Post Euphoria: A Time to Grow

by chicmns

Alison Cameron and Eric Foreman: two very different people, who start to build a new relationship on the ashes of an old one, after a lifethreatening illness that threatens one of them causes both to really see each other for the first time.

4. Chapter 4

"Post Euphoria – A Time to Grow, Part 4 (Cameron)"

…a "House, M.D." story by Chicmns

Pairing: Cameron/Foreman

Rating: PG

Reviewers:

To "WuHaoNi": Hello! I'm having a lot of fun presenting something you rarely see on the site, since everyone seems to think only House/Cameron relationships make any sense! I've also never tried to write a "split-perspective" story before, either, so it's been a challenge so far. I hope I'm doing the characters justice. Glad you like it!

To "Suzy87": Thank, you, thank you! So encouraging … you make it easier to keep writing and feeling my way through this unique relationship. A new episode is on tonight, so I'm hoping for more glimpses of inspiration on these two!

CAMERON

I should be locked away.

Really. Like - 'fill-her-with-Thorazine and throw-away-the-key' - locked away.

Either that, or I've somehow turned into Brooke Evans, the high school tramp my friends and I used to make so much fun of back then (even though we all secretly wanted to get at least some of the action she was getting!). You see, I've now officially kissed every male member of the Diagnostics Department at PPTH. Heck, if Wilson ever decides to change specialties, I can always work him in as well! Granted - Chase was a drug-induced episode (and we did a whole lot more than kiss, I'm ashamed to say); and House is, well, House; the worst misanthrope (or as Foreman calls him, a 'manipulative bastard') of ALL time.

Foreman.

No, not 'Foreman'. Eric.

Sigh.

It's wrong, I thought, as I head away from his room after our conversation – and after I'd just kissed him on the cheek, before leaving. It was just a kiss on the cheek.

No, I sternly tell myself. It wasn't just a kiss. How do I know? Because of how I feel right now. And because of how I felt immediately afterward.

Because … I wanted more.

I wanted to kiss him on his lips. I wanted to feel him kiss me back. I know he wanted to, as well; I saw it in his eyes as my lips left his cheek. He was stunned, yeah – so was I, because that kiss wasn't something I'd planned, or something I consciously decided to do. I just did it. Because it felt right.

Sounds simple enough - but as I've painfully learned in my life and in my choices about men … my heart doesn't do 'simple.'

I'm conflicted and … flustered, after what's just happened. Mostly because, in a lot of ways, I'm not really sure what just happened. Eric and I just had a very deep and emotional conversation, and we both revealed a lot of ourselves during it; me, especially. We've somehow discovered a new bond growing between us over the past few days, replacing the colleague/friend?/acquaintance thing we had before. We'd just admitted it to each other; even though, for most of the time I've known him, Eric has been almost as reticent about sharing his emotions as House. Still …

I remembered how he reacted when that poor woman was brought into the hospital a few months back; a druggie/dealer, as Eric had immediately decided she was; even before taking the time and effort to properly diagnose her. I'd never seen him do that before; Eric had always been consistent in keeping an open mind about his patients, and not rushing into premature judgments about either the people who came in through the doors of our department, or the diagnoses and treatments given them. It was funny, but I always felt that that was a quality he and I shared as doctors; more than either House or Chase; who generally made diagnoses based on the puzzles they provided (in House's case); or usually as a reaction to whatever the rest of us determined, in Chase's case.

I think that's a big reason why Eric and Chase aren't closer; to Eric, Chase just doesn't seem to take medicine seriously enough.

Just as Eric didn't take that woman's obvious and real medical problems seriously enough … until it was almost too late. And when he, House, and Wilson had finally discovered the emotional triggers behind her ailments; along with her blaming herself for the tragic deaths of her husband and child … his compassion came to the fore. I remembered the look on his face when we'd all entered her room to find she'd somehow snuck out of the hospital … her amazing drawings scrawled on the wall; some of Eric himself as he'd tried to treat her. He'd evidently had had as much effect on her as she'd had on him, when all was said and done. Especially considering how much they'd seemed to dislike each other at the beginning.

I saw then, in Eric, something I'd seen glimpses of before; his true heart and compassion. Those drawings, and that woman's terrible life, affected him in a powerful, deep way. I watched as he'd rushed from the hospital with Wilson in tow … trying to find her and bring her back to the clinic for treatment … House's sarcasm and recriminations ringing in his ears. And it wasn't, I was sure, simply because he'd felt guilty for the way he'd essentially blown her off before … although that was a part of it. It was, I think, because he'd been misjudged like that before in his life; and he was appalled at the easy way he'd carelessly done the same thing to another person. I never asked him about it, but I was certain that was a part of the reasons for his, to the others, 'atypical' reactions. It was there, in his eyes, in the look on his face, during that case. I should have gone to him and tried to get him to talk about it afterward. I knew from personal experience how much an experience like that could darken a soul.

But, I didn't.

Partly because, not too long afterward, he and I had decided to start working on a joint article for our fellowships; and during that busy time … and the events that took place afterward … I'd decided that he was the very last person on earth I wanted to have anything to do with.

And then, the cop who'd been shot came to the hospital - and everything changed.

I headed back to the Diagnostics offices, my composure bruised and uncertain. The people I passed in the halls; nurses, doctors, other staffers … and patients … all gave me a wide berth as I walked by, seemingly sensing the emotional clouds around me. Focusing on the sounds my heels made as I walked along, I hardly noticed anything happening around me, until a hand touched my elbow. I stopped suddenly, and the person who'd touched me almost stumbled into me before catching himself. Someone with a walking cane.

House.

Oh, just great. I sighed out loud, which didn't seem to register with him at all. It never did; House simply ignored nonverbal signals he wasn't interested in. Didn't mean he didn't pick up on them; House was probably the most observant person I'd ever met.

The question with him, as always, was whether he was even slightly interested in what his enhanced senses and well-tuned intuitions were telling him.

"We've got problems, Dr. Cameron," he grumbled; automatically scanning and, I'm sure, cataloguing and discerning all of the indicators of mine that he was so infuriatingly good at deciphering. As usual, his opening comment almost never connected logically to whatever else he ended up saying, except to himself. So, I just waited, an eyebrow raised in question. I'd learned very early in my dealings with him that you had to try to put him off his game of disruption by keeping quiet until he'd gotten around to telling you what he actually wanted to say – assuming, of course, that it was the truth to begin with.

It occurred to me that he could very well have been watching Eric and I through the glass of the hospital room; notions of privacy were foreign to him … like when he read my AIDS test results without my permission or knowledge. He could be talking about something he … saw. I narrowed my eyes at him; sending waves of displeasure in anticipation of what I was sure would be an intrusive, abusive flow of words about Eric and me. I steeled myself for what was to come, squaring my shoulders as I turned to face him in the hallway.

"We're out of coffee in Diagnostics, and I had to shanghai Wilson into a trip to the local coffeehouse in order to get properly started with my day. Why are we out of coffee, Dr. Cameron – and why is my inbox still filled with trite, uninteresting messages from trite, uninteresting people?" he asked – all serious. I gaped at him.

Sometimes, his insensitivity (of course, he never saw it that way) astounded me. I took a breath, shook my head once, and then gathered my wits to answer his tone with one just as icy.

"No. 1, House – I'm a doctor, not a barista. If you want coffee - go and get it yourself. I don't have to be a part of that process in order for it to take place. You obviously got coffee in your drugged-up system long before I came along, and will no doubt be able to get it long after I'm gone. No. 2 – and, follow along with me very carefully here, House – on my degree, it says, 'Dr.', not 'secretary'. Every once in a while, go through your own damn email!" I stormed away from him, then, too steamed to be anywhere close to him at that point.

I was several feet away when I finally heard his sneering cutback: "Wow … bro's got his thang wound up real tight!"

I stopped in my tracks, my muscles having lost all connection to my desire to be out of his presence, and I just stood there - seeing nothing but pure red. I was sure I could feel the steam rising from my ears. Through the rush of blood and roaring sounds in my ears, I heard an angry, strident "House!" Cuddy had somehow appeared, and must have heard at least the last part of our confrontation. I slowly turned around, glaring in hurricane-like fury at House … who was wearing a pleased look at the reaction he'd managed to get from me. Cuddy strode up to him; and then, glancing for a moment at me; actually moved between us. I guess she was afraid I would be flying for his throat at any moment. Just then, I noticed Wilson quietly watching from a few yards away, and saw him slowly edge towards House after taking in the look on my face, looking as if he intended to get his friend away from the impending car crash of a situation he'd caused.

Cuddy turned her back on me, after sensing that I wasn't ready to pounce just yet, and faced House. I just stayed rooted in my spot on the hallway floor, meeting his placid, mocking gaze with my anger.

"House, you will leave right now and go to your office, or I will place you on extended clinic duty for the next month!" All this time, House's eyes never left mine, and he seemed to barely register Cuddy's presence.

"Did you hear me, Dr. House?" Cuddy practically screamed up at him from less than a foot away, hands on her hips in anger. He finally broke his gaze with me to glance down at her.

"Kinda hard not to, Cuddy, with you screeching in my ear. My subordinate was being disrespectful—"

"Don't even start with that, House," she told him. "I heard enough to know what was said, and you had no call to reply the way you did! Now, start moving, because if I'm still seeing you in this hallway 30 seconds from now, it's nothing but boring sick people for you during the next month! Now, go!" House had met my glower again, and finally broke eye contact with me to glare down at Cuddy, mixing it with a lecherous grin.

"Didn't you say the same thing last night in bed, Dr. Cuddy?" Before she could splutter a word in reply, he turned away, limping toward the elevators. Wilson started moving in the same direction - apparently intending to escort him back to our office. "I don't need an escort, Jimmy!" House ground out to his friend. Wilson didn't back down from House's dangerous tone.

"Too bad, Greg, because you're getting one anyway. Come on, let's go. The coffee I went to a lot of trouble to get you is getting cold downstairs." They reached the elevator doors, and as the car arrived, House called out to me. "I expect those emails to be dealt with by noon today, Cameron."

And then he was finally gone. I stood there, shaking … my eyes closed, as I expended all of my energy in not going after my boss in a murderous rage.

That had to have been the worst thing he'd ever said to me. Worse than the time he told me that he didn't like me.

Because this time, he wasn't just talking about me … but Eric, too.

And I found that harder to take, to deal with … than if he was just going after me alone.

I knew Cuddy was still there, watching me with concern. I could feel her dark eyes on me, and then I sensed her approach. I immediately started to back away, raising my hands between us. In a clipped tone, I told her, "I'm all right, Dr. Cuddy. I just need a few minutes – I'm going for a walk around the complex to clear my head. I'm on pager if anything happens." She nodded, and then surprised me by asking, "Mind if I join you? Maybe we can keep each other out of the county jail under murder charges if we stick together." I snorted, still too furious to do much more except to nod once, as we turned towards the elevators, rode downstairs, and made our way outside through the clinic doors on the ground level.

"Oh, Dr. Cuddy," one of the desk nurses called out to her as we passed the main intake counter, our heels clicking on the tiled floor in close cadence. My walking companion put a stop to any further conversation, calling out in a commanding voice while not missing a step by my side. "Whatever it is, it can wait. I'm going to be gone for a little while; page Dr. Wilson for anything medical while I'm out – hang onto anything else till I get back. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am …" the nurse replied in a puzzled voice. She saw the pinched looks on both our faces as we passed, and I was sure that the gossip mill was about to swing into action. At that moment, I found my voice again. "You realize we just started about ten different rumors, don't you?" I asked in a small, wry voice; which got me a chuckle from the older woman.

"Wow – color me shocked! Maybe they'll be good ones this time, instead of the expected and quite boring 'Cuddy and Cameron are closet lesbians and lovers, and they headed out for a liaison' crap we both know is coming!"

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing at her blasé tone and indifferent manner at the prospect of any of her people thinking her (or me, for that matter) a lesbian. But I guess her comment had its' intended effect, because I was quickly leaving behind the fog of rage I'd been in since running into House in the hallway. We quickly passed through the sliding doors of the clinic and stepped out onto the concrete paths that connected the buildings of PPTH, heading by silent agreement towards the well-kept and still lush rolling hills and lawns; everything smelling fresh and new after the night's rains. We slowed our pace a little, and both Cuddy and I breathed in the recharging scents of living, growing things. It was several moments before either of us spoke.

"So … how's Foreman doing?" she asked me in as neutral of a voice as she could manage – which immediately told me there were several layers to her question. I glanced over at her, but she'd decided not to meet my eyes; watching the tips of her pumps instead. That was my second clue; when Lisa Cuddy didn't look you in the eye when she was talking to you - be wary.

"He's fine," I managed to answer in a voice that sounded almost like my own. "Still making noises about being released, of course. Doesn't seem to be too concerned with the less-than-stellar marks he's getting from Neurology, and I know he's itching to get out of that room. I think he's done about enough healing here as he'll let himself have; I was going to talk to you today about considering his release – to go home, of course. He's still quite a ways from being able to return to work." She nodded, listening carefully as I talked.

"Well, you agree with the rest of us – Neurology, Wilson, House and I – that he's not ready to return to work, at least. I was expecting you to push more for his reinstatement to practice, at least part-time." We were still walking at a good clip, and I decided to slow the pace. I glanced at Cuddy before answering. "I may not be a neurologist, but I'm a good enough doctor to know that he still has cognitive issues, Lisa – even if he doesn't sometimes. I understand what he's going through … he's wondering if he'll regain total functions … get well enough to keep being a doctor. The fact that I understand that doesn't mean I'd risk him or anyone he tries to treat until we know for sure, one way or another." I knew that my tone of voice wasn't the most respectful, but I was getting very tired of people second-guessing me on Eric's case. If they still had problems with me being his proxy and primary physician, well – tough. And that included the Dean of Medicine who walked beside me; though I didn't say that part out loud, somehow I thought she got the message anyway. Cuddy just gave a small nod, as if what I'd just said confirmed something for her.

"Alison, I hope you didn't take anything I said as a criticism of you or your abilities. You know how I feel about you; both as a doctor, and as a friend. And for the record, I think Foreman made the perfect decision on who his proxy should be." That drew me up short; pausing on the path we were presently on … both of us holding our hands in the pockets of our lab coats as a guard against the slight nip in the morning air, I turned to face her.

"You do?"

"Yes, I do," she answered; a smile on her face. "I wasn't really surprised when you brought me the proxy document to my office for my review; considering how things had been between you and Foreman over the article, and the way I know he holds you in high regard - despite what he might say sometimes - I guessed that that was what he'd decide to do about his treatment. What I wasn't sure about was how his father would play into it; but, I was positive that, out of all of his choices from the hospital staff, he'd pick you."

I was floored. Apparently, she'd seen things from a small distance that I'd totally missed up close. Guess that's one reason she's Dean of Medicine. "Why?" I whispered. Hearing this from her was unexpected, to say the least.

She cleared her throat, and then took a deep breath before answering.

"Well, like I said, he thinks highly of you as a doctor; and even though you were ready and willing to strangle him over the article, you put all that aside to treat him. I wouldn't have expected any less from you, and neither did he. What did he tell you when you asked him why?" My mouth hung open; how had she known about that? She shook her head in amusement at the look on my face. "Are you surprised, Alison? I know my people – it's a part of my job. And I saw the residual puzzlement in your eyes when you came to my office with the paper – right before you lit into me for not allowing House to autopsy the cop's body. You were still wondering a little about his decision, even at that point; even knowing you'd carry out his wishes, come hell or high water."

I thought back to the scene in her office. "You're right. I was still trying to figure out why he picked me of all people; especially with his dad there. But, I decided when House tried to wrest authority over Eric's care away from me that it really didn't matter at that point. What I knew I had to focus on was helping Er—Foreman." Cuddy chuckled at my sudden change in using Eric's last name, and I raised an eyebrow at her in question.

She folded her arms across her chest as she walked, her face taking on a thoughtful look as she studied me. "You've been spending a lot of time, a lot of off-hours, with him. Especially the first couple of days after he was released from ICU; you hardly went home at all, sleeping in one of those horribly uncomfortable guest chairs we put near patients' beds. And, since I haven't heard about any knockdown/drag-out fights, I'm assuming that things have … changed … between you two?" Her question was genuine, I could tell; she was curious about the change in my relationship with Eric, and was looking for the skinny from the 'horse's mouth', as it were. Normally, with anyone else at the hospital (except maybe Wilson), I would have played things close to my chest; but I knew that Cuddy, even though she disdained the 'gossip mill' at her hospital, never let that disdain keep her from taking advantage of it whenever she needed to. And, she was a friend as well as a mentor to me. Being the sole woman in Diagnostics, as well as she being the (female) boss of the entire hospital, gave both of us unique perspectives in our jobs … and usually made us natural comrades in the ebb and flow of mostly male-dominated medicine.

I surprised her by allowing the smile I seemed to get every time I thought about Eric now to appear on my face. Both of her eyebrows lifted, and I almost laughed out loud at the eager, inquisitive look she now carried.

"Yeah, I think so. We've been talking a lot, and it feels like we're getting to know each other again. It's like …" I paused, not quite knowing how to verbalize something I was still trying to figure out myself. "--we're seeing each other for the first time, and it's been … nice. We have more in common than either of us thought, and when I forgave him for the article—"; at that, Cuddy nodded, seemingly pleased, "I felt like I could really start over, and trust him again. Besides, when a guy who steals your article and breaks your trust turns around and puts his life in your hand - you're right – he told me that the main reason he chose me as his proxy was because the qualities in me that usually drove him nuts when treating other people were exactly what he wanted and needed for himself."

We'd both slowly started walking again; still following the paths between the buildings … which got me thinking about the path Eric and I were on. I paused, and looked back at the building he was in, counting the levels of windows until I reached his floor, wondering what he was thinking about at that moment. I felt Cuddy's eyes on me, and after giving a little sigh, I turned back to her and saw a tiny smile on her exotic face.

"That's good to hear, Alison. And not just on the level of keeping the peace between the warring factions in the kindergarten otherwise known as Diagnostics" - we both burst out laughing at her quip – "but knowing that things are OK between two people I think a lot of." She surprised me by taking my arm in hers, turning us back towards the buildings we usually worked in … keeping our speed very leisurely.

"Thanks, Lisa. I know that we can all be head cases sometimes, and real—"

"pains in the asses?" she supplied, her eyes dancing with humor. We giggled like two sorority sisters sharing a secret.

"sometimes, yeah." I continued, smiling. "Despite everything, we do our best, in spite of ourselves most of the time, I think. As for Eric and I, well … time will tell. The first thing is to get him back 100 - before House decides to give his fellowship to someone else." I couldn't hide the bitterness in my voice at that last comment.

"Don't worry about that, Alison. House has mentioned his concerns about Foreman's recovery, but they seem to be more about this new, closer relationship between you and Foreman; rather than his chances for a full recovery. His behavior this morning just reinforces that, I think. Dumping on you is his way of showing displeasure at the current state of things, things he has no real control over. And as far as Foreman's job is concerned, House can't do anything about his fellowships without my agreement, and there's no way I'm going to let him jettison Foreman. What I do think we need to do is review the case again with your input, of course, and then probably let him go home to continue healing. I've been reviewing his tests and results, of course, and I agree with you; we've done pretty much all we can do with him here. Unless I hear different, or things change … I'll probably send him home tomorrow for a week, at least. What does concern me is monitoring him while he's recuperating; somehow, I think he'd fight having me assign a nurse to check in on him on a daily basis—"

"You're right," I told her, definitely liking where this conversation seemed to be going.

"--so I was wondering if you'd be willing to be responsible for his home care. I think he'd feel most comfortable with that arrangement, and it would mean that a real doctor was overseeing him; as opposed to someone who might miss signs of his condition while he recuperates. And frankly Alison, you could use a break from this place. This whole case has taxed you, and between losing a lot of sleep spending so much time here for Foreman,and having to deal with House … I'm concerned about you. If a case comes into Diagnostics, House can consult with you if he wants; but you stay with Foreman until and unless we really need you here. You certainly have enough personal time built up. What do you think?"

What did I think? I think it was the best thing I'd heard in weeks. She was right; I was tired, and needed a break. She was also right about Eric; he wouldn't want a nurse, and even though I felt he wouldn't have any objection to me watching over him, he'd feel better about it when he realized that it meant a vacation of sorts for me, as well. I knew he was worried about my well-being lately, and he would see this as an opportunity to get me to rest, too.

And I also got the strangest feeling that this also gave Cuddy a way to help this new relationship between Eric and me as much as she could, away from the stresses of the hospital. I got the impression that Cuddy approved of what might be happening with Eric and I, and I looked over at her as we returned to our building. She didn't meet my eyes; instead casting her glances everywhere around us except at me … and the feeling I was getting got stronger.

"You wouldn't happen to be having a 'personal' interest in all of this, Dr. Cuddy – maybe as a wager between you and Wilson, perhaps?" I told her in a mock-chastising, humorous voice. Given her pleasure in engaging in games of chance, Cuddy could have been a riverboat gambler in another life. She stopped in mid-stride, placing a hand over her chest in a classic 'damsel is affronted' look. I faced her, crossing my own arms and tapping one foot on the ground … and an impish grin filled her face as she answered, her eyes sparkling with humor.

"Why, Dr. Cameron – what must you think of me, to say something like that! Here I am, trying to do as my heart commands me do, and my motives are held up for suspicion! Oh, the pain …" I rolled my eyes, shaking my head and laughing before taking her arm and pulling her along the path back towards the building drawing closer in front of us. She giggled, giving me a wink before I was finally able to answer her. "Oh, give it a rest, 'Scarlett', willya? I'm betting that you and Wilson will lay some serious money on all this – if you haven't already, that is."

We reached the doors of the clinic, and bustled through a small group of people coming in at the same time … our professional faces starting to reappear on our faces. One of the things that I liked about Cuddy was her willingness to help out in the clinic – which surprised some of our patients, when they found out that they were examined or treated by the head administrator/doctor, and not some intern. True to form, she headed towards the main desk and the pile of charts that were collecting there in the racks for the doctors on duty. I would have immediately pitched in, but I knew that I had to deal with House and his email sooner or later. The coffee issue, I'd leave him to figure out; since there was a very good chance I'd be away for a week, and both he and Chase would have to fend for themselves in that area. I couldn't help it; I could feel the anticipatory smile on my face when I told Eric what Lisa was planning, as well as getting some (I admit it) much-needed time away from this place. Cuddy waved me away, already starting to review the first chart in her hands and giving instructions to the nurses. "Go and get squared away upstairs, Cameron – and tell Chase I want his help down here right away. Once we get through this throng, I'll have a word with Neurology about scheduling a review of Foreman's condition, and then you, House, and I will meet afterward. Got it?" I smiled to myself; Cuddy assumed the mantle of 'commander' quite easily; and she was very good at it, too. I nodded, giving her a smile as I headed towards the elevators. "Yes, ma'am," I told her, using the same kind of voice the nurse at the desk had earlier. "Thanks for the walk, and everything."

"You're welcome. And, please - don't kill House. I reserve that particular joy for myself; and I am the boss, after all."

"Whatever you say, Dr. Cuddy," I answered her over my shoulder. When the elevator arrived and I entered, pressing the button for the floor our offices were on, I heard Cuddy tell the nurse in a put-upon voice as the elevator doors closed …

"See – all you have to do is walk the pets every once in a while, and they get all respectful-like!"

Both the nurse and I were laughing before the doors finally closed.

The rest of the morning was spent in front of House's computer, once I'd returned to the office and basically glared him out of his chair, refusing to engage in any of his cutting banter … until he finally left – probably to hassle Wilson, or have an early sandwich with the guy in the coma. I'd already sent Chase downstairs to help Cuddy and the rest of the staff in the clinic, and was more than halfway through the ton of emails, thinking about lunch with Eric … when House's phone rang. Not bothering to see who it was, I picked up the phone, crooking it between my ear and neck as I continued typing.

"Diagnostics Department - Dr. House's office. Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can," Eric's voice came through the speaker. "What kind of food should I order for lunch with someone special? And, keep in mind; we're talking hospital food here, so the choices are limited."

I giggled, smiling so widely I almost dropped the phone from its' snug spot under my ear at the rush of feelings I felt, hearing his voice.

"Well, that depends," I answered him, adding a thoughtful tilt to my voice. "If this is just a casual lunch, then you can probably just go with the tater-tots and dried meatloaf. But," and I placed a lot of emphasis in my next words, "if this person is indeed as special as you say, then …" I paused dramatically, waiting for a response.

"Yes?" Eric's quiet, laughing voice came through the phone.

"… then anything you like would be just fine with her." There was silence on the line … both of us holding our breaths.

"Hmm … well, tater-tots it is, then!" Eric sang out between laughs. I managed to choke out a mock-offended "Eric!"- before joining him in laughter. I just knew there was a smile on his face that matched mine; I could feel it through the line, as if I was there next to him.

"Sorry, Alison; I couldn't resist." His chuckles slowly died down, and I was struck by how much we'd laughed together, since he woke up from the biopsy. It was as though both of us had been re-wired, somehow. But I didn't want to get too deep in my thoughts at the moment; just hearing his cheery voice did wonders for my own spirits.

"Yeah, yeah … you just love teasing me, that's all. Are you OK – do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks. Just thought I'd take a chance on you being there doing email. It sounds quiet; are you alone?"

"Yep. Cuddy pulled Chase into the clinic to give a hand, and House is off … somewhere, I don't know exactly. So I've got the place to myself for now. We haven't gotten any new cases that I know of, so it may stay quiet between now and lunchtime. Hopefully." I sighed, suddenly feeling the lack of real sleep I've been subjecting myself to the past couple of weeks.

"You're still tired." Eric said, in a statement rather than a question. I didn't bother to pretend otherwise; he would've seen right through me, anyway.

"A little, I guess. Haven't had my coffee yet; we're all out down here, and I haven't had a chance to go get some yet." I told him.

"Maybe you should try to grab a nap, then … since there aren't any cases and Chase is covering the clinic. Why don't you go and see if you can bunk out on Wilson's couch for an hour or so. You'll feel better that way, rather than stoking up on coffee."

I smiled at his concern. "Thanks, Eric, but I'll be fine – really. I'm pretty excited, actually, about a couple of things."

"Oh? Pray tell …" I grinned, and leaned back in House's chair to give my back some relief from bending over the keyboard for a long while. I decided not to tell Eric about the argument earlier between House and I; he could hear about it later from me; for now, I didn't want to dwell on anything having to do with House. "I had an interesting and productive conversation with Cuddy this morning. She is very receptive to the idea of releasing you to go home, pending the review with House, herself, and your buddies in Neurology. And of course, a sign-off from your primary physician."

"--who's getting nothing but dried-out, burnt meatloaf from my kitchen … unless she toes the line and takes me home!" I gulped in pleased shock; was he intimating about future meals at his place, while at the same time, asking me to 'take him home'? I decided to muse on those points later; for now, I laughed somewhat nervously, still enjoying the banter between us.

"Well, threatening to not feed her may just result in you spending another week here in the gentle clutches of PPTH!" I mock-threatened right back; hopefully covering over my pleasure and nervousness over the meaning behind his words.

"OK, OK … man, I was only kidding. Maybe that hair clip's wrapped a little too tight this morning, hmm?" Even though I'd decided to wear my hair more loosely today, I still wore a clip on one side that my older sister had given me years ago. It was one of my favorite possessions.

"Hmm … could be, Eric – because I feel like coming up there and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around a certain neurologist's neck, unless he lets me finish my good news!" There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Please, Dr. Cameron … you please go right ahead with your news. I listen with bated, hospital breath." I snickered, before clearing my voice.

"Thank you, Dr. Foreman. Now, after you make it through the 'Spanish Inquisition', I think Cuddy's going to suggest we release you to go home for the next week or so to continue recovering – with one little caveat."

My friend was quick on the mental uptake this morning, as he quickly figured out what it was I was referring to.

"No! No way, Alison! I don't need a nurse hovering over me at home! I'm well enough to monitor my own condition, and I can certainly call for help if I—"

"--not even if the 'nurse' happens to be a certain immunologist?" I sweetly interrupted, waiting for his response and really enjoying his sudden spluttering silence. I thought that if I could see him at that moment, his lips would be in the shape of an 'O'. I smiled at the thought.

"You are so enjoying this, aren't you?" he said after another minute. I couldn't hold it in anymore; I finally broke out in laughter, and he joined in with a few chuckles of his own.

"Oh, yeah, you bet. You're not the only one who gets to tease around here. But you haven't answered my question. What do you think? She wants me to continue to monitor your progress … and also take some time off, to 'get away from this place', to use her exact words. And, I thought, since I'd be visiting you anyway while you were at home, well … but, hey – if this is too much too soon, or if you're uncomfortable with it, then—" I closed my eyes, steeling myself for hearing all the reasons why this wasn't such a good idea from him.

"No! I mean … no, it's … perfect. Really. I didn't mean to give you the idea that I didn't want you around; I just don't feel right about a nurse, that's all." I slowly opened my eyes again, smiling through the phone. I was really happy he said that.

"I understand, Eric. I'd feel the same way, and I'd want someone I was comfortable with watching over me, too. I thought this would be a good chance for us to spend some time together, too, since I know you're going to get better on your own anyway. I think Cuddy feels the same."

"I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for you, Alison." His voice was … filled with such conviction and gratitude, that I didn't know what to say in response at first. But I knew that he was just thanking me again; and all I could finally manage, in a voice that matched his … "You're welcome, Eric. Always."

We were both silent for a while; each thinking, I felt sure, about the other. I was feeling a growing awareness of his thoughts and moods … and he could probably say the same thing about me. I'd never experienced anything quite like this before, or ever had a relationship that took such twists and turns as this one already had. Even though I could feel us growing closer, I wondered at that moment what he was thinking. So, I asked him.

"What are you thinking about?" He paused, giving a little sigh that told me there was a lot on his mind.

"I'm not sure … I was looking out of the window, just listening to you breathe … watching the different colors of the water from the rain earlier, and wondering … wow, you're going to think this is so weird …"

"What?" I gently prompted him, giving him a smile he couldn't see.

"Well …" he paused, searching for words as he whispered … "I was wondering what your favorite color was. I know you like blue, because your wardrobe seems to show that, and you always look good – but sometimes people's favorite color doesn't have anything to do with that."

I settled deeper into House's comfortable chair, trying to get closer to this man on the other end of the phone who was so thoughtful and caring … and who seemed to so easily and confidently mix in a compliment with the gentle thoughts and ideas his mind produced. It was amazing that we'd been practically at each other's throats less than two weeks ago; and that it took him almost dying for us to get to this point, on the other side of all of that …

Gently swinging back and forth in the chair, I whispered back to him, "You're right … I love blue, but I really love green the most. I know it's probably hard to tell, but I'm an outdoorsy kind of girl – love the spring, summer, and fall with everything green. It's one of the reasons I also like walks, and riding a bike, and …" I started laughing. "…you didn't ask for all of that, did you?" I felt at that moment like a little girl, unable to form real sentences. He was quiet for a moment … thinking so loud, it seemed that I could hear him through the wires of the phone.

"I did, actually. I feel like there's so much I don't know about you, even though I also feel like I know you – does that make any sense at all? Are you at this very moment getting ready to have Neurology come and strap me down for shock treatments?"

I giggled as he laughed at his joke, loving his sense of humor. At work, I was used to just seeing it in a medical context, or on those rare occasions when we were all out at some bar or restaurant together; but now, just between us … it was richer, deeper, like a spring that you knew existed, but hadn't any idea of its' real depth.

"I think you've had enough tests already to last a lifetime, don't you? And, to be honest … I'm feeling the same way about you, too. It's all just a little …"

"… disconcerting …" he replied.

"… distracting," I answered.

"Mmmm…" he added.

"Mmmm…" I agreed, idly watching staffers pass by the glass office walls as I listened to him breathing.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess I should let you get back to work …"

"Spoilsport," I whispered back, making him laugh again. I liked doing that.

"See you for lunch?"

"You bet … Cuddy will probably be by this afternoon with the rest of the Inquisition …" I warned him.

"I'll be ready."

"Good," I told him. "So will I." He chuckled.

"They won't know what hit 'em," he said.

"Eric?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you want something to eat from the cafeteria, instead of the kitchen? I could see what's on the menu …"

"That's OK, Alison. I can stand some bad food, as long as the company's good."

"Thank you." I told him. I could get used to this man's compliments.

"See you in a while…" he softly whispered in my ear.

"Take a nap if you want … I'll wake you for lunch, ok?"

"Maybe … we'll see."

"Bye, Eric."

"…bye, Alison…"

Slowly hanging up the phone, I turned the chair towards the windows behind House's desk; wondering if I could see the same colors Eric could through his window.

END OF PART FOUR