A/N: I seem to be including a lot of these. Anyway, to Redneck 626 and wordweaver93... thank you for the ego boost and the motivation to get off my ass and update. I ask what few readers I have to a) please review, and b) I see a lot of people mentioning the FOX forums... who/what/where/when/why/how? (mostly where and how) and c) what if anything are you listening to right now? (See that? That's subtle, masterful manipulation in order to get you to review. It's all part of my dastardly plan.. mwahahaha)
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When Gregory House, M.D. sauntered, as best he could, into Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital at exactly 9:52 a.m., on a particularly rainy April morning, he had no idea that this day will be remembered as the day that changed his life.
It started out ordinarily enough. As soon as he stepped in, he was accosted and shepherded into the clinic by Cuddy. She seemed to be smirking extra-widely, as if his early entrance had suddenly put her in a good mood. God, he could see the fangs. And before his first cup of coffee! He promptly fixed the situation by sneaking out five minutes later. She'd come hound him after lunch anyway.
He walked into his glass domain, dropped his backpack onto his desk, and made his way to the coffee maker. He poured himself a cup and sipped. Ah... a contented sigh came out before he could stop it. Cameron had stopped by.
"Good coffee?" Came the question from the now-blond head of the ER standing in the doorway. A tired looking Allison Cameron plunked into her usual chair and let her hair out.
"Miss me, Cameron?" Came the usual reply. It was routine, this part of the conversation. The bantering.
Cameron didn't need House to acknowledge the coffee and thank her; the look on his face when he swallowed was all she needed. This was routine, too. He would thank her, in his own way. Entertain her, keep her mind off of the ruptured carotid of an assault victim, the self-staplers, and the tens of homeless dying of pneumonia she had spent all night on.
She would spar with him, give him a chance to flex his verbal muscles and momentarily shed the facade of Dr. House, big bad diagnostician.. and be House.
Both of them had changed.. and not. But she considered them close in a way that none of his other fellows, or Cuddy were with him. Maybe Wilson. They shared a rich four years in each other's company. She as his subordinate, he as hers, (for a day) and just... as people.
They knew things about each other... Just as House was familiar with the existence of Allison, Cameron knew Greg was buried somewhere deep. That's why she showed up that first time, she supposed. She wanted proof that Allison still existed inside of all that Cameron, and she could only think of one person who saw her, even if it was briefly. She wanted that warm hand to firmly grip her shoulder again, metaphorically. Cameron needed to see House. To figure out what the hell happened. How she ended up with hooker hair and dark circles, became intimately familiar with fatigue, and how her life stopped showing a resemblance to... a life.
After the whole debacle with Chase she... needed something. Someone. A friend? It had been almost two weeks, and she had been in a funk. She snorted inwardly. It was sad enough that she was still deeply in love with him, but it was positively pathetic if she found herself longing for her daily dose of patended House-sarcasm.
"How many times are we gonna have this conversation?" She asked, bemused. He smirked. Allison Cameron, delivery of semi-hard backbone, confirmed. She had changed so much, he mused. She even started putting her feet up. Yet she was fundamentally the same. The feet always were on another chair. Ever since she came back (not blonde and taken) but really back, she and House... were... interacting? If that's how he wanted to see it. God, heaven forbid that the f-word ever be applied to them. He'd die of hyperglycemia. Or not, came another musing. He would have, in the old days. Now, she just left a not entirely unpleasant aftertaste. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
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He remembered the first... "visit".
She remembered the first time she came to the conference room... jonesing for a House fix.
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It was empty. Of course. It was before 10:00 AM, why the hell would House be here? She and his new fellows passed by each other near the elevators... they probably forgot Cuddy gave them the day off, and realized just now...
She smirked inwardly. She remembered those days. She remembered the pleasant exhaustion that seeped in after solving a case... seeing a patient walk out of the hospital. She remembered going out to celebrate on their rare days off from Cuddy.
They were also bored a lot... another smirk. She did paperwork, or sorted mail, or loaned herself out wherever while Foreman would read every piece of medical news he could get his hands on and Chase did his crossword.
She sighed.
Chase...
That was part of the reason she was on autopilot... taking the elevator to the fourth floor before realizing it. Out of habit and nostalgia, she walked over to the coffee maker, dumped out the pot and made a fresh one. She saw Wilson walk by and give her a surprised wave. She smiled back and walked out on to the hallway.
"What are you doing there?" Wilson asked.
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," she answered. Wilson was a nice guy, she liked him a lot. Years of snitching to him and asking him to run interference turned into a nice friendship.
Wilson grinned.
"Try me."
She smiled and shook her head. Might as well, she thought, as she entered his office with him following behind.
"Please", he said, extending a hand towards his couch. "Sit." She flopped down on the couch with a contented sigh. Smiling, he amended, "Or flop, as the case may be."
"So..." he took his place behind his desk. "This is about House, isn't it"
Cameron snorted delicately.
"My my my, Dr. Wilson, you don't waste any time, do you?" She said, consciously choosing those words. It soon became apparant that Wilson wasn't unaware of the double meaning. Laughing, he lowered his voice, and wiggled his eyebrows.
"That's what they all say, Dr. Cameron."
Cameron giggled, and shifted to tuck her feet underneath her. When Wilson couldn't take it anymore, he cracked.
"Seriously... what's wrong?"
"You must have heard already."
She sighed, rolling her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to show anything else... not to Wilson; unconsiously or otherwise.
Wilson grimaced in sympathy. The hospital rumor mill was occasionally amusing at best, and harsh and unforgiving at worst. Yeah, he had heard. Who hadn't? The "Chameron" break-up was as big news as the hook-up. That was all the entire nursing staff were talking about. Drs. Chase and Cameron broke up in the locker room near the ER last Saturday. There were multiple accounts, each getting more and more absurd.
"Yeah," he said, at a loss. Was she looking for comfort, is that why she's here? Is that why she came to House?
"So you visited the fourth floor because...", he chanced.
Cameron stiffened. She knew this was coming, damnit... she had come here seeking something. Took the elevator to the diagnostics wing as soon as her first official day off in what seemed like forever began. Made coffee, for God's sake. Suddenly, her peripheral vision caught House coming in to his office, not even sparing a glance in her direction. She visibly deflated. Wilson caught it, of course. Whatever she had come to ask or tell, it concerned House, not him. It didn't surprise him that she was tight-lipped around him, though. Cameron was a nice woman, and almost four years of joint interference had made them sort-of friends. He liked her, but he wasn't under the illusion that he was confidant-material where she was concerned. So, in usual Wilson style, he cleared his throat. Instead of politely changing the subject, or taking a pretend call, he decided to do what friends do. (Or sort-of friends, as the case may be.)
"Cameron." Her head snapped up, and she smiled sheepishly.
"Go on," he said, waving her on magnanimously.
She smiled and, to his surprise, came around to peck him on the cheek.
"Thanks, Wilson," she said, backing out. Wilson smiled at the swinging door and sighed inwardly. He would never understand their relationship... existent or otherwise. House and Cameron always had this underlying unresolved sexual tension... more so than Thirteen. Even Cuddy. Snort. That was something he should stop thinking about... he had work to do.
hchchc
She passed by the glass doors just as House limped into the conference room and made a beeline for the coffee maker. By the time she came into the doorway, he was reaching for his red mug.
hchchc
Bracing himself for the sludge Foreman called coffee, he took out his mug from the cabinet and started rooting around for the sugar. He was jonesing for a caffeine fix.. so much so that he had accepted drinking the sauce-like brew as his fate. He needed a jolt... days, weeks, months, years of insomnia left him....tired. So goddamn exhausted. All the fucking time. The time it took for the scotch-chased Vicodin to numb him, and the time he had to spend finding a comfortable position, combined with the 5 hour time-limit his leg came with, meant that he got only an average of three or four hours of sleep.
That's why... more than a caffeine fix, he needed a good case, House realized. He needed a good puzzle to distract him. To help shove the pain, the fatigue, and the weariness he now constantly seemed to carry around further into the recesses of his mind. Finally, he found the damn sugar. Emptying a few packets into his mug, he filled up. Thinner, he thought, and took a sip.
He almost choked in surprise, and a moment later, he figured out why. Mocha walnut. An old favorite. Cameron knew that. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his mouth. He happened to look up at a smirking Cameron hovering at the door. He motioned her in, and topped off his coffee.
"Miss me, Cameron? Want the job back?" He asked.
She snorted. Mm-hm. "You wish."
"Just checking. So... what's with the coffee? Consult? Particularly good case you've dragged in? Also..." He trailed off, and looked around him. "... where the hell is everyone?"
"At home," came the stunned reply.
"Seriously?"
"Were you there when Cuddy gave the department today off?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Were you not paying attention"
"When do I ever pay attention when the devil incarnate stalks into my office?"
"True.."
"Damn!"
"I'd say."
"No, I'm not on the clinic roster today.."
"Wow... actually, not. Cuddy probably did that on purpose."
"So... what are you doing here?"
"I just got off."
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