A/N: Happy new year :) Sorry for the wait, but, new year- new schedule, which has been set up to get these chapters done in the mornings before work. (Well, that's the plan!). I hope you enjoy! sorry for all the drama, but let's face it, House can be a contrary ass at times... hopefully, that's soon to be resolved...
Reviews would be lovely :)
As they enter the DDX room, Cameron keeps her head held high despite her urge to look at the floor. She keeps her eyes trained carefully to the whiteboard- trying to ignore the overwhelming wave of nostalgia this simple sight brings that causes her stomach to flip- so as to avoid looking at any of her temporary colleagues directly. She can feel them looking at her though, as she forgoes the empty seat at the head of the table where she imagines Foreman means to sit and pulls out one of the two chairs stacked in the corner. In doing so, she has unwittingly placed herself between House and Taub, and she swiftly drags the chair around so that she sits in the corner next to Thirteen. Offering Hadley a tight smile as she takes her seat, she breathes a small sigh of relief when this at least goes reciprocated, even if only in a businesslike fashion.
Why couldn't Cuddy have asked for both Chase and I to help out? At least then I'd have some backup...
True, but she's wary of what comments House might spew her way after their hook-up last night, and while she doesn't relish the prospect of enduring them in front of her current team, she definitely doesn't wish to add arguing with Chase to her list of shit to do today. They're in a good place at the moment, but Chase suffers strong streaks of both possessiveness and 'I told you so'; neither of which she's in a mood to tolerate.
Maybe it won't be that bad, maybe-
"-Well, now that the boss and his secretary have finally graced us with their presence, perhaps we can begin?"
House growls from down the table; his chair tipped onto its back legs as he bounces his cane against the carpet in a series of light, repetitive thuds.
Foreman glowers at him.
Cameron simply looks away.
"Don't start."
Foreman warns, and crystal blues pierce back at him cooly.
"Or I'll get into trouble? Is that it, Boss-Man?"
"House, can we just make a start?"
"We can, but I'm distracted. Dr Cameron's distracting me, and that hardly seems fair."
"She's not doing anything!"
Foreman replies irritably, shuffling through his papers before getting up and grabbing a marker from the shelf below the whiteboard.
"It's not what she's doing, it's what she's wearing."
House continues as though his colleague has said nothing, and the blonde glances over at him uncertainly, aware that both Taub and Kutner study her with their brows furrowed; searching for the punchline.
"House-"
"-I have a full view of her clavicles! I'm even getting a good slice of sternum! It's lewd!"
"House-"
"-And all teasing aside, that sweater goes against dress code, as I can see a lot more than just that. At least, I could, if there was actually anything there to see, but that's beside the point; it's inappropriate. How are we supposed to work if she's not going to play by her usual rules of dressing like a five-year-old going to etiquette school."
A titter at this from Hadley, although she quickly modifies her expression to cool apathy when Cameron shoots her a narrow-eyed glower. Kutner rubs at his scruff uncomfortably, while House waits- wide-eyed- for Foreman to play his game. His wish is denied when the neurologist holds up his hand in a silent request that they end their bickering once and for all, and he continues with the task at hand; going through the most recent findings in their new patient's blood and urine samples. Once done, he sends most of the team down to the labs to rerun any tests showing anomalies, but keeps House and Cameron behind. As the door closes behind Taub, he turns to them and leans over the desk; palms braced and brow speaking of thunder.
"Okay, I don't know what's going on with you two, but I'm not having it. Do you know who's had to make the last two death notifications?! Me. I'm not doing it again!"
"Calm down, it was only to the police. It's not like you had to tell any family members."
House points out disinterestedly, and Foreman raises a hand as he snaps back angrily
"It still makes me look like an idiot!"
"Oh, so, it's not that you care about the girls that are dropping like flies, this is all about ego... I was wrong. Maybe we do need Cameron after all. Her bleeding heart might make up for your lack of one. Together, you two might even make a tolerable package."
"This isn't the time for any of this..."
The blonde interjects in a low voice, and Foreman nods his agreement while House pulls back mockingly and warns
"We better do as she says; she sounds predictably serious."
"I am," Cameron bites back, unable to help herself from hissing "and you wouldn't know the right time for something if it hit you in the face."
Before pushing herself up from the desk and storming off. House and Foreman exchange a glance, but it doesn't even occur to the latter to question the blonde's meaning. After all, he's in full agreement with her statement.
House, however, feels an unusually potent pang of guilt as he watches the door swing shut. He knows he's riding Cameron something rotten, and worse; he knows she doesn't deserve it. He feels bad for calling her out on what she'd been wearing, and angry at his team for expressing- most likely nervous- amusement in response. It had been unprofessional of him to do so, which he isn't all that concerned about, but it had also been cruel. At the time, though... Well, at the time he'd been thrown seeing the blonde sat here, in his territory, wearing that goddamn sweater. After all, he is used to working across from her and finding her attractive; he'd spent three years doing so. But rarely would the first thought that came to mind when working with her be one of arousal. He's not sure whether the cause for this newfound dilemma had been the tension in the room (he does so love the underdog), or the fact that he has finally tasted forbidden fruit.
You're unclear where your head's at and it makes you mean. She should know that by now...
Yes, she should, but she shouldn't have to be called up on it in front of the others, especially when she's already the outsider.
"And now she's even angrier."
He mutters beneath his breath, while knowing that anger is only part of what the blonde will be feeling and welcoming back that old, familiar house guest: self-loathing.
Done it again. Hurt her again. I could argue that I've warned her, but this wasn't even part of any game she chose to play. She didn't opt to trust a snarling dog only to get bitten; she tried to keep as far out of its way as possible and it jumped over the fence and savaged her.
"House!"
Foreman barks loudly, and when the greying doctor looks up at him, he would guess that his old protégée has said his name several times already.
"What, boss?"
He asks, twisting his finger pointedly in his ear, feigning deafness.
"I said go and check down at the desk if the patient had anything else on her apart from the jacket they gave us. One of the nurses mentioned a bag."
"Grunt work?"
House asks, disgusted, and Foreman sighs as he turns his back to his mentor and studies the board. Speaking up without looking around, he suggests cooly
"Remember who's in charge? Either go and do what I asked, or find Cameron and apologise. Your call."
"Since when do you care about office relationships?"
"Since you crossed the line from being a jerk to being a bully. Me, I can take either option, but Allison can't."
"Then your issue should be with her."
"No. It's with you. Cameron's a good doctor and could actually help us here, House, but if you keep on at her the way you have been, she's not going to be thinking straight."
"Well, she is obsessed with me..."
House agrees, and Foreman snorts derisively and shakes his head.
"No. That's you. You're the one hung up on you... She's moved on, House. She's said so plenty of times."
"And I've heard Wilson tell each of his wives they're the one, that doesn't make it true."
"... Just go and make an apology- a formal, professional apology- or ask one of the desk girls to help you gather and catalogue my patient's things."
Foreman sighs, and he places a private bet as he hears the door open and close behind him that House will pick the second option.
That, or find a quiet place to watch General Hospital.
"Hey."
"Hey..."
Cameron replies guardedly as she keeps her gaze cast down the lens of the microscope, under which once healthy platelets appear misshapen and sluggish.
"Look... About just now. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh like that."
Hadley states uncomfortably from the doorway to the lab, and the blonde sighs as she makes a small annotation on the file to her right and assures
"It's fine. House had a point."
There's bitterness in Cameron's tone, but Thirteen cautiously decides that it's not directed towards her, and she muses lightly
"About etiquette school, or distracting clavicles?"
"I don't know."
The blonde replies a little less tersely, straightening up and turning around to face the woman so often referred to as her replacement. Looking down at herself, she shrugs and proposes cooly
"You tell me."
"I prefer the sweater to the shirts, and you do have nice clavicles. I'm also not interested in you... If the others have told you anything to now give you cause for concern."
"I wasn't concerned... While we're clearing stuff up though, I'm not jealous of you... That's something you might have heard or wondered about..."
"I've heard it."
"From House?"
"From Taub."
"Really?... He doesn't even know me."
The blonde frowns.
"No. I know. I did wonder a little for myself because of a few things I'd picked up on, but I took no notice of him for that very reason."
"He doesn't like me much, does he?"
Cameron sighs, and Hadley shrugs but doesn't deny this fact.
"You're not his type."
"Well, I-"
"-He's a plastic surgeon; women either find that impressive or inwardly repulsive, and I think plastics can sniff out which type you are... He doesn't like me all too much, either."
"You find your close colleague repulsive?"
"Well, I don't find him impressive. That's enough to blacken my name a little."
"I guess I could see that... Just know that he's wrong; I'm not jealous."
"After what just happened in that meeting, I believe you."
"Yeah, well, I-"
"-Cameron. Do you need an adult?"
A gruff voice interrupts, and the two women turn to spy House wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he looks from the blonde to the brunette.
"Hadley likes my clavicles and my sweater, nothing more."
Cameron replies breezily, but House knows her well, and he can detect the ice that underlines her tone as she regards him coldly and it feels as though she's stabbed him with a shard of it.
"What have I told you about spoiling my fantasies!?"
He groans dutifully, at which he receives a withering look from Thirteen and no discernible emotion at all from the blonde. Dropping his usual schtick, he points a finger almost accusingly at Cameron and instructs
"You need to come with me."
"Why?"
"Just do it. Why are you making this hard? You're supposed to be the obedient one..."
"I'm supposed to be checking over the new blood work."
Cameron disagrees, but when House makes no move to leave her to it, she sighs and hands the paperwork on the counter over to Hadley.
"Deterioration is increasing in speed when compared to the last patient. Check for any genetic or viral factors that could be causing it and I'll check the patient once I'm done."
With that, she stalks for the door; waiting for House to lead them to wherever he means to take her. Once out of earshot of Thirteen, while limping a little ahead of the blonde, he muses
"I find it fascinating when you take charge like that. I shouldn't, but it's like watching a kitten that's learnt how to juggle."
"I run a department."
Cameron points out, and House sighs as he takes a left down the corridor.
"Why are we headed for Rheumatology?"
The blonde frowns, quickening her stride to keep up with the dull thunk of House's cane.
"We're not."
"Then where are we going?"
"The chapel."
"Why?"
"I'm feeling spiritual."
"House! What are we-"
"-Or, maybe I'm just crazy. I don't know!"
He shrugs, and he pushes open the double doors lacquered in oak veneer to lead them into the small, dimly lit room.
They are alone, although someone must have stopped by not too long ago as a couple of candles flicker in the corner beneath a sign that simply reads 'prayers'. Reaching for one of the long, floor-length candlesticks, House slots its metal base through both handles of the doors to shut them in.
"House! You can't do that! What if-"
But Cameron bites her tongue with a small noise of surprise as House turns with unlikely speed to pin her against the wall. She frowns at him; utterly perplexed. She is perfectly able to move as he leans over her at arm's length, with his palms braced against the wall either side of her narrow shoulders; keeping her trapped only with his gaze. Yet, she refrains. She has no clue what he wants or why he's doing this, but of all the feelings she's ever had for her long-ago mentor, fear has never been high on the list.
Fear for him, yes. But of him?... No. Which is perhaps a mistake given his ability to cut her deeper than any scalpel-wielding maniac might ever hope to accomplish.
"What?"
She asks simply after a long pause.
"We need to talk."
House replies gruffly, and she shakes her head; her expression hard.
"You didn't want to talk."
Ice. Resentment. Hurt.
He detects all this in spite of the blonde keeping her tone low and even.
"I know. I still don't, but-"
"-Then move. Let me up and let me out... One of us needs to do their fucking job."
Fucking. Fucking. Fucking.
He wishes she wouldn't use that word. It had once amused him, but now- even in anger- it ignites a very different feeling low down in his gut.
"No."
"What do you mean, no? House! I mean it, I'm not in the mood for any of this crap, so just listen to me, and-"
"-No. You listen to me! I said we need to talk."
"Fine... Then talk."