Chapter 4:In Which House Talks Too Much
The patient was about as old as Cameron, as good looking as Cameron and as smart as Cameron, but she was otherwise completely different from Cameron. She had been brought in, more an emaciated corpse than a woman, suffering from a series of complications resulting from years of living life on the edge. Drugs, alcohol, sex, the whole shebang. Now she was almost fully recovered, and as Cameron stood beside her bed, flipping through her file, a faint hint of disapproval radiated from beneath the young doctor's calm expression.
Her patient watched her closely. "Dr. Cameron, you're too uptight," she decided. "But other than that, not bad at all. Definite potential. Now that I'm better, we could have fun together."
Cameron laughed gently. "I'm not really into your kind of fun, Jenny," she chided.
"Why not?" asked Jenny petulantly. "Scared?"
Shaking her head, Cameron merely answered, "Nope," and continued to write into the file.
Jenny wasn't going to let her off that easily. "You think you're better than me," she challenged, eyes flashing.
Cameron looked up. "No!" she exclaimed, dropping the file in her haste to deny the accusation.
Jenny laughed. "See?" she said, settling back comfortably on her bed and gesturing towards the scattered papers. "Way too uptight."
"I'm just not that..." Cameron paused as she searched for the word. "Adventurous," she finished, neatly rearranging the pages and placing them back into the file folder.
"Excuses..."
"And," added Cameron in a slightly more authoritative tone, "I'm a doctor. Doctors make lousy patients. So I try to avoid activities that will land me in that position before my time. You should too."
"You'll live longer, sure," her patient countered. "But what's the big deal if you haven't really lived at all?" She flashed a brilliant smile at the stunned Cameron. "Just think about it. You've worked so hard for so long. What are waiting for? Don't you think it's about time you let loose and had a little fun?"
Cameron gave her a little smile. "Maybe you're right," she admitted. And while she tried to tell herself that she was merely placating her patient, a part of her agreed that the idea was not without its attractions.
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"Dr. Cuddy?"
Cuddy looked up from her paperwork to see Wilson standing awkwardly in her doorway, her door half open. She gestured for him to enter.
"You need to teach House some of your manners," she said, resting her arms on her desk. "He usually just barges in here."
Wilson walked into the office and stood on her carpet, both hands in the pockets of his lab coat. "I don't think I have that much influence on him, unfortunately," he said, smiling.
Cuddy returned his smile. "Probably not." She looked closely at Wilson, who now looked slightly uncomfortable. "So, Dr. Wilson. Is there something I can do for you?"
Wilson coughed. "Well, it's probably none of my business," he began.
"But?" she prompted.
"But I was wondering." He paused, and then blurted out in one breath, "Why did you ask House to give the keynote address at the fundraising banquet?"
"Ah." Cuddy paused slightly, gathering her thoughts before answering. "You remember the lecture he gave to Dr. Riley's students a while back?"
Wilson nodded in the affirmative.
"Well, one of the students is the son of someone important, and they specifically requested that Dr. House be the speaker at this event." She gave Wilson a wry smile. "Apparently the young man was quite inspired."
Shock hardly began to describe the look on Wilson's face. Cuddy noted his incredulous expression with some amusement.
"You don't say," he finally managed.
She gave a small shrug and nodded. "I couldn't make this up if I tried."
"Good point." He paused again, another question coming to his mind. "So he didn't try to get out of it? Why did House agree?"
Cuddy sighed. "That's what I don't know," she admitted, not without some trepidation.
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"You're leaving us alone with House?"
Cameron's gentle laugh resonated through the office. "Cuddy will be at your table too!" she pointed out. "Don't worry, you two'll be fine."
"I didn't think you could be so cruel to your friends, Dr. Cameron," sighed Foreman dramatically. "Even if you ARE ditching us to sit with a handsome, young oncologist."
Chase choked on his coffee.
"It's nothing like that," Cameron assured Chase, misreading his expression for protectiveness.
Chase cleared his throat and assumed a tone of nonchalance. "Please tell me it's not Wilson."
"Oh my God, no!" she exclaimed, waving her hands to dispel the very idea from their minds. "Albert Wolfe. He came to House for a consult a few days ago."
Foreman nodded solemnly and gestured at her with his coffee mug. "So, you two known each other long?" he asked.
"Not really," she answered. "We've only seen each other a few times. Once when he was here to see House, once in the hallway, and once in the lab when he asked me to sit with them."
"Maybe he's seen you more than you've seen him," said Chase with a suggestive wink. "Through the lab window...through your bedroom window..."
Foreman laughed. Cameron looked moderately distressed. "That's sick," she said, hands on her hips. "And it's nothing like that."
"Sure, whatever," muttered Chase.
"He could be watching you right now," added Foreman. She glared at him. He shrugged. "Just trying to be helpful."
Cameron rolled her eyes. "They just needed a tenth person at their table, that's all."
The two men looked at each other and shook their heads simultaneously. Cameron gave them a fond but exasperated look, and gestured towards the door. "Don't you two have work to be doing?"
Foreman shook his head. "House hasn't been around all day. Now that Jenny's been discharged, there really isn't anything for us to do."
"Let the inquisition continue," added Chase, smiling.
Cameron sighed.
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The fundraising banquet was, as predicted, a total bore. House sloshed the watery wine back and forth in his glass as Wilson made casual conversation with Foreman and Chase. Cuddy was with Stacy, chatting with some smartly dressed businessmen at the back of the room. He looked at his watch and groaned inwardly. So many more hours to go. He snuck another look at Cameron, who was sitting on the other side of the room. It was the fifth time in ten minutes that he had done so, and once again he assured himself that his actions were merely out of morbid curiousity and boredom. He squinted to get a better idea of what was going on.
Cameron was obviously a hit with the oncology table, which was only to be expected. Women envied her beauty, but her humility and heartwrenching niceness were undeniable attractors. She was the girl most women wanted to be and the girl everyone wanted to be friends with. She chatted easily with the wives of two prominent oncologists. House snorted. Figured that she'd try to make friends with everyone.
Wolfe, who normally flew under the radar, appeared to be himself the object of much envy that night. House could see why. Even he had to admit that Cameron looked positively radiant. She wore her long brown hair down around her shoulders, her natural waves framing her flawless complexion, her luminous eyes clear and sparkling. The single male contingent at the table drank in her beauty, her mix of intelligence, humor and vulnerability charming everyone around her. Wolfe sat by her side, hanging on her every word, clearly enthralled by every gesture, every expression. Again, House made a disgusted noise. A nagging voice prodded at his mind and asked if he was upset because she seemed determined to be happy without him, but the blasphemous thought was rejected as soon as it passed into his consciousness. He returned his gaze to his wine glass.
Three hours left.
The sound of Cuddy's voice from the stage startled him out of his mood. "And now, I'd like to bring one of our most brilliant...and troublesome...doctors to the front of the room to give you an idea of what Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital is all about. Please join me in welcoming Dr. Gregory House."
Polite clapping from the audience. From the murmurs in the crowd, it appeared that his reputation preceded him. He slowly made his way up to the podium, coughing awkwardly before extracting a small piece of paper from his pocket and leaning into the microphone. Cuddy slowly moved off the stage to stand against the wall of the room, shooting him a warning look that was not lost on the people in the room. House grinned.
"I think Dr. Cuddy is afraid of a repeat of the Viopril fiasco," he commented dryly. This illicited a laugh from the audience, and on that note he began his speech.
As a rule he disdained public speaking, but as with most things he was actually quite good at it. An intimidating presence, he easily commanded the attention of the entire room. His piercing blue gaze swept across the people collected before him, passing quickly over Stacy, stopping slightly at Wilson, deliberately skipping over Cameron and Wolfe. His tone matter-of-fact, he spoke of the hospital, how it was unique in its approach to patient care, and how it was rare for a hospital administration to be so willing to risk their necks to save the lives of strangers. Or to stand up for their doctors.
"Now that I've said all this," he noted, his trademark sarcasm returning to the surface, "I'm going to make Dr. Cuddy's life a living hell for the months to come. Wouldn't want to lose my reputation."
More laughs. He accidentally looked over at the oncology table and his eyes locked with Cameron's. She smiled. He looked away.
He leaned into the microphone once more, "So I guess what I'm saying is, donate money before I bankrupt this place with my legal costs."
More laughter, and loud clapping as he walked off the stage. He was greeted at the bottom of the steps by Cuddy, who wore a warm smile on her face. "You were almost charming, House," she said, her head tilted to one side, her expression a mix of delight and shock.
House shrugged. "So you WILL sleep with me, then," he said, staring deliberately at her chest.
Cuddy's smile was unaffected. "Nice try," she said. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you're going to make me believe that you're still a complete jackass." She walked away.
House sighed, and after a cursory glance at Wilson he opted to delay returning to the table. He had already lost one round of banter to Cuddy. He was not in the mood to rack up any more defeats that night, and he was sure that his friend had several comments already prepared. House headed straight for the bar.
"Scotch," he said to the bartender, who nodded and poured a generous portion into a glass. House was about to drink when he noticed a familiar figure standing at the end of the table. Long brown hair. Slender and graceful form. Face slightly flushed, her eyes alight with life as she chatted with a server. He downed his drink, asked for and received another, and moved to stand beside her, shooting a look at the server. The young man made a quick apology to Cameron and moved off hastily. A sigh from Cameron, and she turned to face the newcomer.
House contorted his face into something between a grimace and a smile. "Must you be friendly to everyone?"
Cameron gave a small shrug. "I like to talk to people."
"What about to people you hate?" asked House, surprised to find that he was nervous.
Cameron fixed her attention on the glass of wine in her hand. "I don't hate you," she sighed. "Well, not literally, anyways."
House was careful to prevent anything resembling relief from crossing his face. "Trying to salvage your job?"
"Chase ratted you out to Vogler and he's still here," Cameron replied coolly. "I doubt you'd fire me for saying something you hear everyday."
House let a short laugh. "Good one."
Cameron turned to watch the activity in the main part of the room, and House followed suit. They stood a meter apart, backs against the bar and steadfastly avoiding eye contact.
"Nice speech," said Cameron after a minute's pause, taking a small sip of her drink.
"Yeah, thanks," answered House. "I was going to say something outrageous, but I was afraid that I'd go home and find you on my doorstep, staring at me with those puppy dog eyes and all ready to quit again."
More silence. House spoke again, something different in his tone. "So. Where is the good Dr. Wolfe?"
Cameron had seen this question coming and was, for once, prepared. "He had to make a phone call."
House nodded. "And how's your date going?"
Cameron looked at House out of the corner of her eye before answering. "Dr. Wolfe is nice," she responded slowly. "And it's not a date." She paused. "Exactly."
House grunted and smiled sardonically. "Has he actually said anything to you the entire night?"
Surprised, Cameron turned to face House. "What?" she questioned. "Why would you ask that?"
He shrugged. "He seems to have a bit of a hero worship complex," he noted, ignoring the confusion on Cameron's face. "Like you're too far above him for him to do anything except stare at you in awe."
Cameron shook her head. "I don't know where you're getting this from, but you're wrong."
"I'm never wrong," came his quick response.
"Right," she scoffed.
House edged slightly closer to Cameron, emboldened by the scotch. "I saw the way he acts around you. Like a lovesick fifteen year old with a crush on the homecoming queen."
Cameron raised an eyebrow. "You weren't even at our table," she said slowly.
House shrugged. "I have good eyesight."
Cameron gave him a dirty look. He held up his hands to protest his innocence. "Look, I was bored," he said defensively.
Cameron looked like she wanted to argue, but decided against it, opting instead for a small nod. "Okay."
House gestured in the direction of the phones, where Wolfe could be seen walking towards them. "There's your Prince Charming."
Shaking her head in disgust, she drank the rest of her wine and began to walk away when House's voice stopped her. Made her heart stop for the briefest of moments.
"He's not good enough for you."
She halted dead in her tracks, and for a split second House thought she was going to turn around. But he was mistaken. Her back still turned, he could just barely make out her parting words. But he did hear them, and despite how quietly they were spoken, her words continued to ring in his ears even after she had straightened her back and walked towards Wolfe without a trace of hesitation in her step.
It was a full minute before House allowed himself to completely register Cameron's voice in his head, quiet, sad but resolute.
"Neither were you, House."
House noticed the unfinished glass of scotch and decided that it looked infinitely more inviting than it had several minutes ago. He drank it quickly, at once wincing and revelling in the burning sensation as it made its way down his throat.
"Barkeep. Another scotch." This one he downed in one go. "Keep them coming."
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