After a particularly stressful diagnosis the only thing that could give House a sense of control was playing piano. The keys were like an extension of himself and the precise quick movements of his fingers made up for his leg...at least while he was playing. As cynical as he was and as tainted as the music industry was becoming the power of good music was one thing he could not deny. Then again the spectrum of good music was becoming thinner and thinner.
He sat in the men's restroom, iPod glued to his ears and fingers drumming as if there were really ivory keys beneath his fingers. He popped a Vicodin and let the combination of it and well played chords intoxicate him. His eyes rolled back and the seemingly unconnected symptoms evaporated out through his ears to be worried about another time.
Sleep was just a note away when a foolish man burst into the bathroom with a smile as though he was having a nice conversation seconds before. It disappeared instantly as he took in House's murderous look and he slipped away so quickly he nearly fell into the hallway. So, this was the end of happy time.
House groaned and pulled his earphones out. Nearly seconds later, though, his in-tuned ears found a sweet yet haunting sound. It assaulted him from every angle because its tune was pulling at untouched strings deep within him...not that he'd ever admit it. House got his ear as close as he could to the crack in the door and played out the melody on the handle. It had to be followed.
The quick patter ofa cane against the linoleum wasn't distracting its owner from the music he was following in such haste. It was like charging through the yellow tape at the end of a race when he finally pulled open the storage basement door and saw Cameron of all people producing the entrancing sound. Her lab coat lay on the ground behind her, the caramel colored violin cradled in her slightly flushed pink arm, dark hair swaying with every movement of the bow, and tiny beads of sweat working their way from her brow over her closed eye.
He had never seen Cameron this way. She was in a state of complete control and concentration. This was obviously when she was the most comfortable. No one was criticizing her or able to hurt her while she was playing. The small smile planted on her lips showed her self satisfaction and confidence.
As much as he wanted to say hidden the need to see her eyes was almost overwhelming enough to motivate him to snap her out of her reverie. The only resistance was to close his eyes and focus on the sound. The song had a sad rueful melody that escalated to an edgy fast paced climax. She just kept on playing and despite his ears and eyes protests his stiff leg told him he either needed to say something or leave soon.
It almost pained him but he managed to croak out "Violin! My 'perfect child' image of you is nearly complete. All you need now are girl scout badges and a tutu."
To his amazement it took her a full five seconds to acknowledge he was there. He had expected her to jump or drop something then be flustered, but she didn't. Though he had learned long ago to expect the unexpected when it came to Cameron. Her pause allowed a theory to bloom in his mind of her already imagining he was there listening to her. That she was proud to show him, and only him, her talents. He pushed it away almost too forcefully. He'd stumbled upon her accidentally and there was no way she could have planned he'd find her...Such thoughts were not allowed.
Finally the jolt of shock crossed her face, and a second later she went on the defensive. "What do you want?" She bit out as she lowered her violin.
"Oh you're taking requests? Hmmm...How about 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia?"
Venom dripped from her words "Funny, I thought his name was House?" He mocked a heart pain, but she humored him and played a quick chorus excerpt. That smug smile was soon becoming addicting. Why, why did she have to become so confident? "Are you going to tell me why you're here, annoying me, in the first place?"
"What? You think it's weird for me to follow hot young women into the dark basement of their place of work? Pssshh..." He waved his hand nonchalantly and got an eye roll in response. "Now are you going to explain your sudden musical talents to me?"
"I didn't know there was a place for instrumental info on the application." Great, more sarcasm. That would be a good thing if he was interested in exchanging barbs, but right now he wanted information. He raised his eyebrows and gave her his most seductive charming look. If he was going to get any info he was going to have to pull out the big guns.
Three seconds...Five seconds...Ten seconds...A gulp echoed from her throat in the silence, and as planned each of her defenses fell down one by one. She was too sweet to stay harsh for so long. "I've played since I was ten, but I stopped after..." Her husband's unspoken name hung in the air between them. "My niece needs me to help her practice and once you start again you just can't put the thing down."
"I know the feeling," he mumbled quietly. After his leg he'd stopped playing for months. He wasn't sure why he didn't want her to hear the admission. He already knew the whole staff knew he played piano, but it seemed as if letting her know he'd quit at something, even for a short time, would be a sign of weakness. Luckily she hadn't heard.
"My neighbors don't like it when I practice and this room seemed sufficient. With the echo I can hear what I'm doing." House nodded and walked up to her makeshift music stand. He marveled at how much fuller each piece would sound with something accompanying it. He moved his fingers across his cane thinking what notes would enhance her music. If he had thought she was brilliant before it was nothing to what it would be like with a piano in the background. With himself playing in the background.
House almost smashed this idea like all the other half-way optimistic ones he'd ever had concerning Cameron, but the prospect of having that music in his own home was giving him chills. To hear those haunting chords reverberating off his own walls would be greater than any iPod track or piece he could play alone.
The whole time his gears were spinning in overdrive, Cameron stood there somewhat awkwardly rubbing a cloth across her strings. One last glance at her and the decision was made. "My place at six 'o' clock. Bring everything you need to play."
He left quickly before she could deny the command or he could reconsider it, leaving her with shocked and somewhat satisfied expression on her face.