Rating: T
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to or affiliation with the Fox TV show House:MD. And I thank the powers that be that this sort of fiction falls into the grey area of copyright infringement since I find it so damned enjoyable.
Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed. And once again, an extra thank you to those of you who reviewed another of my tangent's Ex Opere Operato. I'd be especially grateful for feedback on this section because it was damned tricky and I don't feel like it's quite right. Thanks in advance.
Behind the Scenes: Waxing Poetic
Saturday 3 pm
When House removed her blindfold the first thing she saw a man with wings. She looked around puzzled. "This is a comic book convention."
"Yeah," House replied, "and it gets cold in the winter." She punched him, on his off-cane side this time. "Again with the punching!" House protested. "And I bruise like a peach."
"Suck it up." She found the man with the wings again. "That's Archangel right?"
"Angel, I think," House corrected, "since he's not all metal and evil looking. But I was never an X-Men guy."
"Who's your superhero then?"
"Sandman," House answered. "Closer to a god than a hero really."
Cameron moved to check out the table nearest to her and House followed. "Never heard of him."
"Shame." House said, "Well now I know what to get you tickets to next time you quit." He must have noticed the wide grin on her face. "Now I just have to figure Foreman and Chase out and you'll all be mine."
"Rent tickets for Chase."
"Do you know everything about everyone?" House asked.
"I got nothin' for Foreman. But Chase and I drove to that tropical disease conference in the city last year," she explained and tried to bite back a smile at the memory. "Apparently he's seen Rent six times on Broadway. He played the entire soundtrack through three times while we were in the car and sang along." House looked like Christmas had come early. "I'm not kidding," Cameron said. "And if he missed a word he started the song over."
"He's going to kiss a man someday," House said.
"Probably you," Cameron replied.
"You picked up on his secret crush too?" House joked.
"You better be careful," Cameron said and spotted a familiar logo, "don't get high with him." It took House a moment to follow, her nonchalance about that particular incident was off-putting.
Eventually they saw the whole, rather large, convention and Cameron left with her copy of 'V' signed and the entire Sandman collection at House's constant and annoying urging. She spent a tidy two hundred dollars. She'd asked if she could just borrow his set and he looked like she'd asked him to go to church or admit he was wrong or something.
The ride back was less disconcerting since she was allowed to see. They stopped at a Quizno's and picked up subs then headed to Cameron's apartment. She'd retrieved her cell that afternoon and sent both Chase and Foreman a text message that said, "I'm fine. Thanks for looking out for me," so they wouldn't stake out her apartment and catch she and House- since he couldn't go back to his home before Monday.
"Why'd you do this?" Cameron asked, during a commercial break in the edited for television 'Fight Club' on TNT. "You didn't have to. I really wasn't going to do anything spectacular this weekend anyway."
"I admitted you to the Geek Club when you hadn't met the criteria. I was going to be voted off the board. But a convention clears my good name," House answered and Cameron laughed, knowing she wasn't going to get anything else out of him. But then he said, "You're different than when I hired you," and she thought maybe she'd been wrong and he was actually going to answer her. "You're still nice. Just not as nice. You've been less fuzzy in the past months. Sometimes you're down right mean. Where'd that come from? Was it the AIDS thing?"
"You took me to a comic convention because I was mean to you?" She asked, pressing just a little, and reminding herself that House could not be expected to be tactful about something like a universally deadly virus. House did this sometimes- told her more than she expected, like some kind of internal dam of cynicism and sarcasm had cracked.
House rolled his eyes, clearly conveying that she was not being helpful-and-understanding Cameron like he'd expected. "I took you to the convention because I wanted to see which was the real Cameron. It was that or get you drunk."
So it was a character study like it always was with him. "And what did you find out Dr. House?" She knew her tone was chilly, she meant it to be.
"Neither of them is you," he surmised. "The real Cameron is somewhere between Bambi and Banshee and more fun than both." She supposed she should be grateful for the backhanded compliment. "You really do want to save lives and souls too, even if you object to the term. You're genuinely interested in people. And you actually care about what they have to say. Probably too much. But sometimes you even put yourself first and sometimes you listen just so you can mess with people, keep them on their toes."
"Tell me more," Cameron said, "we didn't get to the neediness and the 'damaged' part." House must have realized he was on dangerous ground because he sat back on the couch and looked at her for a moment. Cautiousness, like he'd shown the last time he ripped into her character on their date, entered his eyes. "Come on," she urged, anger tying her stomach in knots, "if there's more to me than some fucked up messiah complex then why did I like you? Why did I even give a damn?" He hadn't been intentionally hurtful this time, almost the opposite. But she wasn't going to just roll over and let him decide how she should look at herself and think she'd take his half assed opinions as fact. She wasn't going to let him throw her into a tailspin again just because he didn't want to answer a question about himself.
She could see House clench his jaw and was ready for him to shout at her. But then he took a breath and looked at the ceiling for a moment, breathing out with resignation. "You liked me," he said, "because…" he seemed to be searching for something, "I thought it was because U.S.S. Cameron needed an anchor," he said. "Something that never let you get too far, too fast and that you could pull up out of the mud every now and then and polish it up a little. And when you lost it and got swept out to sea, it wouldn't be your fault."
"Nice metaphor."
"I'm not finished. Gosh." He rolled his eyes. "But you- you just wanted someone who knew what the storms looked like and which ropes to pull I guess." He gestured to himself, "No delusions about calm seas and Caribbean cruises here," he said. "You're not as patient as you pretend to be. And not as hopeful either. But I'm less patient and less hopeful so you're golden by comparison. Besides," he said, "I'm funny."
"So first I'm some twisted little emotional masochist and now I'm a struggling mariner on the metaphorical ocean of life who wants to- what-use you for your experience?" She'd seen through his game. He wasn't going to win by suddenly waxing poetic and throwing her off balance.
House seemed not to notice. "I'm not talking about using anyone," it seemed to be real effort for him to speak in an even tone, "I'm talking about companionship. I'm told everybody's after that. Even I keep Wilson around. I mean that's partly for his own good because he'd have a really big head if I didn't keep him in his place."
She laughed as intentionally as he'd made the lame joke even as her throat burned and her heart ached at the memory of what it was like to have someone like that. Somewhere in the past three minutes they'd stopped talking about Cameron's former crush and transitioned into a veiled version of 'Are we friends now? And if not then what the hell's going on here?' "Is this your way of asking me to be your back up Wilson?"
"I don't know if you're really Wilson material," he said and she didn't know if she should expect a joke or a confession that he didn't want her to be just another Wilson. "I mean if you were Wilson you'd be crying on my shoulder right now. He let's his tears flow- like a man."
She laughed at the picture of Wilson, overcome with emotion, sobbing into House's sleeve that flashed through her mind. She laughed harder than that situation required. She laughed hysterically because what he said was true and she hated when he was right. She laughed until her stomach ached and she was crying and by the time her eyes began to get puffy she was laughing again.
One of those things- the laughing or the crying must have made House more uncomfortable than the unspoken 'What are we' hanging in the air because he said, "You were wrong that day when I gave that stunning diagnostics lecture." She didn't know what to say, so she'd say nothing. He went on, matter-of-factly, "I don't want to date you and I'd be a terrible friend because I don't love you. But I could."
Cameron didn't respond, she just remained where she was staring at his armpit with a laugh dying on her lips, waiting him to say how he'd never met a challenge he couldn't beat or something similar to take the seriousness out of the statement. She wasn't quite sure she was awake or if she wanted to be awake. "Come on Cameron," he implored, "I'm using feeling words. Women are supposed to respond to that."
She laughed, just a little at the way he drawled 'feeling' and said, "You're terrible at it."
"I've been told," he said. "So?"
"Just…" a sigh escaped Cameron's lips, "just let it alone for a while." He, never one to leave things unfinished, looked ready to argue. "Until tomorrow." She heard the hint of pleading in her own voice.
"Fine," he agreed grudgingly.
"I think I'm beginning to regret this prank."
They ordered Chinese food in and watched reruns of old TV shows. House wanted to watch the Simpsons during an episode of Full House Cameron had never seen. Both of them agreed that the world be a better place if there was a channel that showed 'The Price is Right' 24 hours a day.
"I always wanted to go on that show and play Plinko and then spin the dollar on the big wheel," Cameron confessed, "and then win both showcases."
"Everyone wants to play Plinko," House replied. "I actually know how to cook, I simply choose not to."
She was no longer caught off guard by his abrupt shifts in topic. "I judge how good a movie is based on the people I watch it with," Cameron offered.
"I'm not actually attracted to Angelina Jolie. The whole humanitarian thing killed it," House said. "Plus I have a man-crush on Brad Pitt and she stole him."
"I have a girl crush on Halle Berry," Cameron admitted. "I mean I like men but if Halle showed up at the door with wine and the keys to a room at the Plaza- I'd be there."
There was silence. "House?" He didn't respond. Maybe he'd gotten tired of the game. "House?"
"Shhh," he said, "don't speak. You're interrupting my fantasy. You may say 'Halle', if you want."
Cameron laughed and left her seat on the couch to get a book. When she came back House had found 'Sponge Bob Squarepants' and was happily engrossed. He started to tell her that reading would rot her mind but shut up when he saw that she was reading his precious Sandman.
When they decided to call it a night and Cameron finished up in the bathroom she found House in her bed. She gave him a look. "What?" He asked, "Am I on your side?" She continued her stare. "Bum leg!" He protested. "I didn't kick you out of my bed."
Cameron admitted defeat, deciding not to mention his lack of available couch and her perfectly open couch, turned off the lights and got in bed.
"I always wanted a dog when I was a kid," House said, continuing their spur-of-the-moment secrets game.
"I wanted a friend when I was kid," Cameron countered.
"I was afraid I'd turn into my father." The 'and I did' went unspoken.
"I get attached to sick babies because I've always thought I'd be a bad mother and that would be my baby dying," Cameron whispered.
"Well, I know I'd be a bad father," House snorted. "I have a goddaughter though."
"You do?" Cameron thought she probably knew him better than anyone at the hospital except Wilson and maybe Cuddy but this was news to her. "They let heathens be godparents?"
"Technically, I'm Catholic," House explained, "apparently, once you're in you can't get out. Anyway, yeah, she comes around sometimes in the summer, thinks I owe her or something since I held her down while a priest tried to drown her."
"You could always write to the Pope and cordially ask to be excommunicated." Cameron laughed before getting serious again. "You were right about the ship thing," she said quietly.
"'Were right'? I still am right."
They were both quiet, Cameron pondering the implications of everything that had been said and House… maybe he was sleeping.
Nope. "Allison?" House sounded serious and hopeful, "let's talk more about Halle."
"Goodnight House."
To be continued in "Deus Ex Machina"