Wonderful tonight (2)
Cameron was driving them both to Cuddy's house for the gathering with the Townsends and other department heads. Every so often House would give directions, since the immunologist had never actually visited before. To her knowledge, she was the only member of the team for whom this was the case. There had been a situation last year involving Cuddy's young handyman, who had fallen from her roof. What had started out straightforwardly enough quickly escalated into a barrage of symptoms as bizarre as they were serious, and Foreman and Chase had accompanied House to search Cuddy's home, while Cameron had gone with the latter to take samples from the patient's place. She could still recall asking the Dean about her past history with House while they opened drawers and cupboards. Cameron smiled at the memory.
House noticed. "What're you grinning at? Next left".
"Ah, nothing. Just thinking of your ugly mug", she replied, turning the wheel.
"Don't think too hard or your brain might explode. Well, what brain you have, at least. The blondie look is a double-edged sword".
Cameron sighed. "I already told you: it's not a 'look'; it's my natural colour".
"Says Stevie Nicks over here", he mused.
"Fleetwood Mac? Wow, you're old. Get with the times, pops". The immunologist saw a junction ahead and glanced across: "I'm going straight on, or…?".
"Yeah. Anyway, Mac are timeless. 'Go Your Own Way' is an absolute classic".
"Sure, but between Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton and Fleetwood Mac, I'm thinking maybe you ought to update your musical tastes. Have you considered Taylor Swift?".
As he liked to do, House turned fully towards her in his seat. "Y'know, a lot of the time you're reserved and overly professional-", he began.
"-in fairness", the immunologist interrupted, "anyone would appear 'overly professional' when compared to Dr. Gregory House".
"But sometimes", he carried on seamlessly, "you do say some funny things. You speak to your mom with that mouth?".
But the woman was not to be deterred. "I'll buy you a modern album for Christmas".
"Good luck with that", he muttered.
Cameron flashed him a smile and patted his knee with her hand. As they drove into the suburbs it was possible to observe the yards expand and the homes they fronted grow more spaced out. The pleasantly genteel atmosphere of Wilson's neighbourhood permeated this area of Princeton too: tree-lined avenues, wide sidewalks, neat little fences to go with big front doors. The commute to PPTH probably took Cuddy at least forty-five minutes.
"Right here, then next left. You fancy going for a walk tomorrow?".
"What're you thinking?".
"Maybe heading downstate and trekking in Wharton forest. It's always pretty cool walking in winter, and I haven't had the opportunity for a while. Plus, I could do with taking my car out. Battery needs juice. Hour and a half each way should do it".
"Sounds great to me. Picnic too?".
"Only if you make it. Put that 'kitchen area' of yours to good use".
"Hang on. I figured you handled the food in this relationship". Cameron thought about the homemade Sunday gravy from a couple of months ago and her mouth began to water. It didn't help that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch.
"Assigning gender roles? That's so disgusting. I think it's you who should get with the times". The pair glanced at each other and immediately started laughing.
"I can make the food, but if it tastes like garbage it's not my fault. I'm only good at cookies", she shrugged eventually, following House's directional points.
"Oh, for God's sake, fine. I'll make it. But you're gonna have to learn at some point, cos I don't really enjoy messing about in the kitchen either. OK…", he murmured, "…it's just on the left here. Anywhere's fine".
The immunologist pulled over and applied the handbrake, after which she looked at him thoughtfully. "How about our next date I cook for you?".
House was busy zipping up his coat and tying his scarf, but he still managed to glance up worriedly. "Err, that's an interesting proposal. Luckily, I have the constitution of an ox, so…".
"Oh, relax. I'll follow a recipe. How hard can it be?".
"Rhetorical question?", he smirked.
As they exited the car, Cameron caught his eye over the roof. "How're we gonna play it tonight? Are we officially an item, or is it still on the down-low?".
"Don't mind. Does it matter?". The pair ambled up the path to the front door, observing a small crowd of people through the living room window. Cuddy's party was in full swing.
"Nope. At least, not unless little Miss Townsend makes a move on you", she added, grasping his elbow possessively.
"What then? Gonna spray me with pheromones?", he joked, ringing the doorbell.
The blonde winked before twirling her hair around a finger. "You ever seen a good old-fashioned catfight, Greg?". The phrase echoed one he had made a while ago to herself and Wilson.
"Hmm. Do we think you could take Fiona? She's pretty tall; long levers. Plus, that red hair hides the blood". House had jammed his hands deep into his coat pockets and jogged on the spot against the cold. Only after a few seconds of silence did he glance down at Cameron who, even in the twilight, was visibly glaring at him. "I know you think you're being threatening, OK, but you just look really cute doing that".
"You wouldn't be saying that if I punched you right on the hooter", she grumbled back.
"Tell you what", he replied as Cuddy opened the door finally, "depending on how drunk I am at the end of this, I'll give you a free shot-".
"-on the hooter?", she asked hopefully.
"On the arm. Then we'll see how dangerous you are, once and for all".
Cameron nodded at this, and they both faced Cuddy, who looked annoyed. "What kind of time do you call this?".
"It's called being fashionably late. Didn't you go to college?".
"Yeah, yeah. Welcome, Allison; please, make your way through", smiled the Dean.
"You got any food?", asked House.
"There's a buffet-style thing on expenses. I didn't make it".
"Good. This evening is already looking up".
House, Cameron and Wilson tried to stick to themselves for the first chunk of the night. As expected, most of the attendees were department heads known, at least by sight, to the immunologist. Despite this, she still felt a little out of place. It was probably her imagination, but every now and then she swore she could feel quizzical eyes on her. The simple fact remained that House, Wilson and Cuddy all outranked her, and even though this evening was informal, its business rested some way above her paygrade. Her boyfriend, she knew, would find such insecurity baffling. But it existed, nonetheless.
"Try these crab cakes. Cuddles has really pulled out all the stops here". The nephrologist directed a specimen her way.
"Hmm", she deferred, "I promised I'd never eat your food, remember?".
"I'm offering. Besides, you did well securing the last of the smoked salmon before old man Wildermuth got his claws into it. Heroism like that needs rewarding".
"You mean heroism like a soldier who leaps on a live grenade to save his comrades, or…?", chipped in Wilson.
"Exactly", nodded House, observing as Cameron demolished a crab cake. "How good is that?".
"It's good", she agreed. "You guys want a refill? Gonna grab another small wine then I'm done for the night".
The oncologist looked disapprovingly at his friend. "Y'know, you could offer to drive back so Cameron can drink instead".
House had a mouthful of food, however, and only managed an indignant grunt.
"It's fine", she smiled. "I volunteered. Same again?". At the thumbs up from her companions, she ventured off to find the drinks area. Numerous people were gathered on the ground floor of Cuddy's house which was undoubtedly large. The furnishings were tasteful, and there was even a fire burning in the grate. It took a minute to make her way through to the kitchen and the temporary bar which had been set up on the granite worktop. As she was pouring the drinks, she felt someone move at her side.
"Are they all for you?", came the distinctive male voice.
The immunologist glanced up to see a wide smile. "No, unfortunately not. Hello, Mr. Townsend".
"Oscar is fine".
Cameron returned his smile, which seemed refreshingly genuine and free from motive. With most men, she could sense barely restrained attraction whenever they looked at her. It was a hazard of being beautiful, she supposed. Even Foreman's eyes lingered every now and then. Only House remained largely inscrutable in this regard, though of course he could open himself up to interpretation on occasion. "How're you finding the party?", she asked, sliding the drinks to the side and granting him her full focus.
"Very useful. I've done the rounds, I think, as you doctors say. It was nice of Lisa to invite myself and Fiona out here. Who knows, maybe the brain that devises the cure for cancer is under this very roof".
"Maybe". Now that there was an opportunity to study his face, she thought the man's undoubted drive to be reflected in his features. Probably early fifties, his short hair was completely grey, but the hazel eyes were lively, and the long nose gave him a dignified, patrician air. Fiona had said in the office that she was thirty-five, so Townsend must have had her while he was still very young.
"D'you mind if I ask how long you've worked at PPTH, Dr. Cameron?". Townsend had a Bourbon in his hand, but it seemed little touched.
"Let's see…three years or so? I came from the Mayo, which I joined out of med school".
"Mayo?", he repeated, nonplussed.
"Sorry, the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota".
"Ah. And presumably you've been with House the whole time?".
"Yes", she replied, before realising how it sounded. "Rather, I've been working under House the whole time. It's why I applied". Immediately, she regretted the clarification. It made her seem defensive.
"Of course", he smiled reassuringly. "Dr. House is a brilliant man. Believe it or not, he's one of the major reasons for why we approached the hospital management seeking a partnership. My firm prides itself on sponsoring brilliance, you see".
Cameron nodded. "Well, hopefully it works out. The last, er, sponsor we had was less than ideal". Understatement of the year, she thought to herself.
A shadow passed across Townsend's features, but it vanished so quickly that Cameron thought she may have imagined it. "I know all about Edward Vogler and what he did to PPTH. That won't be repeated on my watch".
"What will happen on your watch?", she asked suddenly, intrigued by his knowledge of the prior situation and apparent dislike of Vogler.
The other tilted his head. If he was surprised by the forwardness of her question, he didn't show it. "How long have you got?".
"Long enough". The blonde had always been interested in the social impact of her profession, and House and Wilson would survive without their drinks for a few minutes.
"My daughter and I believe that America belongs at the forefront of medicine, both in terms of research and development, but also in terms of accessibility and affordability. At the moment, we are nowhere near those goals, and people like Vogler, people too focused on profit, would see that we never reach them".
Cameron sipped her wine as she considered a response. "That sounds great in theory but, no offence, aren't you just as rich as he is?".
Townsend gave a deep chuckle. "Richer. The question, though, is the use to which that wealth is put. The American Dream champions private enterprise. It is the essence of our system, really, and I'm not going to apologise for my success, or claim that I haven't hurt some feelings along the way".
The immunologist could sense a 'but' coming and remained silent.
"But", he continued, "I believe there is a way private enterprise can be made to serve public interest. I come from Vermont. If I were to travel a few miles north, I would be in a country where health spend per capita is under half that of the average American; I would be in a country where men and women live, on average, two years longer; and a country where the infant mortality rate is significantly lower".
"There are problems with our system. No one would deny that", she agreed slowly. "But I don't see how your sponsoring of PPTH will help solve them".
"It's a first step. A symbolic gesture. My money helps keep your premiums down. Great, it's better than nothing. But Vogler wanted to shut down Diagnostics because it was, is, a financial black hole. It costs three million a year, and you treat one patient a week".
"OK…", she murmured, unsure of the point.
"But that is one patient a week who would otherwise be dead. Vogler deemed it an inefficient operation. It is inefficient. Preserving human life, however, is not a question of efficiency; it's a question of principle". Townsend's eyes were aflame with the passion of a zealot, and even though faint background music and other conversations filtered through the kitchen in which they stood, Cameron couldn't help but focus completely on the man before her.
"So…you're a capitalist with a conscience?".
Once more, he laughed. "I'm a proud American unhappy with the status quo. There are millions of us out there. I'm just in the fortunate position of being able to do something about it. House and yourselves are doing brilliant work, and as long as I'm around you'll be doing it for a while longer yet".
"Have you told House your grand vision? He's not much for ideologues and revolutionaries". As she spoke, however, her mind flicked back to the man's admission earlier today that he wished to solve every puzzle. An impossible ambition, perhaps. Townsend was as far from House as he could be in many respects, but both seemed to possess a driving force, a belief in their own beliefs.
"Nope", he shrugged. "I wouldn't expect he or you to buy into the premise, as it were. I'm just trying to answer your question as regards my motivation".
Cameron nodded, but before she could reply, Fiona emerged at his shoulder. "There you are", she exclaimed. "Preaching as usual!".
Townsend smiled at his daughter. "I'm afraid so. Fiona, you remember Allison Cameron? She works in Diagnostics".
"Of course, of course, hello. Love your hair. I hope my father wasn't boring you". Fiona took a sip of her red wine and fixed her eyes on Cameron.
"Not at all, and thanks. Anyway…", she started to gather up the drinks which had been left on the worktop, "…I'd best get these things to their destinations or we'll have a riot on our hands. I guess I'll see you around", she nodded towards Oscar, who inclined his head.
With that, she navigated her way back through the crowd of people to Wilson and House, who were deep in conversation with Cuddy. As she approached the trio, the sense of alienation which she had felt at the beginning of the evening re-emerged suddenly. These three had known each other for years, and the distinct possibility existed that their acquaintance would outlast that which she currently shared with House, no matter how strong her intention to stay with him for as long as possible.
You're out of your depth. You're an intruder. These people know you shouldn't be here. The inner voice, unexpected but insistent, sounded in her brain as she reached the others.
"We were about to send out a search party", joked Wilson.
"Yeah, sorry. I was waylaid by Townsend", she replied, trying to hide her sudden-onset deflation, but she could feel House looking at her keenly.
"We know how that feels. The Fiona variety was over here earlier", returned the oncologist, distributing glasses.
"Mmm", she murmured, still preoccupied. House said nothing as Cuddy resumed their conversation topic. But his hand slipped to the immunologist's waist, and when she met his gaze, his slight nod was enough.
A couple of hours later, the pair were shrugging into their coats and scarves, preparing to leave. House needed help locating the sleeves. "I'm…drunk", he said by means of explanation.
"Really? Hadn't noticed", remarked Cameron.
"I know what you're thinking", he muttered as they made their farewells to Cuddy (Wilson had already left) and reached the car.
"Yeah?".
"You're thinking how it is that a seasoned drinker like me can…still get pissed".
"Hole in one", Cameron laughed, waiting patiently while he put on his seatbelt. In fact, she had been thinking nothing of the sort.
"Well, the truth is…is…wait, can you keep'a secret? Really 'portant that you can".
"Yes. Wilson and Cuddy will never know", she reassured him as they set off for her place.
House leant across and whispered conspiratorially. "I'm a lightweight. Honestly. Always have been. Dunno why. Now you know my secret and my, my…shame".
"Huh. Thing is, I've a memory of you calling me a lightweight in London", she returned in a tone of apparent seriousness.
"I know, I know", he nodded dramatically. "I was…reflecting my own inad-, inade-".
"-inadequacy?", she supplied helpfully.
"That's right, yes. 'Nadequacy. Back on you. And it wasn't fair. Sorry. Please forgive".
"I forgive. But only if you make the lunch for tomorrow's walk".
"'Course, 'course", he mumbled, resting his head against the window.
Cameron stifled a giggle and glanced across. "You OK?".
"M'head's aching".
"I can't help with that, sorry".
"S'ok. I'm fine. Are you fine?".
The question caught Cameron off-guard, since she'd assumed he would fall fast asleep. "Uh, yeah. It was a great evening".
House's eyes were closed, but he still managed an arch comment: "I may be three sheets to the wind, Camster, but m'not a moron. You came back from drinks and you looked…sad. Speak".
"I said I'm-", she began.
"-speak". The tone of voice was familiarly stubborn.
The immunologist cleared her throat. As ever, House was unsettlingly perceptive. "I wasn't sad. I just…I felt a little out of place is all. I got the impression people were looking at me. It's my problem, though. You don't have to worry about it".
"People were looking t'you", he agreed.
"Because I'm not a department head; because they knew I shouldn't have been there", she added, uncomfortable that her inferiority complex was rearing its head.
House snorted, but his eyes remained closed. "Because you were the most beautiful woman in that house…".
Cameron didn't say anything for a few moments, pretending to focus on the road. Pretending that he had not just caused her heart to swell in her chest. Damn that man and his unexpected compliments. "House-", she started softly.
But a loud snore echoed through the car, shattering the peace and quiet.
The blonde glanced across fondly before once again facing forwards. "I guess I'll take my free shot tomorrow, then…", she mused as snowflakes fell steadily onto the windscreen and the heater hummed, a soothing accompaniment to the turning of her mind.
A.N. I adapted a couple more lines from Clapton in this second part. Vogler mentions the fact that Diagnostics is a "financial black hole" (and its cost) in the season 1 episode 'Control'. I've given this line to Townsend. Finally, I took the statistics on Canadian and American healthcare from a paper comparing various health systems. It was an eye-opener. As ever, thanks very much for the support. There be interesting times ahead.