Hello all! Thanks for reading this ridiculously lengthy story. Here is yet another chapter!
Chapter 14
House woke the next morning feeling slightly grumpy and he realized that it was partly because she hadn't called him. Her calls weren't an every night occurrence, but after not seeing her all day, he had missed hearing her voice before going to sleep. Damn, could he be any more selfish? Here he was wishing she had called when he knew that she only called after a nightmare left her trembling and unable to go back to sleep. If he'd wanted to hear her voice that badly he should have picked up the damn phone himself. Great. Just great. Their date was less than fourteen hours away and he was in an even worse mood than usual. Wilson would tell him it was nerves. So he wouldn't ask for Wilson's opinion.
He swept the sheets back and grabbed for his pills, popping one in his mouth as he got out of bed. His leg was killing him, but lying in bed waiting for the pain to pass wasn't as enjoyable alone. Shower, comb, cologne. He was done in the bathroom in just under fifteen minutes. He spent the next thirty staring into his closet.
In his head he was cursing himself for making seven-thirty reservations. There was no way he'd have time to change after work and he was going to have to wear a suit to the hospital. Maybe this was just a mistake. Maybe he should call back and tell her he'd be bringing over take-out. Cameron had said he didn't have to be so formal.
Of course she said that. She always said whatever she thought would make him more comfortable. He grabbed the dark navy suit and tossed it on the bed. Well for once, he was going to do something for her. He could suffer through feeling slightly out of place for one night.
At least the pants were comfortable. He pulled on a pale blue dress shirt and shoved a tie into the jacket pocket. He could put those on in the office just before he went to pick her up. Now he just had to hope that no one noticed that his shirt was neatly pressed and his pants had a crease you could slice butter on. Maybe he'd actually wear his lab coat for the day.
His lone pair of dress shoes rested at the back of his closet and his curses made their way from his head to his mouth as he bent over to get them, striking his forehead on the overhead rod in the process. They were quickly tossed into his old gym bag, and then the suit jacket was folded carefully and laid on top. With any luck they wouldn't end up smelling of sweaty socks by the end of the day.
One last look around his bedroom and he glanced at himself in the mirror. Hair combed. Shirt buttoned. Stubble still in evidence but lighter than normal. The creases around his eyes didn't seem as noticeable this morning, but there was no mistaking that he was a man quickly approaching middle age if he hadn't already reached it. Face a bit too long. Eyes startlingly blue, but almost too big. Cheeks slightly hollow from years of living more on adrenaline, scotch and vicodin, than food. Was this what Cameron saw when she looked at him? Was this what she wanted?
The muscle in his jaw twitched and he turned away. He didn't have time to stroke his own ego into believing he was worthy. That would take the better part of a week. Probably longer. Cameron wasn't a child and she'd made her wishes abundantly clear. He wasn't going to start questioning them again now.
A puff of steam followed Cameron out of the bathroom as she wandered across the hall, towel wrapped around her hair, robe wrapped around her body. It felt wonderful to be clean and still damp from the shower. Every day she was able to move a little more freely, and being able to wash and dry her hair with only a few twinges of pain felt like a major milestone. A contented little sigh rose from her chest and she couldn't stop grinning despite the nervous flutter that kept invading her belly.
She slipped into a black lace bra and matching panties, not looking down as she fastened the bra and pulled up the straps. She knew what she'd see and she didn't want to think about it. She wanted to hold onto the feeling of happiness that had settled over her.
The decision to wear her favorite black dress had been made that morning. It was dressy but not stuffy; short skirt, v-neckline, cap sleeves inset with black lace. She'd wear her mother's earrings and let her hair dry with its natural wave. The dress hadn't been worn for a long time, but she found it easily and slipped it over her head. Delicate fingers smoothed the silk skirt and she gave a little twirl and then froze.
Her reflection stared back at her from the oval mirror and she felt like she was watching someone else raise a shaking hand to the scar that started four inches above the neckline of the dress. She couldn't undress fast enough, fumbling with the zipper and then throwing the black silk on the bed as if it burned. Quick steps and she was at the closet, biting her lip as she started flipping through the rest of the clothes. Another rush of motion and she was at her dresser, opening drawers and pulling out anything she could find.
Almost an hour later found her standing in front of her mirror, clad in only her bra and panties, arms hanging limply at her sides. A pile of discarded clothing lay behind her on the bed. Her eyes were burning but she wouldn't let any tears fall. She had to look. This was her body now and she had to look. She ran a finger up the long scar, feeling every uneven bump. Yes, it would fade in time, but how long? Five years? Ten? Even with plastic surgery there would be a long healing period. By the time it was gone, would she even care? She was already thirty. Thirty years old and she couldn't wear a bikini anymore, or any bathing suit at all, for that matter. She couldn't wear a tank-top or a low-cut blouse. She couldn't even wear her favorite dress.
The tears came then and she couldn't stop them even though she was furious with herself. She dug her nails into her palms and collapsed onto the bed, surrounded by the clothes she didn't even want to look at. She wept as she screamed at herself in her mind, calling herself every disparaging name she could think of; selfish, vain, ungrateful, stupid, petty, childish. Yes, she was a stupid, stupid child. What the hell was wrong with her? She was alive and all she could do was cry because she wasn't beautiful anymore. Beautiful. She had never called herself that out loud, but she had always known. She wasn't one of those women who constantly berated themselves just so that others would praise them. People had called her beautiful and she had just thanked them and moved on, never dwelling on it, always feeling prouder of the accomplishments she had worked for than the looks she'd been born with. Beautiful. She wouldn't have to worry about deflecting that compliment anymore.
Her breath came in quiet, desperate gasps, gradually slowing and evening out even as her mind moved on from anger at her unsuspected vanity to disgust at her stupid selfishness. Why couldn't she just be happy that she was still alive? Happy that she wasn't even more injured? Happy that the man she had been quietly pursuing was finally reciprocating her feelings? A long, shuddering breath and she knew that the thought of finally being with House was one of the reasons she was so devastated. She wasn't some high-school girl, and she had never fantasized about them being together, but deep in her heart she knew that she'd had longed-for expectations, no more than wispy thoughts and hazy images, but they were there. And in none of them did she feel the need to hide herself from his gaze.
Was this how he felt about his leg? Did he worry how she would react? No matter what it looked like, she wouldn't care. Why couldn't she make herself believe that his reaction to her would be the same? He, more than anyone, would be able to understand how it felt to be scarred. The answer prodded at the corners of her mind. She had always known he was damaged and she had fallen for him anyway. She had no idea if his feelings were based at least in part on a perfect, unblemished version of herself. A self that no longer existed.
But he had seen her scar. Hell, he had seen everything, and he was still with her, caring for her, spending time with her, nervously asking her out on a date. Soft fingertips traced the dark pink line again. She knew in that moment that it wasn't just a fear of rejection that made her stomach roil at the though of him seeing her. It was also the little part of her heart that had envisioned being beautiful. For him.
Cameron wiped a hand across her eyes and turned to look at the clock. She had two hours before House was going to pick her up. She closed her eyes slowly. Maybe she should just cancel. She could say she wasn't feeling well. No. That would just make him come over faster, and besides, it wouldn't be fair to him. He was trying so hard, and she knew he was only doing it for her.
Sitting up, she braced her hands against the bed and gazed towards the closet. There had to be something in there that would cover her chest completely and still look acceptable. She pushed herself to her feet and walked the few steps to the corner, then slowly started looking again. Two hours. Two hours to find something and then make herself look like she hadn't spent twenty minutes crying.
Six-twenty. Thank God their patient was finally starting to show some improvement. He had just enough time to make himself look presentable before heading to Cameron's apartment. Foreman and Chase were down in the lab running last minute blood tests so they wouldn't even see him leave. They'd both given him a few strange looks throughout the day. Foreman's had been more questioning while Chase's had been decidedly petulant. If Chase didn't start growing up he was going to find himself on the receiving end of a well aimed cane.
He pulled his bag out from under his desk and unzipped it; taking out the jacket, he draped it over his chair and dropped the shoes onto the floor. The jacket fit well and he moved his arms back and forth, getting used to the feel. He was sitting in his chair tying his shoelaces when Wilson walked in. Damn.
"Hey, I thought you might be interested in getting a drink," he asked, then did a slight double-take. "Well, well, well. What have we here?"
"What's wrong? Did you think you had the market cornered on the GQ look," House quipped.
Wilson laughed. "You. In a suit. Should I be looking for a pod somewhere, because I think I'm in the middle of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'."
"You really should take your show on the road," House said as he pulled the tie out of his pocket and started threading it under his collar.
"Sorry. Sorry," Wilson replied, with a grin still firmly etched on his face. "I take it that you and Cameron are going out someplace?"
"Got it in one, Watson."
"Well you do look awfully pretty."
House glared at him and continued to work on his tie.
"So where are you taking her?"
"Why, you looking to double date with the chemo nurse?"
"Come on, Greg."
Around the tree, down the hole, House finished tying his tie and leaned back in his chair. "Lahier's," House replied, naming one of the most expensive restaurants in Princeton. "Then a walk down by the river and over to Giamano's for the late show. They have a jazz band playing there."
Wilson's eyes grew larger as he listened to House's plans. He let out a little chuckle, more at the rather resigned look on House's face than at the clearly well-thought out itinerary. "I know there's a difference in your ages, but you don't have to make it so blatantly obvious by using every dating tip from a 1950's issue of Playboy. What next? Flowers and candy? Kind of lame, don't you think? Of course we already know she likes lame," he said with a friendly little wink.
"It's supposed to be a nice date. You know. The opposite of what you do with your little paramours," House retorted, not mentioning that he had been pondering where the closest florist was.
The teasing expression on Wilson's face softened to one of sincere happiness. "I know," he said as he leaned across the desk and straightened House's tie. "She'll love it."
House looked slightly doubtful. "You think?"
"Greg, I think you could take her to the local Burger King and she'd be thrilled."
A little smirk. "Yeah, I thought about going there, but I don't want to overwhelm her on the first date."
It was quarter to seven when Cameron stepped out of her apartment and started down the stairs. There was no sense making him walk all the way up to her door when she could easily wait on the front porch. She had also been going crazy pacing her living room and thought that the fresh air would help to calm her nerves.
The dress she had finally settled on was a pale blue-grey with fine silver filaments woven into the cloth, ensuring that it would shimmer in sun or candlelight. It was sleeveless, with a high, barely scooped neckline but she still kept touching her silk-covered chest to assure herself that nothing showed. The skirt on this dress was longer, less playful, flowing straight to her ankles with a slit running back up to her knee. She had only worn it once before, and she felt much dressier than she had planned. Her stomach rolled and she hoped that he wouldn't think she was overdressed. She knew that if he teased her, even in a lighthearted way, there wouldn't be enough resolve in the world to keep her from bursting into tears.
A solitary wicker chair stood in the corner of the porch, and she dusted a stray leaf off the seat and sat down, clasping her hands in her lap on top of her handbag. Almost immediately her fingers started picking at the silver trim on the bag. This wasn't working. She had to calm down and forget everything that had flooded her mind that afternoon. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.
The evening air was still warm and a lilting breeze played with the ends of her hair, brushing it back and forth over her shoulders and back. Another breath. He was expecting her to be happy, not moody, and she definitely didn't want to answer any questions that a sad expression might inspire. One more breath and she pulled her earlier feelings of hope back around her like a comforting cloak. She wasn't going to let her own insecurities ruin this night. She planned on being able to look back on it and smile. After another minute of quiet the heaviness in her chest began to lift. Her one remaining fear was that House would want to take their relationship to a more physical level but realistically, she knew those fears were groundless. Technically this was just their first date, and he would never push her.
A very distinctive roaring sound suddenly filled her ears and she opened her eyes in time to see the red corvette pulling into the driveway. The fluttering feeling was back, but this time she didn't mind it. Rising to her feet, she watched as he got out of the car, and even from a distance their eyes met and held for a timeless moment.
When House saw her stand up he was shocked to feel his heart suddenly speed up, and he got out of the car praying that he didn't look like the broken-down cripple he suddenly felt like. Automatically, his eyes sought out hers, and the tender expression on her face instantly scattered his personal doubts. He swallowed hard, and walked down the path, keeping his eyes trained on her slender form. As he drew nearer his eyes roamed over her body, taking in everything about her from her low, delicate shoes to her enormous eyes which had never looked bluer.
Standing on the top step, her face was level with his and he simply had to lean forward and kiss her. His lips were soft against the corner of her mouth, not fully kissing her because he knew if he did they would definitely miss their dinner reservations. When the kiss ended he rested his cheek against hers, letting her warmth flow into him for just an instant before pulling away.
He cleared his throat and held out his hand. "You look… beautiful," he said as she slipped her hand into his and stepped down from the porch.
He completely missed the sudden catch in her breath at his words. His heart was pounding in his ears and that was all he could hear.
For a second Cameron couldn't speak but she looked up at him with one of her shy, pleased smiles. "And you look very handsome," she finally replied.
When they got to the car, he released her hand, opened her door for her, and then waited until she was completely settled before shutting it. Limping around to his side gave him the few seconds he needed to gather himself back together again and stop feeling like an overwhelmed middle-aged gimp who was dating the most beautiful doctor in Princeton, despite the fact that he was.
The car rumbled to life and the soft strains of a piano concerto filled the air.
Cameron raised one eyebrow and smirked at him. "What, no classic rock?"
House smirked right back and hit a button on the dash. A brief shuffling sound and the strident chords of a Who rock ballad blared from the speakers.
"That more what you were expecting?" he asked as he put the car in gear and pulled out of the driveway.
"With you I'm never quite sure what to expect anymore," she replied honestly.
"Well, I wouldn't want to be too predictable."
She grinned at him. "Considering the fact that you're wearing a suit and taking me out on a date, I'd say there's no chance of that happening any time soon." She felt herself growing more relaxed as their usual bantering style took over.
Unfortunately it didn't last long. The longer they drove, the quieter House got, until he was only muttering his replies. They drove the last five minutes in silence. He knew that the sudden tension was his fault but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. His mind was wandering through a minefield of doubts, from his choice of tie, to his restaurant selection, to his decision based on Wilson's teasing comments.
He pulled up in front of the restaurant, rolled down his window and passed a five to the valet. "No joyrides," he said as he sized up the kid who was about to take control of his precious, and still relatively new, car.
He rolled his eyes when the kid gunned the engine before driving around the corner to the parking lot. When he looked back towards the restaurant Cameron was standing there with a little smile on her face and one delicate brow arched upwards.
"I'm sure he won't hurt it… much."
"He'd better not." House said as he joined her on the sidewalk and they walked to the door side by side, but not touching.
There was a man at the door waiting to open it for them and they passed through into the dimly lit but lavishly appointed restaurant. House gave his name and the maitre'd smiled, nodded and introduced them to a serious and eager looking man who was going to be their waiter. Cameron followed the waiter and House followed Cameron, feeling older and more out of place with each passing second.
Ahead of him, Cameron's hips swayed gently as she walked, her hair a silken fall over her back. He could imagine that her eyes were sparkling. He was sure that she was smiling. And here he was, trailing behind looking like her elderly uncle or something. Is that what people thought when they saw them? Not that he ever gave a fuck what anyone thought, but what about her? Shit. He was doing it again. He was trying to dissect her motivations when she'd already laid them all out for him. Damn it. He was happy when he was with her, and he knew she was happy too, so why he couldn't be happy with her in a stupid expensive restaurant like she deserved?
They were seated at last, at a table near the center of the room with candles and flowers in the center and decoratively folded napkins at their places. Menus were passed out, wine ordered, and then House and Cameron sat in silence, neither sure what to say to break the uncomfortable tension that had formed a bubble over them.
Cameron toyed with the stem of her water glass as she looked around the restaurant, trying to think of things to say. When they were alone in her apartment they were never at a loss for words, especially him. Now he was sitting with his face buried in his menu, apparently reading each and every word.
She had always been an observer, shyer than she had any reason to be, and often on the sidelines; an audience of one to the dramas of other people's lives. It was easy to fall back into that role as she wondered how long the elderly couple in the corner had been married, and then she watched as a ramrod straight waiter walked over to a table a short distance from theirs. He pulled a rose from behind his back and handed it to the woman seated there, who immediately broke into a smile while her companion thanked the waiter and sent him on his way.
A wistful look passed over Cameron's face as she watched the couple kiss across the table, and House looked up to see her watching them.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low as he reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "I thought about getting you flowers, or something… candy… jewelry… iPod…" he trailed off when he noticed that she looked like she was about to cry; not sad tears, but the happy ones he'd only seen in sappy movies and soap operas.
She turned her hand in his so that they were holding hands on the tabletop, in plain view of anyone who cared to look. She tightened her hold on his fingers and let the corner of her mouth curl upwards.
"This is all I want," she said as she squeezed his hand again. "I don't need anything else."
Suddenly House didn't feel old, or unattractive, or even awkward. He wasn't ready to go join the Optimists of America either, but he gave Cameron a crooked smile and reached over to cup her cheek in his other hand for just a moment.
"Let's get out of here," she said abruptly.
"What?"
"Let's go."
"Go where?"
"Anywhere. You're not comfortable here, and that makes me uncomfortable. Let's find someplace where we don't have to try so hard."
"This is supposed to be a date," he said stubbornly, "not a scavenger hunt."
"We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves, and that's not happening here." She was already on her feet and House pushed himself up from his chair.
"Are you certain? I'll put on my happiest face if you want to stay."
Cameron shook her head lightly. "Nope. I want to go somewhere you don't have to put on a happy face. I'm so touched that you did this, but I'm not interested in you giving me your idea of what you think I must want. Haven't you figured that out by now?"
House pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and dropped it on the table. "Apparently I'm a slow learner," he quipped, and then he took hold of her hand and headed for the door.
