Respite
Author: Carla, aka cali-chan.
Rating: PG-13... ish. And that 'ish' means lower rather than higher.
Genre: It's mostly friendshippy, but there'll be romance if you squint.
Pairings: Chase/Cameron.
Disclaimer: I don't own House. Or Chase. This makes me very, very sad. :( See? Sad Cali.
Summary: His admission couldn't take away the overwhelming anxiety of this day, but it was some comfort, at least on a small level. ChaseCameron. Small interlude set during Euphoria, part 1.
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Chase silently opened the glass door to the biocultures lab and leaned against the doorframe, observing his co-worker as she waited for the test run to be complete. Cryptococcus cultures had to run for at least an hour for the Indian Ink to secure reliable results, and he was pretty sure Cameron had not moved one inch away from the photomicrograph since she set the timer. He could only see her back, but from her posture he knew she was biting her nails. He'd been working with her long enough that he knew this meant she was worried; however, it didn't tell him what she was worried about. In this situation, he could hazard a guess, but you never knew with Cameron.
He cleared his throat to announce his presence. "Still feeling okay?"
She jumped slightly, as if startled by the sudden sound, and turned her chair around for a second to confirm it was him, but promptly returned to her original position. "I'm fine," she said curtly, once her back was to him again. "You don't have to check on me every five minutes, you know. It's not like I'm going to suddenly keel over and die."
He shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. "Sorry, just concerned." He put his hands in his pockets and walked into the room, coming up to lean against the desk, beside her.
She barely spared him a glance, fixated as she was on the timer in front of her. "Well, you don't have to pretend you're concerned."
He made a face at her attitude. "Don't be like that."
"No, I'm serious. I know it's the polite thing to do, but right now it isn't helping either of us," she deadpanned, impatiently taking a look at her wristwatch, then at the timer as if she felt the hour stretching out of normal bounds.
He cocked his head to one side, looking at her in half-amusement. "Hey, I know Foreman has issues and it bugs you, but don't take it out on me." He stood up straight and started looking around for another chair he could sit on. "I have no problem calling you my friend."
He missed her glare. "You didn't exactly take my side when he stole my article."
He finally found a chair, placed in a corner, almost hidden by a flap on the plastic cover of a fume hood. As he spoke, he moved in between workbenches to get to it. "I didn't pick a side at all!" He turned his head in time to catch her roll her eyes at him, and it made him chuckle. "Really!" He grabbed the chair and started pulling it back. "He was an opportunistic jerk, and you... were stupid to think waiting for House would do you any good. As a friend it's my job to let you know that," he concluded finally setting the chair beside Cameron's.
She shook his head at his cheek. "Gee, thanks."
He jokingly nodded at her, in a 'you're welcome' way. The corners of her mouth crinkled up but she did her best not to smile, which made him smile. He sat down and leaned back, stretching out the tension in his back. It hadn't been the easiest day on the job, that's for sure, and it wasn't over yet. One of his arms went up to rest against the flat surface of the desk, and he looked at her. "And as a friend, I'm worried about you," he continued, as if she'd never spoken.
She still refused to give in, throwing him a doubtful look. "You only say that because we slept together and now you feel... obligated to care, or something."
He shrugged. "You think that way, if that makes you feel better." He crossed his arms. "But however you put it, the care is real." His eyebrows rose in that last phrase, emphasizing his words and willing her to believe that he was speaking nothing but truth.
She regarded him quietly for a long while, almost like she was waiting for a polygraph to start beeping somewhere and alert her that he was fibbing her. When she couldn't find anything in his expression but straight honesty, she decided to relax. "Thank you," she told him sincerely, a half-smile adorning her mouth. His admission couldn't take away the overwhelming anxiety of this day, but it was some comfort, at least on a small level. He reciprocated the gesture. She quickly moved her focus back to the timer, though, looking to avoid any more awkwardness. "House give you the okay to start treatment? Is it working?"
"I don't know. I was on my way to check if the blood tests were done, but I decided to stop by here first." He plucked the timer out of her hands, examining it in silence. Twenty-five minutes to go. "He asked about you," he threw out casually, like it meant nothing. "Wanted to know if you were showing any symptoms. Seemed worried."
She tried her best to seem unaffected by the comment, but he could see her jaw tense, and her posture grow rigid. She took a deep breath before replying. "Good. He should feel remorse." She took the timer back from him and carefully put it back on the desk, making sure it was at the right angle so they could both see the time pass.
It was his turn to examine her closely. She seemed unaware of how her actions belied just how nervous she really was. "Please tell me you haven't been sitting here for the last half hour trying to rationalize his actions," he asked of her, tone disbelieving, when the idea crossed his mind. It would be like Cameron, he figured, but still it was hard to swallow. For all intents and purposes she should hate Foreman, not be trying to find a reason to absolve him.
Her silence was enough of an answer.
"God, you're unbelievable," he told her, more astonished than reprimanding, although he was sure the amazement in his voice did nothing to stop her from feeling defensive. "I mean, they teach us in Catholic School to turn the other cheek, but you just take it beyond..."
She shook her head, rushing to cut him off. "He's sick, and he's scared," she hurriedly came out with every reason she could think of to lessen Foreman's guilt, a hundred and one reasons she wasn't even sure she believed were true, but still felt bound to mention. "He did what he thought he had to do to spur me into action, find a cure. Survival instinct is the strongest--"
"Whatever it is, he's not irrational," he interrupted her now, before her mouth could run off into one of her tirades. He leaned forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs as he frowned at her. "He knew what he was doing, and it was wrong. Sure, it may have saved him in the long run, but he could've killed you! It could still kill you. You don't do that even to a colleague you hate." He looked deep into her eyes and he could see that she was still scared, under the brave front she put up for the sake of efficiency. "It wasn't your fault that he got sick, and it wasn't your fault that House didn't want to send any of us in, but if something happens to you because you caught this disease, it will be his fault. He did it out of misplaced spite, and you didn't deserve that."
She swallowed heavily and turned slightly away from him, arms crossed so tightly that it seemed like she was rather hugging herself. "So, what? I find a cure, save Joe and myself, and then conveniently forget to mention it to Foreman?"
He shook his head emphatically. "No, I'm just saying that no one will blame you for being angry." He saw her glance at him from the corner of her eye and it made him wonder what it would be like to read her thoughts. As much as she was predictable and open, for Chase, there was just as much mystery to her. She truly was one of the most complex people he had ever met. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. "You're really too good sometimes, you know."
"I didn't go in there for him," she was quick to interject, using the same argument she'd used on House.
Chase already knew this, because House had a tendency to rant incessantly when 'Saint Cameron' reacted in a way lowly, mortal humans wouldn't. "Sure, you didn't."
He sounded perfectly agreeable, but she could see that he didn't buy it at all, much like House hadn't. Cursing herself for being so transparent, she sighed. After a pause, she turned to look at him. "Does that make me an idiot?" she asked, resigned at the answer.
He put his weight again on the backrest, relaxing his posture. "Nope, just easy to manipulate," he replied with a shrug. Feeling like the intense part of the conversation was over, he put his hands on the back of his head. "It's why he did it to you and not to me." He looked down at the timer once more and its faceplate reminded him that he'd spent way more time talking with her than he'd intended to. "I gotta get the lab results and go check on Foreman," he said, stretching a bit as he got up. "Let me know how the test goes."
Her voice stilled him as he was moving the chair towards the corner he found it in. "You know, you're pretty easy to manipulate, too." He left the chair by the fume hood and turned to look at her, curious about the fact that she'd chosen to follow up on that particular topic. He was just in time to catch the teasing gleam in her eye. "Call you in, push you against a wall..."
She left the sentence hanging but there was no mistaking what she meant. He remembered that moment perfectly (his mind providing him with more detail than he'd ever admit), although he was a little surprised that she'd brought it up-- twice, now-- since most of the time she seemed keen on pretending it never even happened. He guessed it was a good sign that he'd succeeded in making her feel a little better about the whole Foreman situation. "It's not the same," he told her with a grin, which she reciprocated. "Because I'm sure you haven't spent the last two years looking at Foreman and going 'God, I really wish I could save him someday'." With those words and a nod as a goodbye gesture, he started walking out of the lab.
His emphasis on the 'save' was not lost on her, and the implication behind his words gave her pause, her grin almost frozen on her lips. Before she could think further about it, though, his voice broke the silence again. "Say, after this is over and you don't get sick, we should go out for a drink, just you and me." He'd stopped and turned to her halfway to the door, surprising her with the invitation, but now that he heard what he'd said, it didn't sound as great as when he'd thought it. "I mean as in... Foreman will be alive, just... not, uh, with us," he tried to correct immediately.
She couldn't help but laugh at the way he stumbled over his words, it was too cute. She also couldn't resist teasing him. "Hmm, that sounds familiar..." she mockingly narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not sleeping with you this time."
He laughed, too, and raised his hands at his sides in 'self-defense'. "I swear I have no ulterior motives here. Just a friendly outing, we come in separately, we leave separately..."
She shook her head slightly, still laughing. "I'll think about it," she told him, with a smile. Her usual answer would have been a quick no, just to avoid any possible misunderstandings and complications, but somehow at the moment it didn't seem like a terrible idea.
He nodded at her, satisfied with that. "Okay." And with one last smile, he finally walked out of the lab and down the hallway towards the elevator. Cameron turned back to wait for the cultures to be done, still worriedly biting her nails, and he had many follow-up tests to perform down in Biosafety Containment. This small respite wasn't nearly enough to eliminate the pressure of this day from hell or the fear they each knew the other felt.
But it was still nice to know that somewhere in this big, cold building there was someone they could talk to... about nothing, perhaps... just for a little while.