seen season 3 it's one big spoiler, but I'm going from 'Finding Judas' and just skipping very far ahead from there.
Chapter: 4
Beta'd by phineyj
Chapter four
House was humble enough to feel a pang of guilt when Cameron entered the visiting room. It was two weeks before a regular visit was due and it was the middle of the day in the middle of the week.
She looked exhausted, and he was suddenly aware of what effect these trips might be having on her life. She had a family now, a young child to consider as well as doing her job. The last thing she probably needed was to have to drive an hour out of her way so she could ferry him copied medical records.
“So, what’s going on?” she asked jadedly. House noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes and that her face had a pale quality to it, like she hadn’t been getting anywhere near enough sleep.
She sat down on the seat opposite him, opened the file and placed it directly in front of him.
“Preedy has a sick kid; he wanted me to look at her file,” House replied sheepishly.
“Yeah, I got that part. The part I didn’t get was why you agreed?”
“Does there need to be any reason other than my wanting to help people?” House challenged.
Cameron gave him a stern, ‘cut the bullshit’ look, and then folded her arms. It had always been such a defensive gesture when they’d been working together; now it seemed more out of frustration with him than anything else.
House had the good grace to look away, he found Preedy on the other side of the room, watching them anxiously. “It made more sense to say yes, than no,” he admitted. “Have you read it?”
“Yeah,” Cameron replied. “They only took her out of the self defense classes recently; it was probably just a little too physical for an eight year old. Seems she’s also been a little fatigued but not a lot else.”
Cameron shot an awkward look at Preedy. “You want a differential diagnosis? Physical abuse.”
“I already ruled that out,” House said, scanning the front two pages of the file.
“Before or after that guy kicked your ass?” Cameron said edgily.
“Apparently he can tell the difference between an eight year old child and a middle aged junkie,” he said, shooting her a quick look.
“It’s the most likely explanation for unexplained bruises,” she argued strongly.
“Perhaps, but have you completely ruled out blood clotting problems or a blood related disease?” House looked at the file. “Doesn’t look like illness or genetic condition has been ruled out either,” he added, shooting Preedy another quick look.
“Will you humor me so I can humor him?”
Cameron took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Fine, what are you thinking?”
“Thrombocytopenia,” House said simply. Cameron flipped a few pages over on the file and pointed to the lab results near the back.
“Platelet count isn’t low,” she noted.
“Did they do any clotting tests?” House asked. Cameron flicked through the file; eventually she shook her head.
“No, but platelets are normal, which rules out thrombocytopenia.”
“Bruises fit though,” House said, nodding at the picture that sat beside the labs.
“Bruises are bruises; they also kind of look like the ones you get when your dad has a bad day at work and comes home and decides to take out his frustration on you.”
House didn't agree that bruises were bruises; these were neatly circular, and strangely placed for deliberate injuries.
“How about Preedy takes his kid to that handy free clinic in Princeton, say, tomorrow and that nice lady doctor runs another platelet test?” House suggested boldly.
Cameron sat back in her seat and shook her head. “I’m not working in the clinic tomorrow.”
“But Cuddy loves it when people offer to help out for an hour; don’t tell me the clinic isn’t still short staffed?” House said hopefully. “And then you can observe what they’re like together.”
“House,” Cameron began, but when he whined a drawn out please she stopped whatever she was going to say. “All right, but if the test comes back the same, will you consider my theory?”
“Absolutely,” House said nodding solemnly, but he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. By the time the test came back negative (if it came back negative) he’d have formed some new ideas; at present nothing was jumping out at him so he didn’t have a lot to go on.
Cameron rubbed her eyes and then yawned into her hand.
“I’m sorry I’m bugging you about this, but there was no one else,” House said, sitting back in his seat.
“It’s okay,” Cameron said.
“So what’s going on with you?” House asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean how come sleeping and eating seem to have become lifestyle choices rather than daily requirements?”
“I’m fine, House,” she assured him, as if mildly irritated. “I don’t want to talk about it,’ she finished quietly.
This was frustrating: he was so far removed from everyone’s lives, he no longer had any influence, but not only that, because of his situation she never wanted to trouble him.
“Well if you don’t want to talk about it, I definitely want to talk about it,” House insisted.
Cameron folded her arms again, and this time it was an old school defensive thing; something was certainly going on.
“When you don’t want to talk about something, the conversation is over; why doesn’t that apply to other people?”
“Because when I stop talking, people find it kind of hard to keep the conversation going when I’ve completely tuned out started doing something else, or left the room.”
“So I should leave the room?” Cameron asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” House said. He wasn’t trying to piss her off, especially after doing him this favor. There was also the fact that he probably wouldn’t be having a conversation with anyone other than Preedy until the next time she visited, and conversations with Preedy were never very stimulating, because either he was annoying Preedy or Preedy was annoying him.
But then…he supposed he could also admit to himself there was the fact that he was feeling a little concerned as to why she looked like crap and wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. Cameron fixed him with a serious stare.
“If I tell you, you’re not allowed to freak out, and I don’t want you to blame yourself, because it’s not your fault,” Cameron said.
“Okay,” House replied cautiously, very sure he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.
“Jack found out that I’ve been coming here to visit and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“Found out?” House questioned.
“I never mentioned it to him until today; it’s none of his business,” she explained.
House nodded, “Well, sure it’s his business, you’re married to him, and you don’t do secrets, it’s never been your thing.”
She looked away from him; she was getting uncomfortable.
“Maybe you shouldn’t come for a while,” House suggested softly. “You look like you’re burnt out.”
“But I wanted to come, House; you’re a friend. You don’t just drop people out of your life because they make a mistake,” she said seriously. “He can’t get his head around that.”
“Forging prescriptions and getting busted for intent to supply is a bit more than one mistake,” House admitted. “I don’t blame him for getting mad.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, and if coming here is pissing your husband off, then you shouldn’t come here,” House said.
He was torn on the issue really. On the one hand, the guy was starting to come across like an out and out asshole, trying to dictate her life to her, but House certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any friction in her marriage. She’d moved on and had a family; he didn’t want to jeopardize that. He’d done enough damage to his own life.
“If I ask Preedy to go to the hospital tomorrow after lunch, would you re-do that test and let me know what you find?” House asked.
“Yeah,” Cameron said, and then she took hold of the file. “He told me to hand this to him when I leave, said he’ll give it to you later.”
House nodded; for now he needed to concentrate on what was making Preedy’s kid sick so he could get the guy off his back. But he made a mental note to come back to this conversation. As far as he was concerned, they were no way near done on the subject.
~
Present day
After Cameron had left for work, reluctant son dawdling behind her, House took the opportunity to grab the CDs he’d bought the day before from his room and listen to some music. He’d been tempted to start with some serious blues: Muddy Waters or Robert Johnson, but decided the nature of the music might drag him down. To kick off with he went with some Miles Davis instead.
He turned it up as loud as he figured he could get away with before the old couple that Cameron had mentioned lived on the end of her row called the cops. He sat in the centre of the sofa, closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of everything.
He’d decided long ago that not being able to have the simple little things that completed his life had been worse than not being able to ride his bike or sit at his piano. But, he didn’t want to dwell on what he hadn’t been able to have; instead, he wanted to focus on the feeling that he could have whatever he wanted now, and nothing could be taken away from him again.
By the end of the CD he felt lighter than he had in months (years) and he went for a shower, daring to go for some blues while he got ready. He could only just make out the music from the bathroom, but he left it on anyway. When he got into the shower the head came to the top of his chest; even after pushing it up as far as it would go he still had to hunch a little to get his head under the water. Definitely no male influence around when Cameron had been decorating the bathroom, House decided.
There was an assortment of girly bottles lining the small shelf in the shower. He didn’t really want to have a meeting with his lawyer smelling of peach apple blossom or whatever the hell it was, so he decided to use what must be Daniel’s ‘no tears’ shampoo and soap.
When he was done he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing his hand over the moisture that had fogged it over. He studied himself and considered shaving the beard off, stroking a hand across his face threateningly before deciding to give it a reprieve from extinction; he just took off the excess that was starting to creep down his neck, and left the bottom half of his face as it was. He decided he looked less like himself this way, and he preferred it for now.
He’d bought a reasonable looking dark blue shirt the day before; he coupled it with the smarter looking pair of jeans and decided to tackle the great outdoors before he lost his nerve. He grabbed his cane as he left the bedroom, took the key Cameron had left on the coffee table for him and left the house.
~
Getting used to using his cane again was strange; it didn’t feel very comfortable, and pretty soon his shoulder was outraged that it was suddenly involved with supporting the weight on his right side. He couldn’t win either way really. His leg wouldn’t be able to handle too much walking minus the cane, and his shoulder was screwed if he used it. He went with the lesser physical pain and carried on using it.
Getting someone to see him at the financial services section at the bank was taking forever because the woman before House was arguing with everything that came out of the advisor’s mouth. The advisor didn’t look a day over eighteen. It was taking every bit of determination House had not to get up and leave; he didn’t want to miss the meeting with his lawyer, but he needed to get his accounts in order. Being without a cashflow was leaving him almost as helpless as he’d been in prison.
Mouth on legs began trawling through her purse, tipping most of it onto the desk while looking for some form of ID. For some reason House noticed her car keys; there was a very noticeable BMW key tag attached to the clump. He’d noticed a beamer parked around the corner, chanced maybe she owned that one, and saw an opportunity to speed things along; he got out of his seat and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” House said politely. “I’m not sure if you heard what that gentleman over there just said,” and he pointed at the first person who looked like he worked for the bank. “You don’t have a BMW, do you? Because there is a traffic cop about to have one towed for illegal parking outside.”
The woman’s eyes widened in terror, (my god she’d have to walk somewhere) then she moved to outrage and muttered something about having paid the meter under her breath. House and the kid exchanged an eyebrow raise as she wiped everything back into her purse and got up.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she threatened, before heading outside with the determined menace of a great white shark that had just smelt drops of blood in the ocean.
~
By the time the kid in the bank had got his accounts and credit cards sorted out (they were going to take three to five working days to arrive in the post) it was almost lunchtime and House was feeling vexed and shamed in equal amounts. He’d had to explain why his accounts had been untouched for so long; he’d already decided he wasn’t lying to people about what had happened, it would take too much energy and he couldn’t be bothered.
The kid hadn’t really batted an eyelid though; he’d just listened, tapped his keyboard and done his job, something House was very grateful for. He’d even volunteered a good natured ‘good luck’ as House had got up to leave.
When House left the bank, via some evil laser beams from BMW lady, he was feeling ready to just head back to Cameron’s, but a visit to his lawyer was next on the agenda. He also needed to go to the realtor’s to pick up property brochures and then get some local papers to scan through the job section; going back to the hospital wasn’t a done deal yet.
He walked toward an area of legal buildings and offices in Princeton centre and literally bumped into Robert Chase; as he turned a corner they slammed into each other accidentally. Chase opened his mouth; House wasn’t sure whether he was about to apologize or shout, but by the time he realized who he’d bumped into, any pre-emptive words fell away.
‘House?” Chase said, he tilted his head then a grin spread across his face. Chase leaned in and patted the side of his arm once. House followed the hand with his eyes as it made contact with him, then retreated.
House observed the pretty blonde girl beside Chase and then smiled at him; “I see you’re into girls now, huh?” he played some mock puzzlement into his expression and looked between Chase and the girl. Chase smiled without showing his teeth, before turning to his companion.
“Shall I meet you in there in a few minutes?” He said politely; she nodded, gave House a strange look and then carried on without him.
“Well, you haven’t changed a bit,” Chase said with good humor as he watched her go.
House observed the girl and then looked back at him. “Neither have you by the looks of it, did she buy any of your adventure stories?”
“All of them,” Chase replied confidently. House nodded, not really sure what to say next. How have you been? How’s tricks? Nothing seemed to cut it. His mind drifted, briefly, to an almost blank piece of paper nestled in with his things back at Cameron’s place. A piece of paper that probably should have contained this man’s name.
“So, how long have you been out?” He asked.
“Yesterday,” House replied uncomfortably, the enquiry seemed obscure to him. ‘How long have you been out?’ was something you’d hear in a film, or a TV show. He didn’t like the way it sounded when it was being applied to his life.
Chase observed him for a few moments then looked away, nodding to himself. It seemed the younger man didn’t really know what to say either.
“Well, you should probably catch up with your hot date, don’t want her to start working out the logical impossibilities in your shark stories.”
Chase smiled again. “It’s good to see you,” he said, honestly. House didn’t say anything. He nodded once then went to move past him.
“House,” Chase said quickly, before House could get far, he turned and observed him again.
“I’m sorry, about what happened,” he offered. It seemed genuine enough.
“Thanks,” was all House could say before he walked away, wondering as he did, why he hadn’t been able to repeat the simple words back.
~
The potential job situation was dire. There was no way House was getting a teaching or lecturing position, not in Princeton. No prior history of lecturing and the wrong kind of priors on his record; he figured no college would take a second look at him, if his reputation hadn’t already preceded him.
His former expertise in diagnostics didn’t mean squat now he had a weighty criminal record.
He hadn’t read anything at the time, but he suspected his case made the local news: disgraced doctor formerly of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital doing time for drug offences. If his name meant something to people it wouldn’t be for anything that could help him.
Whatever Cuddy could offer was probably his only shot at working a position remotely connected to medicine. It sucked but his alternatives sucked worse. At least he knew her; going back to work was going to be hard to adjust to, it was a minor consolation that he knew what to expect from her, and she knew what to expect from him.
It would mean dealing with plenty of people who knew who he was and what he had done. It meant working a much lesser position, whatever it was. It wasn’t that he was being ungrateful, he was grateful she was giving him the chance but it was going to be hard, being around doctors but not being one.
And of course on top of everything else, there was the potential of seeing Wilson. That was going to be the hardest thing of all.
He’d managed to sort out a few things with his lawyer. He’d been holding some documents for House and the key to the lock up containing his stuff. He’d managed to get a restrictive driving license sorted out too, just until he got it restored completely. He was able to drive if he was looking for work, and then drive to and from his job when he got one. It was better than nothing House supposed, and temporary, with any luck.
After he’d left his lawyer’s office he’d gone to a coffee shop with a few property guides to look for places; he’d have to rent for the time being, but the money he had from the sale of his townhouse would cover the cost. It all seemed like a painfully slow, disjointed process but it was starting to feel like maybe the pieces of his life would click back together one day after all.
~
Cameron was already home when he arrived back; House propped his cane up by the door, took off the dark winter jacket he’d bought on the way home and rubbed his shoulder. He felt exhausted. He needed to get a car as soon as possible; he really wasn’t into the idea of using public transport when he went looking for places to rent.
He tried to console himself with today being a success of sorts. He’d sat in the park for half an hour on the way back, just enjoying the open space and the fresh air, turning various things over in his mind and wondering why everything seemed so hard and out of reach.
Cameron was on her cell phone when he walked into the living room; she waved once to acknowledge him, and then quickly left the room, talking heatedly to someone as she went.
“You do it every time, that’s why I’m annoyed,” he heard her say before she left.
Daniel was sprawled on the sofa watching cartoons. House went and sat down in the chair opposite him and massaged his leg. He sunk into the chair a little then noticed Daniel was watching him.
“How was your day?” House asked, tiredly.
“Boring,” Daniel said kicking the armrest of the sofa. “What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Sports injury,” House said. Trying to explain a myocardial infarction to a child of four was not something he felt he had the energy for.
“How long are you staying for?”
“About a week, probably,” House said, wondering who Cameron was talking to, hoping it was Jack, and hoping she was filling him in.
She reappeared a few minutes later, trying to look calm, but someone had definitely ruffled her feathers.
“Are you okay?” House enquired. Cameron leaned over the sofa and covered Daniel’s ears with her hands, “Jack is a complete ass,” Daniel squirmed away from her and looked up, “Other than that I’m fine.”
~
When Daniel had gone to bed, they sat on the sofa drinking beer; somehow House had managed to get General Hospital on without Cameron changing channel.
“I haven’t seen this show for years, but five minutes in I can work out everything I’ve missed,” House noted.
“It’s so bad, although the mispronounced medical terminology is hilarious,” she replied.
House tried to hand her the remote but she didn’t take it.
“I don’t mind watching it,” she said, taking a sip of her beer. House suspected she wasn’t much of a beer drinker, and had probably just got some in for him. She still seemed preoccupied and flustered.
“So, why is Jack an ass?” House said.
“Tonight or generally?”
“Let’s start with tonight,” House said, easing forward and placing the remote on the table in front of him.
“He was supposed to be picking Dan up first thing tomorrow so he could take him to school for me,” she said. “He normally picks him up from preschool - well school now - but he picks him up on a Friday and brings him back on Sunday. I have to be in early tomorrow, so he said he’d take him to help me out.”
“And he’s let you down?” House queried.
“He said he can pick Dan up after school as usual, but he can’t come by first thing, because he’s too busy. I’m just annoyed that he leaves it until the last minute so I have to re-arrange everything on a moment’s notice.”
“I could take him to school?” House suggested. “Admittedly my calendar is pretty full tomorrow, but I’m sure I can squeeze it in.”
“You don’t have a car,” Cameron said.
“No, but you do. If you have to be in early I could drop you off and then him. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow anyway, I’d rather pick you up after my meeting with Cuddy than tackle public transport again.”
Cameron thought about it, but didn’t respond. House sensed what was going through her mind.
“Ex junkie and child of four, sorry, forget I said anything,” House said, looking away from her and watching the TV again.
“It’s not that; I trust you, House,” she said earnestly.
“And that’s your problem, you trust everybody. This guy says he’ll help you out but he let’s you down, yet you still expect he’ll come through the next time.”
“Well, what would you do?” Cameron asked.
“I’d get the kid up and ready at six, take him round there and make him do what he said he’d do.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to Dan,” Cameron said.
“No, it wouldn’t,” House agreed. “Are you worried what Jack would think if I drop him off?”
“No, not at all; he’s let me down now so he doesn’t have a say in the matter,” Cameron said hotly.
“If you’re uncomfortable about the idea, it’s fine.”
“I’m not uncomfortable about it, House,” Cameron said dismissively. “It would really help me out actually.”
She sat up and faced him. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah,” House replied. “I think even I can handle a four year old for thirty minutes.”
Cameron sat back in her seat. “Seeing as Dan is staying with Jack this weekend, I was thinking maybe you’d like to do something?”
“Like catch up on all the girls gone wild DVDs I’ve missed since I’ve been banged up: you’re like a mind reader,” House said thoughtfully.
“Or get tickets for ‘The blue note’: it’s a jazz bar downtown,” Cameron suggested.
“You like jazz?” House said, disbelievingly.
“Not really, but you do.”
“I also like to watch adult entertainment movies where nineteen year olds soap each other with foam,” House offered.
Cameron shot him a distasteful look and he smiled, her idea couldn’t hurt, he supposed. “All right.”
A few hours later they were both slumped down on the sofa. Cameron seemed a little tipsy, so House got away with propping his feet up on her coffee table, probably because he let her get away with resting her head against his shoulder as they watched TV.
~
House met Cameron’s concerned stare when he pulled up at some traffic the next morning; he guessed it had something to do with his slightly jumpy reintroduction to the art of driving.
“It’s like riding a bike,” he assured her. “Don’t look so concerned.”
“I’m not concerned?” she said defensively. He gave her a ‘yeah right’ look, checked the mirror then pulled away.
“Okay, I’m a bit concerned, only because you need to put your foot down so we don’t get rear ended.”
She’d been pissy most of the morning. House suspected she had a bit of a hangover, even though she’d only had half the amount of beer he’d had.
“Mommy’s moody when she has a hangover huh?” House said, under his breath.
“What’s a hangover?” Daniel enquired.
“It means mommy’s a bit tired,” Cameron said quickly, “I’d really prefer that particular phrase didn’t get repeated to Jack,” she chastised him quietly.
“Sorry,” House said, smiling.
By the time they’d reached the hospital he had the driving thing down, riding a bike was next; he definitely missed the freedom of cutting in and out of traffic when it was busy. He was hit by a sudden wave of apprehension as they pulled up at the hospital.
And he knew exactly what was making him nervous.
“It’s probably too early to drop him off,” Cameron said, “Want to come in and get some breakfast first?”
House looked toward the building entrance, and then shook his head. “We’ll get something on the way, you like pancakes Dan?”
“Sure,” Daniel replied.
“Whatever you do, just don’t give him too much sugar before school,” Cameron warned him.
“No sugar, right” House replied, only half listening, as he scanned the parking lot for Wilson’s car, not that he knew what Wilson’s car looked like these days.
“Seriously, too much sugar, he becomes frightening,” Cameron reiterated.
House nodded and glanced back at her. “Right, no sugar, I got it, it’s a four year old, how hard can it be? Feed him; get him to school on time. No problem.”
Cameron didn’t appear to be entirely happy with his reassurance. House sighed and looked at Daniel in the mirror.
“Tell mommy she’s going to be late for work if she sticks around complaining,” House said.
“Go to work mommy,” he shouted at her.
She unbuckled her belt, leaned over the seat and kissed Daniel on the head. “Don’t gang up on me,” she told him. “I’ll see you back here at six?” she then said to House.
“You will,” he agreed. Cameron got out of the car and House looked at Daniel in the mirror again.
“So what happens when you eat too much sugar?” he asked. Daniel shrugged his shoulders and found an innocent, ‘I have no idea’ face.
~
Twenty minutes later inside a small restaurant, Daniel was running up and down the aisle like a maniac. House was convinced anyone who was watching would consider maybe the child had some sort of attention deficit disorder.
Maybe ice-cream and maple syrup had been a little bit excessive.
“Hey Daniel,” House shouted. Daniel spun around and threw a rolled up napkin at him, but it missed.
Okay, House decided, the sugar thing had been a valid warning he’d neglected to heed, that would not happen again. He got up slowly, cornered and grabbed Danny then guided him back to their table. He’d been responsible for him for all of twenty minutes and Daniel was now a completely different child.
“Party time is over, you need to calm down before you go to school,” House said in as stern a voice he could find.
“I’ve never been for breakfast here before,” Daniel informed him happily.
“Okay, well you need to behave or they won’t let you come again, all right?”
Daniel nodded. House started to finish his breakfast. When he looked up he found a waitress staring with concern at them, he looked back at Daniel, who was squirting his juice into a plant pot; he leaned over and turned him around.
“That’s not behaving, is it?”
“I was watering the plant,” Daniel replied earnestly.
“Plants don’t need blackcurrant, they’re cool with water.” House flashed the waitress a quick, embarrassed smile. “If you want to wreak havoc, you need to be a little bit more inconspicuous.”
“What’s incon…what’s that?” Daniel asked.
“It means do silly things when people aren’t watching you, then deny all knowledge.”
Daniel frowned and placed his juice down, he watched the waitress for a few moments, and then turned around to do it again when she’d turned her back. House had to laugh at the kid’s audacity.
“But not when you’ve already been caught,” he said, leaning over to take the juice from the boy. Deciding he wasn’t a little carbon copy of Cameron after all.
“Don’t tell your mom I gave you maple syrup and ice cream,” he said, then cringed when Cameron’s ‘he tells me everything’ speech popped into his mind.
~
House had delivered the hyperactive minor to school on time and then returned to Cameron’s place. He’d decided to spend an hour on the playstation then do something productive, like go to the lock up where his stuff was or go and extend his wardrobe, seeing as he only had two outfits.
What actually happened was he became entirely absorbed in the game he’d been playing a few days earlier, and spent most of the day trying to complete it.
When the time neared four, he blinked at the clock and figured he’d better get his butt to the hospital or he wouldn’t have time to see Cuddy.
~
When House arrived in the lot for the second time that day, he sat in the car for a moment and tried to psych himself up. He had no idea how he was going to feel about returning to the hospital, but he did know he couldn’t face Wilson yet.
He scanned the reception area nervously when he entered the building; the probability of Wilson being there just after lunch was low, probably, but the odds didn’t comfort him, didn’t help ease the apprehensive, queasy feeling out of his stomach.
He wanted to deal with things one step at a time. Today he’d deal with the job; he wanted time to build up to dealing with the Wilson thing.
The clinic was still where he’d left it five years previously, unfortunately. At least whatever job Cuddy offered him it wouldn’t involve clinic hours. That was a small relief.
A nurse House vaguely recognized was on reception in the clinic; she was called Belinda or Brenda? Something like that, he couldn’t quite remember. She looked utterly gobsmacked to see him and didn’t bother to conceal it. He ignored her and headed straight for Cuddy’s office. He looked down at the boyish looking secretary sitting outside it, who, at a guess was in his mid twenties. He looked up and smiled politely at House.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?”
“I don’t need one,” House said gruffly, glancing in at Cuddy; she was sitting behind her desk, speaking to someone on the phone.
“You know, I used to work here,” House said carefully, eyes still on Cuddy. “The sexual harassment got to me eventually,” House looked back at him, and was happy to find an uneasy look on the kid’s face, “Hopefully you’re a stronger man than I,” he finished solemnly, before entering the office.
Cuddy looked up, and was definitely surprised to see him; he found a half smile and came in until he was standing in front of the desk. He glanced around the office, the desk was still placed just in front of the big bay window; the décor had changed a little, lighter colors, plusher looking sofas but not much else.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” Cuddy said into the phone. “Thank you, goodbye.”
“House?” Cuddy said strongly. “Which part of ‘call and make an appointment’ didn’t you get?” she said glibly.
“You busy?” House said, tapping his cane against her carpet.
She shook her head before standing up and motioned to the seat in front of her desk. “I was; guess I’m not anymore.”
She picked up her phone again and tapped one number, “Nathan, could you hold all of my calls, thanks.”
“Nathan,” House said lightly. “Does Nathan look as good in a thong as you were hoping?”
She sat back down. “Could we have the serious discussion about your future before we start bitching at one another?”
“I suppose we could,” House replied, taking a seat.
Bitching was helping him stay in the room; he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. He definitely wasn’t comfortable about being in the hospital again. And he hadn’t called so Wilson couldn’t have been forewarned of his arrival.
But they needed to get this out of the way.
~
Cuddy had gone through the vacancy database three times and the only thing that House would even consider was research. Cuddy agreed it was probably the best option for now, while he got back into everything. He wouldn’t be eligible to apply for his medical license again; it was something he thought he’d dealt with years back, when survival had become a higher priority than such trivialities. He guessed the finality of it had never really hit him. He was starting to feel it now, back in this place.
House was sitting forward in his seat, turning a paperweight disguised as a snow shaker around in his hand. Cuddy was talking but his attention was on the fake snow floating around inside the glass.
“At least in research you can work on your own projects, you won’t have to answer to anyone,” she frowned, “Well, except for me.”
He nodded, absently chewing the side of his mouth. He wondered how long he’d be able to handle working in a research lab before he got bored to tears. Boredom was a dangerous, destructive thing in him.
“You can be independent and innovative in this field too,” Cuddy said optimistically. “I thought you liked to play mad scientist?”
House looked across at her, “Research is fine, as long as you’re willing to give me the position?”
“Of course, it’s yours if you want it. I’m sure in time other posts will open up. I’m convinced there would be interest in a lecture, if you wanted to put something together.”
House snorted. “Yeah, campus kids could come ask me what prison life is like; I think I’ll pass on that one.”
Cuddy leaned forward and gently took the snow shaker out of his hand, “You’ve got to start somewhere, right?”
~
House tried to appear optimistic when Cameron arrived. He was pleased he’d ventured in and out of the hospital and managed to avoid Wilson completely. He’d have felt quite proud of that feat, had Cameron not then informed him that Wilson wasn’t in today.
“At least you’ll be able to do your own thing, and there has been some really interesting brain injury research coming out of the labs recently,” Cameron said.
“You don’t have to humor me, Cuddy isn’t hiding in the back seat,” House said.
“I’m not humoring you, House, I think it’s a really big step for you.” She seemed to realize how condescending that sounded and tried again. “I’m happy for you, and it’ll be great to have you back at the hospital. I know I’ll be looking for you whenever we have a difficult case,” she offered.
“Yeah, I should come back just so you can bug me every five minutes, can’t wait,” he replied, but he made sure it sounded light. She was right, it was good for him to be going back. It was just going to be hard to get used to at first.
House was driving with a little more confidence than he had been that morning, but he was still glued to the speed limit; he couldn’t risk anything or he’d have the license revoked. So he was more than a little surprised when they were about ten minutes away from the hospital, to see two lights blink into life behind them, and then a siren started wailing out. Cameron looked to see what speed he was doing, then back at the police car.
“You’re not speeding?” she said, perplexed.
“I know,” House replied.
House pulled over and looked into the mirror again, his heart started to pound violently when he got a better look at who was now climbing out of the cruiser. Soon enough Cameron had realized who it was too and was staring worriedly at House.
“Whatever happens, stay out of this,” House said seriously.
Cameron shot a nervous look at Detective Michael Tritter as he descended on the car, “House, don’t do anything stupid,” she warned.
“I’m not going to do anything,” he assured her, as he unbuckled his safety belt.
Tritter let out a chesty cough, and then tapped on the driver’s side window.
“Step out of the vehicle please, sir,” he said calmly, then he stepped back a few paces and placed his hands on his hips. House did what was asked, even though his stomach had twisted itself into a nauseating loop. He couldn’t tell if Tritter seemed surprised to see him, or if he’d spotted House somewhere nearer the hospital and simply followed.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Tritter said, with a smile.
“I wasn’t speeding,” House replied coolly, looking away from Tritter because that saccharine smile was making him feel sick.
Tritter wandered toward the back of the car and pointed his pen at the bumper, “Back brake light is out, this your vehicle?”
“No.”
Tritter cleared his throat noisily, returned to the side of the car and then coughed for a second time. “Is it hers?” Tritter said, nodding at Cameron.
“Yes,” House replied. Wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve this.
“License and registration, please.” House stared at him for a few moments, then slowly reached into his jacket pocket and found his license. Cameron leaned over and handed him the registration. House took one step toward him and handed him the papers, eyeing the ground as he did so.
Tritter scanned his license then observed him, “This is a restrictive license, says you can drive to and from work and when looking for employment.”
“I’ve just been to a job interview,” House said, desperately trying to keep his voice low and non-confrontational.
“Where?”
“Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital,” he replied quietly.
“Can anyone corroborate that?” Tritter said, the careful endless calm in his words unsettling him.
“Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine. I’m sure you remember her.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll be able to find her number,” Tritter said, placing his pen and pad into his jacket pocket then stepping forward so he could hand House the documents back. As he did Tritter narrowed his eyes and purposefully looked House in his.
“You know, maybe it’s the light out here, but your pupils look dilated to me,” he said steadily.
House couldn’t help it, he shot Cameron a quick worried look, and everything about the look she returned pleaded with him to stay calm.
House could feel an intense anger bubble up inside of him, but he knew if he did or said anything aggressive to a police officer, he’d be back inside before he could say ‘Go fuck yourself pig’.
“Please turn around, face the car and place your hands on your head,” Tritter said politely, shifting his position then covering his mouth and coughing again. House took a deep breath but did it straight away.
“So, you’re not currently working at the hospital?” Tritter asked.
“No,” House replied, then Tritter’s hands were on him, it made his skin crawl; his heart was working overtime as he tried hard to hold his tongue and his nerve. He wanted more than anything to shove the bastard's hands away from him as he patted him down.
“I’m surprised she wants an ex-junkie back in her hospital after what happened last time,” he leaned in close. “You holding?” Tritter said quietly, before slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.
“No,” House returned, almost inaudibly. “I’m clean.”
Tritter chuckled, “You know what? I think I believe you; doubt you’d be here if your piss tests had been flooded with opiates in prison.”
Tritter’s hand slipped underneath his jacket and House felt him pat his back pockets, “Does the name Philippe Marquez mean anything to you?” Tritter asked evenly, as if they were talking about an old mutual friend.
Every nerve in House’s body suddenly tensed, and his stomach did a back-flip; his mouth ran dry and he swallowed a few times to get the moisture back. He shot Tritter a quick look, out of disbelief perhaps, his head was starting to swim a little so he wasn’t sure.
House was trying to work out how Tritter knew about Marquez, while keeping himself composed in his current situation.
He willed himself to stare ahead again and forced out a “No.” His voice sounded tight.
“Really? Because I heard…”
“Don’t,” House said, cutting him off, it was something of a quiet plea but it was pointless.
“…that he was the guy that raped you in prison,” Tritter continued letting the words exit just by his ear, but they weren’t whispered. They were loud and deliberate and hit every mark Tritter had been going for.
House closed his eyes briefly and let his breath out through his nose. He’d never believed he was capable of hating this man more than he already did, but Tritter had just proved him wrong. When he opened his eyes he could see Cameron had shifted in her seat to turn and look at him. She was staring at him like the time he’d been shot, worried and ‘you’ll be all right’ dancing in her eyes, but not really sure if she believed her own inner mantra.
For a second House felt like the world had stopped; his blood was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t breathe.
He’d spent a long time feeling ashamed, humiliated and guilty about what had happened to him. He’d spent a lot of early hours and sleepless nights blaming this particular person for it too, and he wasn’t going to shoot a defensive joke to get himself out of admitting it had happened, because he suspected that was what Tritter wanted.
He decided then and there this son of a bitch wasn’t going to use that of all things against him now, because it was one of the few things in his life that really hadn’t been his fault.
“As sure as I am that made your day when you heard about it, I’m not getting what it has to do with a busted tail light,” House said, struggling to keep his voice calm and unruffled, feeling anything but inside.
Inside, fractured thoughts and uneasy memories were getting torn up in a turbulent storm of feeling, like Tritter had kicked up a dust cloud inside his soul in the hope that it might choke him.
“Oh, we both know that it has nothing to do with a busted tail light,” Tritter admitted, as he finished patting him down. When he was done he took a step back; House remained where he was, staring over the roof of the car. “I just wanted to know if you ever wondered how different life would be if you’d just apologized in your boss’s office?”
House turned to face him, and looked him in the eyes. Tritter tilted his head to the side and jerked one grey eyebrow upwards, as if to punctuate his question.
“No, I can live with the choices I’ve made, question is, can you? Because the yellow tinge on your fingers and that dry hacking cough tells me you didn’t quit smoking for very long.”
The conceited smile wavered on Tritter’s face.
“I quit opiates in prison, yet you’re still smoking,” House dropped his arms to his side. “Don’t feel bad but I’m going to score that one to me zero to you, seeing as you think we’re still having a pissing contest.”
Tritter laughed once and shook his head. “No I don’t, because that would suggest we were still playing a game that I won a long time ago.”
House was getting defensive now; he could hear it in his voice and feel it taking hold of his posture, he felt tense and jittery. He needed to stop with the insults before he started because he wouldn’t stop. There was so much bottled up within, he was scared if the cap ever came off it, he wouldn’t get it back on.
Tritter was just trying to get a rise out of him, that was all. It had fucked him over greatly the last time. It wasn’t going to happen again. He had the option to not let it happen.
“Can I go now?”
Tritter held his stare for a few moments, then he walked back toward his car. “Get that tail light sorted,” he shouted as he went.
“Yeah, good luck with that cough,” House said smartly.
Tritter smiled his self-important little smile one last time, but he got back into his car.
House got back into Cameron’s. Nothing was said for a moment, not even a movement, until Tritter’s car had passed and disappeared out of sight.
“You hear any of that conversation?” House said lowly, hands on the wheel, eyes fixed dead ahead on the road.
“All of it,” Cameron whispered, her voice sounded sore. House nodded and started the engine.
Nothing was said for a few more seconds, eventually Cameron turned and attempted to say something, but House cut her off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” his voice was calm but there was something in the back of his tone that said the conversation was over, “Ever.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
House put the car into gear, and drove them home in silence.