Chapter 2
Hands Open

"It's hard to argue when
You won't stop making sense"
______________________________

"Why did you hire me?"

The question lingered in the air between them. Finally he answered, or rather, tried to push the question away, and Cameron couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was acting like a schoolboy, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, and now decided to disclaim till the end.

"Does it matter?"

"Kind of hard to work for a guy who doesn't respect you."

"Why?"

"Is that rhetorical?"

"No, it just seems that way because you can't think of an answer." – he measured the sugar with a particular care, only throwing her looks of milliseconds while talking.

"Does it make a difference what I think? I'm a jerk. The only thing that matters" – he gave her a challenging look – "is what you think. Can you do the job?"

She was right, she thought. He's a jerk on purpose. He doesn't seem to do anything without a good reason. This fact gave her a bit of relief and a lot of security. It's not impossible that she might stay.

Anyway she pushed on, now being on the rail. Not sure if she can catch his boss for a chat like this again. And she must know the truth.

"You hired a black guy because he had a juvenile record." – there was a hint of mock in her voice.

Just the previous week, he had sent them to break into a patient's house to investigate what toxins he could have been in contact with, and he'd insisted on Foreman being the one to go, because "he knows his way around with locks". Foreman had given in, but had told House to send her with him, as having a "white chick" with you when you're a black guy caught in burglary is definitely an advantage. She had made a resigned grimace when hearing this – good to feel useful, again.

"Nooo, it wasn't a racial thing!" – he mocked – "I didn't see a black guy, I just saw a doctor... with a juvenile record. I hired Chase 'cause his dad made a phone call."

The corner of her mouth twitched. She even could believe he wasn't joking, though she kind of liked the angel faced Australian, even with his phlegm manner and being a sheer eager beaver sometimes, because she knew his heart was made of gold. And this was, without any doubts, a primal aspect for her in judging people. That's why she needed to take a look behind her boss' walls, to know how to approach him.

"I hired you... because you are extremely pretty."

The world made a dizzying turn around with her, with a mentionable speed. She thought she misheard it. Her eyes narrowed in anger.

"You hired me to get into my pants?!"

"I can't believe that that would shock you."

Her knees felt giving way in any second. She hoped she was dreaming. After all those years... all those work... Her worst nightmare seemed to come true at that one moment.

"It's also not what I said." – She released a short breath she was keeping. – "No, I hired you... because you look good." – he shrugged a shoulder – "It's like having a nice piece of art in the lobby."

Art in the lobby?! she mouthed. She caught House's glance not into her eyes, but towards her cleavage. She suddenly felt dirty, cheap and extremely embarrassed. House casually limped towards his office, steaming red mug in the hand. Cameron couldn't help having a thought crossing her mind: no, I don't want any coffee, thank you for asking. But she quickly shooed it away: there are much more serious issues in the air now. She followed his boss to his office, lab coat floating around her ankles.

"I was at the top of my class!"

"But not the top."

"I did an internship at the Mayo Clinic!" – she hated that her voice sounded as if she burst out crying in any moment. Even if she knew that righteous indignation made it tremble, not suppressed tears. Yet.

"You were a very good applicant." – House granted.

"But not the best."

House sat down into his armchair, and continued the casual swinging he started back in the diagnostic room. It was written all over him that he started enjoying this conversation. This made Cameron furious. Tears of helplessness made her throat tight. No matter what, she wouldn't allow him to see her weak. Even is she was bound to lose this debate and her whole world was about to fall into pieces.

House was now openly observing her face with an amused smile, making clear this being a test.

"Would that upset you, really, to think that you were hired for some genetic gift of beauty instead of some genetic gift of intelligence?"

"I worked very hard to get where I am." – Cameron admitted defiantly.

"You didn't have to! People choose the paths that gain them the greatest rewards for the least amount of effort. That's a law of nature, and you defied it! That's why I hired you. You could've married rich, you could've been a model, you could've just shown up and people would've given you stuff - lots of stuff! - but you didn't. You worked your stunning little ass off." – Each of his words were like needles stinging into her. That's exactly what she tried to avoid since she was trying to "defy the law of nature", and went into med school. The pain his words caused made her sarcastic.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?"

"Gorgeous women do not go to medical school." – then he pretended falling into deep thoughts – "...unless... they are as damaged as they are beautiful."

She swallowed hard. He knows!

"Were you abused by a family member?"

Her eyes widened, she almost tumbled from the unexpected question, asked as casually as inquiring about weather. She was totally gimped up now.

"No!" – she gasped.

"Sexually assaulted?"

"No!"

"But you are damaged, aren't you?"

The scanning look seemed to get straight through her skin, right into her. Then her pager went off.

*

She didn't have too much sleep that night. She kept trying to solve the puzzle that she didn't even have all the pieces of, and she had no clue what the final picture would look like. She desperately tried to gather the fragments of information from her short time working in Princeton-Plainsboro, and the short acquaintance with Dr. Gregory House.

When the dawn started to break over the rooftops, she was sound asleep with the ghost of a smile of knowing on her lips. She had heard enough times the word of categorical judgment, which made sure that no-one would be able to convince Dr. House to accept a case or give any of his precious time to someone: boring. Slowly the revelation came for her, and she began to feel proud about being particular, this way or another. He didn't want to get into her pants. He found her interesting.

*

The next morning, during the differential, House proposed her to go and hold their current patient's hand, her tears of empathy might cure his tumor. She couldn't suppress a happy smile. He finally got a grip on her.

That afternoon, she signed her contract in Cuddy's office.

*

Thwack... thwack... – ...thwack.

House caught the red and gray lacrosse ball again, rolled it between his hands for a while, then threw it back onto the wall, without even noticing his own actions. His eyes were staring unfocused somewhere into mid-air between his cane, hanging on the edge of the desk and his Vicodin bottle, standing on top of it.

Nice hit with that piece of art in the lobby thing. He mentally patted himself on the shoulder. Hopefully he managed to offend her well enough to keep her away from personal approaching for a while. Why he hired her. As if it mattered any. Clear that she tried to gouge some compliments out of him, but she's knocking on the wrong door. Professionally and personally. He wasn't a head-patting type of a boss and he didn't lead small talks. But yesterday he almost lost control over his face for a second.

She had been sitting there, during the differential, sunken deep in her thoughts, visibly thinking about everything but the case. She had pouted her lips in that childish way that always made him feel a sudden urge to grab her and kiss her till she was breathless. And then release her and erase her mind. So much for this. He released a short, resigned sigh. You can't always get what you want.

He wasn't surprised or puzzled at all that he liked her. He was a healthy (well, almost) and grown (well, almost...) man, despite his reputation. And thoughts like that never caused him any problems, as he was king of disguising feelings (and quite proud of it).

Though this pleasant fact wasn't the reason he had chosen her from all the other applicants. He had told her the truth. It wasn't even present at that time. It developed slowly, parallel with his growing interest and curiosity for her. Especially thanks to those moments of incredible sexual tension when she was angry with him. That's why he was taunting her all the time. Wanted to see her eyes go storm-colored, her brows be pulled together and her lips part slightly and become dry from angry passion, so she has to flick out a tongue to moisten them. He sighed again, heavily, but smirked to himself. Not the worst thing on Earth to be able to steal moments like this while working. They didn't do any harm to anybody; he never wanted to go any further. The slim brunette Dr. Cameron wasn't really his type; moreover he wouldn't want to lose her as a great labor – despite all she was thinking, he completely forgot about naughty thoughts when he was carefully listening to her theory about the case.

The only reason he couldn't respect her (that wasn't a bad judgment at all, regarding that there were very few people he respected any) was her mild, naïve and emotional nature. He always had to roll his eyes facing her childish insistence on every people being honest and having pure goodness somewhere deep inside them. In his less bad days he just mentally smiled at her and even felt a little bit good meeting such innocence, but sometimes he felt anger rising inside him. She has a hell of a lot to learn. Learn the lesson he knows so bloody well, had to learn it through incredible pain and suffering. When his woman had been leaning over his sickbed, the last thing he had seen, while the drugs had been kicking in and he'd slowly sunk in a coma, being her wide, honest eyes while she'd ensured him in a steady voice that, despite the extreme risk, they would respect his will and would follow his instructions affecting his almost entirely dead right thigh muscle; then he'd woke up missing more than half of it. From that moment on, the basic axiom is there, never to be forgotten, always being the first thing to mind in every situation, personal or professional life, where there are any humans involved: everybody lies.

Suddenly he cut all these thoughts in a split second, grabbed the edge of the desktop and tried to quickly disappear under the desk. He cursed himself being a cripple, because he was too late: the reason of his panic already reached the glass door (damn, he forgot to close the blinds – not that that would have protected him, it never had), in the tightest skirt still agreeing with the laws of nature (and the basic attributes of materials), now popping her head in the office. The very moment she opened her mouth, House winced and covered his eyes with his palm, already mouthing the forthcoming four words, a moment before they fell from Cuddy's lips:

"House! Clinic duty, NOW!"

"I hid, you can't find me!!!" – House yelled. A bypassing janitor made a dumbfounded face (must be a newbie), but Cuddy didn't seem impressed. She closed the distance with two determined steps and snatched his hand off his face. The man was grinning. Another pleasant side effect of working here (unless this time a little masochistic), he thought, capturing with his eyes all the details he could from this closeness.

"House. You know almost all my useable doctors are off sick. I hate to say this, but I need you."

"Oh c'mon. You don't have to degrade yourself. But OK, meet you in your office in ten minutes. Wear the red thong that you had last Wednesday on, if it works."

Cuddy rolled her eyes as hard as they impended with falling off. For a split second, a tiny voice in her head asked what had given her choice of lingerie away last Wednesday... but she quickly composed herself and cut the way to any more excuses.

"If you don't check in in five minutes – don't say a word, that must be enough even for a poor cripple to take his ass down –, my pen will slip a bit while doing the next roster, and I'll accidentally add an extra zero to your clinic hours." – she returned with one hand on the doorframe and a fake-girlish smile on her face – "You don't wanna try if I'm really able to do that, believe me."

Now it was House's turn to roll his eyes. Then he lifted himself up from the chair with difficulty, grabbed the amber bottle, threw two pills in his throat and dry-swallowed them, making a mental note to prepare an Evil Plan against his boss in his next free time, something between putting Palma Tex on her chair and changing her birth pills to laxative. With this done, he finally started limping towards the elevators, frightened nurses jumping out of his way to both sides.