WARNINGS: major character death; season six spoilers; addiction; sex; violence
Chapter Forty-Five
It starts just like any other case, or at least not so differently from the majority in Cameron's memory. She's at work early again, having left Chase asleep in the condo to go home and shower. Her apartment is nearly unbearable now when it's empty, reminding her of everything in their relationship which is still uncertain. They have been together for nearly a month, and already they seem to have reached an impasse, both ready for more than the superficiality of beginning again, but too afraid to move toward it. And so she spends as little time there as possible, leaving for work as soon as she's dressed and ready despite the early hour.
This time it's Cuddy who finds her, in her office again. Cameron sits up a little straighter in her chair, sucking in a nervous breath. She hasn't seen Cuddy in person since that disastrous day in the hospital, and though they've spoken pleasantly enough on the phone several times, she can't help but feel nervous in her boss's presence.
"Good morning," Cameron offers, hoping silently that the rumor mill has not already started churning out stories about her and Chase. They've done everything in their power to prevent assumptions, and yet she knows they've been in the gossip spotlight from the moment she returned to Princeton, her pregnancy only serving to heighten the interest. Cuddy will inevitably find out, and Cameron has the feeling that when she does, it will be even less pleasant than their previous encounter.
"I have a case for you," says Cuddy, surprising her. She holds out the file without taking a seat, and Cameron notices suddenly that she looks more tense than usual, clearly stressed about something on top of her typical weight of responsibilities.
Taking the file, Cameron waits for Cuddy to offer a further explanation. When she doesn't, Cameron opens the chart and begins skimming the information, acutely aware that Cuddy is still present and standing over her. On first glance she is uncertain what is so crucial about this case being taken by her department – the symptoms are more typical of influenza than anything stranger. But then the patient's age catches her eye – six months—and suddenly she knows without question why Cuddy is upset, can feel the beginnings of a new fiercely maternal protectiveness stirring in the pit of her stomach.
"Is there—any particular reason?" Cameron asks warily, afraid that there is more to the story than the simple fact that this is a baby who is sick. She understands now more than ever the distress of seeing another mother's child in jeopardy, but she's spent too many years working with House not to consider other possibilities.
Cuddy hesitates for a moment, then sighs. "Her mother's a nurse in surgery. I just hired her a few weeks ago. She's a single parent. NICU tried antibiotics already, with no effect. I know it's not the weirdest case you've ever seen, but if your team could spare a few hours, I think it could really make a difference."
"Okay," Cameron answers after a moment's hesitation. She decides that they will have to take this case at face value, without questioning further. And she wants to help this patient besides.
Cuddy turns to leave, then pauses in the doorway, regarding Cameron thoughtfully. "You and Chase? Just be sure you know what you're getting into. I don't want to lose either of you again. This hospital needs you both."
Cameron freezes, momentarily shocked beyond words. "You knew?"
Cuddy nods. "Wilson told me three weeks ago."
Cameron flinches, the words hitting her like a punch to the gut. She knows it ought not to surprise her that Wilson has betrayed her confidence, considering how everything he knew used to get back to House. And yet she hasn't expected him to tell anyone, has taken for granted that he would know how potentially damaging the knowledge is.
"Don't be angry at him," says Cuddy, as though reading her mind. "He did you a favor."
"By ratting me out to my boss?" Cameron asks bitterly, aware that she's being unprofessional. Etiquette seems pointless given the nature of this conversation.
"Yes," Cuddy answers bluntly. "You had to know I was going to find out eventually. Better from Wilson—who was more than willing to vouch for your sense of responsibility—than from the hospital rumor mill. You should thank him."
Cameron bites her lip, considering. "And you're not—upset? Going to try to stop us?"
"Well, I'm obviously not thrilled about it," says Cuddy, with a knowing look. "But you've worked together before. And your performance has given me no reason to feel the need to intervene."
"So that's just—it, then?" asks Cameron, still on the defensive.
Cuddy nods. "If I were you, I would keep talking to Wilson. He gives good advice."
In the outer office, Chase and Foreman are just arriving, apparently having walked up together. For a moment Cameron looks back and forth between them and Cuddy, wishing she had more time for this conversation. It's unsettled her, and doesn't yet feel resolved. But Cuddy simply nods once more, and then leaves. Taking a breath, Cameron picks up the case file and gets to her feet, aware as she always is recently that she is now visibly pregnant, even when dressed, even under a labcoat.
"What did Cuddy want?" Chase asks, as Cameron makes her way over to the conference table, and pulls out a chair. Before she can answer, he comes over and hands her a mug of coffee—decaf, she's certain. Before, he made such small gestures of kindness on a routine basis, seemingly almost without thought. But now she knows such a step is monumental for him, small progress even in the face of fear.
"She brought us a case," Cameron answers, taking the mug and smiling at him. "Thank you."
"We have a pile of referrals on your desk," Foreman points out, starting a separate pot of coffee for himself.
Chase sets his mug down and goes to the whiteboard, uncapping a marker and raising his eyebrows expectantly, evidently eager to start on the differential. Cameron wonders for moment whether it's another silent gesture of support, or if he's simply in need of another distraction from his anxiety. Either way, she's grateful for it.
"Cuddy wants us to take this case first," Cameron says firmly, opening the chart again. "And it'll only take us a little while. Then we can get back to that pile of referrals."
Sighing, Foreman takes a seat at the table. Once again, Cameron wonders what it is that's made him so much more irritable than usual; she's been so preoccupied with the ways in which Chase has changed since she's been gone, she has managed to overlook the differences in everyone else. But this is still not the time, she tells herself, and she isn't sure she has the strength to learn of anyone else's tragedies besides. She remembers suddenly seeing Thirteen at House's funeral, and how sick she had appeared then. She knows all too well the terrible weight of caring for a dying spouse.
"Are you going to present the case?" Chase asks, and Cameron realizes suddenly that she's been lost in thought for nearly a full minute.
"Yeah," she answers, shaking herself. "Elizabeth Speck. Six month old female. Presented to the ER yesterday morning with a severe cough and febrile seizures. Chest x-ray revealed a diffuse pattern of darkening consistent with pneumonia. NICU ordered broad spectrum antibiotics and antipyretics. No improvement. Cultures and a biopsy were taken this morning, but they're not back yet. If antibiotics aren't helping, chances are it's not bacterial, so they'll be useless anyway."
"Why are we taking this case?" Foreman asks again, as Chase finishes writing the symptoms on the board. "We have a diagnosis. It's pneumonia. We should move on to a case where we might actually be able to make a difference."
"The patient's mother is a new hospital employee," Cameron answers. She's been hoping to keep that bit of information out of the differential, reluctant to have hospital politics play any role in this child's treatment.
"There are lots of pneumonias," says Chase, capping the marker and tossing it up in the air, watching it flip over once before catching it neatly. There's a strange energy about him today, a sort of frantic confidence in his work.
"You said new employee?" asks Foreman, sounding suddenly interested.
Cameron nods. "She's a nurse in surgery. Cuddy said she was hired a few weeks ago. She's a single mother."
"Do we know whether this is the mother's first nursing job?" Foreman continues.
Chase frowns, glancing at the whiteboard. "Are you thinking hospital acquired infection?"
"I'm thinking it could be relevant, at least," says Foreman. "Think about what usually happens to people who are new in the medical field."
"You get sick a lot, when you first start." Cameron looks down at the chart again as she begins to see the implications of this line of thinking. She wishes suddenly that she'd taken more time to ask Cuddy about the patient's history, spent less on talking about her own relationship.
Foreman nods. "Right. Then eventually, your immune system adapts. But she's a single mother. She's busy. She's probably rushing from work to pick up her kid at daycare. Maybe she doesn't always have time to shower. Maybe she doesn't always change. The baby would be a lot more vulnerable."
"For that matter, the baby could have picked up an infection at the daycare," Chase adds.
"We need to figure out what kind of pneumonia this is," Cameron agrees. "And I don't think we can count on the cultures to tell us anything. I think we should go do an exam. And talk to the mother. Maybe she can give us some answers."
"You're not going anywhere," Chase says sharply, surprising her.
"Excuse me?" Cameron is already on her feet, and turns toward him, crossing her arms. His tone is clearly confrontational, catching her off-guard.
"This is a woman with a critically sick baby," says Chase, taking a few slow steps toward her. "Probably with a contagious illness. She has a high fever and symptoms that could be pneumonia. Could be influenza. Could be any number of infections. And you're pregnant. You shouldn't be putting yourself or the baby at risk that way."
"I'll go," says Foreman quickly, already halfway to the door, as though sensing that this is about to get personal. He has always been practically repelled by emotional conversations.
"I don't need you to protect me." The words are out of her mouth before Cameron has even realized what she's said, and though she's instantly aware of how inappropriate her reaction is, she doesn't make any move to take it back. His words have struck at one of her biggest fears, that she won't be able to be both a parent and a doctor, that she will have to choose between her two worlds. Her emotions seem more and more out of her control lately, and though the pregnancy books she's been reading assure her this is normal, she can't help feeling completely unlike herself.
Chase snorts, suddenly completely on edge, his mood having shifted as quickly as her own. "Apparently I do. What were you going to do, just rush in there?"
"Yeah," Cameron snaps sarcastically, instantly resenting his implications that she isn't able to take care of herself, or would risk endangering their child. "I was going to go running in there and kiss the sick baby. Who needs gloves or a mask?"
"It's bad enough you're still working after you got so stressed that you almost miscarried!" Chase throws up his hands in frustration. "I mean, god, you're supposed to be taking it easy, and what do you do? Work overtime. And don't look at me like that. I know you've been coming in here every free moment you've got. You ditched me this morning so you could run back here."
"I went home to shower!" Cameron protests, feeling entirely blindsided. She remembers now how early in their relationship he let his complaints against her build up, how he has always avoided telling her what is actually bothering him until the situation explodes.
"I have a shower at my place!" Chase pushes, even more visibly upset now. He takes a breath, as though he's just realized that he's practically shouting and they are at work. "You could have stayed there just as easily. Come to work with me."
"We're not living together," Cameron answers, feeling claustrophobic. "I had every right to go home to shower and change. What is this really about? Is this about you thinking I'm putting the baby in danger, or is it about you wanting more than you've told me in our relationship?" As hopeful as she's been, it suddenly feels as though maybe all of the progress has been a lie, as though they are already repeating the mistake that ended in divorce in the first place.
"Seriously?" Chase sneers, his anger visibly escalating. "We were married! D'you really think I want us to spend the rest of our lives tiptoeing around like we're high schoolers on our first crush? I want you to talk to me! Act like you might trust me! I don't really care if you stay at the condo every night or not. But it would be nice if you'd tell me what you're doing before you just take off. Last time I checked that was the polite thing to do."
"You were the one who wanted to take things slowly!" Suddenly Cameron can't stop remembering her conversation with Wilson, feels as though she might have made a terrible mistake by not establishing boundaries then like he'd suggested. "And god knows you don't talk to me! How many times have I told you that I need you to tell me when something's bothering you? But you don't. You just let it fester until you can't control yourself and it ruins everything!"
Chase flinches as though she's hit him, and she regrets the accusation instantly. "Right," he says tightly, swallowing with difficulty. "I ruin everything." She can't be sure whether he's mocking or agreeing.
Cameron opens her mouth to answer, is in the process of desperately trying to scrape up some words that might save this conversation from careening toward the brink of total destruction. But before she can come up with anything, Foreman bursts back through the door of the office, lab sheets in hand, though he's only been gone a few minutes.
"What is it?" asks Cameron, forcing herself to turn away from Chase without offering him an answer.
"Cultures are back," says Foreman, oblivious to the tension in the room. "It's a good thing none of us did an exam."
"What does she have?" Chase asks.
Foreman puts the lab sheets down on the table, taking a breath before he speaks. "MRSA. It's eating her lungs."
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