Allies, Chapter 3

House is leaning on his arms against the low wall of his balcony watching a couple of sparrows fight over a favored branch in a nearby tree. He wishes he could talk to his best friend about his current predicament, but of course he can't do that without revealing his pact with Cuddy. He tries giving himself a little pep talk instead. What would Wilson say? "House, you're an idiot. She's smart, she's pretty and strangely enough she even seems to like you," he mutters under his breath. "Get over yourself and get back in there and ask her out. And give me back my credit card, ya bastard," he snickers. Pushing off from the wall, he picks up his cane from where it was laying on the ledge and goes back inside. He'll ask her when she comes in to tell him she's leaving, he decides. Should be any time now.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fifteen long minutes later and House has actually managed to hold on to his resolve. He looks up when he hears Cameron enter his office. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he's able to make a sound, she interrupts.

"What the fuck are these!?" she demands, angrily slamming a pile of files on his desk.

Taken aback, he reverts to his default, sarcastic, setting. "Um, just a guess, and I'm probably way off, but…files?"

"Yeah…completed patient files! Completed weeks ago! Why the hell am I redoing work that someone who actually works for you has already done!" she shouts at him.

Damn it! I should've known better than to mess with the creator of the filing system, House thinks. Really hoping she'll just drop it, he responds with, "how the hell do you expect me to know? When do I ever look at patient files after the patient's been discharged?"

"You signed them!"

He's busted and he knows it. Doesn't mean he's going to admit it though. "Did not," he mumbles.

"House, stop it! Your signature is right there!" She opens the top file and jabs her finger in the vicinity of his signature. "I think I know what it looks like by now since I've been signing it for four years!" She stops, takes a deep breath and visibly tries to calm herself down before speaking again. "House, something is going on here and you're going to tell me what it is. Now."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not the one who asked you to come up here, you know. That was Cuddy. Go yell at her."

"I realize that, but you've been acting very strangely all day. First you're nice to me, and then you start brooding around, staring at me all afternoon. And now I find out that I've wasted an entire day doing work that someone else has already done. Something is definitely up. Spill it."

"Jesus, Cameron. Paranoid much? Nothing is going on. If those files are already done, well obviously someone just forgot to copy Cuddy. And as for staring at you? I've never denied that you're easy on the eyes. Sadly you're also damned hard on the head. So if you're done, you know your way out." He picks up his PSP and turns his chair around to face the window so he doesn't have to see the hurt look on her face as she leaves.

Fuck.

XXXXXXXXXX

Throwing pens and papers into her briefcase and hearing her bed calling her name, Cuddy is preparing to leave for the day. She hasn't had any word from the Department of Diagnostics since sending Cameron up there earlier in the day and she's hoping that no news is good news. Unfortunately, her hope starts to fade when she sees House limping through the darkened clinic towards her office. She can tell from his downcast eyes and slumping shoulders that something has gone wrong. He opens her door and enters the room with none of the flair and energy he had exhibited that morning.

"Deal's off," he says, falling into a chair. He pulls his pills out of his pocket, pops the lid and quickly swallows a couple.

"Oh House," she sighs, "what did you do?'

"Why would you assume I did anything? Maybe she just said no."

Cuddy raises an eyebrow. "Did she?"

"No. I screwed it up." He recounts the scene in his office.

"So let me get this straight. She cottoned onto the scheme, but rather than admitting to it and asking her out – which was the goal, by the way – you instead insult her and throw her out? What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Sure, kick a guy when he's down. Nice."

"I know where I'd like to kick you," she grumbles under her breath. "Okay, we can fix this. Just give me a minute to think." She gets up from behind her desk and starts pacing the length of the room. "You're just going to have to apologize."

"I don't apologize."

"You do now. You're going to apologize for calling her hard on the head and you are going to admit to getting her up there under false pretences. But, you are not…and this is important…you are not telling her that I had any part in this. You have to tell her that you tricked me too."

"What! You expect me to take the entire blame?"

"Just listen. If you came up with this on your own…it's kind of romantic, or at least it would seem so to someone who's already in love with you."

"She's not in love…" he tries to interrupt.

"In like then, whatever. The point is doing it on your own is completely different from doing it because we had some kind of mutually beneficial agreement. Or worse, doing it because I talked you into it."

"You're just trying to save your reputation."

"Sure, because it's really going to help my reputation to have her think you manipulated me as well as her. I'm right and you know it. And you know what you have to do to fix this. But only you can decide if you want to." With that, she smiles sympathetically at him, picks up her briefcase and walks out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

House goes home and tries to relax in front of the TV. He flicks to Big Brother which lately puts him right to sleep. Funny, because he really used to enjoy it. It's not working this time though; in spite of his best efforts to zone out, he can't stop thinking about Cuddy's final question to him. Does he want to fix this? Today was just supposed to be a casual way of figuring out if he was truly even interested in Cameron. If he goes to her and tells her what was happening today…well it's not so casual anymore. If he does that, he's committed. Maybe not committed to her exactly, but at least to the idea of her. To the possibility of her. He's not so sure he's ready for that. He stands, gathers up his jacket, helmet, keys, and cane and heads for the door. He needs a long, fast ride to clear his head.

An hour later he's in the middle of nowhere, literally and figuratively. No closer to a decision than when he started. He's running out of gas.

An hour after that, he's on her doorstep.