Oxymoron
- O -
It is unappealing—the degree of his appeal. He is an attractive nuisance, and in that respect he is an oxymoron.
A moron on Oxy.
- O -
Scandal spreads like disease in a hospital. She overhears it in the cafeteria queue. "Lost his deal…pharmacy." Her eyes flutter closed; she sighs.
'That was inevitable.'
- O -
By afternoon he is back in his office. There is no reason not to medicate him now. No reason they shouldn't use him up while they can.
Let's make banana bread—these bananas are about to turn.
- O -
It is required of her that she pass them in the hall. Wilson. Cuddy. Condemnation throbs at her temples. 'Are you happy now are you happy now are you happy now.'
'Look what you've done.'
She wants to scream, but she's had enough of actions that don't solve anything.
It's really far too late to fix this.
- O -
She is accustomed to hating people who do not do the right thing. She always does the right thing and life is pain.
Today she hates Wilson. Cuddy.
He is excluded from this. How is he culpable for this?
- O -
She sits across his desk from him.
Twilight outside, twilight inside because the walls are made of glass. Like everything in this building she is made of glass. Fragile.
But broken glass is sharp as surgical steel and they should all watch the fuck out.
"I bet I'm the fucking man of your dreams now."
"Fucking."
"What's the differential diagnosis for echolalia, Dr. Cameron?"
Everything's a joke to him, even now.
He pulls a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer and waits for her to take a long swig before taking his.
She wants to have rough, angry sex on his desk, but she's had enough of actions that don't solve anything.
It's really far too late to fix this.
He looks down at the bottle in his hands. "We could…"
She opens her mouth to say, 'What's the point?' But before she can, she finds she does not have the mercilessness to inform him he's a lost cause.
They have rough, angry sex on his desk.
- O -
Now furtive, furious sex has become a routine because they can and why the fuck not. Wilson and Cuddy have smashed something inside her and broken glass is sharp as surgical steel and they should all watch the fuck out. She says she would like to screw him on each of their desks, and it is easily achieved.
Everything seems easy now.
- O -
Now he is being indicted.
Now he is being arraigned.
Now he is being released on bail.
Now he is being fucked by her in the Burger King parking lot with a half-unwrapped, half-eaten Whopper in his hand.
Two things they don't have in jail.
Let's make banana bread—these bananas are about to turn.
- O -
They screw like it's the end of the world, because it is.
- O -
On trial he is all Good Will Hunting, brilliance and cockiness and precedents. And it seems to be getting him just as far.
Nowhere.
The prosecution has advised the judge to get a full physical before trial, and she has. She is healthy and she knows it. He can't diagnose his way out of this one.
- O -
During recess she blows him in a men's room stall. He will be on the stand later, and she wants him relaxed. He is less likely to fuck up if she fucks him up. It's not enough.
"And why did you choose to take the patient's temperature rectally?"
"I'll admit that I misread his signals. But if you'd been there, I think you would have been as sure as I was he was asking for anal play."
He is held in contempt; tonight will be a reminder of what he's in for. At the end of the day they have hardly any time. A hug.
"Excuse me. I have to go to jail."
- O -
Wilson is on the stand, and she wishes she could have House's head between her thighs. Muffle the sounds of his treachery with her sounds of ecstasy.
Wilson is on the stand, and she wishes he had just fucking come to her for a script.
Wilson is on the stand, and she wishes this was going better than it is.
- O -
This recess it's in the janitor's closet. She supports her weight by bending over the aptly-named utility sink.
- O -
When Cuddy is questioned, she tries to make every answer an absolution for him. So that she may be absolved. But it's too obvious that she's trying.
- O -
This recess it's in her car. Him in the driver's seat, fully reclined, and her in his lap. Because she's decided the courthouse is too dangerous and danger isn't as sexy as it once was.
- O -
She doesn't have to decide if she wants to testify, she is subpoenaed.
"Dr. Cameron, Detective Tritter asked you how much Vicodin Dr. House takes each day, and you answered six, is that correct?"
"No."
"No?" The prosecutor walked toward his table. "I can show you a transcript—"
She shrugged. "Enter the transcript as evidence. That way they'll hear what I actually said, 'I'm uncomfortable saying a number.' "
- O -
"Forging prescriptions, lying to obtain prescriptions, stealing prescription drugs. In your medical opinion, aren't these actions indicative of addiction?"
"I couldn't generalize. You'll have to specify a patient."
"Dr. Cameron, in your medical opinion are Dr. House's actions indicative of addiction?"
"Dr. House's actions are indicative that he has a chronic pain condition, that he has been wrongly denied medication by his physicians Dr. Wilson and Dr. Cuddy, and that they should be tried for medical malpractice."
- O -
They are excused for deliberation, but they already know the verdict.
She wants to say she loves him, but she's had enough of actions that don't solve anything.
It's really far too late to fix this.