Chapter 5 : In Which Cameron Makes a Lovely Mistake
Wilson's brain was veritably bursting with snide comments by the time House returned to the table, a good forty minutes after he had first stepped down from the stage. Wilson chuckled to himself as he gleefully considered which of his many remarks to use first. He looked up as House sat down, and was about to speak when something in House's manner gave Wilson pause. He took a closer look at his would-be victim and promptly realized something was very wrong. House's brow was furrowed, his eyes were distant and he wore an expression that promised death to anyone who crossed him. Wilson shared a look of understanding with the other people at the table, who likewise elected to stay silent. For the remainder of the evening, they gave way to House's wordless request to be left alone to his misery.
The banquet ended not a minute too soon. House shrugged on his jacket, muttered his goodbyes and was out the door before anyone at the table could think to react. Foreman shot an inquiring glance at Wilson, who stood in place for a brief moment before hastily grabbing his own coat and darting off in hot pursuit.
Chase, who had been finishing off the rest of his coffee, looked up a minute later to see that both House and Wilson had already left. "Where'd they go?" he wondered aloud.
Foreman shrugged. "House was in a hurry," he offered by way of an explanation. "I guess Wilson went to find out why."
Chase nodded, absent-mindedly moving a sugar cube around the table with his spoon. "I wonder if it had anything to do with his conversation with Cameron."
Foreman looked surprised. "What conversation?" he asked. "I didn't see them talk to each other all night."
"Cameron was at the bar after House's speech. They spoke for about ten minutes before she walked off and he came back," elaborated Chase.
"That's rather detailed," commented Foreman dryly. "Guess someone was paying attention."
Chase shot Foreman a look. "You're going to tell me it's a bad idea again, right?"
Foreman sighed. "Would you listen if I did?"
"Probably not," said Chase after a moment's consideration.
"Then I'll save my breath," said Foreman, resignation evident in his tone. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
Chase nodded, barely hearing Foreman's words and craning his neck to see into the crowd. He was looking for Cameron.
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Wilson may have had an unfair physical advantage, but House had a potent mixture of scotch, Vicodin and anger coursing through his veins. They were well within the parking lot by the time Wilson caught up.
"House!" called Wilson, his voice resonating into the night and startling some bystanders.
No response. Wilson sprinted the last few metres to fall into step beside an openly scowling House.
"House, is this about the - "
"No."
House sped up, and Wilson had to take longer strides to keep up with him. "House, please -"
"Leave."
With a quick movement, Wilson jumped in front of House, blocking his path and forcing the irate doctor to stop abruptly. The suddenness of the action caused a sharp burst of pain to run up House's leg, illiciting from him a small grunt and a grimace of discomfort. Wilson looked at House apologetically, then gripped him by the shoulders, preventing any further movement and forcing House to make eye contact.
"Sorry. But I need to you talk to me. You -"
House rolled his eyes, his wall of sarcasm now firmly in place. "I'm tired from a long night of kissing ass. That's all. Not used to it like you are." He gave Wilson a tight-lipped smile. "Bedtime. Good night."
Wilson dropped his arms to his side and sighed. "Dammit, House! Just - "
Again House cut him off, this time with a gesture of his cane. "Jimmy," he said flatly. "Please."
Wilson winced. House hadn't called him Jimmy in ages. Whatever happened, it was serious. He caved under House's cold, unrelenting gaze and allowed him to pass by without any further opposition. House would talk when he was ready, which past precedent dictated would be a couple hours from now.
Wilson made a mental note to keep the cordless on his bedside table, and though he remained worried he allowed himself the luxury of a small, know-it-all grin. Given the vehemence of House's reaction, he was pretty sure he already knew what this was about.
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Cameron looked around the room, barely registering Wolfe's nervous voice and busily convincing herself that she was not looking for House. She was still angry at how insensitive he had been, but a part of her was flattered that he'd cared enough to comment at all. It was with some disappointment that she noted that neither he nor Wilson was anywhere to be seen. Snapping back to reality, she mentally scolded herself for her lapse. House was good at playing games, especially when it came to her and her feelings. They had already gone down that road. The outcome was certain.
"Dr. Cameron."
Suddenly aware of another's scrutiny, Cameron looked up to see Wolfe staring at her earnestly. His steady gaze caused her to blush slightly and feel extremely self-conscious. "I'm sorry, Dr. Wolfe," she said, smiling gently. "My mind must have been elsewhere."
He fidgeted nervously and looked at the ground. "I was..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I was wondering if you would allow me to drive you home."
Cameron was about to agree when she realized that she couldn't in good conscience say yes. Wolfe was a nice man, but this evening had clearly shown that was no spark between them. And as much as she respected and liked him, she couldn't see this developing into anything remotely resembling a relationship. While one side of her asked what harm accepting could possibly do, she had personally experienced the pain mere flirtation could cause. How could she inflict that same pain on another? How could she be sure that she wasn't doing this just to spite House? She hesitated.
She heard Jenny's voice in her head, urging her to stop analyzing and just have fun. She heard her own voice telling her to stop leading him on before things got really uncomfortable.
Cameron opened her mouth to speak. "Uh..."
As if on cue, her pager beeped loudly, causing Wolfe to look up in surprise. Frowning, Cameron hastily dragged the device from her purse and glanced at the screen.
"RM 432 CODE BLUE REPORT PPTH ASAP"
Wolfe leaned forward to read the message. "You should probably get that," he said quietly.
Cameron nodded. "Yeah," she said, trying to hide to relief from her expression. "I'm sorry. Thanks for a nice evening."
Wolfe was, after all, an intelligent man. Dejected but ever the gentleman, he took the hint gracefully and after helping her into her jacket, bid her good night. Cameron felt a brief pang of guilt, but she had just been offered a way out of a volatile situation and she was not about to waste it.
She left the dining room by the side doors and was walking towards the doors leading to the parking lot when she remembered two things. Firstly, Wilson had given her a ride to the banquet and he was nowhere to be seen. Secondly, there was no Room 432. Momentarily confused, she paused in the hallway to consider these two pieces of information. She sighed and headed for the pay phones. She would call the hospital to inquire about the message, and wait for the crowd to thin out a little before she called a cab.
Her pager beeped again, surprising her once more. She turned it over to read the new message. Slowly, a smile of understanding spread across her lips. The message read:
"THERE IS NO RM 432"
She shook her head and laughed. Her pager beeped once more, and a new message flashed onto the screen.
"NEED A LIFT?"
Still laughing, Cameron looked up to see Chase standing by an emergency exit, looking innocent and holding the door open with one arm. He winked. Walking towards him, she flashed a brilliant smile and punched his arm gently as she passed through the doorway.
"Thanks," she said, turning around to see Chase standing immediately behind her. She was a little surprised by his proximity, he noted, but not uncomfortable. He took this as a good sign.
"Don't mention it," he said. "I like to be useful."
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House shoved his door open, ignoring the loud noise it made as it smacked into an unsuspecting wall. Shutting the door again with unnecessary force, he strode angrily into his living room and collapsed onto the couch. He sat motionless for a full minute before struggling out of his jacket and dress shirt, throwing them disgustedly to one side. The ubiquitous t-shirt he wore underneath felt like a straitjacket and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Referred pain, he thought to himself wryly. Seeking relief from his inner turmoil, he twisted sideways to face the mostly full bottle of whiskey sitting on the end table. He leaned over to grab the bottle. Not bothering to look for a glass, with hasty, almost desperate actions he unscrewed the cap and took a swig. He ignored the trail of fire it left in his throat, popping two Vicodin into his mouth and washing them down with another fiery gulp.
She was right, you know.
House was too tired to wonder where the voice was coming from. Who? he asked, not really caring for the answer.
Allison.
House stifled a yawn and took another drink. Oh. Cameron. Right. That.
You call her Allison in your thoughts. I should know.
Holding the whiskey bottle in one hand and massaging his forehead with the other, House slowly moved his legs onto the couch and lay down. He shook his head to clear the haze from his brain, blinking rapidly, then rubbing his eyes. 45 year old male, presents with psych symptoms. Causes? Alcohol and drugs.
"Makes sense," he said to no one in particular.
"I read in the papers that if you get drunk and talk to yourself, all your wishes will come true," came a voice from his door.
House sat up slightly and squinted into the darkness. "Mmmh," he answered, finding the effort too demanding and flopping onto his back with a groan.
Wilson walked in and closed the door behind him. "Spare key under the doormat. House, I expected more from you."
No response from the couch. Concern evident on his face, Wilson strode across the room to where House lay. He gritted his teeth and yanked the bottle of whiskey away from his friend, silently thanking his own paranoia for making him stop by. House muttered something that may have been a protest. Wilson ignored him.
"What does this solve?" asked Wilson, quietly surveying the pathetic scene before him. "What does this prove?"
House shifted slightly to lie on his good side. "It proves she was right."
"Who?"
"Allison!" exclaimed House irritably. "Cameron! Whatever! You know!"
Wilson blinked.
Even through the bleary fog that was his consciousness, House could tell that Wilson was confused. He gave a small, apologetic laugh. "Sorry, I was having a conversation with my conscience earlier," he said, groaning as he propped himself up on one elbow. "I assumed that it was you. It usually is."
Shaking his head, Wilson walked into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. He handed it to House, who accepted it gratefully.
"What did she say to you?" asked Wilson finally, after House had taken a drink and gingerly placed the glass on the floor below him.
House sighed and fell back onto the couch. "I told her Wolfe wasn't good enough for her. I don't know why I said it, but I don't regret it. It's true." He paused, and spat out, "He's NOTHING."
Wilson waited, sensing that this wasn't the entire story.
Sure enough, House continued, "Her response...was that I wasn't good enough for her either." His eyes were dead as they met Wilson's. "Maybe she's right."
Arms folded, Wilson sat down at the piano and faced House. "So what are you going to do about it?" he asked.
"I don't know," admitted House, his voice hollow.
Wilson didn't need to press the matter any further, nor did House need to say anything more. Wilson had confirmation of what he had suspected all along, what House had denied to himself all along. And House knew that Wilson knew. It was all understood. Such was the nature and depth of their friendship.
Sighing, Wilson pulled his car keys from his pocket and gestured for House to get up. House was too tired to protest, which only served to amplify Wilson's concern.
They both knew that House needed to see her. Without that relief, he would soon be beyond saving.
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Chase drove in silence. He glanced furtively at Cameron, who seemed determined to keep her gaze fixed on her hands, which were folded neatly on her lap. Chase shook his head slightly. He should have kept his mouth shut.
Cameron had related that evening's incident to him in detail. It had been nice to vent, having supressed her feelings the entire night in order to avoid spoiling the evening for Wolfe and the others at her table. Chase had been a good listener. Until he decided to venture an unwelcome opinion on the matter.
Now she wasn't speaking to him.
He cleared his throat. Time to be an adult. "Cameron," he said.
She fidgeted with her hands but remained silent.
"Allison," said Chase, a note of desperation in his voice.
She sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face and tucking it behind one ear. "I know. I'm sorry."
Chase let out a quiet sigh of relief. He pulled into the parking lot beneath her apartment and turned the ignition off. "Well, here we are," he said slowly. He turned to look at her and was momentarily taken aback by the sight he held before his eyes. It was strange, that after all this time he still hadn't become accustomed to how she looked. It was as if every different emotion she experienced made her look slightly different. Slightly more beautiful. If that was humanly possible.
He gulped and tried to remind himself that the beautiful woman before him was a doctor and his colleague. The reminder that she was beautiful AND talented only exacerbated the problem. He shifted awkwardly in his seat.
Finally she nodded in acknowedgement of their arrival and unbuckled her seatbelt, reaching for the door. But behind her calm demeanor her thoughts were as conflicted as Chase's. She knew that once again, albeit unintentionally, she had in her hands total control over their relationship. It was no secret that Chase was attracted to her, it never had been. But then again, it had never been an issue. For once she didn't know what she wanted to do about it.
There was something between them, but she didn't know what. She had been too busy falling hard and fast for House to really give any attention to developing anything more than a friendship with Chase. And now that the House situation was resolved, here he was. This charming, intelligent, wealthy young doctor who was willing to go out of his way to help her. To make her happy. It had been so long since someone she considered important had truly cared about her.
He got out of the car and went around to open the door for her. She stepped outside and looked at him. He gulped again.
Impulsively, she blurted out, "Do you want to come in?"
He nodded wordlessly. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, each swept up in their own thoughts. The sound of another car pulling into the parking lot broke the intensity of the moment and they both smiled sheepishly, averting their gazes. Cameron turned to walk towards the front doors. Letting out in a rush of air the breath that he had been holding in unbeknownst to himself, Chase ran a hand through his hair, straightened his jacket and followed.
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From his vantage point outside of Cameron's apartment complex, Wilson watched the interaction between Cameron and Chase. His arrival had obviously interrupted something, and he continued to watch as she and Chase disappeared through the main doors. He looked over to the passenger seat, where House was fast asleep beside him. Wilson was glad for small mercies. He didn't think his friend could handle anything else tonight.
He tapped the steering wheel as he contemplated his options. He couldn't take House up there without knowing the situation between Chase and Cameron. Wilson made his decision and began to pull out of his parking spot. In the morning, when House woke up in Wilson's guest room, he would tell House that by the time they arrived at Cameron's apartment he had been in no condition to see anyone.
How he was going to fix the problem in the long term, Wilson had no idea.