Week of Mondays

Three:

Stacy pushes too hard and House asplodes all over the place. ("She lives under the delusion that she can fix everything that isn't perfect. She went as far as marrying a man who was dying of cancer. She doesn't love, she needs. And now that her husband is dead, she's looking for a new charity case. That's why she went out with me. I'm twice her age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice. What I am, is what she needs. I'm damaged." (Cameron overhears) "You're old enough to be her father." "You think I don't know that?")

Cameron talks to Cuddy, Wilson

The board meeting begins. End with Wilson and Cameron outside the board room.

The three of them stared at the light board for a few minutes before Foreman finally broke the silence. "What kind of cancer involves moving tumours?"

Cameron shrugged. "Don't look at me. I just did the lab work."

House rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Go talk to Dr. Wilson." He looked at Cameron. "I'll talk to Stacy. Foreman, you do the research."

Rolling his eyes, he demanded, "On?"

House handed him Mark's file. "The doctors who did his procedures. Not that I expect the information to be easily accessible, but I'm sure you'll find a way to get it. Chat up the receptionist, bribe the girl who does paycheck… The possibilities are endless." He popped a Vicodin, then glared when nobody moved. "Now would be a good time to start."

"It's cancer," Cameron told him, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to deepen with the statement. "Really weird moving, floating cancerous tumours pressing against his spine and his lungs, causing paralysis and fainting spells." She handed him the charts and sat in his chair without asking him, without even looking up. She put her head in her hands. "Please tell me you can help him."

Wilson felt like Cameron looked: physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. There was a lot of misery in the air at PPTH and it was contagious; Greg was miserable, Cameron was sullen and Stacy exuded a kind of nervous anxiety. This was just the straw that was in danger of breaking the camel's back. "The tumours are doing what?"

Sighing, Cameron leaned her head all the way down to the desk. "That's what I was afraid of." Her hand went into her pocket and Wilson watched her take out a pill. "You have any water in here?"

In the past three weeks, he'd watched her consumption of the painkillers almost double. Not a good sign, he decided, especially since she barely seemed to need her cane anymore. He fished a bottle of water out from behind his filing cabinet anyway. "Drugs aren't the answer, you know."

"You're right. Alcohol is better. Takes longer to kill you." She swallowed the pill.

"That really depends on how fast and how much you take." Wilson deliberated for a moment before sitting on the desk. "You think this is helping any? You're not the only one who's confused and frustrated here. Self-pity just takes you down to his level."

Cameron raised her head slowly, then an eyebrow. "When you look like someone played tic-tac-toe on your body, you can tell me not to reconsider the way I live my life." She rubbed her eyes. "The confusion and frustration are gone, Wilson. I'm giving up. It's not worth it. Life's too short to pine indefinitely. Time to move on."

Wilson didn't even have time for his surprise to register before she changed the subject. "Got any bright ideas on how we can treat this guy?"

He exhaled slowly and let his questions slide for the moment. He could deal with issues not related to life and death later. "I could look up some clinical trials." Glancing at the folder she'd brought with her, he contemplated what they could do. "We could try House's ethanol trick to temporarily shrink the tumours and make them easier to remove…"

Sighing, Cameron shook her head. "We'd never find a surgeon to do it. Besides, as long as the tumours are this active, surgery that close to the spine is risky. We may not even be able to find it without too much poking around. I can predict roughly where it's going to be, but…" She shrugged.

"There's always chemo," Wilson started, but stopped himself almost before the sentence could complete itself. "But on a completely unknown type of cancer, there's no telling how that would work."

Cameron leaned back in the chair, staring at nothing. After a brief moment, she said, "What about that new treatment I read about in your magazine? I know it's not even ready for clinical trials yet because of the red tape, but it makes sense to develop a new treatment when a new type of cancer shows up."

He'd been considering something along the same lines, but wasn't really sure how to go about getting around the issues surrounding the experimental therapy. "I can look into it. There may be problems getting authorization for cross-border shipment, though. Pandey's based in Windsor, right?"

She nodded. "Good luck."

"It's cancer," House said as gently as he could. He wasn't renowned for his bedside manner or any particular inclination towards unnecessary niceties, but if you couldn't be sympathetic to the woman you'd loved for years (even if said woman was the cause for much bitterness and self-loathing on your part), well…

But Stacy wasn't looking surprised. House felt the faint stirrings of suspicion. "In his kidneys. Yes, we know. But it doesn't explain the other symptoms."

Well, it was good to know that his lack of faith in humanity was justified. "You knew he had cancer and you didn't tell me? What, did you think it was not medically relevant? Your husband is dying and you're not going to tell his doctors? That's cold, Stacy. You probably know I could sue you for this."

"You won't," she answered. "Listen, I should have told you, but if I had, you never would have accepted the case or even thought it was interesting. We had those tumours removed under the pretense that they were kidney stones and his symptoms persisted. They don't have anything to do with it."

House rolled his eyes. "Of course they don't. Or they wouldn't, if the cancer was limited to his kidneys." He handed her a photocopy of the scans that showed the other two tumours. "The one that's pressing on his spine is the big problem, of course. That's causing paralysis. The one pushing on his lung is causing dizziness and fainting spells."

Stacy had the decency to look stunned for a minute before voicing her next question. "But the paralysis isn't a consistent symptom. Neither are the fainting spells."

This, House decided, was probably going to be the more delicate conversation he'd anticipated after all. "Because the tumours are moving. It's a new strain. We haven't seen anything like it before."

"A new strain," she repeated vaguely, seemingly lost. House felt an uncharacteristic stab of sympathy, which the righteous anger at her deception quashed. "That means no treatment, doesn't it."

He wasn't going to lie to make her feel better. "Conventional methods will probably be useless. Wilson's looking into some clinical trials." He let the news sink in for a minute, debating the I'm sorry that wanted to escape him. In the end he decided against it. It might have been true… but he wasn't sure she deserved to hear it.

Cuddy found who she was looking for in the diagnostics waiting room, head in her hands, looking more than a little lost. She'd heard about the cancer diagnosis- word traveled fast in the hospital- so she couldn't say she was surprised to find Stacy about ready to start tearing out her own hair.

She'd looked much the same five years ago, when House had refused the recommended treatment. "You know Dr. Wilson is the best at what he does." Not that that was very comforting, but at this point she suspected very little would be.

"I wasn't… surprised about the cancer."

Interesting. Cuddy had a feeling that maybe she was in for more than she bargained for. "You know what… I won't ask. I don't want, or need, to know." She sat down across from the lawyer. "What's going on?"

Stacy raised her head a few inches, enough for Cuddy to get the idea that she had just rolled her eyes. "You're telling me you can't guess?"

"If House is giving you trouble…"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." A pause. "Okay, so it's actually the opposite. I'm giving him trouble, or I have been. I can't even really say why. I know I'm driving him crazy, I feel guilty about it, but I can't stop myself."

Privately, Cuddy thought House could use a taste of his own medicine every once in a while, but she wasn't going to say that out loud. House's misery was contagious and the last thing she needed was doctors that were more misanthropic and bitter than usual. "I'll start to worry if House just stands there and takes it." She reconsidered her motives for a moment. If House and Stacy weren't getting along it might be a bad idea to go through with the business proposal she had to make. On the other hand, forcing them both to get over it would probably only do them good in the long run. Plus, the hospital really needed another lawyer…

"It's good for him," she found herself saying, and then wished she hadn't. Stacy was frowning up at her. "Look, you know what happened to him after you left. He let himself get bitter and because he hasn't seen you since, he hasn't had any closure." And now for the big finish. "You've moved on, and the more he sees that, the more he's going to kick himself in the ass until he's over you."

"You need a lawyer, don't you."

Cuddy smoothed the wrinkles she could feel forming on her forehead with the fingers of one hand. "Pretty desperately. Are you available?"

There was a long pause, and Cuddy considered for the first time that Stacy might say no. "I could use the distraction," she said at last, and Cuddy handed her the paperwork.

Gregory House was a very perceptive man (often less so when it came to women), and that didn't only apply to matters outside himself. He was perceptive enough to identify nostalgia when he felt it, and he was feeling it now, standing on the wrong side of a glass wall peering in as a woman comforted her husband.

Greg House was a perceptive man, and he could separate the personal from the situational. He missed Stacy, inasmuch as any man as bitter as he was could miss being trusting enough to allow someone to share his life with him. Stacy herself was history, not like he needed to be reminded.

The trouble was, he couldn't remember if it was himself or someone else he was supposed to be trusting.

"Greg, I need to talk to you."

Great; just what he needed. "No, you don't," he said, turning away from her husband's room. "Wilson's his physician now. If anyone can pull off a miracle with clinical trials, it's Wilson."

He could sense her steeling herself, and just that made his hackles rise. Something was going on, and he probably wasn't going to like it.

"It's not about medicine."

He definitely wasn't going to like it. She took a deep breath as he turned around. "Greg, I'm going to be around for the rest of Mark's treatment..."

"The rest of his treatment, the rest of his life," House said, watching as she flinched. It was action and reaction; it was only instinct to hurt her now, after all the pain she'd caused him. "What's the point?"

Stacy's lips thinned; she crossed her arms. "Cuddy offered me a job. I took it."

This is payback for antagonizing every lawyer Cuddy's ever hired. "Oh well," he said as cheerfully as he could manage. "At least you'll be out of my hair."

"That's right, you can go back to focusing your full attention on your med student. I think she's getting jealous."

House was very tempted to point out that Cameron was twenty-seven years old and not a child anymore, but he knew it would probably get him into more trouble than it was worth. "Cameron doesn't have a jealous bone in her body," he said instead. He was tired of this conversation, and Stacy couldn't seem to get the hint that he didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm sure she's the epitome of a good Christian wife."

He grit his teeth. "Cooks, cleans, does laundry, loves the missionary position; what can I say, she's perfect. Except for the whole atheist thing."

When he tried to walk away, she grabbed his cane. "I'm not stupid, Greg. Or blind. For some reason beyond my imagination, she likes you. And this conversation wouldn't bother you if there weren't some truth to it. If you'd stop living in the past for five minutes you might actually find that there are things in this life that are worth making an effort for."

Yeah. Except that what she had said wasn't entirely true. "I think you seriously overestimate your observational capabilities."

Stacy crossed her arms. "Oh really."

"You don't even know her," he pointed out. This conversation was headed for an uncomfortable place.

"Call it woman's intuition, then. Okay, so you're older, you're bitter, maybe you're not every woman's ideal man. Haven't you been paying attention when she looks at you? She looks like she wants to rip her heart out of her chest and hand it to you on a silver platter!"

House wasn't sure what kind of sick game this was, but he'd had enough of it. Time to end this, once and for all. He knew he had trust issues- with himself and with others, certainly with Stacy, but he was just starting to realize how badly he wanted to trust again. When he started speaking, he was almost unaware of what he was saying- only that it hurt that it was true.

"Dr. Cameron lives under the delusion that she can fix everything that isn't perfect." Unconsciously, he glanced into Stacy's husband's room, seeing not the man who lay there now but himself in a similar position six years ago. "She went as far as marrying a man who was dying of cancer. People don't do that for love, they do it because they need." In that respect maybe they were perfect for each other; two broken souls who weren't really capable of having a healthy relationship. "Now that her husband is dead, she's looking for a new charity case. That's why she went out with me. I'm twice her age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice." His hands curled at his sides as he finished the thought out loud. He felt vaguely nauseous, clutching his cane tightly for support. "What I am, is what she needs. I'm damaged."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before he glanced at Stacy again, who seemed willing to look anywhere but at him. "Thanks for the pep talk," he said sharply, and took off in the direction of the clinic.

Overhearing was the last thing Cameron had intended to do; she was just supposed to hand House the information on the clinical trial Wilson had finagled out of Dr. Pandey. Even though House wasn't technically Mark's doctor anymore, they both knew he'd want to be kept up to date on this one.

"She looks like she wants to rip her heart out of her chest and hand it to you on a silver platter."

Cameron felt said organ rise into her throat when she heard Stacy's voice. Honestly, hadn't she caused enough trouble? Couldn't she leave well enough alone?

She felt sick when House started to answer and tried to turn back down the hallway, but her cane wouldn't unstick from the floor and she didn't trust her leg yet to hold her up. "Dr. Cameron lives under the delusion that she can fix everything that isn't perfect. She went as far as marrying a man who was dying of cancer. People don't do that for love, they do it because they need. Now that her husband is dead, she's looking for a new charity case. That's why she went out with me. I'm twice her age, I'm not great looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice. What I am, is what she needs. I'm damaged." He paused, and Cameron felt her stomach churning, its contents desperate to find an outlet. She knew she was going to be sick. With a Herculean effort, she made herself move, taking off to the nearest restroom before she could hear anything else.

Cameron had learned a long time ago that when the shit hit the fan, it tended to make a mess of everything all at once. You could spray down everything with a power washer, you could disinfect and scrub all you liked, but weeks later you'd still be picking shit out of your ears.

So she was angry with herself for not having expected this. She'd heard the hospital lawyer had taken a leave of absence, but her brain hadn't put two and two together and deduced that Cuddy would ask Stacy to step in to fill the void. She supposed it was better than having her hanging around Diagnostics all day; at least this way she'd have something to keep her busy and out of House's hair.

She was angry with herself for pushing House into a date he clearly hadn't wanted, in retrospect. He'd probably only had fun because it was something he'd have done on his own anyway. Besides, they'd won six thousand dollars. Any evidence she might have gleaned that he could actually have feelings for her was clearly circumstantial.

But most of all she was angry with herself for failing to realize the depth of House's self-loathing, and that it coloured his perceptions about everyone he met, herself included. He didn't trust anyone, especially women; she wasn't quite sure why that was yet, but she suspected it might have something to do with the infarction. Stranger and more frightening was the fact that he didn't seem to believe he was worthy of anyone's affection; the idea made her heart constrict painfully.

I'm twice her age, I'm not particularly handsome; I'm not even nice.

From the safety of the rooftop, she thought about it. She was fairly sure she wasn't looking for a 'charity case'- she was even fairly sure that House knew she wasn't looking for a charity case. The man had more defense mechanisms than the Pentagon, and she was starting to doubt that she'd ever get through them.

Another week, she conceded to herself. She'd told Wilson that she'd given up on him, and she'd meant it then, but how could she abandon hope for someone who'd already given up on himself?

"Sorry I'm late," Edward Vogler practically thundered as he closed the door to the room behind him. Cameron barely resisted the urge to shudder. Something about the man repulsed her. "I trust you all know why we're here.

Cameron had a pretty good idea: Vogler's longstanding vendetta against House, or vice versa. The feud had been going ever since Vogler had donated that money to the hospital, and she had a feeling that it would continue until House either gave in (unlikely) or one of them was gone for good.

Based on personal experience, Cameron's money was on House. She didn't think she'd ever met someone as stubborn as he was. Then again… Vogler did have a lot of power. Too much power.

"I think I can take a wild guess," Wilson said dryly, tossing the pen he'd been twirling on the table. He looked tired; Cameron couldn't help but feel for him.

"For those of you who are in the dark," Vogler continued, silencing Wilson with a menacing look (to which Wilson failed to react), "this meeting has been called to discuss the impropriety of the actions of Dr. Gregory House, head of the Diagnostics Department."

At the far end of the table, Cuddy rubbed her forehead. From her spot standing rather awkwardly behind Vogler- a position she disliked both for the view and the implication that she was somehow supporting him- Cameron could just see the tension creeping into the older woman's posture. With Vogler and Stacy around to set House on edge, it was a small wonder the whole hospital hadn't spontaneously combusted.

"We all know House is a misanthrope," Cuddy said with a roll of her eyes. "He also just happens to be the best at what he does."

"He's shown a blatant disregard for protocol, hospital policy and authority. He violated a DNR, goads patients into accepting treatment they don't want, terrorizes the interns, and spends most of his day watching soap operas! The man is a disgrace to this hospital and to the entire medical profession, and I want him gone."

"He also saves the majority of his patients- patients that multiple other doctors have given up on." That was Wilson, loyal to a fault. Cameron tried not to hold her breath waiting for a reaction.

Vogler slammed two massive fists down on the table, reminding her of an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum. "I am not challenging the man's brilliance, I am questioning his personal code of ethics." The fists unclenched. Something about the change in his tone made Cameron's stomach twist. "Recently when I was away at a business conference in Atlantic City I witnessed this perversion firsthand."

Here it comes, she thought resignedly as Vogler began passing out copies of some document or another. "Dr. House was in Atlantic City that same weekend, apparently staying at the Tropicana Hotel with a companion."

A doctor Cameron didn't know spoke up. "You're not going to suggest we vote to revoke his tenure because he hired a hooker, are you? Anyway, isn't this information confidential?" He flipped through the two page printout from the hotel. "I was under the impression that hotels didn't release the list of guests staying overnight."

"How I obtained this information at this point is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that Gregory House spent the night with a doctor under his direct authority, which is a violation of this hospital's policy."

Cameron flinched as all eyes turned towards her. Dr. Cuddy was the first of the board members to recover. "Dr. Cameron, is this true?"

She got the feeling that under other circumstances, Cuddy would be amused if not thrilled. "Dr. House and I attended a concert together and had too much to drink afterwards. We did the responsible thing and got a hotel room for the night. If you look at that invoice, you will see that the room had separate beds."

"I'm sure I don't need to point out that just because you had separate beds, that doesn't mean you took advantage of that."

"Mr. Vogler, we appreciate your concern, but more evidence is needed if you expect us to terminate Dr. House's employment. Your claims as to the propriety or lack thereof of his activities outside of work are uncorroborated. Besides, the Tropicana is an expensive hotel. One room is much more cost effective than two."

The ugly vein in his forehead was throbbing. "I would be willing to allay my suspicions if I hadn't heard Dr. Wilson ask what House was going to do with the money he won gambling. I'm guessing cost wasn't really an object."

She bit down on the retort that was trying to fight its way past her teeth. "We are professional people. We are capable of sharing a room for a few hours without anything untoward happening."

"Capable, yes. Are you saying that you aren't attracted to Dr. House?"

Cameron had had just about enough of thinly veiled insults. "Mr. Vogler, you've made it clear that you believe I have an improper relationship with Dr. House. My efforts to convey the truth of the situation have been dismissed and ignored. If money and a grudge trump truth in this hospital, I'm sure I'll be just as happy to look for another job. Rather than stand here and be insulted, I will wait outside for you to decide on a course of action."

She was aware of all eyes on her as she left the room, knew more than one of those stares was a disapproving one. It was more than likely that her little tirade would be looked upon as somewhat immature. Right at that moment, Cameron couldn't have cared less. She was tired of the elevated stress levels, tired of having to protect herself and her colleagues from Vogler's tyranny, tired of insinuations that she wasn't sure she even wanted to be able to deny.

God, this was messed up. She leaned against the wall and let her body slide slowly to the floor, her almost superfluous cane clattering down beside her. She thought about reaching for her pain medication, but decided the dull throb was probably a better distraction from her thoughts than counting the ceiling tiles. She had just come to the conclusion that she really needed to look into getting a Gameboy when the door opened beside her.

It was Wilson. Her lip curled sardonically. "Sending the altar boy to sacrifice the lamb. Very poetic."

Wilson budged up against her, shoving her over a bit. "I voted for you." He shrugged. "I voted for House, too. That's when they threw me out."

Cameron closed her eyes, wondering if that offer from the hospital in Boston was still valid. "You going to resign?"

She felt him shrug again. "Can't think of anything else to do."

"Maybe we should get a lawyer."

The words were out of her mouth before she fully realized what she'd said. Wilson gave a slight start and looked over, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Now there's an idea."