We always look forward, sometimes not realizing we're walking backwards.
There's something to be said about the ocean. From her terrace outside of her hotel room, she stood, not sure what it was. Words were just words, so why even try to define it?
"Hey, sorry I'm late."
Robert Chase tiredly spilled his bags over the floor, not caring where they landed for now. All he cared about was standing outside next to where her head turned over her shoulder, watching him. Waiting for him. Or was he waiting for her?
"What happened?"
He shook his head and made his way to stand beside her, his back to the beautiful view of clear waters. Feeling his strength finally sapped, he turned his head slightly to look at her better. The white t-shirt hung carelessly about her upper body with her tan shorts completely perfect for her legs.
Allison Cameron reached carefully over to grab his hand and let the warmth of his fingers try to spill over into hers. From the look on his face, she knew he'd had a hard day, though his definition of a hard day might be different from hers. His dark blue button up shirt looked battered, his khaki pants were wrinkled, and even his tie, lying limply untied around his neck, hung tired.
"There was this boy, eight years old…attacked by a shark. I tried to save him but he was just too small and too much blood…."
"Hey," she said more strongly and lifted his chin to face her. "I know. There's only so much you can do."
He was suddenly glad they'd crossed that line so many months ago. And he was also glad she'd never said a word about House.
"You go to sleep right now and you won't be able to sleep tonight."
"Why do have to be such a woman!"
"Oh, for the obvious reason. Control top pantyhose."
"Funny," Gregory House smirked under the pillow covering his head. "Thought you would've said wearing Cuddy's clothes."
James Wilson shook his head and finished ironing his shirt for the next morning. Silently, he eyed his best friend's duffel bag which no doubt held wrinkled t-shirts, pants, and maybe a stray collared shirt.
"We have to be there at 9 sharp tomorrow."
"You make it sound like an incredible feat for me."
"Because it is, unless your superhero ego is going to surprise me."
"My superhero ego may surprise you, but since I'm straight, I'm warning you, it's not you, it's me."
"Since when did we resort to cheesy bathroom high school humor?"
"That wasn't high school humor. That was classic humor."
"Wait. Where…where…."
House begrudgingly pulled the pillow down over his chest as his curiosity over Wilson's stuttering became annoyance.
"What are you blathering about?"
"My…," he turned around to look into the closet. "My hairdryer isn't here. What did I...? House!"
"What?"
House knew he was in trouble once Wilson's hands reached his hips and his lips twisted in trying to find the words to say.
"Hi, I'm…" He paused a moment, wondering if 'Dr.' would make an impact. "Dr. James Wilson."
"Oh, well Dr. Wilson, can I help you?"
"Actually, I'm looking for a hair dryer since I have this important seminar about new ways to lie to cancer kids."
The blonde woman blinked a few times before opening her mouth and shutting it once again to show a confused smile.
"Well, Dr. Wilson, hair dryers are on aisle four at the back."
"The bald kids say thank you, much appreciation."
He limped towards the aisle, cursing Wilson with every step and deciding he'd get the most girly thing he could find as retribution for making him come out here to the department store. Then, the last person he thought he wanted to see, he saw.
Hesitating, he shifted his weight to his cane for a single breath. His first instinct was to turn around because he didn't care to see her. He hadn't suddenly realized he couldn't live without her. This had been his duckling for three years though, and just because she'd left, didn't mean he had to treat her decently now.
Caught between choosing the green shampoo and the red shampoo, she'd never heard the unmistakable sound of cane meeting linoleum. It was a sound so familiar, maybe it had burned into her memory for all days to come. And there it was, in the small of her back, cool and almost sharp.
"Take it easy or the shampoo gets it."
The first emotion to sear through her is surprise, followed by wariness, and finally acceptance. That voice was one that she'd never hoped to hear again, if she lied to herself at least.
She stood slowly, one colored shampoo in each hand and faced him. For some reason, she'd expected her heart to race. It didn't. She thought she'd feel something different. She didn't. It was…familiar, and that was it. They stood like that, staring at each other, trying to make note of any changes. There weren't any.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to ask you back, Cameron. Life has been hell without you."
It was something she would have fallen for three years ago without question. Her eyes would widen, her mouth would slightly fall open, and her voice wouldn't be able to find itself. But three years with him have made her wiser.
"I thought life was always hell for you. You should be comfortable at home."
There was a slight smile, though one he quickly wiped off. Did he really expect anything less from her? Then again, he didn't care.
"What are you really doing here in Florida?"
"Well, I am old. Old, crippled people come to Florida, don't they? Brought Wilson with me, since you know, we're going to be living together."
She shook her head and smiled slightly. This was the House she wouldn't miss at all. The deflective one you could never believe. Then again, she didn't care.
"Fine, okay. I'll quit asking."
There was something close to silence wrapping around them, and because each felt it, they looked for something to talk about. Old habits die hard.
"So, is this where your hunky Australian is working?"
"What? No, he's working at St. Sebastian's."
"I guess you're making good use out of the closets in the hospital."
"No, we're not. I don't start work until next Tuesday at Michaelson's."
He was slightly surprised that it had been three weeks and she wasn't working. He'd imagined her to be working like a horse to forget him, forget Princeton. Then again, this was the Cameron who needs damage. Maybe she was punishing herself.
"The red one's better. You'll be shampooing every day and that'll do the least damage to your hair."
The words reminded her that she'd been holding the two shampoos against her side. Looking down, part of her wanted to pick the green one just to show him that she didn't need him anymore. But no matter what, he was Dr. Gregory House, a genius idiot in more than one ways, but still smart.
"Thank you, House."
What an odd combination, she thought. In any case, she was staying here too late. And she had nothing to explain to the man who'd been running her life for so long.
"It was nice seeing you. You should really try and have a good, well, comfortable time here."
He listened to her footsteps fade before turning to look at the small selection of hair dryers, his plan of revenge not even memorable. What he did think of was, how much younger she looked. And while he wasn't sure it was possible, he was never wrong, and so he took it at that as he opened the lid on his vicodin bottle.
A/N: First off, sorry for any readers that I've been...reading...and not reviewing because I just barely have enough time to upload chaps. Anyways, I'm not sure about where I'm going with this story and yes, it's definitely HouseCam...eventually. So, review...or not. Maybe toss some ideas to me so I can update sooner. Anyways, thanks you awesome guys. :)