Week of Mondays
Two: Too Many Battles
Notes: Yeah, so last chapter there should have been no Chase. That scene was written before the planning got put on paper and I realized he was still in Australia. Oops. So, that's edited. Other than that, carry on.
Summary: Nothing like a common enemy to unite your forces.
/h
Cameron pulled into her parking spot outside her apartment, but didn't turn her car off right away. She'd stayed late at work in order to get House's signature to authorize another test to check for kidney stones. The HMO Mark Wardell had gone to had, of course, not kept the previously removed ones for biopsy. It would have been too convenient.
Now it was dark, and the normally short walk between her car and the front door was looking a lot more foreboding than usual. She'd never had a problem with being alone before the accident…. Even in the two weeks afterward she hadn't really thought about it. But now that she was past the shock and denial phase of her injuries she was getting a little paranoid.
She kept her keys in her right hand until she was inside and the door was locked behind her.
Friday, five fifteen in the evening. Sixty-two hours until work took over her life again. The pathetic thing was that all she wanted to do in that time was sleep.
There were plenty of leftovers in the fridge for dinner, so she just popped a plate full into the microwave and sat down in front of her laptop to check her email.
Spam, garbage, an amusing advertisement for a male enhancement drug; nothing much of interest, especially considering Cameron needed the man before the enhancement process could be considered. An update from Chase, whose father was in rough shape but hadn't died yet. A forward from Cuddy gave her all the details of the conference she'd be attending in November.
Other than that, there was nothing of note, so she grabbed a fork from the dishwasher and settled down in front of the TV. Maybe if she turned the volume up loud enough, she'd forget how alone she was.
Outside, dusk settled.
(segue)
"Wilson, you're interrupting Days of Our Lives. This had better be good."
He could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, it is." He paused for a minute, and House had enough time to realize he was going to need to cringe in about thirty seconds. "House, why are you home by yourself on a Saturday night?"
"We've been over this. I don't like… people." I don't like Cameron inferred too much about Wilson's question, and he didn't want to admit to having thought it.
"You know, that's funny, because I seem to recall that in the past there were actually people you tolerated. One in particular, really. And then one day it all fell to pieces and you've been too chickenshit to care about anyone else ever since!"
A snappy retort crept onto House's tongue, barbed with comments like You don't know what I went through and Why don't you mind your own fucking business? and How's your wife? But Wilson was his friend, and if House was honest with himself, he did know what it was like. After two and a half divorces he probably knew better than anyone. So he didn't say anything.
There was a sigh on Wilson's end. "You wanna get a beer?"
"Murphy's?" House suggested, already looking for his keys.
"Twenty minutes?"
"I'll bring the cigars."
(segue)
Wilson sat down heavier than he'd intended, feeling like the worst sort of traitor, and barely resisted the urge to hang his head in his hands. "We have a problem."
"You say that like it's supposed to be some kind of news." Stacy seemed somewhat unaffected, sipping at her water before continuing. "What unforeseen complications have we run into?"
"Neither one of them is taking the bait. And we've been baiting for a week." He massaged his eyes with one hand. "I didn't know it was possible for two people to be that stubborn. I mean I knew we'd have our hands full with House, but…"
She pursed her lips. "He does seem to be rubbing off on his little protégé."
"Which probably annoys him more than he lets on." Wilson sighed. "I think we should back off on Cameron. She was unsure of herself before, but you send her running with her tail between her legs." Although verbally Cameron gave as good as she got- yet another skill she'd picked up from House, no doubt- it was because she was scared, not because she was confident. "Not exactly the effect we're looking for." Really, the effect they were looking for was House's tail between her legs. But that was sort of a crude way to put it.
Suffice it to say that Stacy had been… alarmed… at the sorry state her ex-lover's life was in. Wilson had filled her in with as many details as he felt comfortable giving before she'd arrived, but she was still shocked and, he was fairly sure, feeling more than a little guilty. The whole thing- pushing Greg to get over the past and start thinking about the present- had started out as a joke and somehow evolved into a twisted kind of karma.
Stacy didn't love him anymore. She was married, both happily and worriedly now that her husband was ill, but a part of her couldn't help but blame herself for Greg's lack of trust in people. Wilson could see that, and was frankly willing to take all the help he could get to try to coax House out of his shell.
Which meant using Cameron, because she'd pried him just about as far open as Wilson had in a tenth of the time.
Stacy took a long drag on her cigarette. "What about Greg?"
Wilson sighed. "I don't know." House was looking pretty worn, lately. The night before, at the bar, he'd seemed to be just about at his wit's end. He didn't know how much more he could take. "We want him to crack, not break. Don't push him too hard."
The problem with House was that he had mixed feelings about everything. Patients lied, but they were also lied to, and not everything that happened to them was their fault. Wilson knew House recognized tragedy when he saw it; he was human, after all. Chase- well, Chase had betrayed him, but then House might have reacted the same way, once, before bitterness had set in. He was both terrified and attracted to Cameron, which maybe weren't mutually exclusive emotions but they did conflict.
About the only person House didn't have mixed feelings about was himself. If Wilson was honest, and most of the time he lied, just like anyone else, he'd have to admit that House hated himself. He knew he was intelligent, he knew he was a good doctor, but it wasn't enough for him. He didn't find himself worthwhile as a human being. And the problem there was that he thought every good thing he'd had going for him had left with Stacy.
Which was another person House was conflicted about. Yes, he hated her for what she'd done to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help missing her, wanting her, maybe even loving her, because she reminded him that he'd been worth something once.
Wilson reached for the wine bottle. "So how's Mark?"
Stacy put out the cigarette and took the bottle from his hands. "Irritated," she admitted. "He doesn't like the idea of owing my ex a favour, or, you know, possibly his life."
"Well, I meant medically speaking, but, that's certainly understandable." He sighed. "House isn't exactly crazy about the idea, either, you know."
"I had gathered that impression, yes." She sipped her wine, then put the glass down gently and raised her eyes. "Should I leave, James?"
He shook his head. "At this point, I don't think that would help anyone."
(segue)
House was not having a good Monday. Both Wilson and Cameron were avoiding him, Foreman was getting on his nerves, and Stacy wouldn't leave him the hell alone. "I'm trying to think about your dying husband, here," he pointed out, glaring at her from behind the whiteboard.
"You always concentrate better when you're distracted," she said flippantly. "Did those test results get back yet?"
House glanced at the door. "Has Dr. Cameron been here in the last twenty minutes with a big folder full of pretty pictures? No? Oh, but you wouldn't know that, because of course, you haven't been looking over my shoulder for the past twenty minutes."
Go away, he begged silently, but she didn't.
"Dr. Cameron?"
House rolled his eyes. What am I missing here? "Yeah, you know. Big blue eyes, dark hair… the pretty one."
Oh, shit.
Stacy latched on to that like the vampire she was. "That why you hired her? So you could have the satisfaction of a nice pair of breasts following you around all day?"
He was getting to the end of his rope. Stacy had walked out of his life years ago, and now she was back to ask him a favour and this was the way she treated him? And his staff that had never done anything to her? Where did she get off? "Cameron is a very good doctor and she deserves your respect."
"Yeah, well, gifted doctor or not, she follows you like a little lost puppy," Stacy said, hands on her hips. "How'd she get the limp- you kick her?"
House had a reputation for an explosive temper, but he had a feeling he was going to outdo himself. "What is your problem? Allison Cameron is one of the best at what she does. You have done nothing but give her a hard time since you got here. No, I take it back, you're giving me a hard time, too. Apparently having devoted, brilliant doctors is not good enough for you; you also need your ass kissed and your hand held. If that's what you want, maybe you should take your husband somewhere else." He leaned down to her level and looked her right in the eyes. "Oh, wait. I forgot. Nobody else can figure out what's wrong with him. Tough life, ain't it."
Stacy went hospital-white, eyes round in her face, and House knew he'd been just a little too sensitive on the trigger. "What happened to her?" she asked, sincerely this time, almost a whisper.
He cringed, studying the opposite wall, and let out a breath he hadn't meant to hold. "She got… stabbed in the parking lot," he said quietly. He still hadn't quite come to terms with it, and he doubted that Cameron had, either. "Three knife wounds, lost three units of blood."
"Well. I feel like an ass." He didn't even feel better at the admission. "Did they catch the guy?"
House felt his eyes glazing over as he began realizing the ugly path the chain of events was going to take. "I broke his kneecaps." He wondered when the subpoena would arrive.
As it turned out, it had arrived earlier that day. Cameron left it with the 'important' mail in the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept his GameBoy and portable TV. The note attached to the top said, Sorry, I know it's a pain. At least now you know why I requested a couple days off of work. - C.
So she was definitely avoiding him. Couldn't even request the time off in person. It was probable that she just didn't want to discuss the trial with him- he was pretty sure she didn't even know how the police had caught the guy who'd stabbed her, and that was fine with him. Their… whatever it was… was strange enough without throwing hero worship into the mix.
Actually their whatever-it-was seemed closer and closer to nothing the longer Cameron avoided him. House could have chased her down… but what then? "You're avoiding me. Please stop." It sounded more than a little pathetic.
Better to wait, he decided. Better to wait until she stopped avoiding him and hope for a return to the status quo.
He hoped she'd stop avoiding him before he forgot what the status quo was.
(segue)
The test results landed on House's desk the next morning- three folders full. Cameron looked up at him over a mug of coffee, eyes ringed with dark circles, and said, "If you want kidney stones… he's got them." She took a sip, winced, and continued, "We ran the scan three times. I stayed until three trying to piece them together- that's why you didn't see these yesterday."
House flipped open the folders and grabbed the top scan from each one, heading over to the light board. "Piece them together?"
Cameron took a light-coloured erasable pen from his desk and made a circle on each image. "They're moving." She capped the pen and handed him another plastic sheet, this one with a graph drawn on it. I've got a computer program that maps out probable trajectories based on given information, so I played around with that a bit. This is what it looks like in two dimensions- they're not going very fast, but it's still weird."
"They're moving? Enough to show up on an x-ray?" House looked at the fourth sheet intently. This is just weird. He had a bad feeling about this. "Schedule him to have the kidney stones removed. Use your trajectories, but do another x-ray first to make sure you know where they are. And make sure we have something left over to biopsy."
What did kidney stones have to do with paralysis? Or were the two symptoms not related?
House wasn't sure he was going to like the answer.
(segue)
Mark Wardell had just gone in for the minor surgery they'd need to remove the kidney stones when Cameron was intercepted by the third-last person she wanted to see.
"Dr. Cameron." Her blood ran cold at the sound of his voice. What had started out as the first decent day she'd had in a week and a half was ruined.
"Mr. Vogler." She resisted the urge to cross her arms when she turned around. "Back from your business trip, I see." Please let this be something I can get over with quickly… please don't let him ask me on a date…
"I'd like a moment of your time, if that's okay with you."
I wish you were poor. "Um… sure. Is this about anything in particular?"
He didn't answer her directly, but she was getting definite uh-oh vibes from his response. "My office, please. This shouldn't take too long."
Cameron only had twenty steps to contemplate how badly this could go, so only the possibility that she was fired (again, sort of) managed to cross her mind. She didn't understand why everyone thought she was the key to making House miserable.
The door closed with a gentle click that belied the finality Cameron felt it implied. Vogler went right to his over-priced desk and sat in his over-sized chair and leaned back. He didn't ask her to sit.
"I want to talk to you about Dr. House."
I want you to spontaneously combust, Cameron thought, but answered weakly, "Of course." It was next to impossible not to roll her eyes. Her second impulse was to throw something, but she couldn't very well do that, either. "Well, I don't claim to be an expert on the subject."
He gave a sleazy smile. "Oh, I think you underestimate your value."
Not at this particular moment, I don't. "Dr. House is my boss. He's grumpy, but he's a brilliant doctor. Anything else?"
Wordlessly, Vogler reached into a drawer and slid a small slip of paper across the table. Cameron fought to keep from blanching.
It was a ticket stub for a Sting concert.
Busted.
"I didn't know you were a Sting fan, Dr. Cameron." He picked up the ticket, seeming to examine it closely. Cameron knew that she was what was really being examined. "My business partner enjoys his music and insisted that we schedule our trip in order to be able to catch the concert. Imagine my surprise when he pointed out two doctors of my acquaintance and asked me if I thought they met shopping for canes."
"It was a good concert," she said, fighting the urge to grit her teeth.
"Yes, it was. Tell me, was spending the night with the intriguing Dr. House worth the ensuing lack of professionality and risk to your patients' lives?"
"What?" She felt the blood rushing to her face. How dare he? "Mr. Vogler, I hope you're not implying-"
He slid another paper across the desk, this one a plain computer printout. "Seems Dr. House got a room for two that night."
Cameron had had enough. "A room for two, that's right," she said shortly. "With two beds. House and I went to Atlantic City for a concert and had too much to drink. It was a better option than driving home."
"And you couldn't have rented separate rooms?"
She'd wondered about that more than once herself, but always pushed the thought out of her mind. "I wasn't aware that spying on doctors was part of hospital policy. What I do on my time off has no bearing on my work here, nor does who I spend that time with concern you. If that's all, I have work to do."
She made it as far as the door before Vogler spoke again, the rage in her blood lengthening her stride and forcing her to lean harder on the cane. "The board is meeting next week to discuss the future of the diagnostics department," he said, mock-lightly, in that voice he used when he knew he had you just where he wanted you. "I expect to see you there."
Cameron let the door slam behind her.
(segue)
It was an instinct for self-preservation that made House raise his head when she entered instead of just ignoring it and waiting for her to speak. The air was fraught with nervous tension or plain anger or even fear, he didn't know which. He looked at Foreman and Stacy, then glanced at Cameron again.
Before he could say anything, she'd planted her cane and opened her mouth. "Alright, anyone who didn't get hammered in Atlantic City two weeks ago, leave."
Foreman raised an eyebrow, but left without a word. Stacy seemed likely to object- yes, she was already putting on her 'indignant' face- so he said, "You going to keep the lady waiting?"
She turned with a scathing look and probably would have slammed the door behind her, if it were possible.
"Dr. Cameron. What's got your panties in a twist?"
"In a word?" Tap-tap of wood on the floor. "Vogler."
His mind rebelled at the imagery. "Well, I can't say that's the reaction I expected."
"Vogler was at the concert at the Tropicana. He apparently did some investigating about accommodations while he was there."
House let himself soak up the information for a minute before speaking. "The corporate billionaire admits to extortion and spying?"
She frowned. "No, although that's probably a fair assumption. He had to get the printout of the room reservation somehow."
"And because he's an ass, he naturally has inferred the worst." Or, in other words, assumed I'm both stupider and luckier than I am.
"It gets better." Most of the hostility faded from her posture as she slumped onto the couch. "Bet you can't guess how."
He step-thumped his way over to sit beside her. "Could he possibly be threatening to bring this up at the board meeting next week at which point he will undoubtedly try to get me fired?"
Cameron's head fell back against the cushion. "You don't sound nearly worried enough. He has… asked me nicely… to attend."
"Do you think he realizes it's a vote and not a trial?" House mused, wondering why he felt vaguely betrayed. "Besides, I've got Wilson and Cuddy. I'm not going anywhere."
"And how many people do you think Vogler is willing to go through before he gets to you?" she asked tiredly. "Because any number I can think of is a conservative estimate."
No, House wasn't stupid. He'd known that for a long time. That didn't mean he knew what to do with the information. And none of it took the sting out of Cameron's point. "You think I should resign?"
"No." She sounded tired. Looked it, too. "I don't know what you should do."
He sighed. "Me neither."
(segue)
This time it was Foreman with the images and Cameron with lab results. "You're not going to believe this," Foreman started.
Cameron shook her head. "This, either."
House put the full body scans up on the light-board. "Those look like fun," he said darkly, referring to the multitude of grayish lumps in Mark Wardell's body. One pushing up against his spine, two left in his kidneys, one at the base of a lung.
The edges around them were faintly blurred on one side. "These ones moving, too?"
"We think so," Foreman answered.
"Cameron… do you think your computer can handle another couple of trajectories?"
"What are those?" Foreman moved closer to the board, squinting.
Cameron handed House the biopsy analysis. "Tumours," she said flatly, watching the image as if she expected the gray areas to writhe on their own. "It's cancer."