A/N: I decided that I'd better finish this story soon, before my grades begin to deteriorate and all hopes of graduate school are dashed forever. Thanks for the reviews. I'm a big fan of Wilson. Good friends are hard to come by -- guess my bias shows. :)
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Chapter 6: In Which Foreman Deals With the Aftermath
Hung over and generally displeased with the world, House walked towards the conference room with all the eagerness of a man approaching his ultimate demise. He steeled himself before he pushed the door open, dreading to see Cameron at her usual spot around the table, to have her cooly hand him his coffee, to hear her speak to him with nothing in her voice but professionalism. This buildup only made him all the more surprised when he was greeted by the sight of Foreman sitting alone, taking sips of from his coffee mugand playing with the pens on the table.
"Well, isn't this nice," said House, hiding his surprise with a smirk. "Cameron I could understand, after her hot date. But Chase?"
Foreman rolled his eyes. "Grow up."
Silence settled between them as House moved to the window and looked outside. He experienced a brief moment of hatred for the weather. It was a beautiful day.
"What would Wolfe and Cameron's children be like?" he wondered aloud in a mocking tone.
"Stop," said Foreman dangerously.
"They'd probably be mute," said House in answer to his own question.
Foreman smiled sarcastically. "Yeah. Except that they didn't leave together. So...Stop."
With an air of nonchalance so real that he almost believed it himself, House asked, "So who DID she leave with?"
"Chase gave her a ride home, I think," said Foreman with a dismissive shrug.
House blinked, his composure temporarily disrupted. Foreman was too preoccupied with a rubber band to notice.
"Chase and Cameron, eh," House said finally, his sarcasm coming to the rescue. "I wouldn't have guessed." Foreman glared at him. House shrugged. "Well, what am I supposed to think?" He turned away from the window. "As their boss?"
"They're just late," said Foreman. "It happens."
"Ah." House gave Foreman a knowing look. "Happens."
Foreman answered House's look with a blank one of his own. "Yeah. Late."
"Ah. Late."
Foreman threw up his hands. "You're crazy."
House walked away from the window, shaking his head solemnly. "Fifty bucks says I'm right."
"I'm not going to bet on my friends' personal lives!" exclaimed Foreman, rising to his feet and walking over to the coffee machine.
Shaking his head, House took the seat next to the one recently vacated by Foreman and put his feet up on the table. "Why? Because you think there's a chance that I'm right?"
"Of course not," scoffed Foreman, adding sugar to his coffee. "It's a matter of principle."
House smirked. "Liar." But secretly, he found Foreman's response reassuring.
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Groaning, Cameron rolled over to look at the clock. 10:00 am. She reshut her eyes, yawning and stretching out on her bed. Tons of time. She wasn't due at work until 8:30 am. Reality rudely imposed itself on her thoughts as the haze in her brain slowly cleared. Swearing and bounding out of bed in a swift motion, she grabbed a hairbrush off her nightstand with one hand and began pulling clothes out of her closet with the other.
She dressed, pulled her hair up into a bun and brushed her teeth at record speed. 10:15 am. House was going to have a field day. She ran into her living room, threw her jacket on and flung her bag over her shoulder, fumbling around in her pockets for her keys. She paused at the door, temporarily confused by the presence of Chase's jacket on the coathook. All at once the memories of the previous night came flooding back to her.
The sound of her own laughter as Chase animatedly related his medical school antics. The comfortable atmosphere between them as he leaned forward on the kitchen counter, smiling at nothing and watching her make coffee. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, talking and laughing while the coffee grew cold, forgotten and untouched on the coffee table.
The awkwardness that arose suddenly and without warning. The look in his eyes, passionate and caring. The guilt in hers.
The kiss that resulted from a lapse of judgement. How he had wanted it more but pulled away first, looking into her tear-filled eyes for an emotion that wasn't there. Knowing without words that she couldn't give him what he wanted, no matter how much she wished that she could.
How soft his voice sounded, even as it cracked from emotion. His eyes, pleading and hurt. His proud bearing as he silently walked out the door, closing it gently behind him. Leaving her to curse herself, her coldheartedness and her stupidity.
He had accidently left his jacket there, and neither one of them had noticed. But Cameron noticed now, and as she stared at the offending item tears silently rolled down the side of her pale, worn face.
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"So, Chase and Cameron."
Wilson accidentally inhaled part of his sandwich. House watched with some amusement as Wilson coughed uncontrollably for a minute, then leaned over to pat him on the back.
"There, there, Wilson," he said, quirking an eyebrow. "That's your breathing tube, not your eating tube. You're a doctor, you should know the difference."
Wilson still looked shocked. House narrowed his eyes. "What?" he asked. "You are a doctor, aren't you?"
"No! I mean...yes, I'm a doctor, but..." stammered Wilson. He took a long drink of water and coughed once more before beginning again. "But...how did you know?"
House looked confused. "The lab coat kind of gives it away."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "How did you know about Chase and Cameron?"
House blinked, giving Wilson time to realize his mistake. He promptly tried to cover it up, laughing nervously. "I was just kidding," he began.
House shook his head and gave a derisive laugh. "You'd think that someone with your track record would be a better liar."
Wilson sighed and shifted his gaze to his half-eaten sandwich.
"You saw them? Last night?" asked House, his voice strangely quiet.
The feeling was like what he experienced when he had to tell a patient that they were terminal. Except that it was House, and in some ways the implications were worse than death. Wilson felt slightly sick, knowing the effect that his words would have on his friend but unwilling to lie. "He followed her up to her apartment," he answered slowly. "But that doesn't mean anything."
House nodded. The rest of their lunch was passed in silence.
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Chase's jacket hung obediently on the coathook behind her as Cameron stood in the conference room, sorting through a stack of files that were strewn haphazardly on the table. Foreman noticed her through the window and strode into the room.
"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, gesturing with his hands for effect.
Cameron set a file down on top of the pile and crossed her arms. "What do you mean?"
Foreman poked her shoulder with one finger. "You." When she didn't respond, he shook his head and said, "Like you don't know. Chase drove you home last night, and you show up for work at lunch time. What do you think I'm asking?"
She looked upset. Foreman tried a different tack. "I may be a car thief, but I'm not a snitch," he said light-heartedly. "Come on, Cam. You know me."
Cameron pursed her lips and looked away. "Foreman, this isn't something I want to talk about."
He sighed, shoved his hands into his pocketsand looked around the room stiffly, waiting for her to cave. A voice interrupted their standoff.
"Cameron."
They looked up to see Chase standing in the doorway, his face expressionless and his arm extended, holding a file out to her. "I think this is what you're looking for."
Cameron nodded and took the file from him without making eye contact. Once the file was in her hand, Chase turned quickly and walked down the hallway, his shoulders hunched and his expression grim. Foreman watched the entire exchange with dawning realization and dread. "Oh, God," he breathed.
"It's not what you think," she muttered, flipping through the file and feigning interest.
Foreman put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up. "Then tell me." He noted the look of hesitation on her face. "It can't be any worse than what I'm thinking."
She bit her lower lip. "Depends on what you mean by worse."
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"She doesn't want me."
His tone was so dejected that Foreman flinched, reaching over and patting Chase's shoulder sympathetically. "Hey man," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
Chase laughed bitterly, tearing a computer readout off the printer with more force than necessary. "But you knew this would happen." He swivelled around in his chair. "Aren't you going to say it? I told you so? I know you're dying to say it." He turned away again, shaking his head angrily. "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."
Foreman raised his hands in denial. "Come on, man. You're my friend. I don't revel in other people's misery." He jokingly added, "I'm not House."
"I'm not either," muttered Chase darkly.
Foreman gave Chase a look.
"I'm not stupid, Foreman," responded Chase to Foreman's unspoken question. "Come on."
Nodding an apology, Foreman turned his attention back to his work. It was Chase who next broke the silence.
"I just...don't understand," he blurted out.
Foreman sighed. "Look. Sometimes there isn't any reasoning about this kind of thing. I know you're hurt..."
"Damn right," interjected Chase forcefully.
"...but Cameron didn't want to hurt you. No seriously!" he added as Chase snorted his skepticism. "She cares about you. It's just..."
Chase held up a hand, indicating for Foreman to stop. He complied.
"I know it's not her fault," said Chase slowly.
"But you still blame her for it."
Their eyes met in understanding. Chase nodded imperceptibly. "Yes."
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When House walked in, Cameron and Foreman were sitting across from each other at the table, speaking in low tones and oblivious to his entrance. Cameron looked upset, he noted, unsure of how he was supposed to feel in reaction to that. A part of him was pleased - good humor would have spoken of a positive outcome to her and Chase's evening together - but the lack of a definitive answer did not do anything to assauge House's discomfort. He wasn't at all sure what to make of her distraught expression, nor was he at all certain that he wanted to find out. Finally, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Startled, they looked up simultaneously. Cameron looked panicked. Foreman merely looked ill at ease.
Uh...sarcoidosis," Cameron said, her face flushed, hands rapidly flipping through a textbook that was open on the table.
House's hand pressed down hard on the book, preventing her from turning the pages. She closed her eyes briefly and then brought them up to meet his, her gaze now defiant. Foreman continued to look uncomfortable, picking up the nearest file and scanning it.
"Nice of you to join us, Dr. Cameron," said House after a moment's pause, having unsuccessfully wracked his brain for something clever to say.
"I'm sorry, Dr. House. I must have overslept," answered Cameron. Foreman raised an eyebrow but kept silent.
House shrugged. "Don't really care. Go do whatever it is that you're supposed to be doing."
Foreman and Cameron got up from the table and were at the door when House impulsively asked, "Cameron, where's Dr. Chase?"
She froze. "Probably in the lab," answered Foreman for her, shielding her from House's line of sight with his body. "I think he was spinning Rm. 421's urine."
House didn't press the issue. He waited for them to leave, and then leaned against the wall, tapping his cane on the ground in time with a rhythm only he could hear. Cameron was a terrible actress. With nothing more than a cursory glance he had seen pain, longing, fatigue, sadness and guilt. The first four he had become accustomed to. It was the last that he was having trouble deciphering.
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It was five o'clock, and the three young doctors sat in the conference room in complete silence, save for the gentle clicks of Cameron's typing on her laptop. Chase resolutely avoided looking at her, and Foreman moved his gaze from one to the other with growing impatience. Finally he slammed his fist onto the table, startling the two out of their individual thoughts.
"Dammit!" he exclaimed, as the other two doctors stared at him in shock.
"Foreman," Cameron began. He silenced her with a look, and she sank back into her seat, her eyes still wide with surprise. Chase's expression mirrored her own as they fixed their eyes on their frustrated colleague.
"Look," he said, hiswords clipped. "I respect you both as doctors, and you have both been great friends to me. But the way you're acting now..." He glared at Chase, who had been about to speak. "The way you're acting now, you're going to force me to choose between the two of you. And I refuse to do that. This is ridiculous."
"Foreman," Cameron tried again. He held up a hand and she sighed, crossing her arms and waiting her turn.
"Cameron, you like Chase, right? But as a friend. You never meant to hurt him."
Cameron looked like she was going to die of mortification. Chase looked like he was going to kill Foreman. Foreman was nowhere near done with either of them.
"Chase, you like Cameron. But you like her as more than a friend. And she hurt you."
Cameron looked down at her feet. Chase sat up. "Now, look here..."
Foreman threw his arms up in a gesture of helplessness. "What are we, high school children?" He pushed his chair back from the table, gathering his things and standing up. He walked to the door. Without turning back, he said quietly, "God knows I care about you both. We've got a good thing here. Stop ignoring each other and talk it over. Please. Don't screw this up."
He walked out of the room, leaving Chase and Cameron to stare at each other in stunned silence.
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