Chapter 3:In Which Wilson Gets Into Trouble
"Dr. Wilson."
Wilson looked up from the nurses' station to see Wolfe walking towards him, and wondered what could have possibly possessed the young doctor. An unassuming thirty-something oncologist of quiet good looks, moderate build and growing reputation, Wolfe was universally known for being almost unreasonably afraid of authority figures - not excluding his own department head.
"Dr. Wolfe," Wilson answered, smiling and turning towards him. "What can I do for you?"
As Wolfe turned his gaze to the floor in front of him, Wilson noticed a slight difference in his bearing. His hair was a little too well combed, his shirt and pants were freshly ironed, and he detected a trace of cologne. His observations were cut short by Wolfe himself, who thrust a file into his hands without a word. Wilson coughed, and opened the file. "Yes, Albert?"
"This Dr. Cameron, she's the attending?" Wolfe asked, leaning forward to point at a signature. Wilson nodded. Wolfe continued, "I think I saw her a couple days ago in Diagnostics. Never seen her before. She's new?"
Handing the file back and only half-listening, Wilson answered, "Yeah, she's one of House's. Immunologist, I think. Nice girl."
"You see her often?"
"Pretty regularly. I'm over in that part of the building a lot."
"Is she a good doctor?"
Wilson looked up in surprise. "Is there anything in that chart to suggest otherwise?"
Wolfe shook his head, waving his hands in denial. "No, no. I was just wondering. There's a lot of detail in here. Looks like she really cares."
Wilson smiled. "To a fault. Patients like her too much, and she becomes emotionally attached to the case."
"Well, she's good looking, too," Wolfe mentioned in a causal, off-handed manner. "Doesn't surprise me that she's a hit with the patients."
Wilson shot him a curious look, before moving closer and smiling in a deceptively innocent fashion. "Is she? I've never noticed," he said, carefully schooling his expression.
"Rather," answered the oblivious Wolfe. "How could you not notice? She's stunning. Seems like the type you'd automatically gravitate towards, if your reputation is deserved."
Wilson laughed uncomfortably, surprised by Wolfe's unusual bravery. "Well, she's not my type. I like blondes," he hedged.
Wolfe nodded nonchalantly, and a brief silence passed before he added, "Do you know if she's seeing anyone? I heard she had dinner with Dr. Chase last night."
Wilson shook his head in the negative, a smile threatening to burst onto his countenance and ruin his cover. "They're just friends."
Wolfe seemed reassured. "Thanks, Dr. Wilson." He cleared his throat nervously. "Uh...I'd really appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone."
Wilson nodded. "Don't worry. I won't."
--------------------------------------------------
"Why can't you just tell me?" asked House, reclining languidly with his feet up on his desk.
Wilson let out an exasperated sigh and answered, "Look, I just can't. But it's good."
House contemplated this for a minute. "Okay. Do it again."
Wilson got on all fours and made clawing motions while House watched with interest. "Wow, it is good," he said dryly. A couple nurses passed by and shot each other looks. Wilson sighed and got up again.
"You suck at this," he said, pointing an accusing finger at House, who just rolled his eyes. Wilson's gaze moved to House's bookshelf to see an old copy of People. He sprang across the room and grabbed the magazine, flipping through it to locate a perfume ad. He pointed triumphantly at the animal.
"Wolf," said House. "What's your point. And more importantly, you look at perfume ads?"
"Common knowledge," said Wilson defensively. "But okay, okay..."
House sighed. "This game isn't fun. What about a wolf?"
Wilson paused, and made clicking noises while pretending to take pictures. House stared at him, a look of disgust on his face. "And you think I'm crazy."
Cameron walked in and arched one sculpted brow at Dr. Wilson's antics. He stopped his motions promptly. "Hello, Dr. Wilson," she said, a trace of humor evident in her voice. He nodded, and then pointed frantically at Cameron as she passed by him. House furrowed his brow and gestured for Wilson to leave.
"It's okay, this'll only take a minute," Cameron said.
"You don't give me nearly enough credit," responded House in a low, suggestive tone.
Cameron wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Here's the bloodwork. That's all. I'm going to check on the patient." Smiling at Wilson, she left without so much as a backward glance.
Wilson shot a surprised look at House. "That was fast."
House shrugged. "Apparently she hates me too. So what about a wolf and Cameron?" His eyes widened. "Oh, Wolfe and Cameron."
Wilson clapped. House's eyes widened even more, this time in mock surprise. "They had sex?" he breathed. "Are there pictures?"
Wilson glared, his arms crossed. "House..."
"Yeah, okay, I get what you're trying not to say. Tell him Cameron's taken. Chase took her out for dinner last night."
"You knew about that?" asked Wilson, surprised at House's nonchalance.
House shrugged. "Don't really care. Foreman was tearing Chase a new one and their voices carry, what with our rooms being next to each other and all. Definitely not spy material. Besides, I don't think Cameron thought it was a date."
"Does it matter to you if she did?" asked Wilson carefully.
House grimaced. "No." He grabbed his cane, got up slowly and headed for the door. He turned back to face Wilson. "You know, you aren't exactly spy material either."
--------------------------------------------------
Their mistake for letting him leave the room so easily. House had dreamed up the perfect excuse for not lecturing at that fundraiser, and now he was off to find someone who would be willing to back his story. Someone they would trust AND someone that would readily accede to his wishes. Wilson would have been too obvious. Having more than one friend would have helped the situation considerably.
A candidate presented himself in his mind and he headed towards oncology. Wolfe seemed to be the easily frightened type, having barely choked out two complete sentences during their meeting the other night. He relished the thought of making the young man squirm. As he passed the lab, he saw Cameron writing busily into a notebook with her back facing the door. He slowed his pace, watching as she turned her face slightly and leaned forward to enter something into the computer on her right. He couldn't stop himself from looking in. She was beautiful.
Which was irrelevant. At least ten other staff members had made similar observations to themselves during the course of that day.
But a mixture of sadism, the potential for amusement and a twinge of wanting to talk to her caused him to deviate from his original route and enter the lab. She didn't look up as he entered, implying that she knew who it was. He waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he moved slowly towards her and leaned against her work counter. She gave a small sigh of resignation and looked up.
House knew he shouldn't, but couldn't help himself. "How was dinner?"
Cameron froze. Then, regaining control of her voice, she answered, "Fine, thank you. We had a good time."
watching her reaction closely, he continued, "You know, he likes you. I heard Foreman yell at him. Your bodyguard thinks that Chase is using your emotional state to his advantage."
Tensing up and folding her arms, Cameron carefully measured her words before asking quietly, "What emotional state?"
House gestured towards her stance with his cane. "That," he said, "is a classic defense reaction. You're the psychoanalyst, tell me what that means."
She stared at him, her face burning furiously. He smiled, cocking his head to one side in a confident manner that she found both fascinating and aggravating at the same time. She turned away.
"Come on, Cameron," he prodded. "I thought you liked talking about this stuff."
"Chase was right."
He blinked, drew back a little, and waited for explanation. He got none. So he paced the room, looking at computer readouts and watching her from the corner of her eye. She ignored him.
"Are you going to the fundraising banquet?" he heard himself asking. He watched her body stiffen. Good, he still had some effect on her.
"Yes," she answered quietly.
He sighed. "I'm apparently giving the keynote lecture," he said, inwardly wincing as he ruined his escape plans for no good reason at all. "I'll see you at our table then." He was about to leave the lab when he heard her speak.
"I'm sitting with the Oncology Department."
House stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to observe her expression. She was carefully turned away from him. "Why?" he asked. "Wilson's sitting with us, like he always does."
"Dr. Wolfe dropped by earlier to ask me if I would sit at his table. I said yes," she answered calmly.
House laughed derisively. "Well, that's a step up for you, isn't it," he said, realizing too late the severity of what he was about to say. "You married a man who died of cancer, so now you're dating a man who cures it. Very logical."
She spun around rapidly, her eyes bright with unshed tears and burning with cold intensity. He involuntarily took a step back, knowing that he had crossed the line but resolutely unwilling to apologize. She walked towards him slowly, stopping to stand right in front of him. Staring directly into his eyes, she said in a clear, disturbingly steady voice, "I hate you."
A moment passed, their gazes locked and a ringing silence settled between them. A single tear rolled down Cameron's face. She broke eye contact and turned away.
He stood in place for another few seconds before he heard himself say, "Good." He left the lab, memorizing yet another conversation in that accursed room that left them both feeling terrible.
--------------------------------------------------
"This is your fault!" exclaimed House, storming into Wilson's office. Wilson gestured towards the phone in his hand. House gestured for him to hang up.
Wilson sighed. "I'm sorry, Julie. I'm going to have to call you back." He paused. "Yes, that was House." Another pause. "Yeah, I know. I'll call you back." He hung up, and looked up at House. "What?"
House sat down and pointed his cane accusingly at his friend. "You told Wolfe that Cameron was available!"
"Yeah, but you told me..."
"This isn't about what I said, it's about what you said!"
Wilson held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. Calm down."
"I am calm!"
"Yeah, sure you are," said Wilson, pointing to the cane. "That's why you're waving that thing in my face."
House lowered his cane slowly and sighed, slumping into his chair. "This is going to screw up the team. I just know it."
Wilson fought the urge to smile. Any other time he would have given House a hard time about using the T-word, but at the moment it seemed terribly unfair. So he kept silent and waited for House to continue.
"Actually, it's Cameron's fault," House said. "If she didn't...hadn't..."
"Liked you?" suggested Wilson, arms folded across his chest and leaning back in his seat.
"I was going to say 'been such an idiot'."
Wilson leaned forward. "I thought you didn't care what she did. Why does her sitting at Wolfe's table bother you so much more than her having dinner with Chase?"
House fidgeted in his chair and tapped the ground with his cane. Wilson waited while House formulated his answer. Finally, he looked up, his expression unreadable. "I don't think Chase stands a chance."
Wilson looked surprised. "So you only care because you think Wolfe stands a chance with Cameron, and her dating anyone would be bad for the team," he said, his tone skeptical.
House nodded. "I do care very much about the team dynamic, you know," he said in a tone of mock seriousness. "It's key to the practice of medicine. Didn't you pay attention in class?"
Wilson laughed. "You're a lousy liar, House."
House shook his head. "Contrary to popular opinion, I am a team player. And I most certainly do not lie." He paused. "Besides, she told me that she hates me."
Wilson shrugged. "Probably didn't mean it."
"I told her that she was dating an oncologist in order to compensate for her husband's death."
House watched as Wilson widened his eyes in horror. "You what?"
House shrugged. "Devil made me do it."
"Maybe she'll forgive you," Wilson said slowly. "She has a tendency to do that."
"What makes you think I care?" asked House abruptly, getting up and leaving the room.
"Then why were we talking?" Wilson called after House's retreating figure. He shook his head and reached for the phone. For all House's fondness for rationality, sometimes there was just no reasoning with the man.