A/N: Happy Canada Day!!
Into Temptation, Chapter 10
A watched kettle never boils, Cameron reminds herself as she waits for water to boil for tea. Or does that old adage apply only to pots? It must, because soon she can see tiny bubbles starting to rise up and disrupt the calm surface of the water inside the transparent kettle. A minute passes and now it seems there are more bubbles than water as the water turns to steam and floats away. Some days she wishes she could just float away. More bubbles than water, more questions than answers, more fear than hope…
The high pitched whistle of the boiling kettle jolts her out of her trance and she moves to silence it. The situation with House cannot continue. Tiny bubbles have been forming on the surface of her life ever since the evening she spent with him, and now they are about to erupt into a full rolling boil. There was a certain look in Chase's eyes as he kissed her goodbye that morning that spoke to her loud and clear. I know something's up, Allison, it said. I know something's up and I'm going to give you the space you need to deal with it, but understand that my patience only goes so far. It's more of an allowance than she deserves. She's all too aware of that fact, but it doesn't make any of this easier.
It's the sense of being at a crossroads that scares her the most, she decides, as she pours a mug of hot water and absentmindedly swishes a teabag through it. Crossroads mean decisions, and she's just not that great with major life decisions. She's always been far too spontaneous for her own good. It's one good thing about being so closely entwined with House – next to his insanity, the rest of them appear relatively stable. But unfortunately for her, her track record speaks for itself. Quitting a highly prized fellowship, with no notice, not once but twice, in any other hospital, in any other city in the country, would have essentially ended her career. It most certainly would not have led to her boss begging her to come back, but even if it had, and she had decided to blackmail said boss into a date… Well, suffice it to say, she doesn't always make the smartest decisions.
It's strange, because she makes life or death decisions for other people every day, she thinks, as she takes her mug of tea from the kitchen counter to the table and slides into a chair. So, it's not as though she's incapable of doing the right thing at the right time. She just needs to work on transferring her medical intuition to her personal life. Sighing, she takes a sip of her tea. As she swallows, the green-glowing digits on her microwave catch her attention.
The tea swirls down the drain as she grabs her bag and rushes out the door, already knowing she's going to be late.
Her stomach is in knots as she walks through the parking lot toward the hospital twenty minutes later. She wishes she had listened to all those experts out there who advise against workplace romances. Turns out they're right, they really are a bad idea, but that realization comes far too late to help her now. Having no choice but to face her current situation in the place where she is supposed to be professional at all times is only adding to the anxiety bubbling within her. Gritting her teeth, she pushes the door open. She'll deal. Sadly, she's been in comparable predicaments before. Yet another example of her poor decision making skills.
The first person she sees upon entering is Dr. Cuddy, standing at the front desk, which tempts her to turn around and walk right back out. It seems the only time her boss approaches her these days is when she's trying oh-so-covertly to gain information about House. It's annoying and slightly stomach-turning at the best of times, and these are far from the best of times. Staring straight ahead as she walks through the lobby, she hopes the other woman won't notice her.
No such luck.
"Dr. Cameron. A moment please."
She doesn't stop, but she does slow down. The woman is her superior after all. It could be important.
"Have you seen Dr. House…?"
No. She can't do this right now. Can't.
"No, Dr. Cuddy," she interrupts. "As you can see, I've only just arrived." She continues on her way, without a backwards glance.
He's in the back of her mind all day and into the evening. And often in the front as well. She's gone over every moment they've spent together in the past five years with a fine tooth comb. Tried to ferret out hidden meanings in every word they've exchanged, tried to decipher looks he'd given her days, months, and even years earlier. What she's trying to do, she realizes, is decide whether what she's wondering is even possible.
Could he really mean it?
Could he really be serious about her? About them?
After all this time?
All her analysis has led to one painful, unavoidable, conclusion.
The answer is no.
He can't be. He just doesn't have it in him.
And she can't just give up everything on the one teeny tiny chance that maybe he is and maybe he does.
She's always been far too spontaneous for her own good.
By the time her shift concludes, she knows what she has to do.
End it.
Standing in the doorway, she leans against the jamb, just watching him for a few minutes. House is seated at his desk, feet up, earbuds in, a People magazine covering his face. Just for a moment, it feels like old times – her standing there, needing something from him, but reluctant to interrupt his unique method of problem-solving. Him, completely oblivious to her presence.
"Well, are you going to come in?" he asks, pulling the magazine off and tossing it toward the desk. He overshoots and it slides off the other side and onto the floor.
Or, maybe not so oblivious.
"Ah, yeah. Hi," she offers by way of a greeting as she walks in and leans over to pick up the magazine. Caught off guard already, she mentally chides herself. This is off to a great start. Taking a deep breath, she tries to picture a pool of calm, clear, bubble-free water.
"Hey," he responds, pulling out his earbuds.
Dropping the magazine on the desk, she plops down in the chair across from him. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Now that she's finally here, all her carefully rehearsed words have flown right out of her head. Cursing under her breath, she lays her head down on his desk and closes her eyes.
After a moment she feels fingers running lightly through her hair. Heat begins to rise inside of her and the bubbles threaten to spill over again.