This chapter is a bit rough I think and I may make some edits and upload again in a few days, but I didn't want to hold you in suspense!
Thanks for all your feedback!
Chapter 8It was after six-thirty, but the sick and injured rarely kept to a nine-to-five schedule and most of the hospital was still just as active as it had been earlier in the day. The hallway leading to Dr. Lisa Cuddy's office was one of the exceptions. The offices there were mainly used by other administrators who had long since left for the day. Only Cuddy's door remained open.
"Knock, knock." Wilson stood in the door-way and rapped against the steel support.
Cuddy looked up from the stack of paperwork she'd been seemingly engrossed in. She looked tired.
"You'll be at the meeting, I assume," she said, taking off her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"I'll be there. Wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun."
"You're not going to vote him out, are you?" It was really more statement than question.
"What do you think?"
"Vogler's not going to accept that without a fight."
"Vogler's an ass."
"An ass with one hundred million dollars."
"I'd like to think this hospital's integrity is worth more than that."
Cuddy was taken aback and didn't have an easy response.
Seeing the look of hurt flash across her face, Wilson relented. "I'm sorry. I know it hasn't exactly been a picnic for you."
"No, not exactly. One hard-headed, insufferable bastard is all I can take, apparently."
Wilson shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. "Well it looks like you'll be getting your wish. I know which one I'd pick."
"It isn't that easy. We're talking about--"
"One hundred million dollars. Yeah, I know. But what do you think is going to happen two weeks down the road? Two months? Two years? Vogler's going to hold that money over your head to get exactly what he wants, and then, when he's through playing philanthropic millionaire, he'll leave and go back to his office and his mansion. You know what will be left? A hospital in disarray and a lot of new equipment."
Cuddy leaned back in her chair and released a long, drawn-out sigh. "I know what you're saying is true, but damn, why do I have to be the one in this position?"
Wilson flashed her a brief smile, "I don't know, I think you were made for this job. Who better to keep us in line than the biggest hard-ass of them all?"
She smirked at him and replied, "True, but sometimes even momma needs a day at the spa."
One bowl of soup, one salad, one serving of chicken alfredo and the forced consumption of broccoli.
When House had told her that he'd ordered food, Cameron had expected Chinese again or possibly pizza. She had definitely not expected a delivery from the Italian restaurant across town that the entire team had gone to after one particularly hard case. He claimed she needed to eat right if she expected to get better. Of course she couldn't argue with that.
"Fine. I ate broccoli. Happy now?" She pushed her plate across the kitchen table in his direction.
"Thrilled." House smirked at her and stacked her plate on top of his.
"You realize you're turning into Nurse Ratchet, right?"
House continued to smirk but the truth was that the incident earlier had scared him. She had seemed to be doing fine, walking around, talking, even fighting with him. Then, one phone call and he'd realized that she was not even close to fine. Every time he saw the suture line up her chest he wanted to vomit, especially since he knew what it had looked like inside. Making her eat wasn't exactly brain… or heart… surgery, but at least he felt like he was doing something.
"Are you ready to get in bed?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"It's not even eight o'clock."
He just stared at her and she sighed and let her shoulders slump.
"You're right. I am tired," she admitted. "And I'm tired of being tired."
"How's the pain?"
"Better," she lied. It wasn't better but it wasn't worse and she didn't want to risk having him order her to the ER. This gruff-caring side of him was tough to figure out.
House leaned on the table as he stood up and gathered the dishes. He walked the two steps to the sink without his cane turned on the water. Cameron watched him, surprised once again. Was he just keeping busy because he didn't know what else to do or say? Probably, but it was still interesting to see a slightly different side of him.
"Go get ready for bed," he said over his shoulder. "I'll be done in a minute and I'll bring your tasty desert of painkillers and antibiotics to your room."
"You don't have to do that," Cameron replied, getting to her feet slowly. "I can manage."
"I'm sure you can, but I'm here and if I left and then you slipped and knocked yourself unconscious in the bathroom I'd feel rather guilty in the morning."
Cameron just rolled her eyes and shuffled out of the room. It was obvious that this was yet another argument she was destined to lose. At the same time, she felt a pleasant warmth suffuse her body when she considered that with all the opportunities he'd had to leave, he was still in her kitchen, doing the dishes.
Unfortunately, as she walked into the bathroom her happy thoughts were interrupted by the daunting prospect of taking a shower. She'd only managed a quick sponge bath the day before and her hair felt limp and horrible, but lifting her hands up that high without pulling at her already sore incision was not going to be easy. Not to mention the fact that she really wasn't supposed to get the stitches too wet.
She unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged out of it, careful to avoid facing the mirror. She'd already made that mistake once and the sight of her body had sent stinging tears to her eyes. Water was quickly turned on and the rest of her clothes shed. She waited for the water to heat up, watching for the puff of steam to appear from over the shower rod. As soon as it did, she pulled back the curtain and gingerly stepped in, supporting herself against the cool tile wall and keeping her back to the spray of water.
One hand moved quickly to her chest when she moved too fast. Shit, this was awkward. All she wanted to do was get clean and she could hardly move. Her shampoo was on the edge of the tub, and bending over to get it was out of the question. She settled for letting the water soak into her hair and run down her back while she rubbed soap over the parts of her body that she could reach.
If she called out she knew that House would come and help but she'd be damned if she let him see her like this. Bad enough that he'd already basically seen it all, she just couldn't let him see her even more helpless. And yes, vanity played into it too. He'd seen the sutures as almost a separate part of her body, not connected to it, just surrounded by the soft material of a shirt. She didn't want him seeing the complete package, her body looking like something straight from Frankenstein or the morgue.
In the back of her mind she realized that if they actually had a relationship, he was eventually going to have to see her naked. As usual, the facts had little effect on her feelings.
A sharp rapping at the door. "Are you alive in there?"
"I'm fine," she called back. "Give me another minute."
She tried to reach behind herself to shut off the water, but the lancing pain up her chest made that a Bad Decision and she bit her lip in anger and frustration. Fine. She'd just have to get out of the shower and drip all over the floor. Her bathmat was squishing by the time she finished drying off, and her hair was still dripping down her back.
Getting dressed again was another ordeal and by the time she finally opened the bathroom door she felt like she'd done some sort of workout. These were the kinds post-op problems they didn't tell you about in medical school. Her bedside manner was already good, but she could feel it improving every time she tried to do something and couldn't.
House was standing right outside the bathroom door and she had to stop short to avoid running into him. She could have sworn she'd seen a dozen emotions flash across his face in quick succession, but then he gave a quick blink and went back to his usual semi-sardonic gaze.
"You give new meaning to the phrase 'rode hard and put away wet'," he commented.
A sarcastic grin was his reward. "Gee, thanks."
"Did you even try drying your hair? I thought all you women had those annoyingly loud electric dryers."
She let out a frustrated sigh. "I dropped mine and broke it last week, and it hurts to hold my arms up long enough to towel it dry. Okay?" She moved to squeeze past him and he did the same, walking around her and into the bathroom. She stopped and looked at him quizzically, and then fought to control her heartbeat as he grabbed a towel and returned to her side. He turned her to face away from him and proceeded to wrap the towel around her hair, squeezing out the water and rubbing it dry. It wasn't something he had any experience doing and he was slightly rough and Cameron let out an involuntary squeak.
"Sorry," he said brusquely and then continued more gently for another minute. "There." He pulled the towel away and tossed it back into the bathroom to land on the sink. "At least now you won't drown on your pillow."
Cameron turned and looked up at him and his eyes captured hers. She suddenly didn't know what to say. She felt like she should say something. A snappy comeback? Thanks? Please lean down and kiss me? The decision was taken out of her hands when the phone rang, and House broke eye contact to go and answer it.
House tried to reconcile his actions with his generally bad attitude as he walked to the kitchen. That was three times in one day that he'd caught himself being a damn soft-hearted fool. It wasn't as if he never had caring thoughts about other people, hell he'd even found himself caring about patients now and then, but the key was that he never acted on those feelings, at least not openly. But she had come out of the bathroom so fast, and the wide-eyed look of surprise, combined with her generally bedraggled appearance had somehow turned her into one of the most beautiful things he'd seen. Damnit. Now he was going to have to be extra snarky to Wilson to make up for all this recent sappiness.
The phone rang for the fourth time and House yanked it from it's stand on the counter. "Hello," he snapped.
"House?"
"No, I'm Cameron's secret boyfriend."
"Well the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive," Wilson said slyly.
House rolled his eyes. "If you're calling to check on her she just got in bed. I'll be sure to tell her you called," he said in a tone that clearly said he'd do nothing of the kind.
"Actually I called to talk to you. I tried your phone and when you weren't there I had a feeling I knew where you were."
"Ah, the amazing Kreskin does it again," House said dryly.
"Aren't you going to ask me about the board meeting?"
"I considered it, but I figured you'd get around to it eventually. Are you going to clear my office out for me? Because if you are the only thing I really care about is my iPod. I accidentally left it on the desk."
"Well, you can get it yourself, because it looks like you'll be staying for a while."
House straightened up, not even realizing he'd been slouching. "What?" The question was purely rhetorical but he needed something to fill the air. He had just about reconciled himself to he fact that his days at PPTH were over and Wilson's words came as a shock. A feeling of relief passed through his body, loosening tight muscles and unclenching his stomach. He had told himself that it was just another hospital. He had told himself that he could get a better job anywhere. What he hadn't admitted was that he actually enjoyed the place. After over ten years it felt like a second home. A second home complete with a dysfunctional family. He had to snap himself back to the present. Wilson was talking again.
"Yeah, Cuddy managed to talk to all of the board members before Vogler even showed up. She gave a great speech, let me tell you."
"And Vogler actually backed down?"
"Hell no! He had the gall to say that he was going to the papers about the sorry state of the hospital and its doctors. Then he made the mistake of accusing you of sexually harassing the staff."
House's hand gripped his cane so tight the wood almost creaked.
"Lucky for you, being a misanthropic bastard actually worked in your favor. The other members almost laughed at the idea of you seeing another person as human, nevermind sexual." Wilson laughed and House smirked.
"Har, har. Yes, that is amusing." He was quiet for a second. "Vogler didn't mention any names, did he?" House felt he had to ask. People could talk about him as much as they wanted but it made him slightly sick to think of Cameron's name being bandied about like that.
"No. No names."
"So what did Vogler end up doing?"
"Exactly what I thought he'd do. He had a hissy-fit like a great big five-year-old, and stormed out, presumably to contact his lawyer and arrange for a swift return of his hundred mil."
"Cuddy can't be happy about that," House frowned slightly.
"Happy, no, but I think she feels like she got her self-respect back."
"Better than nothing I suppose."
"So how's the lovely Dr. Cameron? Have you been there all day?" Wilson knew he shouldn't be teasing him, but found it damn near impossible not to.
"None of your business," House growled.
"Well just keep in mind, she's had surgery. She's not up for any rough stuff."
"You know, smug is not very attractive on you?"
"Really? And here you once said it was the perfect look for you."
"Goodnight, Wilson."
"Goodnight. Give her a little peck for me."
House hung up the phone harder than necessary and turned to go back to the bedroom. Damn Wilson. If there was kissing involved it definitely wasn't going to be by proxy.
He thumped his way over to the sink, filled a glass of water, deposited three bottles of pills into his pocket and headed back to Cameron's bedroom. Rough stuff. Where the hell did Wilson get that stuff? They hadn't even been on a single date, just a very enjoyable but extremely non-date-like date. Unless this also counted as a date. Did it? Where exactly did caring for an invalid you have feelings for fall in the date continuum? House shook his head and turned into the bedroom. Great. Now he was babbling in his thoughts.
Cameron was sitting up in bed with a book in her hands and her dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose when he entered. "Who was on the phone?"
"Wrong number."
She looked at him over the top of her glasses and raised her eyebrows. "Awfully long wrong number."
"Bother, you're no fun at all," he sniped good-naturedly. "It was Wilson."
The board meeting was instantly at the forefront of her mind, but she hesitated to say anything. Damn his unreadable expression!
"You can stop looking all conflicted," he decided to show some mercy to the injured. "It looks like I still have a job and Vogler has taken his money and run. Well actually, with all that weight he's packing, he probably walked, but you get the idea."
Cameron's expression had changed to one of wide-eyed astonishment. "I can't believe it. He's really gone?"
"Really, most sincerely gone," House replied, "to paraphrase 'The Wizard of Oz'."
If her expression could have become any more surprised, it would have at his mention of Oz.
"Don't look so surprised. Didn't you know that if you start Pink Floyd's 'Darkside of the Moon' when the MGM lion roars for the third time, you get a whole new trippy soundtrack?"
Her laugh reminded him of wind-chimes and he quickly glanced away before the full effect of her smile stole over him.
She was still grinning when she shook her head saying, "I just can't believe it. After all that… nothing."
The grin faded slightly as she thought about the weeks of uncertainty and the moments of angst leading to her eventual resignation. It hadn't been all about Vogler, and House knew that. He had just been the final straw, suffocating her under the weight and forcing her to confront her feelings. When House limped around to the side of the bed she looked up at him wondering if he was really as cool as he seemed.
"I'm glad things will be able to go back to normal… well, almost normal," she amended.
He nodded and made sure that their fingers would touch as he handed her the glass of water. "Yes. Almost." He looked at her then and his eyes were questioning her, asking her as loud as words.
"I can't go back," she said quietly. "At least, not until I know where things are going..." she hesitated, and moved her hand in the air, "between us," she finally finished. "And even then I don't know. It could be awkward and I'm sure Cuddy wouldn't approve."
"Ah. Right. Us." It was awkward standing over her, and he didn't really want to sit on the bed but the only chair was on the other side of the room. Oh, to hell with it. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, hip just brushing against her thigh. "This normal relationship you keep mentioning. I think we've established the 'I like you, you like me' business. So now, what exactly are you expecting?"
Naturally, he had to start with the hard questions. Honestly she couldn't believe he was talking about it at all. She gave a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know, exactly. In a sense we already know each other… although I think you have an advantage. I never got to see your CV," she grinned impishly, "but most of that is work stuff. I want to know you outside of the hospital." She quickly held up her hand to stop his inevitably snarky response. "I'm not asking for you to tell me your whole life story, but a little something would be nice."
"I'm an only child. Is that enough?"
She smirked. "It's a start." Her eyes grew serious and House was captivated by them. "We had fun, that one night out. Didn't we? I'm not asking for the moon here, and I promise, I won't turn into something out of 'Fatal Attraction' if things don't work out. I just think that we could try doing that a little more regularly."
He nodded. "I think I could manage that," he replied, "and you'll notice I don't even own a rabbit, so I think we're in the clear."
That little smile crept back onto her face and House looked away again, scrounging in his pocket for her pills. She looked thoughtful as she watched him.
"Does it bother you when I smile?"
Her words came as a surprise and his head shot up, eyes meeting hers instantly. Well, no sense lying about it.
"To be honest, yes. It's been a long time." He didn't bother specifying since what.
"Okay. I'll keep that in mind."
Again, he seemed surprised by the fact that she not only understood but also didn't press him for more. He popped the lids off all of the pill bottles and shook the right amounts into the palm of her outstretched hand, five in all. He was even slightly impressed when she swallowed them all at the same time.
"What time are you supposed to be at the police station tomorrow?" he asked after taking the glass from her hand.
Cameron had pushed off the thought of seeing her attacker again, and she wasn't happy to be reminded. "They said ten-thirty," she grudgingly replied.
"I'll be here at nine-thirty. We'll stop for breakfast."
"House, you can't do that. Vogler's gone. You need to get back to the hospital. I'll just call a cab."
He was shaking his head before her words had finished leaving her mouth. "Vogler's gone. My suspension isn't. I'm not cleared to see patients for another week."
Inside, she was letting out a sigh of relief, but she didn't let it show. "Well, if you're sure."
As good as she thought she was at hiding her emotions, House could see right through her. "I'm sure. Now get some sleep."
He started to stand up, but Cameron stuck out one hand and gently grabbed his wrist.
"Wait."
"You need something else?"
She just looked at him and he felt himself collapsing from the inside out. He was leaning forward without even meaning to, and when her grip on his wrist loosened he moved that hand to her hip. Her eyes closed as their lips met and he could have sworn she let out a satisfied little sigh. He felt her hand cover his, squeezing gently, and he flicked his tongue out to taste her lips. Mint and water and fresh air. She tasted like spring. The moment he realized that he didn't want to leave, he made himself pull away. Any more would only be painfully frustrating for both of them.
"I should go."
She looked relaxed and utterly content. "I know."
"Sleep well."
