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Chapter 8: In Which Cameron Breaks
Cameron stalked angrily out of the conference room and didn't stop until she reached the stairwell. Setting the papers down on the landing and collapsing against the wall, she drew her knees to her chest and expelled a huge breath of air.
The past few weeks had given her ample practice in shielding her feelings from external view, but the prolonged effort was taking a heavy toll on her emotional state. Her haste to leave the room had been more out of self-preservation than anything else. House got to her, as he always did, pushing all the right buttons to get her flustered and riled up at the same time. Cameron sniffed and allowed herself a small pep talk. She was young, attractive, nice and smart, a doctor at one of the top hospitals in the country. A specialist. Why was she wasting her time on a hopeless, middle-aged, mean-spirited misanthrope? Sure, he was attractive and brilliant, but that didn't make him worth it. Cameron sighed, realizing all at once the futility of trying to convince herself of something she didn't believe. House was more, meant more than that collection of adjectives. He always had, and he probably always would.
She swore, something she rarely ever did. The words resonated through the concrete stairwell, echoing around her as if the walls themselves were sympathizing with her frustration. She knew this thing with House was destroying her, and still she clung to the idea that there was a different man beneath his gruff exterior. Even though he had given her every indication to the contrary. Maybe she should have left "smart" out of her pep talk.
Rolling her eyes and gingerly picking herself up from the ground, she grabbed the papers up off the floor and headed down the stairs towards the clinic. No way she'd run into House there. Maybe avoidance was the key to recovery.
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Chase and Foreman walked into the conference room, chatting easily about a case study that Foreman had recently read. "I just need to grab these reports," said Chase as he flipped through the papers on the table.
Foreman looked over his shoulder. "Maybe Cameron took them?" he suggested.
Chase stiffened. "I don't think so," he said. "She..." He paused as he found what he was looking for. "Ah, here we go."
Foreman nodded. "Okay. I got my stuff. Let's go."
They were turning to leave when House entered from the hallway. "Dr. Chase," he intoned casually as he passed by. "I would like a word with you." He walked into his office without looking back.
Foreman and Chase shared a look. Foreman shrugged. "I'll catch up with you later," he said, adding Chase's paperwork to his pile and carrying the entire stack out of the room.
Chase followed House into his office, hesitation apparent in his step. He was pretty sure that he hadn't done anything wrong, but he could never be sure.
House gestured for him to sit down on a chair in front of his desk, and Chase readily complied. House leaned forward and stared into Chase's eyes. Chase shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny, looking from one side to another as if gauging his chances for a hasty escape. "What?" he finally asked, still avoiding House's piercing gaze.
Satisfied by whatever he found, House leaned back in his chair and said in a nonchalant manner, "So you and Cameron didn't work out, eh."
A brief moment for the words to register, then Chase stood up abruptly. "I don't have to stand for this," he said angrily.
"Then don't." House gestured towards the seat again. "Sit down." Chase hesitated, and House's tone grew cold. "I said sit down."
"This is highly unprofessional," Chase stated, lowering himself back into the seat and inwardly cursing his own cowardice.
House rolled his eyes. "And therefore, perfectly in character. Now, where were we?"
Chase crossed his arms over his chest. "You were prying into my personal life."
"You have no personal life," said House pointedly. "You're a blabbermouth. A snitch. A rat. When you talk about others, you're bound to get some of that back."
Exasperated, Chase asked, "Are you done?"
House shook his head. "Not quite. Tell me why you two aren't out frolicking in a field of daisies." Chase stared at him, resolutely keeping silent. House sighed. "Let me put it in kangaroo speak." He leaned forward and punctuated each word with a slight nod. "What went wrong?"
Chase pondered his options for a minute, and decided that this wasn't a battle he could win. "She still likes you," Chase said slowly. He rose from his seat and headed for the door. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Chase's back was turned, eliminating the need for House to hide his surprise. "You still like her," House called after him, curious. "So why give in so easily?"
Reaching the exit, Chase turned to smile at him, a move that House found somewhat unsettling. "Because it doesn't matter," he answered, smirking at the look of confusion on House's face. "You like her. Anyone would. But you aren't just anyone." Chase pointed a finger at House. "You, you'll screw it up like you always do..." His voice broke slightly, but he collected himself and finished, "...and nothing I say or do is going to change anything."
Supressing his reaction to Chase's harsh words, House scoffed derisively to cover his inner conflict. "How very noble of you to step aside. Thinking of others," he said, placing one hand over his heart and pretending to swoon. "The two of you are frighteningly alike in your stupidity."
Chase shook his head. "I'm stepping aside because it's the only way Cameron will come to her senses." He laughed bitterly. "She'll fall for you because that's what she does. You'll hurt her, because that's what you do. Foreman will try to kill you, because that's what he does. And I'll wait and hope, because that's what I do."
"A most touching monologue," said House acerbically. "Get out."
Chase shoved the door open and strode quickly down the hallway, leaving House to suffocate under the weight of his own thoughts.
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The clicking of the MRI machine was more irritating than usual. Chase gritted his teeth and continued to watch the computer screen intently. Foreman stood by the window, watching another screen and writing notes on a clipboard.
"What's House's problem?"
Foreman looked up at Chase, surprised by the sudden outburst. "Whoa," he said. "Where'd that come from?"
Chase snorted. "He's a bastard."
Foreman mulled this over. "True," he allowed. "But he's always been a bastard. What's your point?"
"Why do we take this from him?"
"Take what?" asked Foreman, massaging his temples. He already knew where this conversation was heading.
Chase double-clicked an icon with unnecessary enthusiasm. "His incessant meddling, for one."
Foreman leaned into the microphone. "You're all done, Jamie. A nurse will be in to help you back to your room." He opened the door to the hallway and smiled at the nurse in question. "Thanks."
Chase followed as Foreman walked away. "He asked me about what happened with Cameron. How is that any of his damn business?"
"It's not," answered Foreman. "But that's what he does. Just let it go."
They reached the nursing station, where Foreman picked up one file and handed Chase another. He opened it, scanning the contents and hoping that Chase would drop the subject.
"He'll just hurt her," Chase pressed on, ignoring the hint.
Foreman stopped abruptly and put a hand to his head, feeling his headache return. "Look." He offered a sympathetic smile. "There's no point in getting worked up about it."
Chase crossed his arms angrily. "Whose side are you on?"
Foreman sighed. "If it makes you feel better, I agree with you."
Turning his attention back to his work, Chase muttered, "Thanks."
Foreman tapped a pen against his chin as he watched his colleague attempt to regain his composure. So this was why office romance was a bad idea.
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Cameron was a model of efficiency in the clinic that afternoon, and Cuddy watched her swift actions with something approaching concern. She recognized an attempt to erase emotional pain with work when she saw it. She herself had brought that technique to a whole new level of mastery.
"Dr. Cameron," she began, as the younger doctor rushed past her with her arms full of completed charts.
Cameron paused and blew a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. "Dr. Cuddy," she greeted, shifting her grip on the charts to a slightly more comfortable position. "What can I do for you?"
Cuddy smiled. "I was wondering if you know where Dr. House is." She watched Cameron's reaction closely. "He was supposed to be in the clinic twenty minutes ago."
Cameron shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Not sure," she responded. "He was in the office earlier this afternoon, but I haven't seen him for the last couple hours."
"My ears are burning," came the familiar gruff voice from behind the two women. Cuddy turned to shoot him an exasperated look. Cameron closed her eyes briefly, but did not turn around.
House coughed. "Cameron, a word with you?"
Cameron stayed silent.
"Uh," said Cuddy, the sudden tension catching her off-guard. "Dr. Cameron, I'm going to need those charts by the end of the business day."
Cameron nodded, and Cuddy took this as an opportunity to escape, opting to monitor the situation from a comfortable distance.
"So," said House, tapping his cane on the floor. "Are you going to turn around at some point?"
Cameron shook her head. "Probably not." She started to walk away, but House reached out and grabbed her arm, startling her and causing the stack of charts she held to tip over precariously. She fumbled with them awkwardly, and House moved in front of her to help restore control over the rebellious paperwork. He looked up to see her already looking into the distance.
House sighed. "Cameron."
She reluctantly turned her gaze to him and they faced each other in silence, oblivious to the curious looks they were getting from the clinic staff.
"What do you want?" she said impatiently.
He gestured towards the door with a quick movement of his head. "Come on. I'll buy you a soda if you promise not to bite my head off again."
Sighing, she set the charts down on the nursing station and followed him to the cafeteria. Not a word was spoken until they stepped outside and sat down next to each other on the nearest bench. Cameron immediately began picking apart the label on her drink. House watched in silence. He hadn't completely thought this through, impulsively seeking her out without knowing what he wanted to accomplish, let alone how. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate. It was apparent that whatever was to transpire here, the first move lay with him. Steeling himself and hoping that he wasn't making a mistake, he said brusquely, "Why do you want to be with me?"
He winced. The words came out harsher than he had intended. Cameron, however, didn't seem to take offense. She looked up at him, her expression blank. "Who says I do?"
"Don't you?" he shot back.
She shrugged tiredly. "Depends on how you look at it."
Surprised, House reevaluated his approach. It wasn't as if he'd expected a heartfelt confession of love or anything quite so dramatic, but he had certainly expected more than the resignation on her face.
"How should I look at it?" He deliberately kept his tone light. "Chase thinks you'll fall for me because you're incapable of anything else."
She wondered when House and Chase had a chance to speak, but decided that she didn't want to know. "That's a pretty fair assessment," she said matter-of-factly.
House looked at her closely. "Should I be taking the word of others on how you feel?"
Cameron allowed a small smile to cross her face. "Depends. Should I be taking the word of others on how YOU feel?"
House blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked, as something clicked at the back of his mind.
Cameron's answer confirmed his suspicions. "A little oncologist on my shoulder," she said, attempting and failing to gauge House's reaction to her words.
"And?" he encouraged, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"He thinks you're a moron," she answered calmly, unwilling to play into his hands. "And so far you're proving him right."
House waited, but did not receive any additional information. He continued, "Chase also thinks I'll hurt you because I'm incapable of anything else."
"The man is quite perceptive when he wants to be," came Cameron's neutral reply.
"So you want to be with me, even though I might hurt you." House balanced his chin on his cane. "Why?"
She sighed. "I could ask you the same question, except 'Why not?'"
He smirked. "The difference is, I never said I wanted to be with you. But otherwise a good point."
Something inside Cameron snapped, breaking her outwardly cool demeanor and effectively shattering the remnants of her will. She was too tired to fight back, too tired for verbal sparring, and suddenly all she wanted was for this to be over. "How many times do we need to have this conversation, House?" she said softly. He caught a glimpse of her face as she turned away from him. "Is this fun for you?" Cameron's voice shook as she continued, "You've won the game. Proved your point. Can I go now?"
She turned her face towards him, a cross between despair and anger in her expression. An involuntary sharp intake of breath as he took a good look at the young doctor before him, truly seeing her for the first time in weeks. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes were filled with tears, and her shoulders were hunched dejectedly in a symbolic gesture of defeat. He was shocked into silence, unable to account for how he could have missed such a drastic transformation, unable to account for the role he had played in the process. She clenched her teeth and looked away again. "Cameron," he said slowly. "I..."
"Don't," she said, her tone almost pleading. She got up and began to walk away.
House reached out to stop her, but she was too fast for him. He lowered his head to stare balefully at the ground, too proud to chase after her but unable to watch her go. Too many times he had watched her back as she walked away, too many times he had wanted to stop her but couldn't. Instead, when he thought she was gone, he let his cane clatter to the floor and buried his head in his hands, muttering brokenly, "Please don't leave."
She was almost at the door, barely within earshot. She paused mid-step, unsure as to whether she had heard correctly. His words, practically inaudible, teased at her mind and tugged at her heart. In spite of herself, she quietly retraced her steps, back to where he sat, waiting for something, anything.
He looked up to see her standing in front of him, the sunlight reflecting off of her hair and enveloping her figure in an almost ethereal glow, a vision from his tormented dreams. "Allison," he said quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.
The sound of her name coming from his lips, spoken in his voice and infused with his pain proved too much for her to bear. Silently tears began to spill onto her cheeks. He watched her wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her lab coat, unable to vocalize his feelings but desperate to have her next to him. Even if she was silent. Even if she hated him. Even if she hurt him. Then and there, he fully and freely accepted reality - he needed her.
House stood andlimped slowlytowards Cameron, shoving his doubts and reservations to one side and ignoring the warning signals in his brain. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, wide-eyed and heart-breakingly beautiful. Their gazes locked, and for a moment he was overwhelmed by panic. Then in one swift, sudden movement, House pulled Cameron towards him and into a tight embrace. She quickly recovered from her surprise, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest, allowing the sound of his heartbeat to fill her mind. House buried his face in her hair and muttered her name again, unable to give voice to an actual apology.
She made no acknowledgement apart from a small sigh that seemed to release the tension from her body, which he correctly interpreted as a sign of that all was forgiven. He wasn't at all sure that he deserved her forgiveness, nor was he anywhere near convinced that he deserved her - but for once in his life, he didn't feel a desire to probe any deeper into the question.