Don't own House MD; David Shore & Co. do.
But my first attempt at something like this.
*
He sat on his desk.
He started throwing the ball on the wall opposite him.
He started to think.
*
It was getting to him.
Or rather, she was getting to him.
But she wasn't even doing anything.
Besides, just, well, being herself.
And he couldn't take that.
He was the one harassing her.
He was the one constantly nagging her.
He was the one who kept showing up.
It was never the other way around.
Unless it involved work.
And he all broke it down: he wanted her back.
Was the ER really his second office? Wilson had noted that his third home was basically the ER.
Why? Wilson asked.
House shrugged.
She was still there, around the hospital, still a mystery to him.
Still beautiful to him.
Still 'saving the world'.
It was why he hired her; Mystery, Beauty, Determination.
He would never be able to figure her out.
That intrigued him. Probably always will.
He remembers the days when she abruptly quit.
Sink dirty, mail unsorted, horrible coffee.
He thought about what would have happened if he had stopped her.
If he had told her, "Don't leave."
It would be impossible to get her back on his team anyways.
He's asked her numerous times.
She's never actually said 'No,' to him.
She instead cracks about how she likes her job.
He was never joking.
He would stop and stare at her being when a quiet day ever occurred in the Emergency Room.
Blonde hair, slim figure, and ever close to perfect to him.
Even in those ugly scrubs.
Even without makeup.
Even with the hooker hair.
*
"You're girlfriends hair is bugging me, by the way."
Chase laughed, continuing his exploratory surgery.
"No, really. If your ever in bed with her, let it slip out that it makes her look like a hooker."
Chase looked at him.
" I mean, you don't want me to be doing naughty things to dearly beloved."
*
People say that she's changed ever since she left him.
He wanted to scream out that she's always had this quality in her; she was always vivacious, and demanding.
Only now did she probably realize that what she truly wanted would only occur if she mixed her constant respect with a tone of insistence.
Something he knew she tried to resist when she worked with him.
Something he has trained her to leash out.
He's proud of her.
His hatred towards her would come and go.
He never understood it. Wilson couldn't comprehend it.
He first hated that she dyed her hair.
Why did he even care?
Wilson said it was natural. Being under him for nearly four years made him feel overprotective; he was her fatherly figure.
Impossible, House wanted to argue. I kissed her.
Wilson knew that. He didn't need to be reminded.
*
"Why do you always complain about her hair? Lately, that's all you're telling me about when we talk about Allison."
"Cameron," House corrected.
"Right," Wilson grumbled.
"It's just – she looks like a hooker!"
"I like it," Wilson commented distractedly.
House squinted.
*
He hated that he always thought of her when he came across the word "woman."
As if her name should be the definition in Merriam Webster.
She had the brains. She wasn't the top of her class; but she was in the top.
Her high school transcript didn't even need to have had listed all those subjects.
A big, red 'A' should have just been stamped on it. Would've saved them some time and ink.
She had obviously worked hard.
She was one of the few who cared about him.
He refuses to even remind himself of who they are or who they were;
nevertheless, Cameron still does.
He always secretly thanks her with the little grudges of help she gives.
And her face. His mother had labeled it 'pretty'.
She didn't have to live under the harsh life that the medical field had to give.
She didn't have to live under the scrutiny that this hospital constantly put her under.
Her looks were far more attractive than she probably even thought; she could have used it to other good use.
And that was because she was timid. Not always, but no matter how hard she tries, he figures she'll forever carry that characteristic in her. Her self-consciousness always surprised him; was she really that naïve, or that unsure?
Her motherly nature always annoyed others.
If she worked for a public world organization, she would probably be famous for her kindly nature.
Her ID should read:
Dr. Allison Cameron, MD
Department Head of the Emergency Room
AKA Mother Theresa
But not in this hospital.
*
"Why does she always eat lunch with Chase?"
Wilson stares at him in disbelief.
House continues staring at a laughing Cameron and Chase in a distance.
*
The hair again.
The hair always got to him.
He decided that the hair was blinding him somehow; that its color, made him attracted to her.
-
He couldn't explain it.
So he stopped nagging her.
Stopped talking to her.
Stopped unanimously flirting with her.
For an entire month.
-
He was angry that she would appear out of thin air in his dreams.
He doesn't remember all, but he does remember her face.
Her face, smiling back at someone, someone he could never identify.
He was angry that she was who he decided to nag whenever he was bored, and not Cuddy anymore.
He was angry that she dyed her hair blonde. That it was always in a bun or a ponytail.
He missed her soft, brown curls.
He missed her clothes. In natural, human clothes, not the scrubs.
He hated that he didn't have a liable excuse to get close to her.
He missed the smell of her hair.
Her hair.
That dream.
It wasn't a someone.
He could have sworn that the toaster ding had played.
It was a something. A kangaroo.
He understood what his mind was trying to foretell for him.
*
He dropped his ball.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He left the room.
His team stopped in mid-sentence explaining their DDX.
*
He entered the Emergency Room; ready for the confrontation and ridicule he knew was to ensue if the urge inside him to yell would actually happen.
"Cameron!"
He didn't even know where she was, or what she was wearing, or what she was doing, but he knew that she was in the crowded room.
He could feel her presence.
He could sense her rose perfume.
Then he saw a head whip around to his direction; and he found her.
He smiled at her.
She smiled, a look of confusion on her face, walking to him slowly.
He looked at her; happiness overflowing inside him; wanting to hug her and run his hands on her hair;
Smell her hair. It's been too long.
He was about to open his mouth, but then he frowned.
Cameron knew that he knew at that moment.
He had examined her. Thoroughly.
He wasn't called the best doctor in this country for nothing.
He was upset.
But she didn't know why he looked upset.
Everyone she told was happy for her.
Why wasn't he?
He wanted to turn away, feeling helpless all of a sudden.
He instantly regretted ignoring what Wilson had said to him.
He would have noticed right away. Probably even before she knew herself.
"It's been nearly a month since you've talked to her.. You've been avoiding."
He hasn't realized it.
He wasn't trying to avoid her.
He was trying to sort out his thoughts.
He could have fixed what has long been meant to be fixed.
Fix what mistakes he has done.
Fix what could be the only happiness he has left.
After all, they were both damaged.
He snapped back into reality.
He didn't care about the humility anymore; If she was going to agree with his wishes, if she was going to deny him, but right now, he just wanted her to hear. And hoped for the best.
He knew she was going to tort something close to: "Wow, my lollipop jar was actually close to full lately. I thought you were on a lollipop diet," or, "A month of peace. I should have known that the ER would have to suffer for lost time."
But she wasn't going to.
She knew what he was debating about.
She looked from House and away, pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and tried to gain confidence to speak up.
He spoke before she could.
"Come back," he told her in a hoarse whisper, looking at the ground, and turned towards the doors.
She knitted her eyebrows.
"To what?" she called out to him.
He didn't stop limping away from the room. "House."
Her voice, insistent and sweet, her voice almost a tune to him.
He leaned against the wall and stopped.
He heard footsteps walk toward his way; towards the quiet hallway;
"I can't come back to work for you."
Her voice, guilty and pleading, and reassuring at the same time.
House nodded his head at her, face to face. "I know."
Cameron pursed her lips. "I don't know what you mean."
"I want to see you everyday for the rest of my life. Just come back to me."