Author's Note: Just givin' a shoutout to my buddy Kendall, for whom this story was started and for whom this story has been posted for (:
(She also named the chapter, lol)
Chapter One: California Girls
A knock came upon the face of Gregory House's door, "Don't come in,"
"House," Cuddy groaned from outside.
"I'm playing with myself!" he warned.
Cuddy opened the door without hesitation to find her least favorite person playing with a small pink, toy house; "Can I get a little privacy here?" he asked with his trademark smirk.
"There's someone in my office to see you,"
"I thought I paid her to come straight to my office…How rude!" Cuddy raised an eyebrow, House continued, "Oh, we must not be thinking of the same person,"
"It's the diagnostician I hired,"
"So go order her around, I don't need to see her,"
"House!" Cuddy took the toy from his hands and turned to leave.
"Mom!" he whined.
"My office, now," she spat as she walked away.
House sighed and yelled back, "I'm running away!"
Dr. House limped into Cuddy's office, and found a young blonde woman talking with Cuddy.
He gave a wanting chuckle, "Please tell me you've known each other for a long time,"
"You haven't change a bit, Greg," the woman smiled.
House had a momentary expression of confusion, but after examining the blonde's grey eyes further, his face lit up, "No. Way,"
"House, this is—"
"Camille J. McDowell," House finished, "Last I saw you were having 'fun in the sun' without me,"
"The great sun state isn't as great as it sounds,"
"Camille is going to be part of your team," Cuddy interjected, "She starts today," she handed Camille the case file, which was yanked out of her hands by her new boss.
"Come minion," he commanded; Camille grinned, glad to be back where things made no sense.
Foreman sat looking at the case, Cameron was pouring a cup of coffee, and Chase pondered over the absence of their boss. His pondering came to an end as House and another woman waltzed into the room.
"Good morning sunshines,"
"Who's she?" Chase blurted out.
"Don't be rude," House scorned mockingly, "Camille this is Blacky, Blondie, and B****y,"
Cameron raised an eyebrow, "I thought Foreman was 'Blacky',"
"No! You're Blacky because you like your coffee black! Do you honestly think I would make a racist joke like that?" He gave a fake gasp, "Shame on you, Blacky!"
Chase gave a small wave to Camille, Cameron came and shook her hand, B****y remained in his seat. House threw the case onto the table and announced, "Let me make this clear, Camille is not your co-worker, she is your superior,"
Camille shook her head, "Whoa, whoa, I just started! I didn't come to be head or control of anything!"
House quickly remarked, "You can be control of my head,"
Camille ignored him, "I am just a co-worker. Nothing else,"
"Whatever," House took his seat, and Camille took hers, across from a glaring Foreman, "So! 28 year old white guy coughing up blood, lungs are clean. Go," he popped his cane against the table as he spoke.
"Could be caused by environmental stimuli," Cameron offered.
"Started coughing up blood in the hospital," Camille rejected without looking up.
"One for Camille, Zero for Newbies," House chimed.
"TB?" Chase asked.
"Lungs are clean," Foreman shot, "Unless he can fool a complete scan, there's no TB,"
"Negative one for Newbies,"
"He came in with bowel issues…Anyone checked his intestines?" Camille spoke, the others flipped through the pages.
"No, but what could cause him to vomit blood?"
"Let's find out!" Camille jumped to her feet and marched down to the patient's room, with Chase and Cameron on her heels.
Foreman stood and confronted his boss, "Who is she?"
House stood and smiled, "A creation of my own design,"
From a distance Cuddy and House watched his team fumble with the patient, while Camille stood silently in the corner; a mirror image of House. The thought made him beam triumphantly.
"Leave your binoculars at home?" Wilson asked, approaching House.
"I'm not spying, why does everyone assume that?" he huffed, casting a glance at Cuddy.
Wilson scoffed, "Yes, because it goes completely against your moral," he was preparing another clever comment but then he caught sight of House's interest.
The calm oncologist felt his jaw drop, "Is—Is that?"
"California girls," House sang.
"When did she get back?"
Cuddy answered, "Applied last week, started today," she turned to House, "I need to talk to you,"
"Rut-roh," House muttered to his friend before following Cuddy to her office.
Wilson came over to the door and let the other three pass by, Camille at first didn't notice him, but after the awkward attention-seeking cough, she turned; a soft gasped came from her lips.
"James?"
He hugged her tightly, "Wow," he sighed, "You look…good,"
"You too!" she smiled, "Oncologist huh?"
He nodded, "And you're working under House?"
"Yes, but please don't put it that way," she grumbled, a small grin on her face.
"Delightful isn't it?" Wilson asked wryly.
"Always,"
The shared a chuckle, then a small light caught Camille's eye; she pointed at his left hand in shock, now beaming, "Who is she?"
Wilson's face fell a little, "Julie,"
The drop of joy was quickly noted by Camille, who turned her head in an inquisitive way, "Wha—"
"It's a long story…I'll see you around," and then Wilson turned and left.
The day was over, and still no progress on Mr. Samson; everyone had left except Camille.
And of course, House.
"You plan on living in the hospital?" House took a seat across from Camille, who was engrossed in the case file.
"House unless you're planning on solving this case, will you please leave me be?"
He blinked, "Are you PMS-ing?"
"Are you?"
He groaned, "Is it that obvious?"
Camille gave a brief smile but kept reading, and thinking, she sighed with her face in her hands, "I'm sorry. This case is just killing me,"
"No. It's killing the sick guy,"
"You know what I mean!" she gave another heavier sigh, "My first case and I'm already losing it,"
House stood, "here's a tip: Go home, get some sleep,"
"That's a House tip,"
"Whatever this guy's got, he'll live through tonight,"
Camille shook her head, "You don't know that,"
He rolled his eyes, "No I don't. But I do know that I'm right 99.8% of the time,"
"That .2% is enough to keep me here,"
He turned away, "Suit yourself,"
Camille watched him walk away, and took in a shaky breath before brooding over the case further in the lamplight.
It was 1 a.m. and Camille was finally at a point of utter exhaustion; and yet she still had no clue as to where to proceed with this case!
"Hey," a kind voice called as Camille walked down the hall, Wilson was locking up when he spotted the stressed Camille walking by herself.
"Oh hey. What're you still doing here?"
"Could ask you the same thing," he responded.
Camille held up the file with a bitter smile, "Ah, stumped?" Wilson asked, coming to her side.
"Yes! It's unnerving," she grunted.
"It's your job to be stumped. Then House will have an epiphany and save the day, leaving you to feel miserable because you couldn't solve it yourself," Wilson explained.
Camille offered a dry laugh, "That's encouraging!"
Wilson shrugged, "I know House, and I know you,"
She nodded, "I just wish I didn't feel so lost,"
"You'll get used to it,"
They were now outside in the cold, "I don't wanna get used to it James…I wanna be able to help out of my own power to reason and think,"
He gave her an encouraging side-hug, "You're gonna be saving lives. That's what matters," she nodded, giving a sniffle; she hoped that he assumed it was the weather. But in case he didn't, she quickly changed the subject.
"How you been?"
"Great," he quickly replied; very unconvincingly.
"Liar,"
He paused a moment before saying, "I've been better,"
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing,"
She scoffed, "You'd be fine if it was 'nothing',"
Wilson halted, "My wife wants a divorce,"
Camille stopped in reaction to his statement, "I—I'm sorry,"
"Me too," he said with a sad chuckle.
"Why?"
He shook his head, "I'm not exactly an ideal husband," what he meant to say was, "I cheated,"
Camille bit her lip, sensing that he wasn't telling her everything, but she knew that pressing him would only make it worse. "Lemme buy you a drink,"
Wilson laughed, "I'd love to, but I doubt going to a bar with another female is a good way to improve my failing marriage,"
Camille smiled, "Touché,"
Wilson returned her smile, "Good night, Cami,"
"Night James,"