I'm pretty sure I have the best cheering squad ever! Grissom, your compliments almost made me blush... and they definitely made me grin. Shippie, Mariel3, Val'istar En'Alu,Taramis, Peraevum and everyone else (I know I'm missing people and will kick myself later...) your continuous feedback spurs me on!
Chapter 7
The end credits for General Hospital were rolling, Cameron was sound asleep and House's left arm was beginning to go numb. He looked down at her face and watched the way her eyelashes fluttered delicately against her pale cheek. She was dreaming and he wondered what it was about. Flexing his hand he tried to get some feeling back in his arm, but it wasn't working. Obviously carrying her to the bedroom was out of the question. Hell, he had never carried a woman anywhere even when he'd had the use of both legs.
"Cameron?" He jostled her slightly and she stirred. "You're crushing me."
One eye opened half-way. "How can I be crushing you?"
"Apparently your head weighs a lot more than it would appear. Must be all those brains."
"Was that some sort of back-handed compliment?" she asked as she pushed herself up enough for him to reclaim his arm.
He smirked. "Read into it whatever you like."
"How long was I out?" Sleep was still crowding the corners of her vision and she squinted towards the clock on the VCR.
"Well, I think you caught the end of The Bold and The Beautiful but you were passed out fifteen minutes into General Hospital."
She pushed herself a little farther away. "Sorry."
"Don't be. You probably would have been asking all sorts of annoying questions about who's sleeping with who and how someone who only looks thirty years old can have two kids over the age of eighteen."
"You have a point. If we're going to make this a habit I'll have to do some research."
"Now I know what to get you for a get-well present… a subscription to 'Soap Opera Digest'."
She smiled at him, then grimaced as she twisted in just the wrong way. He looked at her with a combination of concern and annoyance.
"Still in pain?"
"It's manageable," she answered with a shrug. "Like you said a few days ago, I did have a bullet dug out of my chest less than a week ago."
His look of distaste almost matched hers. Somehow those words sounded worse coming out of her mouth than his and he wasn't exactly sure why.
They sat in silence for a few minutes and Cameron looked at him, not sure what to say. "Did you tell Dr. Cuddy you were leaving for the day?" she asked and then mentally slapped herself. He was suspended. He didn't need to tell anyone where he was going.
"I talked to her before I left. Had to give her the heads-up about Vogler after all. Didn't want the police storming the place and her wondering what the hell was going on."
"You don't really think he called the police, do you?" Her hand was suddenly touching his leg gently, and she wasn't exactly sure how that had happened.
He shook his head, face showing his disgust with even Vogler's name. "Probably not. He'd already called for a board meeting, and the bastard already had other plans for me."
"What do you mean?" Cameron looked at him questioningly, surprised that he was revealing so much. For anyone else it wouldn't have been anything, but for House it was more than she expected.
House looked her in the eye, seeming to weigh the options of telling her any more. He seemed to be weighing her. Judging what to say and what to keep to himself. It felt like being under a high powered microscope and she squirmed.
"Just the usual threats," he said finally. "You know the type. 'I'll make your life a living hell', 'You'll never work in this town again', 'A pox be on both your houses'."
"Your reputation is a lot longer than his," she offered, feeling stupid and ineffectual. Was that the drugs or was it just the awkwardness of him actually sounding almost vulnerable?
"True, and I'm much prettier too," he quipped.
"Was that why you hit him? He threatened you?" She hadn't meant to push and she inwardly rolled her eyes.
"Something like that," he replied. "But hey, let's stop talking about the Vogler and discuss something more pleasant, like the use of maggots in treating infections."
Cameron's face twisted into a comical squint. "Let's not and say we did."
"In that case, how about making prank calls to Cuddy's office? She could probably use the distraction."
She managed to talk him out of that, but it was a near thing and what really ended the discussion was the insistent ringing of the phone. It was one of those annoyingly shrill cordless models and House grabbed it from the end table and handed it over to Cameron.
"Hello? Yes, this is she."
House leaned back and studied a picture that was hanging across the room. He hated hearing one-sided phone conversations. Always awkward.
"Yes. Yes. I understand. Tomorrow would probably be all right."
House turned towards her with an inquiring expression which changed to concern when he saw that Cameron had turned approximately two shades lighter than a bedsheet.
"Fine. Yes. Thank you for calling." She hung up and House waited patiently for her to tell him what was going on. "They caught him," she said, and there was no doubt who she meant.
A startling anger rose in House's chest. "Good. Son of a bitch should rot in jail. What'd he do, try to knock over a liquor store?"
She shook her head. "He attacked another woman not far from here. He raped and killed her," she went on, her voice sounding oddly distant. "But I guess… he… he left some evidence behind. That's how they traced him. And the bullets…" she gestured to her chest. "They matched." She felt dizzy and sick, like she was about to be sucked into a dark hole, and there were tears in her eyes and she didn't know where they'd come from.
"Cameron." House's voice was strong and his hand covered hers. "Breathe, Cameron." He was focused on her face, studying the lost look in her eyes and trying to draw her back. "Don't think about it."
But she couldn't help thinking about it. She'd already spent a week ignoring it. "I… I thought he just wanted my money," she pushed the words out.
She remembered getting out of her car, feeling depressed and not paying attention to a man walking nearby. She remembered bending over to get the groceries out of the back seat, and then strong, rough hands on her arms, hot fetid breath against her cheek. She hadn't even screamed; she'd just whirled around, hitting him in the chest with a bag of frozen vegetables. She hadn't seen the gun, but she'd seen the flash of fire at the same instant she'd felt the horrible pressure in her chest knocking her back against the car and she'd struggled to stay standing as the shock of what was happening had sunk in. The sound of footsteps running away echoed in her memory, mixed in with the feeling of the cold pavement beneath her body and the struggle to breathe. She had known she was dying, tasted the blood in the back of her throat, felt her chest filling with it, and grasped at consciousness with all that she had. More footsteps, and her landlord from next door leaning over her, talking to the 911 operators, pressing something against her chest. The bag of vegetables still clutched in her hand, melting, leaving her in a puddle, or was that her blood? Then there had just been noise and lights, and a thudding, distant pain that hadn't even feel connected to her body. Flashes of faces and needles and then, there was House, and then nothing.
"Easy, Cameron, easy," House's voice was still there, and she realized he had her bent forward, head down. She was sobbing and hyperventilating at the same time. His hand anchored her, rubbing up and down her back, "You have to calm down," he sounded stern but anxious, using words of comfort that came unnaturally to his lips. "Breathe slower. Slower." His hand was moving in rhythm with his words. "You're all right. Calm down. I'm here." That last was said haltingly. Only two words but they were charged with multiple meanings.
Cameron's sobs became hiccups and her breathing slowly evened out. House felt relief sweep through him. She sat up, but clutched her arms around her chest and tried to bite back a scream. It felt like her chest was being ripped open by vicious clawing beasts.
"Shit," House moved faster than he thought he could, standing up and swinging her legs up onto the sofa so that she was lying down, head resting against a throw pillow.
He started pulling at her shirt but her hands batted his away. "I'm okay. It'll pass. It'll pass," she repeated, gasping and feeling like a complete idiot.
House's eyes hardened to stone as he lowered himself to sit next to her hip. "Move your goddamned hands," he ordered and Cameron looked at him, startled, and let her arms fall to her sides.
She was still wearing the cotton shirt from the day before, but he didn't bother unbuttoning it. It was loose and he tugged the hem up, baring the long incision but leaving her breasts mostly covered. Cameron's face was turned towards the back of the sofa. He could feel the pounding of her heart in his fingertips as he touched her. He pressed gently, muscles in his neck tightening when she winced.
"That hurts?"
"It hurt before," she replied. "It isn't any worse."
"It's worse," he countered. "You pulled two stitches. You're bleeding. Don't move."
He levered himself off the sofa and walked to the bathroom as quickly as he could, gathering up the same supplies he had used before. She was still lying, unmoving, when he returned.
"I told Wilson that Fraser was an idiot for releasing you so early," he muttered as he used a gauze pad to dab at the blood weeping from her wound. It wasn't terrible, two of the staples had just pulled apart slightly, but the entire area looked raw and sore. He cleaned it with disinfectant, trying to ignore when she flinched. "Damned doctor. What the hell was he thinking."
"He didn't want to release me," Cameron admitted. "I told him I'd leave AMA if he didn't."
House glared at her. It was much easier than letting the fear and anxiety show. "Well that wasn't one of your smarter moves, was it?"
"I was fine until five minutes ago," she argued.
For once, House decided to let her have the last word. He finished examining her and pulled her shirt back down. "All right, I think you'll live."
"Thanks." She turned her head to look at him and held up one hand. "Help me sit up?" She knew her muscles wouldn't be able to take the strain.
He snaked one hand behind her back, between her shoulder blades and lifted her into a seated position, tucking the pillow behind her back. "Better?" he asked, feeling unexpectedly self-conscious.
"Yes," she said quietly, but what she was really feeling was drained and foolish.
House sat back down on the sofa and looked at her, trying to decide which one of them should talk first. "Whatever happened to the days when the police came to people's houses to give them disturbing news?"
"I think that went out a long time ago," Cameron replied with a sigh.
Silence fell over them again.
"You want to talk about it? You never actually told me what happened."
"Not right now," was her response. She was already feeling naked and exposed beneath his clear blue gaze.
She looked small and defenseless, sitting wedged into the corner of the sofa, and House's hands suddenly balled into fists as he had a sudden flash of what the bastard sitting in jail had planned to do to her. He wanted to punch something, but he'd already done that. He settled for moving until his leg was brushing against hers and pulling her gently into his embrace. When she released a breath she had been holding and relaxed against him, he felt a knot form in his throat. Damn. He was falling, and it was a long way down.
"Thank you for coming over," she said quietly.
"Well that's what normal people do, right?"
He felt her slight smile against his chest. "Yes, but thanks anyway."
They sat in silence as the minutes ticked by, the sound of distant traffic the only background noise. Cameron's eyes were closed and one hand was curled so tightly around House's shirt that her knuckles were white. The tension in the rest of her body had eased, but that one hand refused to loosen its grip.
The sound of House's heartbeat beneath her ear was comforting, strong and steady. His arms around her body were warm and reassuring. It had been a very long time since anyone had held her. Longer than she wanted to admit. But House wasn't just anyone, and she knew that he had to be uncomfortable with her clinging to him. Any minute he would start to fidget, and then he would crack some joke. She didn't want to push him to that so instead she pushed away.
Slowly she uncurled her fist and sat up, wiping a hand across her face. "Sorry, I know you're not the cuddly type and I think I've permanently wrinkled your shirt," she said with a weak smile.
House was a little taken aback when she moved out of his arms, and even more taken aback by the fact that he missed the warm, solid weight of her against his chest. He glanced down at his shirt and snapped back to himself. "I'll put it on your bill."
Cameron looked at him curiously. "Bill?"
"Right. I'm your new home health aide, remember?"
She let out a short laugh. "Well you have done a bang-up job so far," she agreed, setting slightly more distance between them as she leaned against the arm of the sofa.
"And you didn't even have to interview me for the position," he said with a cocky grin.
A slight grin passed over her lips and his hand twitched. Damn, why did he just want to pull her back into his arms? Not cuddly? He was going to turn into the fucking snuggle fabric softener bear if he spent much more time around her.
"I don't know if an aide would watch soaps with me either," she added.
House clenched his hand around his cane and stood up. "No, probably not."
Cameron glanced from him to the clock to the door. He was going to leave. "It's getting late," she said, keeping her voice very even.
House raised one eyebrow. "It's five-thirty," he said dryly, then looked at her questioningly. Maybe he was misreading her. "Did you want me to leave? You're probably tired."
"I just had a two hour nap."
"And a half-hour panic attack," House reminded her, then mentally kicked himself in the ass.
"I'm okay."
He nodded, and decided to take her at her word. "You probably wouldn't turn down a painkiller though," he said. "That's what I got up to get you." He omitted the part about needing space before devolving into a stuffed animal of some sort.
"I wouldn't turn one down," she admitted.
"All right. Sit tight." He limped out of the room, and then called back over his shoulder, "I'll call for dinner while I'm at it. You only get one home-cooked meal a day outta me for the amount you're paying me,"
He came back five minutes later with a glass of water in his hand. He gave it to her and then fished a bottle out of his pocket, read the label and popped the cap off. "These would be mine," he said as he dry swallowed two of them while Cameron winced. He reached into the pocket again and brought out another bottle. "These are yours."
She reached for them, but he held them up beyond her grasp and she gave him a puzzled look.
"Not so fast. Answer a question first. Tell me how bad the pain is, and remember that we're both doctors."
A sigh passed between her lips. "Worse than this morning," she confirmed his suspicions, "but better than three days ago."
"Three days? You had to go back three days to find a day that was worse?"
"You said one question. Hand over the pills."
He dropped them into her hand but stared at her until she looked him in the eye. "If it gets any worse you know you have to go back to the hospital."
"I know. I'm a doctor, remember?"
"Right. Just checking." He sat down again, but on the chair rather than the sofa. He still needed that distance. "You never told me if you wanted me to leave."
She shrugged. "You've been here for hours. I figured you'd be reaching your limit of 'normal people' time."
"Yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you. I've got music, scotch and cigars back at my place. Perfect to dwell in my misery on my last night as a head of diagnostics… or anything else. Turns out I'd rather be here. Now toss that remote over here. And remind me to get you tivo."
