Princeton's finest
Foreman and Chase were taking their seats at the speakers' platform. The conference was spread out over several days, many rooms, and different audiences, but since their panel comprised the keynote presentations for the middle day, the entire auditorium was filling up. The two doctors were under no illusion as to the main draw, namely House himself. Academic medicine was, actually, a fairly self-contained field, and even if doctors would not know each other by face, often they knew each other by output. The three fellows, as young thrusters, published frequently. House did not, of course, but the impact of his studies was nevertheless significant. It also helped that he tackled unconventional subjects in an unconventional way. Academia was necessarily adversarial, but even amongst brethren House stood out, as much for his manners as for his insights.
"Decent crowd", said Chase, observing as delegates swept into the hall.
"Yep. This is going to be great. I've already made a bunch of contacts".
"Caught up with Marty yet?".
"Yeah. John Henry Giles is still going strong; released a new album a couple of months ago. And he offered me a job out west". The neurologist shuffled some papers, ensuring that everything was ordered correctly.
"You gonna take it?". The Australian knew his colleague to be the most ambitious of all of them.
"Not sure. Thinking I might let it slip to Cuddy that I'm being headhunted and angle for more responsibility at Princeton. And more money".
"Ugh. House is one thing, but there's absolutely no way I'm calling you 'boss'. Sorry".
"You wouldn't have a choice", he smirked.
The two were interrupted by the moderator, who went over the stipulated lengths of their papers and accompanying question time, the introductions for each of the fellows and for House himself, and, finally, the controls for managing the projector display. It was at this point that their errant colleagues finally arrived, and Cameron went straight to the central computer to load her slides. "Well, you made it", said Chase in a tone of mock amazement. "Better late than never".
"I was masturbating, sorry. Next time I'll think of you in your short shorts and be right on time". The nephrologist sank into the middle seat, sighing loudly.
"Er, hello, Dr. House. I'm Dr. Douglas Ross of King's College, the chair of this session-".
Suddenly the other burst out laughing "-hey, Foreman, this guy is literally called after the ER character. That's amazing".
The moderator cleared his throat and soldiered on. "I sent you an email last night introducing myself?".
"Hi, George", beamed House. "Sorry, I don't check my email. It's not in the Bible, so, yeah. I hope my talk of masturbation just then didn't make you uncomfortable".
Ross throat-cleared again. "It's Douglas. I was just informing your fellow panel members of the aim this afternoon. Would you like a precis?".
"Non, merci, monsieur Clooney. I'm assuming it's simply a case of standing up, sidling over to that there microphone, and talking. I don't wish to blow my own trumpet here, OK, but I'm something of an expert at talking. I even do it in my sleep".
Ross nodded and went off to his seat further down, a little nonplussed.
Cameron had made her way back to the table and was filling a cup with water. "That poor man is only trying to do his job. You don't need to be a dick about it".
"How was I being a dick? Not my fault he's named after a TV character".
The immunologist leant across and flashed Ross a beautiful smile. "Sorry about him. He's special".
"Ugh, you're too soft", whispered House.
"And you're too hard", she retorted.
"Penis reference?".
Cameron ignored this and carried on the conversation. "Pleased to meet you, Douglas – what's your specialism?".
The man inclined his head in gratitude. "Endocrinology. I volunteered to chair this because I was hoping Dr. Lisa Cuddy would be coming…do you know her?".
"All the men in Princeton know her, Doug", House said with a wink.
"I'm aware she hasn't published anything in a while, but I really loved some of her earlier stuff and had designs on maybe picking her brains". Ross spoke animatedly, and his enthusiasm made him seem younger than he actually was, which must have been late thirties.
"Well, she's our boss. If you'd like, I can give her your email address and suggest she makes contact when we get back to the States?". Cameron's understanding stemmed not just from her innate desire to help out when possible, but also from something Cuddy had confessed to her in the bar, that sometimes she missed being a doctor, missed the thrill of medicine. The Dean would never resign from her position in the hospital, but if Cameron could at the very least put her boss in touch with a grateful professional admirer, then it really was a no-brainer.
"Oh, that would be fantastic, thanks very much. Here". Ross scribbled down his email and handed it over to Cameron. "Right, I'll just do a quick once-round with the ushers and we'll get things rolling".
"Are we counting that as networking, too?", asked House conversationally, aware of his prior agreement with Cuddy which involved glad-handing at the conference in exchange for a two-week skip of clinic duty. "Cameron?".
"Huh? Sorry, did you say something?". The immunologist had experienced a sudden flash of terror at a temporarily misplaced paper and completely missed his question.
House looked at her closely. "You OK?".
"What have I said about you asking whether I'm OK…?". The other raised an eyebrow, seemingly aware of her deflection. Cameron sighed, speaking under her breath so that Foreman and Chase couldn't hear: "ugh, alright: I'm actually pretty nervous. Look how many people there are", she gestured out towards the packed auditorium. "I'm starting to think that your little dry run on Monday with med students and catering staff was not such good prep after all".
"Cameron, you've written an excellent paper. Just do what you do. Present the science. I'll be right here, hey?". House patted her knee discreetly under the table.
But before he could withdraw, she squeezed his hand and gave him a nervous smile. "You must think I'm pathetic".
"I think it's sweet. Nerves are natural".
"You never get nervous".
"I do. Our first date at Café Spoleto I was this close to cancelling. Probably would've done if Wilson hadn't forced me out the door".
"I didn't know. That's…actually very reassuring. But I meant professionally not personally".
"Ah, well, that's different. My brain is wired differently. But you'll be fine. If I didn't think your paper was worthwhile, I wouldn't have bothered to help you with it". House took out a pen and paper on the off chance he wanted to take notes. Or draw pornographic sketches. But he saw her looking oddly at him. "What're you eyeing me for, woman?".
"I just-, I'm, ah…just very thankful we're together. I don't expect you to be supportive, y'know".
"Yeah, well…", he replied, tugging his ear awkwardly. "For God's sake, stop staring like that; you're freaking me out, CB".
"CB?", she repeated, confused. This was a completely new pet name which had gone through none of the public consultations.
"Chicago Bitch", he grinned. "Or Brunette. But I prefer the first one".
"There we go. I was afraid we'd lost the real House for a second". For some reason, his rudeness made her relax and view this presentation as a challenge to be enjoyed rather than surmounted.
Ross trooped back to the podium. "We're all set. Ready?".
Cameron took a steadying breath. "Yes. Let's do it".
With a final glance at House for support, she signalled to Ross, who made his way over to the microphone at the lectern. The entire room gradually fell silent and the lights dimmed. "Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to the highlight of this conference: Saturday's keynote panel, whose subject is the emerging field of diagnostic medicine and its practice at one hospital in particular. Our first speaker is Dr. Allison Cameron. Originally from Chicago, she completed a prestigious residency at the Mayo Clinic in America before heading to Princeton Plainsboro where she and her colleagues are doing work at the cutting edge of our field…".
The three fellows looked on with apprehension and not a little admiration as House delivered his paper to a rapt audience. Only Cameron had read it in full, and even she was entranced not just by the subject matter but also by the delivery. All of them had only ever seen House present once, during Vogler's tenure. Then, the diagnostician had been halting, monotonous, and scripted. But today was completely different. Running to just under an hour, his talk was smooth yet forceful, delivered more as a conversation than an academic presentation. Though he had occasional recourse to PowerPoint slides, these were minimalist and merely illustrative. Not for the first time these last few months, Cameron felt both jealous and proud. During differentials, because they were necessarily collaborative, it was occasionally possible for the fellows to think of themselves as equals to their boss. But moments like these, when House had worked alone at his own project, at his own pace, several weeks of work in the bank, rammed home the reality: the man was freakishly clever.
And yet, for all this, the material was highly controversial. As House progressed, and euthanasia was laid out and elaborated upon, albeit in a subtle and ingenious manner, the tone of the room changed. From their position at the hall's head, the diagnosticians could make out audience members sharing glances and snatched whispers. Meanwhile, the moderator Doug Ross shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking straight down at a piece of paper on the table. By the end, delegates were split. Some initiated a round of applause, but others sat stony-faced, shaking their heads. House stood at the lectern with a knowing smirk on his face, as if to say: I'm smarter than most of you here. This is what I expected.
The question period began haltingly. No one seemed willing to take that first step, to ask whether, for all the hypothetical statements and answers, this really was an approach he had followed. House answered truthfully: no, but if I could, I would. Not all the discussion was so simple, though. A doctor from Paris had asked about the philosophical grounding and initiated a convoluted back and forth between speaker and several other audience members; another, this time a woman from Canada, had queried the line between euthanasia and straight-out eugenics. One man had simply offered a statement in support of House's bravery, for which he had been applauded by a whole section of the room. Foreman and Chase had clapped, too.
But Cameron remained quiet. House's interpretations were characteristically brilliant, and she loved the man dearly, but she simply did not agree with all his positions. The fact that it was she who occupied the anonymous starring role in this paper made her all the more conflicted. Even though she had been forewarned by her own reading of it, hearing it spoken out loud, in public, made the whole thing difficult. Thoughts of being unmasked were swirling around her mind even as the questioning drew to a close. When House sat back down, she smiled weakly, whispering quietly. "You were predictably amazing".
But House's eyes saw through it all. "Allison".
"Oh, pulling out the big guns?". To her knowledge, he had only ever used her first name once before.
"It's over. You're safe".
"You don't know that", she sighed, gathering her papers while Ross delivered closing remarks. The room began to empty as delegates headed to the lobby and the waiting drinks and snacks before the conference dinner.
"I got your back, Jack".
"Yeah, yeah".
"Hey", he tilted her chin up. "I've got your back. We're in this together, remember?".
"I remember". This time the smile was genuine. If they went down in flames, it would indeed be together.
"You guys coming?", asked Foreman impatiently. The neurologist wanted to get back to the crowds outside. Even Chase, who couldn't help but notice the moment of affection between the immunologist and their boss with a twinge of jealousy, seemed energised by the reception of the joint panel.
"Yep", announced House, packing up his things. "Let's drink to my genius. I mean our genius. But, yeah, mainly mine".
The lobby area was packed with delegates and the diagnosticians quickly found themselves the focus of attention. Glasses of wine were thrust into their hands and fancy hors d'oeuvres made the rounds. At some point the four of them split off, each in their own crowd of people, answering questions and listening to commentary. Chase and Foreman revelled in the attention, and even Cameron found herself completely consumed by academic discussion – the paper had gone perfectly. Obviously, House's had been the strongest, but she had definitely preferred her own to that offered by her immediate peers. It had helped, of course, that House had taken the time to read it through and provide constructive feedback. At that thought, the immunologist glanced over to her partner, who was looking incredibly uncomfortable at the centre of a large cluster of people. He was taller than most of his conversation partners, and even from afar she recognised his posture of defensive aloofness. The armour was on.
Cameron was about to excuse herself and go to his side when she noticed an older lady catch her eye. The woman had clearly been trying to find an opportune moment to ask a question and she flashed a smile of gratitude at Cameron's receptiveness. "Hi, sorry. I can tell you're in high demand! Loved your talk, by the way".
"Thanks", smiled the brunette, taking a sip of wine. "Dr. Allison Cameron".
"Prof. Genevieve Taylor. I'm based at Mount Sinai in New York".
"Ah, wow. It's a pleasure to meet you. I must say, I read a paper by a G. Taylor at Sinai and thought you were a man". Mount Sinai was one of the most prestigious teaching hospitals in America.
Taylor inclined her head in amusement. "Yes, well, I probably don't need to tell you that it's just simpler to navigate the medical world with initials rather than full names!".
Cameron smiled, reflecting on the male-dominated Diagnostics department at PPTH. "Agree with you there".
The woman gave a little a cough, seemingly signalling the end of the small talk. "As I said, I thought your paper was brilliant. I don't know if this would be something you'd be interested in, and feel free to reject me out of hand, but at Sinai we've been looking to repopulate a few of our divisions with younger staff more open to advances made in the last half decade or so…", Taylor took a sip of wine before continuing, "…and, essentially, I'd like to ask whether you'd be interested in applying for a role in immunology with us on a leadership pathway. We'd match your salary plus twenty percent, office space, generous conference allowance, and you'd be provided a secretary and company car".
Cameron's heart skipped a beat at the offer. The paper had been good, but not that good. For a second her brain ran through the scenario – a bigger apartment in New York, a nicer car, a solid career trajectory at a fantastic hospital. The chance at further recognition was certainly seductive. But to leave Princeton was to leave House. There could only be one response. "Listen", she began carefully, "it means a lot that someone of your stature is coming to me with this, but I'm very happy at Princeton-".
Taylor held up a hand. "-say no more, I understand completely. PPTH and Dr. House have enabled you and your fellows to deliver amazing presentations, so I don't blame you for wanting to stay there. But do you mind if I leave you my card? I have to hand these things out anyway, so…".
Cameron shrugged and took it. "Sure".
"Great. Just so you know, our recruitment drive is still in its infancy and we haven't even started external advertising yet. So the position will probably be available for a month or two before it's filled. As I said, you'd be first choice. Just give it a think?".
"Fair enough". There was nothing wrong with humouring the lady even if her answer would never change.
"Great. I'll leave you to your band of admirers. Enjoy the rest of the conference, and safe trip back to the States". With that, Taylor retreated and was soon lost to the crowd.
Cameron glanced down at the card in her hand and its functional words. It harboured the possibility of a different kind of life in medicine: more colleagues, more power, more money. No more House. She thought back to their conversation in the car after bowling:
You won't be my fellow forever, Cameron…at some point you'll be applying for a better job. I want more for you. A lot more.
If House saw this, he would either freak out or, worse, make her seriously consider taking the position. Gambit declined. Cameron stowed the card safely in her purse. House had shown a propensity to root through her bag, but a purse was out of bounds, even for him. The brunette drained her drink and cut a path through to the man himself, suddenly desirous of his company. As soon as their eyes met, his expression brightened so rapidly that any latent doubts about her abrupt refusal of Taylor melted away. "Hi", he said, grabbing at her hand like a shipwrecked man would a piece of sea debris.
"Hello", she replied warmly. It took a conscious effort for Cameron not to kiss him and drag him off to a quiet space. All of them had dressed smartly for their talks. She herself was wearing a pale blue blouse, pinstriped waistcoat, and matching pants, and her hair was gathered in a loose ponytail. House wore a crisp off-white shirt with a tie depicting the various stages of man's evolution, and his blazer was slung on his right shoulder, revealing his broad chest and left arm. In characteristic fashion, he'd loosened the tie and undone a couple of buttons. It never ceased to amaze her how his skin maintained its healthy glow even in winter, when she was so pale it hurt.
The pair spent a few minutes chatting to their neighbours before wandering over to the relative sanctuary of the bar. "You got any Dalwhinnie?", he asked the server.
"Suntory Toki or Jameson, mate, sorry".
"Suntory is fine. Double. For you?", House turned to Cameron.
"I'll have what he's having, thanks". The barman nodded at this and prepared their drinks.
"Thanks for saving me. I was trapped by a crusty old guy from New Zealand. I think he wanted to sign up for euthanasia".
Cameron felt a twinge of adrenaline at the controversial topic but nevertheless inclined her head in acknowledgement, pretending that she had been doing him a favour. "No worries. I quite like being your wing-girl".
"And I like that you like being my wing-girl". Their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses. "Your paper went well".
"It did. Now I just gotta fine-tune it for publication – shouldn't take more than a few days. Then it's one more article by Allison Cameron out in the world. Thanks for everything with it, really".
House rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You know I don't like receiving thanks".
Cameron grinned before asking a question to which she had been seeking an answer since this conference had been confirmed. "What about yours? Found a home for it yet?".
"Nah. Had a few approaches from editors just now, actually, but need to give it some thought. I'm minded to send it to a small journal, just to spite people".
The pair relaxed into silence, savouring a few moments of peace before they were to be whisked off to the conference dinner. Cameron leant her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly, rotating the whiskey glass between her fingers. She suddenly decided that no matter the fallout from House's talk, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that they were together.
"Thanks for letting me give that paper", he said quietly. "I know it was hard for you".
"It was hard", she agreed. "It is hard, because of what I did. And I still don't agree with you, by the way". Cameron's position had long been consistent: all life was sacred and to be treasured. In fact, just before asking her to monster trucks a couple of years ago, House had commented that this position bordered on religious. But she believed that religion was irrelevant – if we only had one life, it was best to preserve it, no matter how grim that life might be. And yet, Powell, the hidden subject of House's paper, had initiated a fatal compromise; something with which she had still to come to terms.
"Mmm, I know. Your infamous moral compass", he grunted back. "Will our relationship survive this professional difference, d'you think?".
"Count on it, buster".
The diagnostician tweaked her nose playfully with his thumb as a throat cleared behind them and they turned. Douglas Ross. "Doctors, dinner is waiting for us. Shall we?".
House drained his glass and set it on the bar, offering his arm. "Shall we, Dr. Cameron?".
Cameron followed suit, relishing the burning sensation in her throat, a reminder of the man already at her side. "Yes, Dr. House", she answered, slipping her arm in his, "we shall".
Thanks for the continued support. Means a lot :)