I thought of breaking this chapter up, but decided that I just couldn't do it... hopefully it doesn't feel too rushed. Comments and criticism warmly welcomed. I can always rewrite it to stretch it out.
Chapter 19
Cameron pulled her hair back and fastened it into a loose pony-tail, startled to realize that there were butterflies in her stomach and her hands were close to shaking. They'd been on a date. They'd spent almost an entire weekend together… large portions of it in bed… and here she was, preparing for dinner at his place and nervous as hell.
The problem, of course, was House. He could be so unpredictable that she wasn't sure what to expect. Then again, she had to admit that seeing another side of him was part of what made her so excited about being with him. They'd only spoken twice since Sunday, and briefly both times. She had called him Monday night, prior to going to bed, after a car had backfired in the street and sent her running to lock herself in the bathroom in a full-fledged panic. The other call had been just that morning; House calling to make sure that their plans for dinner were still on. That call had at least set to rest the soft but still niggling voice that suggested that a few days back at work would have him rethinking their whole relationship and deciding it was a bad idea after all.
Weeks ago he'd jokingly said that he would cook dinner for her sometime, and sometime had turned into tonight. Cameron gave one last look in the mirror and headed for the door. Her cab was probably just about to arrive. The sky was starting to darken and she grabbed her raincoat from the hook in the landing. A small part of her mind wondered if she would be spending the night in House's bed. After their first morning together, she had a new appreciation for the sound of rainfall.
She'd told House that she could just drive herself over, but he had insisted that she wasn't cleared for driving and announced that he would pick her up, despite the fact it was at least twenty minutes out of the way. The cab had been a compromise. Somehow she doubted if he'd followed his doctor's advice to the letter after his infarction, but he was determined to make her do just that. A little smile chased across her face as she thought about it. Having House determined and stubborn about her well-being still made her feel a little thrill every time she thought about it.
The cab arrived, right on schedule, and she gave the driver the address and sank back against the seat to think. All day long she'd been weighing the pros and cons of returning to work at PPTH. Being without a job was making her anxious, especially after spending time shuffling money from her savings to her checking accounts. She had a bit saved up, but it wasn't going to last forever. She'd had one more response to her fellowship inquiries, a large hospital located just outside NYC. Added to her reply from Massachusetts General, and that made two. Two hospitals were interested in her and they were both hundreds of miles away. That was making her old job look more and more like the only choice.
She had loved her job there. It was challenging, interesting, she liked everyone at the hospital, and she had a comfortable routine there. In her ideal world there wouldn't even be a question about going back. Unfortunately the world was a far from ideal place and she was plagued with doubts. Dr. Cuddy had seemed accepting of the idea, and she knew that House would always be House at work, but she was still hesitant. If word of their relationship got out, she was sure that it wouldn't be good for either of their reputations. People would accuse her of sleeping with him just to get ahead, and they'd accuse him of taking advantage of her. And what if they fought? Or became even more involved? House might be okay, but she worried about herself. Her emotions were so close to the surface all the time. Could she take the risk that she'd be able to keep everything contained? Wasn't it House who'd found her crying in the lab? Not exactly a good indicator of her ability to remain detached and professional.
She let out a long sigh and then gave a brief smile to the cabdriver who glanced at her with a somewhat concerned look on his face. Maybe House would be able to set her fears to rest. She knew he wanted her back at the hospital, and tonight she was going to give him the opportunity to convince her that going back was the right thing to do.
House opened the door before she even had a chance to knock, and when he bent and kissed her quickly on the lips she let out a little squeak of surprise. When he pulled away he didn't look at her, but her eyes had taken on a soft, tender expression.
"Miss me?" she asked quietly, and just a bit cheekily.
"Well, your lips, anyway," House replied as he ushered her inside and Cameron continued to grin.
The scent of chicken and wine wafted through the air and she sniffed appreciatively, while House took her coat and hung it up.
"Whatever that is, it smells wonderful," Cameron said with a smile.
"Chicken marsala, steamed asparagus, and rice pilaf." When Cameron looked up at him there was a distinctly impressed expression on her face. "Don't look so shocked. I told you I could cook."
She laughed lightly. "You also told me everybody lies. I wasn't sure what to expect."
House threw a half-snide look in her general direction and led the way to the kitchen. It was galley style, with all the appliances lined up on one wall and counters and cupboards as well. The far end, however, was a bowed window, and a small table and two chairs were situated there. House had even dug around in his closet for a couple of candles which were now set in shot glasses and flickering cheerily. Cameron grinned when she saw them.
"Do you need me to do anything?" she asked, feeling a little awkward just standing around in his kitchen.
"You can finish clearing all the crap off the table," he said as he focused his attention on the stove. "Cuddy managed to dig up a dozen clinic patients for me just as I was about to leave. Didn't exactly have time to tidy up."
Cameron could almost see the look that House must have given Dr. Cuddy. See, there was another reason to go back to work there. She really missed seeing those looks. As Cameron moved the stacks of mail off of the kitchen table, one letter caught her eye. She quickly shuffled through all the rest, pulling out nine in total, and becoming more and more confused as she did so. House had his back to her, chicken breasts simmering nicely in the pan, his hand hovering nearby, ready to turn them. She moved until she was almost touching him before holding out the letters.
"You stole my mail?" her voice held disbelief and anger in equal measures.
In that one instant, House was transported back to grade school when his father had found a box of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. The guilt and feeling of cold-sweat-fear were nearly identical.
"Borrowed." Hell, might as well try the same excuse he'd used with Wilson.
"Borrowed? Some of these have postmarks from almost two weeks ago! You've kept them all that time?"
House turned down the gas and then turned to face her. "I didn't want you making any rash decisions in your weakened state," he said, feeling his normal attitude return.
"No. You wanted to make sure I came back to work for you," Cameron retorted. "I can't believe you would do this." She shook her head as she looked at the slightly rumpled envelopes again, then looked him in the eye. "Actually, yes I can. I can believe you'd do this weeks ago, but I can't believe that you'd keep them after everything…" she trailed off, not about to voice the words, 'after we kissed', nevermind 'after we started sleeping together.' Her hand tightened on the letters and her eyes hardened. "What were you afraid of? That I'd leave and go to Boston or New York?" she asked in stunned disbelief. "Did you really think so little of me? You think my feelings for you are that shallow? There's no way I could have left after you came to my apartment that first day I was home. Even that tiny bit of hope would have tied me to you." Her voice had turned soft, her eyes sad.
"Well if that's true, then why are you upset? I saved you the trouble of reading a bunch of boring letters." Shit. Too late, House realized that now was not the time for snide comments.
"In the first place, some of these letters are from hospitals right here in Princeton!" Cameron shot back, anger taking over once again. "And even if they weren't, do you know how I've been feeling the past two weeks?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Every day without any replies made me feel like I wasn't even worth the effort of a form rejection letter. You know how I feel about myself. You know I don't think I'm aggressive enough or hell, even good enough, half the time. And all this time I've been worried about how I was going to pay my bills, and worried that no one wanted or respected me as a doctor, and you've had these sitting on your kitchen table."
Her voice had gone quiet again, and she looked at him, hoping that he could give her some kind of explanation, but he didn't. He just continued to stare at her with his piercing eyes and his clenching jaw. She shook her head again and took a step back.
"I can't stay here," she said when he remained quiet. "I'm going home."
"It's pouring out and you don't have a car."
"I'll call a cab." She was already gathering her pocketbook and her raincoat.
"You're going to run away because of a few damn letters?" House was almost yelling as he limped after her towards the front door.
Cameron turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes pained, mouth set in a stubborn line. "I'm not running anywhere. I'm going home because right now I can't be with you. I'm sorry. You always want things your way, no matter who you hurt. Maybe you're always right. I don't know… you probably are. But this time you hurt me, and you won't even apologize."
She paused, giving him one more chance to explain. To promise that he'd never do it again. She didn't really expect him to, but she was disappointed nonetheless. Another quick look into his eyes, and then she grabbed the doorknob and left as fast as she could, ignoring the pelting rain that beat down on her as soon as she stepped off the front steps.
House limped over to the window and watched as Cameron pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, rain quickly turning her hair a shade darker and soaking through her jacket. Thunder rumbled overhead and he cursed. Loudly. Wilson had warned him about keeping those damn letters, but he hadn't listened. He'd been certain that convincing her to come back to the hospital would be easier if she didn't have so many other choices… or any choice at all. When had he become so manipulative? He shook his head and cursed again. Become? Hell, he'd always been manipulative… he was usually just much better at it. Tapping his cane against the floor soon became pounding it against the floor, and finally he turned from the window and stomped to the front door, grabbing his jacket in one fist and yanking the door open with the other.
The sound of the rain hitting sidewalks and cars and rooftops wasn't calm and soothing this time. It was violent and angry. A reflection of the emotions passing like lightening between them. Cameron didn't turn around, but she knew he was standing two feet behind her.
"Come back inside," he barked, flinching as a cold stream of water snaked under his collar.
"No, House. You go. My cab'll be here in a minute. You're going to get sick standing in the rain." Her voice was firm, but tired sounding, and she still didn't turn around.
House scoffed at her. "You don't get sick from exposure, Dr. Cameron, and if you did, you're the one at greater risk. You're still on medication to combat infection."
"Which should be all the protection I need against the rain," she countered.
One step forward, and then another. His hand rested on the back of her neck, slipping beneath her sodden hair. "Come. Back. Inside."
The heat of his skin against hers made her want to cry. "No," she repeated, then stepped away from his touch as she saw a cab round the corner. She looked back at him as the car pulled closer. "This isn't easy for me. I told you I don't want to change you, and I meant it. But right now I'm so angry, I can't even look at you. A long time ago, you told me it was a mistake for me to trust you, and it hurts like hell to think you were right."
The cab was at her side and she pulled the door open quickly and got inside, closing it as fast as she could, and forcing herself not to look back as the car pulled away from the curb.
House stood in the rain for almost ten minutes after the car drove out of sight. When he was thoroughly soaked and the pain in his leg went bone-deep, he trudged back inside. He had a date, after all; with a bottle of scotch and a bottle of pills. Fuck.
Rain pelted the windows and roof, a disorganized cacophony that perfectly matched Cameron's state of mind. She paced her living room, hands alternately balled into fists at her side and crossed over her chest as she tried to hold herself together. Pacing. Great. Now she was picking up his habits.
The first thing she'd done after arriving back at her apartment was open and read all of the letters. Nine replies and six of them were offering her positions… and three of them were located right in New Jersey. Of course they were all dated weeks ago and now she didn't even know if any of the positions were still open.
The next thing she'd done was shut off her answering machine. She didn't want to hear him leaving snarky and sarcastic messages for her. She shouldn't have bothered. It had been three hours and no one had called.
By hour two, she had already started trying to rationalize his actions and then cursing herself for it. Damnit, couldn't she even get mad without making excuses for him? Eric was right when he'd said that it was impossible for him to piss her off. She wanted to stay absolutely furious but instead she just felt empty, depressed and used.
Maybe she should be flattered. He obviously wanted her around so much that he'd resorted to felony mail-tampering. The thought brought a sardonic grin to her face as she shook her head. Control. It was all about control. He wanted everything just his way. He was even more a creature of habit than she was. He had a pattern worked out in his life and that's how he wanted it to remain.
Her mind taunted her with the sickening notion that the only reason he'd started a relationship with her was out of need for control mixed with guilt. Rationally, she knew that wasn't true, but rationality had skipped out of the apartment round-about hour one.
Eventually she collapsed onto the sofa, rubbing at her temples with both hands. Whatever happened next was up to her. Either she could forgive him or she couldn't, but he would never apologize. There was probably only one phrase more foreign to Gregory House than 'I love you', and it was 'I'm sorry'. Cameron knew she wouldn't be hearing either one of them in the near future.
Three ice-cubes floated aimlessly in the amber colored liquid, growing smaller and smaller with each passing minute, tiny icebergs in a miniature sea of scotch. House watched them, noting the rate of dissolution while the condensation on the outside of the glass dripped through his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. He still hadn't taken a drink.
Fuck.
Why had he kept those letters? He already knew why he'd taken the first few. He'd done it to protect himself. Wilson's astute observations on the matter had been absolutely correct. He hadn't wanted to be forced to voice his feelings. But he'd kept taking them, collecting them each time he went to her apartment, and storing them away like some deranged chipmunk. He knew damn well she wasn't going to take a job in another state. At this point he knew that she probably wouldn't have even asked for his advice about it. He was completely in the clear and yet he'd kept them. An ace in the hole to get her to come back to work for him.
And that, right there, was the answer to his questions. He'd kept them because in the back of his mind he'd assumed that the only way to get her to come back was to trick her. Because after all, why the hell else would she want to spend any more time around him? Except for the very obvious reason that she cared about him. Deeply.
Fuck, he was such a coward. All that ego. All that bluster and sarcasm and cutting wit covering up a mountain of insecurities that he usually drowned in vicodin and booze. Now it was right out there in the open.
He kept thinking about the way she'd looked at him just before she'd left. He'd spent three days picturing the way she'd looked that first morning, peaceful, satisfied and serene. Now all he saw when he closed his eyes was that look of naked pain in her eyes.
She would forgive him. Of course she would. She always did. He'd treated her like crap for six months and she'd kept coming back for more. This time wouldn't be any different. He should just chug back the scotch, take a couple of pills and pass out in his bedroom. By the time the weekend rolled around she'd be calling and he'd be able to pretend that nothing had happened. The only problem was that this time he felt like shit for hurting her.
He picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, I fucked up."
"House? Is that you?"
"No, it's one of your other fucked up friends."
"What happened?" Wilson already had a pretty good idea.
"She found the letters and walked out," House hoped that the frustration in his voice didn't' carry through the phone lines.
"Did you apologize?"
"What do you think?"
Wilson sighed. "You're going to have to apologize, House."
"No shit. I'm calling you for advice. You've been married three times. You've been tossed out of your house more times than I can remember. You must be an expert by now."
"FCJ."
"In English, please," House growled.
"Flowers, candy, jewelry. Sounds like you'll need all three. Damn, you really know how to show a girl whirlwind romance. Sex on the weekend and broken up by mid-week." His attempt at levity was met with silence. "Sorry, Greg," he said, turning serious. "Don't worry. She strikes me as the forgiving type."
Night had fallen, but Cameron remained in her living room, curled up on her sofa, with just the light from the television illuminating the room. She knew she should just go to bed, but as pathetic as it was, she didn't want to sleep in the same bed where she and House had made love less than a week ago. She was trying to remain at least a little bit objective, and memories of that morning and that weekend were not going to allow her to do that. She hit the mute button on the remote control and closed her eyes. Things were bound to look better in the morning. They certainly couldn't look any worse.
She wasn't sure how long she slept, or if she slept at all, but the next thing she heard was the hollow sounding rap of a cane against her wooden door. Sleep-filled eyes sprang open and she stared at the door, unmoving.
More rapping. Followed by knocking. Soon he would be calling her name.
She wearily got off the sofa and walked to the door. Deadbolt was thrown back, chain was unhooked, and then the door was opened, just enough for her to face the man standing on her landing.
"You said you had to leave. You didn't say I couldn't follow."
As usual, he was right. Cameron offered up a little shrug and pushed the door open all the way, sighing as he entered her apartment.
"I didn't expect to see you tonight," Cameron said slowly.
"Yeah, I pretty much figured I'd be drunk and stoned by now, myself."
"If you came over here to ask if I forgive--"
House cut her off by thrusting a long white envelope in her direction. She took it as a look of confusion settled over her delicate features.
"I know the traditional begging gifts are more along the lines of flowers and pretty baubles. I thought you'd appreciate that more."
"What is it? Is this another letter you took?"
He laughed derisively. "No. It's a letter of recommendation. A glowing letter. The kind of letter you deserve. You hand that over to any of the doctors you're trying to impress and I'm pretty sure they'll overlook the fact that you're getting back to them a little late. Especially since I mention that I tried to keep you at my hospital by circumventing your correspondence." House's voice was gruff and he wouldn't meet her eyes.
Cameron looked down at the smooth envelope, tracing the edges with one fingertip. Things with House would never be easy. In that moment she both accepted and embraced that fact. She held the letter out to him.
"I don't need it."
"Well, no, you probably don't need it. Your record speaks for itself, but it can't hurt," House replied, slightly annoyed that his effort at niceness was being shoved back in his face.
"No. I don't need it because I want to come back to Princeton-Plainview."
House's head snapped up and his blue eyes stared into hers. "You want to come back to work for me?"
"Yes."
"So, basically, I stole from you and manipulated you, and you still want to come back?'
"When you put it that way, it sounds pretty pathetic, but yes. I was going to talk to you about it tonight over dinner, but I never got the chance."
"Just like that. You forgive me?" House was still flabbergasted by Cameron's calm and almost resigned attitude. He wasn't sure if he should feel grateful or even more like an asshole.
"I've always known how you are. You've never made that a secret," Cameron replied. "I always knew that you'd probably do something to hurt me and I'd have two choices… throw up my hands and give up, or accept the good with the bad and move on." She shrugged. "I'm choosing option two."
Yes. He definitely felt like an even bigger asshole. Two strides separated them and he closed the distance and bent down to kiss her beautiful, mouth as it turned into a perfect circle of surprise. One hand wrapped around her waist to hold her in place as he deepened the kiss, tasting and tempting at the same time, hitting all of the places he knew she loved. Damn, he didn't deserve her, but she understood him better than he understood himself, and he couldn't let her go. When Cameron leaned back and broke the kiss, she was breathless. House moved his hand from her waist to her neck and tucked her head beneath his chin.
"I'm sorry," he muttered brokenly against her hair.
She leaned into him and let her hands fall loosely around his waist. "I know you are," she whispered back, and then she led him down the hall and into her bedroom.
The rain was still falling, but it seemed to have taken on a gentler cadence now, and as House and Cameron lay naked in one another's arms, it lulled them into a deep and healing sleep.
