Disclaimer: Not mine!
Author's Note: This is my own version of Cameron's first meeting with House. I hope you'll like it... Thanks so much!
The Interview
It seemed to him that he had been yawning for a billion times on that beautiful morning. Dr. House, as he sat there on one of the couches in the waiting room at the hospital (when he was supposed to be working), looked at his watch and yawned even wider. It was only ten o'clock. The morning sun still rested on the clear clouds, morning dusks still playfully tingled his nose, and he never felt so bored before. He tried to think of past times, where he felt as bored as now; and, no, he couldn't think of one—or maybe, there was. It was the time when… He frowned a little and for a moment, his eyebrows lined into one. After a moment, though, he spoke to himself, "Nope. All patients in the clinic are dull. But maybe that one who needed rectum exam… Wait a minute! All of them need that." And with another yawn, Dr. House sealed the agreement he just made with himself: He had never been this bored.
So it wasn't a surprise when—with that much amount of boredom—his brain started to send signal to his heavy eyelids to shut completely and to let his unconscious mind to take over. The busy sounds around him started to dim; the sound of a woman crying for help from a doctor ("Anyone! Please! My son!") was becoming more and more inaudible. People scurrying in front of him slowly turned into what they really were: Insignificant murmuring shapes. As he tilted his head back, he glimpsed two stacks of coffee cups he had bought from the cafeteria earlier that morning. "So much for caffeine," he mumbled as he became more and more lost in nowhere land and peace was his at long last.
"Dr. House!!!"
He was thrown back to earth as a womanly frustrated voice shrieked out his name.
"Good Lord!" He let out his own shriek as he jumped on his chair to face the intruder, towering there before him: Who else but that Cuddy woman! To his surprise, though, the hospital administrator only chuckled and spoke sweetly, "Wow. Dr. House. I never thought you'd be the one to bellow religious exclamation."
"Well," answered House, "I don't have a choice, do I? I was dreaming about being attacked by this witch when you woke me up. And for a moment I thought, my dream's coming true at last." As the smile on Cuddy's face started fading, House began whimpering with annoying voice, just like a little child telling his mummy about the nightmare he just had. "And I didn't know what to do. See, I thought you were gonna eat me…"
"Stop…"
"So, I begged God to help me out. You know, send His angels to stomp you back to hell or whatever to make you vanish…"
"House…"
"But, I think He forgot to answer my call, as always. Didn't check his answering machine, either. Sounds like something I do, though…"
"Dr. House."
"You were naked in my dream. What?!" he harshly asked as his eyes met Cuddy's for the first time since she shouted his name.
"I'm the one who asks questions! House, what are you doing here?"
Not far from where they were arguing, some nurses in their station halted to watch the boss and her prodigal doctor. Some of them were giggling, as if saying, "Here we go again."
House was quick to find another—what he thought—witty answer, "Checking out the new nurse. I think she likes me."
Cuddy turned her head to the nurses' station and the giggling stopped as though an angel of death—or a witch, precisely—had cast the silence charm upon all of them. When she turned back, she looked more annoyed than before. "There's no new…," she paused before finishing the sentence, knowing very well that, once again, she had fallen into the trap House had set for her, fishing her out of the subject of the conversation; the real reason she confronted him. House, meanwhile, had, with effort, tried to hide the grin on his face, knowing he had succeeded; well, almost.
"You are not supposed to be here!" said Cuddy, half yelling.
"Hey, I work here!" retorted House.
"Not here, in the waiting room! You're supposed to be in the clinic! Or better, in your office, where, as you said yesterday, you would be in for the rest of the day! You know exactly that's the reason why I let you out of your clinic duty today!"
"And why would I be in my office for the rest of the day?"
"Because you are to interview people; doctors who eagerly craves to work for you. In your team!"
"Again, why would I be in my office for the rest of the day? Do you think I need to be reminded why people choose to be my subordinates and not other doctors' in this country? No. Wilson can do that."
"And so you can fire them when—oh, I don't know—a week later, you find out you hate them? Or maybe, so they can quit when a week later, they find out they hate you?"
"Exactly!"
At first, Cuddy seemed like she was about to explode. Yet, all she did was let out a sigh. House looked at her and, knowing exactly she would not leave him until he spoke something, he said coyly, "I did get here 3 hours before lunchtime. You should be proud of me. I know I am."
Cuddy sighed once more. And, it seemed to House, that was when she found the best solution for this problem, for when she finished talking afterwards, all he could do was staring revengefully at her. "Dr. House," Cuddy started, "you will stand up now and walk to your office. And you will interview those applicants. I don't care if Wilson's presence is necessary, but, fine! He's yours as long as you're willing to interview. And by the end of this day, I want a name on my desk. Or else,"
At that point, an elevator bell dinged as Cuddy's victory smile gave its way to a devilish smirk. "Or else, I will interview them myself. I will hire anyone I want. And I will make them sign a contract saying you're not allowed to fire him or her and both of you will be stuck together for the rest of your career in this hospital!
"And yes, I'm allowed to do that!" she moved on (although wasn't fully convinced she was allowed) before House has the chance to open his mouth. She waited a while for his protest, half expecting a rejoinder, even preparing herself for sexual metaphors. But the protest never came. It seemed like House had lost the will to rebuke back at his boss. Yet, in fact, he wasn't even listening to her. Not anymore. Not since the elevator some feets behind Cuddy opened its two doors automatically and, at the same time, allowing a certain woman to step out of it. And not just a woman—a pretty one.
Cuddy said something about contract and him not being able to fire anyone but he found himself not caring for her words, fixing his eyes to this young woman all the while. She wore what seemed to be a casual shirt, with a blazer on it and matching pants. Her long legs led her steps towards the nurses station where she kindly greeted a good morning. One of the nurses greeted back and for some time, they were exchanging nods and smiles, before the nurse told her something—giving her a direction, perhaps—and she started to walk away. Her long brunette hair covered most of her back when she headed to where she came from.
When House was back to his senses, Cuddy was still waiting for his answers. His response was sole murmurs, "I need to pee," without even looking at her. The young woman was already in front of the elevator, waiting silently for its door to open once again. A what-seemed-to-be-a-bad idea came to him instantly; making him careless and restless at the same time. Forgetting his cane—leaning comfortably on the coffee table beside him—House jumped out of his chair. An action that resulted painfully for him; he was instantly fell back to the couch with a cry of agony.
A swift movement from Cuddy let him know she was trying to help him. A look of concern was visible in her face before she followed the direction of his eyes and turned her head just in time to see the figure of the young woman before she disappeared behind the elevator's doors. House had a little chance to notice how her lovely face was white with anxiety and how she was pulling her fingers, as if waiting for something bad to happen.
When she turned her head back to House, Cuddy's look of concern had changed into disbelief. "You," she said, "forgot to grab your cane and found yourself in pain because you wanted to run after a chick?!"
"Well," House replied, still gazing at the elevator. He shrugged as he moved on, "She's beautiful."
--
Cuddy made sure he heard what she could do if he wouldn't interview the applicants himself once more ("The contract!") before finally leaving him. Alone.
And that was when Wilson picked the moment to page him. "Sweet," he muttered under his breath. "Just in time…" The urge to trick Cuddy and let Wilson interview the applicants alone surged inside him. "Why would I need a team anyway?" silently he asked himself. Having someone following his every order, like Chase, was already good—enough. He didn't need another person, who might want to contradict his actions, or worse: questioning his morality, for he knew 'his action' and 'morality' weren't two things to be put under the same genus. But as soon as the notion hit him, Cuddy's face mouthing, "I-choose-your-team," passed before his eyes. And suddenly, the desire to be under his own control surfaced inside, making him, for the first time that morning, leave his couch and, not forgetting the cane this time, walk towards the elevator the brunette girl had just used earlier.
A few minutes later, he found himself halting outside his office. The opened glass door, which bore his name, allowed some noises inside to be heard from where he stood now. Well, it was more like two people laughing rather than making noises, but it made House think, "This can't be good," nevertheless. He recognized one of them to be Wilson's and the other one happened to be some female's he hadn't met yet. Eager to rob the fun Wilson might be having with the woman, he stomped hurriedly into his office.
"So," just as he hoped for, the laughter stopped as soon as he shocked them with his daunting presence—and his exaggerated voice. From the corner of his eyes, he perceived that Wilson and the woman were sitting side by side in front of his desk. Ignoring the looks from two pairs of eyes (he could feel them on his temple), he walked to the other side of his desk to face his friend. And sitting there beside him, the young brunette girl.
There was a moment of pause before House could say something. And a "You!" was the first thing that came out of his lips.
Wilson looked from one to the other; from his friend then to the girl, as if asking, "You two know each other?" Or perhaps, "You actually have another friend?"
The girl seemed as shock as House, for her already pallid face turned suddenly whiter. And it was with a great effort when she finally got up from her chair. Stretching out her hand, she stuttered, "I—I believe we haven't met before. I'm Allison Cameron. Pleasure to meet you." Her next words came seconds after she could stop shivering, "Dr. House."
Another awkward moment passed inside the office. Silence seemed to hang above the two people standing facing each other; one of them stretching out her hand, the other standing very still. Looking back at him (she had to dig deep to search for the courage to do it), she found out that his eyes were sky blue. They, his eyes—it seemed to his new guest—were scrutinizing her, trying to find out if she was decent enough to be interviewed.
When he kept ignoring her stretched-out right hand, she knew it was a signal for her to sit down. She smiled at Wilson, who smiled back reassuringly. Still saying nothing, House, too, followed her moves and sat down on his own chair.
"So, House," said Wilson, finally bursting out the bubble of silence. "You might want to check out the CV first."
House looked at a piece of paper on his desk. 'Allison Cameron' and a small picture were stamped on the top of the page. "26 years old, Internship Mayo Clinic, bla-bla-bla," he thought to himself as he recklessly skimmed through it. He put back the CV and skimmed through the owner's face instead, though this time not recklessly.
"So," he said, eyeing the girl in front of him at the same time, "why do you want to be a doctor?"
"I," the voice answering back was gentle and calming. Sounds like the owner was afraid that if she turned up the volume a bit, it might hurt someone. "Because I want to help people."
A snort came out of the interviewer, then followed by a "Cut the crap!" When House looked at her, though (to see her reaction), he knew that she had meant her every word. "You serious!?" he asked, just to be sure.
"I do want to save people, healing their wounds. Figured doctors do that, so I went to med school."
"Actually, doctors treat diseases, not persons. Guess you're this big humanitarian. Why? You think you ought to care for all God's creations? Nurture His nature?"
"I… Don't believe in God."
House's respond was in his stares, now fixed blankly at his would-be employee. The eyes looking back at him were sea green; dark and beautiful at the same time. It was soothing on the surface, but once you were already inside it, you could drown in it.
Searching for another witty question to give—while trying to avoid the eyes as well—, he asked her instead, "You were lost?"
"Yes. How did you…"
"Ever been in love?" he found the question at last.
She gasped before she answered, very slowly, "Yes."
"How many times?"
"Once." Just after that moment, when he least expected it, House found himself in utter amazement, for, out of the blue, she was questioning him back, "And you?"
Again, House fixed her eyes on hers, seeing, at that moment, how she had recovered from her anxiety, and was now staring back at him with a look of hope. Little did they know that, for years to come, they would share this moment, not just once, but over and over again.
When Wilson cleared his throat (in purpose, apparently), House had to admit that up until that point, he forgot that his best friend was there with them. He looked at Wilson and then back to the young doctor to reply, "You'd like to know that, would you?" The girl stared at her toes instead, slightly embarrassed, but a bit disappointed, too.
"All-righty! I think that's enough," said House all of a sudden, getting up from his chair in the meanwhile. The others joined him. When the girl was already steady on her feet, he gave her his right hand. She forced a smile when she took it with her own. When she shook hands with Wilson, she was still wearing the same appalling look.
There was another silence accompanying the young doctor as she walked out of the office. Then, "3, 2, 1," counted House, so quietly, that only a confused Wilson could hear it. "Dr. Cameron," he called out finally. The girl turned around from where she stood, just inches away from the glass door.
"You start tomorrow!"
Her distressed face quickly changed into a surprise before shifted again to a grateful look. "Thank you!" she shuttered. For a while, she seemed like she was about to say something else—maybe other series of thank-yous; her mouth opened and closed so rapidly and her hands moved feebly with no particular direction, as if trying to grasp any word that might come out of thin air. Yet House tilted his head, silently ordering her to take her leave—immediately. Taking the hint, she, at a last glance to her new boss, walked her way home.
Wilson watched her disappear from the view and turned to House. "Wow, that was quick! What should I do with the rest?" asked he, pointing to a list of applicants they were supposed to meet that day.
"Tell them to go... Give them the candy bars, whatever…"
"You bought candy bars? For them?"
"You didn't!?"
Wilson only sighed and quietly noted inside his mind to buy some candy bars for the rejected applicants as soon as he finished with his friend. He watched House picked up the CV on his desk carefully. Dr. Cameron's CV. And that brought him to the question, "Any particular reason, besides boredom, why you prefer to cross out a list of potential doctors and choose the first one you interview?"
"I'm not bored."
"That's not true."
"Not bored enough to randomly choose an employee! Why? You don't like her?"
"Love her! Figured out we have so much in common. And, figured that she'll put you in so much trouble. Or the other way around. She's hot."
"A reason!" House began, turning around to face the giant glass window behind his desk. He talked to the oncologist's reflection, which was slightly mirrored there, "That's what I need. A reason to stick around!
"I hired Chase," facing his own reflection now, he moved on, "because he's his daddy's boy, seeking approval from his dad. And he won't stop before he gets it."
After a minor pause, Wilson asked once again, "And you hire her because?"
"Because," House turned from his reflection to the CV in his hand. The green eyes in the picture were still the same; piercing his, until he could feel a hole burning behind his head.
"Because she's extremely pretty."
The end.