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The seconds that tick by seem more like hours as House remains fixated on Cameron, waiting for the blonde to make a move. In turn, his protégé-turned ex-employee- turned friend- turned lover- turned... whatever they're to call themselves now, remains sat at the table in the DDX room as he'd left her. Her coffee no longer steams, and he supposes that before long it will be lukewarm at best and she'll tip it down the drain as she only likes it when it's dangerously hot.
I know that... I've known that- remembered that- for years, yet I couldn't say how any of my current team takes theirs, save for Kutner, and that's only because his preference for powdered milk is abnormal.
Letting out a sigh as he begins to realise they've reached a stalemate, he weighs up his options, before giving in to her silent stand and folding his hand. Pushing himself back up, he snags the bottle of whisky as he goes and limps towards the main room where he stands once more at the threshold.
This time, she doesn't react- no longer caught off guard- and he frowns, but walks over to the table where he is met with a lack of eye contact, but little resistance as he relinquishes her mug and takes it over to the counter where he starts the coffee machine back up to make a fresh cup. While he waits, he pulls a pair of matching glasses from the cupboard, before taking a seat opposite the blonde; pouring out two shots of whisky and sliding one partway across the table until it hits one of the many books laid out between them.
"Here."
He grunts, unsurprised when his offering goes ignored. Sat across from her, he catches the faint scent of wine, and as he studies drawn features shrewdly, he notes that her lips are tellingly darker in the cracks.
"You've been drinking."
He states, and at first, Cameron continues with her silent treatment, but when he picks up the glass of proffered whisky and balances it pointedly on the book open in front of her, she glowers up at him and snaps
"Says you."
"I do... But I have said nothing else on the matter, positive or negative. I was merely stating a fact."
He holds his hands up placatingly, and cool green bores into him with a hardness he has yet to fully accept as the blonde sits back and folds her arms over her chest, pointedly ignoring the glass balancing on the cramped text of the medical journal.
"I won't tell if you don't."
House offers, and she looks away- looks tired- with a defeated sigh.
"...Drinking with you hasn't exactly ended well for me recently."
She points out, and House nods as he sips at his own glass, the light on the coffee machine behind him blinking but forgotten.
"I'm not sure it was the alcohol at fault."
He muses after a beat of silence, and she raises a brow but says nothing.
"Go on."
He pushes; not wanting to force her into accepting a drink if she doesn't want one, but just wanting to offer some source of comfort she might accept from him. Whisky has always worked to calm his own mind, and he knows the blonde well enough to be sure that her reserved silence in no way means there isn't one hell of a racket going on in hers.
"... I told you to leave me alone."
Cameron reminds quietly, reaching for the glass, but only going so far as to clutch it in both hands in front of her.
"You did... You said I should still come to you if it concerned the patient, though."
House counters, and he watches the blonde as she narrows her eyes; regarding him with a wariness he finds hard to take.
Because it's been well and truly earned, now... I can't make fun of her for it, can't call her on it, because I know why she feels that way, and I don't blame her for it.
"Are you coming to me with something about the patient?"
She asks uncertainly, and he nods; knocking back his drink before pointing towards his office with the base of his cane.
"There's a book, third down on the pile, with a red cover."
He instructs, and she seems to consider the act for a moment, before pushing herself up to get it. He watches her through the blinds- just a broken shape as the slats slice through her profile- and wonders for a moment if she's having trouble finding the volume he refers to as she remains bent over his desk for a little over a minute. Before he can ask, she straightens up and heads back into the room with the heavy book held in front of her stomach.
"Chrysalis."
She states as she takes her seat back at the table, and he frowns.
"Sorry?"
"Chrysalis. Twelve down."
She elaborates, and he rolls his eyes as she finally feeds him the word that had been eluding him for the twenty minutes before she'd shown up and accepts the book she holds out to him. Thumbing through until he finds what he's looking for, he lays the book out on the table where she can read it easily, waiting for her to scan complex paragraphs beside an illustration of a compromised cell.
"...You think whatever's happening to these girls has to do with something airborne they've come into contact with?"
Cameron frowns, looking troubled, and House doesn't bother asking her why. If he's right, and their problem is being caused by toxins breathed in rather than swallowed or ingested, the propensity for a large scale situation increases catastrophically. Rather than appease the blonde's fears, he simply nods, watching as she reads over some of the more obscure noxious particles suggested that might cause a similar biological breakdown to that which they've witnessed so far.
"Are the others checking up on this?"
She asks, tapping several diagnoses that are possible, yet unlikely, they have yet to test for.
House shakes his head.
"None of them have considered it yet."
"None of the-...? Are you serious?! You're sitting on this when there's a girl dying downstairs?! Just because you'll lose out on one of your favourite games with your team?!"
Her anger is immediate, and House comes clean warily.
"They haven't tested... I've ordered some. We should know more on those by tomorrow afternoon all being well, and that's with a rush and a favour to push the bloodwork through... We'll just have to hope she lives that long."
Flippant words, but his expression is grave, and Cameron sighs as she allows herself to let go of a little of the tension caused by her presumption, and takes a small, uncertain sip of her whisky.
"Are you going to tell them?"
"... How would they learn?"
House counters, and she shakes her head as she looks past him moodily, before finally asking quietly
"Why are you telling me?... You didn't think I'd be able to figure it out?"
"Actually, you would have been my prize pony had I thought to bet on it, but that seemed unethical."
"Hm."
"I know, completely out of character!... No, I'm telling you, because... You told me to leave you alone unless it was related to the case... And, while this ruins my game, and the fun I'd have had watching you all squabble and catfight for your gold stars... I'd rather talk to you about the case than not talk to you at all."
House confides gruffly, and he imagines that for a moment, the blonde looks surprised- shocked- but she is careful to school her features back into the poker face he has come to witness ever more often, and he sighs. He observes the way she seems currently adamant to avoid eye contact and takes this as an opportunity to study her openly without having to answer to the daggers she's been shooting him recently. He takes in the slight reddening to her lips he knows is due to wine, and the way her hair has been mussed lightly by the wind. Before too long, his eyes roam a little lower, and he takes in the deep V of her sweater that had led to his outburst earlier in the day. It looks nice on her- most things look nice on her- and in reality, the fit is more flattering than it is revealing... He'd just needed to snipe at her at the time. Had needed to hurt her- bully her- and he doesn't know why.
And, that's the thing... One of the things that makes me so angry... I see a puzzle and I can solve it. It's what makes me good at what I do, and what often makes others lose their patience with me... But, I have never been able to figure out why I act towards her the way that I do, any more so than I have been able to figure her out fully. Every time I feel I'm close to an answer, she does something, or I say something, and I realise I don't have a clue...
It is a predicament that unsettles him, but he knows he has to accept it as fact, as the evidence is overwhelming. Still, as he studies soft wool and delicate stitching, he recalls their small altercation back in the ER break room when she'd been wearing the same, pretty sweater, and the way he'd tried to embarrass her- and failed!- in front of her staff. Back then, she'd met his taunting with a sharp tongue of her own, which had pleased him as well as frustrated him. He'd been irked, though. Agitated. Annoyed- jealous? no... never- at the way the blonde had flirted harmlessly with the male nurse admiring his current view.
It had been yet another reaction to being around her he'd had trouble placing.
Trouble explaining.
Now, thinking back to that evening, he just feels deflated. He wishes he had it in him to tease Cameron the way the nurse had done. Wishes he could poke fun at her rather than poke holes in her.
Wounds. Gaping wounds in her.
But these are two practices he has never been able to differentiate between until it's too late. Not just with Cameron, but in general, which brings him back to his anger at himself.
"...When you're on the clock tomorrow, there are a couple more things I can suggest you look into."
He muses, wanting to break the silence that has settled between them, and Cameron raises a brow with a derisive sniff as she pulls her arms once more across herself defensively.
"Give me a list. I'll look into it."
She agrees, her tone strained and curt. She knows she would once have given anything for such an offer. The offer of confidence, of camaraderie, of trust from House. For him to let her in- her, just her- and enlighten her with what his brilliant mind had perceived while everyone around him failed. She would have been elated just to be sharing this time with him drinking as companions- as colleagues- with him giving her the attentive audience he does now.
She swallows, tasting salt, and something in the way she seems momentarily stuck with her tongue pressed to the roof gives her unhappiness away, and House sighs as he studies her sombrely. He wants to ask her if she's alright, not because he doesn't know the answer to this already, but because it strikes him as the right thing to do. He wants to ask her if she's tired and if she wants to use his office to catch some sleep to save her from going home only to be scheduled back in a few hours time. He wants to ask her if she's eaten, not to piss her off as she so often seems to believe, but because she looks pale and drawn, and he knows she has a habit of forgetting- at least that's what she says- when she's preoccupied or upset.
He wants to ask her what he can do to make things right between them again, but he knows- just as he so often holds his theories and deductions close to his chest while the others struggle to come to the same conclusion- she has no intention of helping him out on this one.
And that's if she knows the answer herself...
"I'm sorry."
He offers quietly, without the tension and electricity his words had carried when he'd all but yelled his apology in her face in the prayer room, and finally, she looks at him; green eyes finding blue, identical in the weariness they hold.
"Yeah... I'm sorry, too."
She nods finally, but when she catches House frown, she puts him straight swiftly as she continues
"I'm sorry about how things have gone, it's not been fun... And I guess I should have anticipated that, as you warned me, right?... Yeah. You warned me. As though it was something I should take responsibility for: the way you might act. It always came down to me, didn't it? How I might get attached, how I might get emotional, how I might not be able to handle the way you treat me... It always came down to me, never down to the fact that it was you who had the problem you were warning me about... No. It came down to how I might cope with you damaging me, never down to the fact that maybe you should just try not to do it!"
She doesn't yell at him or raise her voice, but her words have the same effect as if she'd screamed them at him, and he finds himself lost for an answer, yet rich in several more questions he doesn't want to think about too deeply.
"...I've never wanted to damage you."
He replies after a long stretch of silence, and he is unsurprised when she offers him little in the way of response, but he pushes the fact home with sincerity etched across his brow.
"I understand your word choice, and I understand I am perhaps guilty- most likely, I am guilty- but it's not something I ever intended to do... And maybe I did warn you, in which case, you're right, I should have taken action rather than putting everything on you... Earlier, you used the word hurt- that I hurt you- and I can't argue with you there, because I know as well as you do that sometimes I do mean to do it. I don't know why, and I don't know why you let me, but I know that it happens; intentionally and otherwise... But I don't damage you on purpose. I'm sorry if you feel that I do... I'm sorry for... I'm just sorry."
"...I know that word doesn't come easy to you."
"It's been a long time since I felt this uneasy about a situation."
He growls, and to his surprise, she laughs quietly, before tipping back her whisky and giving him a wary, weighted look.
"You and me both. But I can't do any more of this tonight... I can't do any more of anything tonight. I'm drained. I think in every sense of the word; I'm drained."
"Well... Not every sense. I saw to the physical side of things with the stitches you saw fit to ruin."
"Yes, that was a shame, yours were done with prettier sutures."
She nods sarcastically.
"I was more careful."
House corrects, and she considers this for a moment before once more lowering her eyes as she shivers; not particularly cold with the heating on in the DDX room, but thoroughly exhausted.
Knowing this- and knowing she has nothing left as they are each running on empty- House points to his office before fishing the keys out of his pocket.
"Go sleep-"
"-But, you-"
"-I'm going to go see what the others are up to and then I'm going home for a couple of hours to get a shower and Tivo my shows... I'll be back in after lunch, and I'll be expecting results on your tests for airborne toxins, or at the very least, some theories. Good ones."
"I... Fine."
Cameron agrees finally, taking House's keys gingerly and standing up with them clutched in her fist. She appreciates the gesture, even if she's having trouble appreciating the man making it at the moment, as House's office is quiet and free from the disturbances of the break room where staff lounge and nap during split shifts. If she pulls the blinds, the others won't even have to know she's in there; something which she'd very much like to keep to herself.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
She offers woodenly, feeling remarkably awkward uttering such a common phrase, and House nods as he ducks into the office to fetch his coat, before slipping past her to take his leave. As he does so, he places a hand on her arm for just a moment, and he swallows, as all of the electricity, all of the tension, all of the chaos between them... He feels it. It's still there. And from the small gasp she fails to hide, he knows he's not alone in this realisation.
"Goodnight, Dr Cameron."
He bids her farewell, heading out of the DDX room and down the corridor to check in on the others before catching a few hours sleep- or at least trying to- before this all starts again.
On his way, he stops by the ER and finds the nurse the blonde appears to have befriended chatting to a matronly woman covering as Head Attending.
"When you guys hand out the jello shots and spoiled fruit, take a tray upstairs."
He requests, only to be met with predictable irritation and the order to make himself scarce. Shaking his head, he addresses Nancy- the kinder audience of the two- and explains in a convincingly disinterested tone
"Just do it. It's for Cameron."