Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. or any of the characters from the series.
A/N: Oh yes, I forgot my Shout-Out's. I had not planned on making a sequel to 'Not As All Seems', but Belligerent-road-pylon gave me the idea, and I ran with it. (Thanks a bunch!) I thought I could finally get all of my English papers done; guess not. Ah well, English is overrated anyway . . . And kylerm, thank you for keeping up with my last (and first) story. I kept writing it because of you.
As ya'll can see, my bank of 'reviews' is severely lacking. I can use all the help I can get, so fire away. Your criticism is welcomed - with open arms and a shotgun. wink (No need to worry, my sense of aim is reserved for street ball and spit balls only.) So, who's brave enough?
Chapter 2: Slipping Away
The phone call had come when he least expected it. House was sitting in his office, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk. Mario had performed exceptionally well that afternoon, and Cuddy had been exceptionally good at leaving House alone. Foreman was off doing paperwork, Chase had gone home early, and Cameron - well, she was around somewhere. Surely. That's when his beeper went off and he limped into the hallway, borrowing the nearest phone.
The call was short, and professional. Very businesslike. When he returned the phone to its cradle, the first thing he should have felt was sadness, for his little, red Corvette - or, if he was being un-House-like, sadness for a girl once-named Rachel. But the first thing he felt was: Cameron. And it wasn't sadness. No - it was relief, all over again, that she was still alive and well. Okay, maybe not well, but alive. And that was all that mattered - for now.
Cameron had been extraordinarily quiet lately, and everyone was starting to worry. But no one hid it so well as House. Only he knew that every smile she forged was fake, and every tear she didn't cry was real. Only he knew the reason for her silence. And only he pretended that she was fine. If she wanted people to think she was strong, he would give her that, at least. He would give her the world if he thought it would help.
But a chance to die and be chivalrous - that he could not give her. And he would never apologize. Not once had he looked back with regret.
Cameron. House stood up off the wall and moved away from the phone. He needed to find Dr. Cameron. He hobbled around chatting nurses and rolling wheelchairs, past the conference room and the long glass wall of the lab. No Cameron. He didn't think she had clinic duty. But where was she? House tried to think back: where was the last place he had sent her?
The lab, he stopped walking. The lab was the last place I sent her.
If he wasn't Greg House, he'd be out of ideas. But he kept better tabs on 'his girl' than people realized. She had come into work that morning with unpainted nails, no wristwatch, and extra curly hair, wearing a silver necklace and a cute - yet classy - outfit. But with each passing day, it got a little less classy, and a little more dreary. A little less Cameron and little more dark. But still cute. Always cute. And she had circles under her eyes.
Bingo. He knew exactly where Cameron was. And so, with a renewed sense of purpose (he takes what he can get), House step-thumped all the way back down the hall, past his lonely office, and around a busy corner. He rounded the corner at the end of that hall as well, and took an immediate left. His hand on the front of the door, House wondered how big of a scene he was about to cause. Then he wondered if it was actually worth it.
Deciding it didn't matter anyway, since he needed to talk to Cameron, he gave a gentle push. The wooden door came ajar, and his wooden cane slipped inside. So far, so good. He hadn't heard any shrieking yet - that was always good. Shrieking could only cause problems. House leaned on the door and it opened even farther. Stepping into the ladies' locker room, he should have felt out of place. But it takes more than that to make Greg Housefeel out of place, so he let the door close behind him and quickly looked around. No half-naked women darting for cover - a blessing and a curse. If he could just get to the back, it would be smooth sailing from there.
Limping across the ugly, yellow tile, squinting from the flourescent squares in the ceiling, he managed to make it to the back - undetected. The room before him held two small showers and an examination bed - shoved up against the wall and out the way. He'd only been in here twice, and that exam bed had struck him as odd both times. Nevertheless, it made for an excellent run-away-from-your-boss-and-take-a-nap haven. In Cameron's case, a run-away-from-the-world haven.
House could only hope she wasn't running away from him.
The room was dark, and the floor around the showers was wet. Only the light from the adjoining room gave a glow to where Cameron was laying, asleep and oblivious to his presence. Her body was twisted beautifully - her lower half curled toward the wall, but her back and shoulders flat on the bed. And her face was to the wall, resting on her right arm, and turned away from House.
From where he stood, he could see a brown curl slipping down the slope of her cheek, and stopping to whisper in her ear before it fell to the bed with the rest. For a moment House was jealous. He hobbled to stand above her, and found the view more than pleasing. Almost . . . fulfilling, in a strange sense of the word. Everything about her from this angle - she contradicted him; she offset him. She made up for what he lacked.
Her skin was so soft. Her face was so pure. And her breath was so untouched. An innocence played across her features. An innocence forever shattered.
House tilted his head in the dark. He kept his hands to his sides as he graced the girl with his eyes. She was so sweet and vulnerable. And he was so rough and domineering. Cameron was completely unaware; she had no idea of the power he held over her. Not at this moment.
He tapped his cane on the ground. This was an interesting predicament.
