Wilson walked into House's office at 3:30 waving the music books in front of him like a banner. "You, my friend," he said, "are an idiot."
House eyed him acerbically. "Stacy did it," he muttered. "And if you are here to gloat, you're wasting your time. I have to get this charting done."
Wilson shook his head and sat down. "I don't even own a guitar anymore. You're an idiot for another reason."
House sighed and set his pen down. "I can see you're dying to tell me," he snapped. "So spill whatever juvenile dribble you have and then let me finish."
Wilson looked hurt. House slumped his shoulders. "What is it?" He asked in a softer tone.
"Juvenile dribble?" Wilson said, arching an eyebrow.
House sighed. "If I don't finish this charting Cuddy will have my balls on a silver platter."
"Fine," Wilson said. "I guess I shouldn't be interrupting you when you're being responsible."
House looked down at the charts. "Dammit. You're right, what the hell was I thinking? I'll have Cameron do this tonight."
Wilson was aghast. "You wouldn't!"
House grinned wickedly. "Watch me. Besides, she's not doing anything anyway. It's Monday."
Wilson smiled. "She might be," he said suggestively.
Instantly House's demeanor changed. "Meaning," he said, his voice as cold as ice.
"Meaning, she may have something to do." Wilson leaned back in the chair. "You're an idiot."
"I'm an idiot because of Cameron?" House asked.
"Yes. My God she's beautiful."
House rolled his eyes, but hesitated before responding. "This again?"
Wilson nodded. "She plays flute."
House squinted dangerously at Wilson. "She plays flute?"
"At least she used to, in college."
House closed his eyes briefly. In a flash, he could picture Cameron sitting down, perfect posture, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her beautiful little mouth puckered over… Enough of that… he thought.
Wilson smirked. "I wonder if she went to band camp?"
House shrugged. "Depends on the school she went to."
"No House. Band camp. As in 'This one time… at band camp…' Remember?"
House pursed his lips to keep from smiling, but Wilson knew that as soon as he left, House would be grinning like the Cheshire cat. Instead, he put on his most withering face and glared at Wilson. "I find it unnerving that you're fantasizing about my staff in such a manner."
"Your staff? No. Chase and Foreman do nothing for me." Wilson said, crossing his arms across his chest.
"You only have eyes for me, eh Jimmy?" House said dryly.
"Go to hell," Wilson said good naturedly, giving House the finger. "Let's go out to eat."
House chuckled. "Julie cooking again?"
Wilson hung his head glumly. "Yeah," he said.
House shook his head, resigned, he suspected that a poorly cooked meal was only part of the story. "Why not? Stop by at 5:30. I should be done by then."
Wilson nodded. Then glanced at his watch. "Damn, I have a patient in 10 minutes. I'll be back after 5."
House looked down at his charts and waved a hand at him. "Whatever."
As soon as Wilson left the room, he leaned back and smiled. Allison Cameron at band camp. That was too good to waste. Sighing a little he bent down over his work. After scratching his signature onto a few forms, he let his eyes drift over to the cardboard box that was on the floor at the end of his desk. Stacy had played clarinet in elementary school. She hated every minute of it and quit as soon as her parents allowed her to. Cameron had continued to play even in college. That said something about their personalities.
Unfortunately, House mused, he had no idea what.
Chase and Foreman caught up with Cameron looking over some forms. "My last patient is at 4:30." Cameron said with a sigh. "What time are we leaving?"
Chase and Foreman consulted the schedule. "My last one is at 5:30." Foreman said.
Chase nodded. "Mine too."
Cameron glanced at her watch. "Good, that will give me time to run an errand and then we'll meet back here at 5:30."
Chase raised his eyebrows. "Errand?" He said questioningly.
Cameron fixed him with a stare. "I have to go to the drugstore," she said, daring him to question her more.
"Ah," Chase looked down shamefacedly. "All right then. I don't want to know."
Cameron rolled her eyes. "For godsakes Chase, you're a doctor." She grabbed the chart and strode into the waiting room. "Kelly Springer?"
Foreman gave Chase a hard look. "Smooth."
"Shut up." Chase said miserably.
"And no one is to say that she went there for that. It could be something else." Foreman said.
"Like what? Condoms?" Chase muttered.
"You wish koala-boy." Foreman said with a grin.
"Oh fuck off!" Chase said and sighed. He went into the waiting room and looked around. "Bill Carman?" He asked without any enthusiasm.
Cameron pulled up to the drugstore at 4:53. She looked at her watch. This couldn't possibly take more than a few minutes. She got out of the car, locked it, and strode inside unable to shake the feeling that she was making a mistake. A big mistake.
The clerk at the photo counter smiled pleasantly at her as she pulled out the negatives. "With our new machine you can scan the negatives, print them out and do all sorts of neat things," the young man said enthusiastically.
Cameron smiled politely. "So if I wanted to print these out in sepia tones…"
"Not a problem. Watch," he inserted a strand of negatives, pulled up one of the pictures on the screen, and pressed a few buttons.
Cameron nodded, impressed. The photo, one of House at the piano, was cropped, centered, and now shaded in rich warm sepia tones. The clerk printed it out and held it out to her.
"Pretty wild huh?" He said smiling.
Cameron held the picture in her hands. This is a mistake. She thought again. She smiled and murmured that it was amazing what technology could do.
"So is that your dad?" The clerk asked. "He looks like…"
Cameron's cold stare cut him short.
After making three copies of the photos, she briefly went into the household items aisle of the store. There she found exactly what she was looking for. 2 mahogany picture frames with cream matting and slots enough to hold each of the pictures. She picked them up, along with two padded mailers.
She paid for everything and sat in the car looking at her purchases. It took a few minutes for her to peel of the price stickers, and take the backing off of the frames. Her hands were shaking slightly, and she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
With renewed resolve she quickly arranged the pictures. One for House, one for Wilson. Each respective doctor's own picture was in the center, the larger one. For Wilson, she had chosen the picture of him by the window. For House it was the picture of him at the piano smiling. Smaller pictures of each doctor either alone, or with each other framed the larger one.
She surveyed the pictures and shook her head. This is crazy. It makes me look like a damned stalker. She thought. Then, she placed each frame inside a mailer and sealed it. The third set of pictures, the ones she told herself that she bought in case the other two were damaged somehow, she put in her glovebox. Out of sight, out of mind.
She bit her lip and looked at the mailers next to her. With a sigh of defeat, she backed out and drove back to the hospital, unable to shake the feeling that there were times when people's actions were outside of their control.
She put both mailers inside her locker. It was 5:15. She sat down at the conference table and waited. House, absorbed in paperwork, didn't even notice she was there.
At 5:20 Wilson strolled into the office. He glanced through the window and noticed that Cameron was sitting down at the conference table. House was finishing what appeared to be his last piece of paperwork. He dropped his pen on the desk and looked up in triumph. "Finito!" He said contentedly. "Ready to go?"
Wilson nodded, somehow heartened at the fact the House appeared to be in a better mood. "Sure thing. Want to invite the good Doctor?"
House, who was rummaging through his desk for a bottle of vicoden, looked up and furrowed his brow. "I thought I was the only good doctor around here." He said.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Cameron, you ass." He spoke in hushed tones, afraid that she would hear him.
House surveyed the seated figure thoughtfully. "Maybe not tonight," he said. "After all, you said she was busy."
Wilson sighed, "I was kidding, she…" his voice trailed off as Cameron answered her cell phone.
"Yeah? Okay sure, I'm ready when you are. Should I call the cab or are you going to? No that's fine. Okay. I'll see you downstairs in ten minutes." She hung up the phone and suddenly realized she was being watched.
House and Wilson nodded at Cameron, who blushed, and waved. Wilson smiled and waved back. House just stared at her, for an instant Cameron thought he was going to say something, but he just turned and walked out.
Once in the hallway, House whacked Wilson on the back of the knee with his cane. Wilson yelped, but said nothing.
Cameron sat staring at the table. She had to meet Foreman and Chase downstairs in a few minutes. It was now or never.
She went back to the locker, and pulled out the mailers. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to House's desk, and placed it in the middle. Then, she turned and left.
Wilson's office was locked, so she shoved the envelope under the door. It slid under with some difficulty, but she managed. Sighing, she stood up, straightened her coat, and walked outside. What was done was done.
She could only wait and see.