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His fingers rest on the wood, feeling the slicked down wax covering the fine grain before dropping down to lower the handle. He hasn't searched the two other doctors' lounges to bow out now. It's actually strange that she would pick the one farthest out the way, the one that hardly anyone goes to because the only furniture inside are sofas and chairs with two tables. Well, maybe it's the perfect spot then.
It's quiet. Too quiet. He steps in, casually taking stock of the room before seeing one pale arm hung over the arm of a plush chair with its back to him. His lips twitch in nervousness or anxiety as he slowly walks closer, trying to bide his time and pick his words.
"So, I was thinking that we should….Crap."
With a brief jerk of his shoulders, House closes his eyes in exasperation at his luck. Of course she'd be asleep. Tapping his thumb on his cane, he glances up to make sure no one's about to walk in before looking back down at her.
Her head is deep in the corner, no doubt a foreshadowing of a huge neck crick that will ruin her day with her blonde hair falling down her shoulders. The color still shocks him to this day, but it doesn't mean he doesn't like it. Maybe it was long overdue she go back to her roots, go back to someone she used to be before him.
She shifts slightly, one hand bending to fit under her chin and the other coming to gently brush across the almost loose pink scrub top that covers her pregnant abdomen before falling back down to her side. He realizes he could probably touch her right now and she wouldn't know.
Or she would, and then all hell would break loose.
Right, no touching.
House stands there for a second longer before taking a step away and stopping himself.
"Great. I'm finally ready to try to talk things out and you're asleep," he whispers. "You need to work on your timing, woman."
He thinks he's done this time and again takes another step forward. He stops himself again.
"And you know what? There are plenty of on-call rooms where you can sleep safely."
With a shake of his head he walks forward with no intention of saying anything else, but he turns around again.
"And this is not nice," he mutters as he shakes his left arm out of his jacket. "I hate this jacket. Only wear it so Wilson doesn't feel so bad about his ties."
He drapes the jacket across her form, his frown getting deeper as he positions it so the fabric covers the hand under her chin and the swollen evidence of their relationship. He's almost tempted to touch her face, feeling something like the past year whispering for him to just do it.
He can't do it though.
She sees him reclining in his corner chair, right leg on the footstool and his left foot tapping the floor softly.
"You are the hardest man to track down."
His eyes open and go straight to his jacket folded over her arm. "I think that's the whole point of hiding."
"Cuddy's looking for you."
"I know. I heard it on the wind, I heard it in the walls, I heard it from the stethoscope. Plus Taub came in and told me."
"And you ran off as soon as you could so that once you got the all clear, you could come back in here and she'd still be on the trail?"
"I'd never do such a mischievous act."
"I'm sure you wouldn't."
"Sit down," he helps his leg off the footstool. "You fall on me and I'll probably die."
"I sit down and I might not be able to get up."
"That's what Foreman's for. Manual labor."
"I'm not going to take that as a racial remark."
"Why? It's not anything new."
"You know what? I didn't come here to talk about Foreman's blackness or your assness. Here."
He catches the fabric in his fingers, wondering fleetingly what she'll do if he grabs her slender digits, but her hand is gone before he can even think of doing the action. It's probably for the best. Then again, he's never done what's best for him.
"I, uh, thanks, House. For the jacket, I mean."
Cameron swallows slightly, her hands suddenly empty and cold and so she places them on her back. It's time to make her getaway.
"Cameron…."
She turns, maybe a little too suddenly, a little too hopefully, and certainly a little afraid. There are so many words he can say, and so many he can't, and she's not ready to deal with them anymore.
"What, House?"
Even though it's not fair, he has to stand and try to keep some of his power behind him. Vulnerability is something he doesn't want and the only way he can think of to keep it away from him, is to keep it close to her. Emptying the space between them, he can sense her need to step away and the stubbornness to not give in.
"What do you want from me?"
It's a simple enough question for a complicated situation. She flinches as if he's shouted at her.
"What do you want?"
"What I want doesn't matter."
It ends then, the pull of her heart and the uneasiness that had threatened to push her into him. Cameron straightens with the corners of her mouth running downwards before she scoffs and shakes her head.
"That was always the problem, House." She cups her cheek. "It never mattered to you. Nothing about us did. I don't know why I've been thinking it might've changed."
"It mattered." He exhales harshly and takes a step back, needing something like real life to make him stop from speaking. "It mattered enough to scare the hell out of me. It mattered enough for me to try and push you to the limits. It mattered enough to get me into a coma because I was too distracted thinking about how I was going to screw up our kid and our lives!"
"How can I believe that? How do you expect me to have sympathy for you after what you did to me?"
"I don't want your sympathy!" The space isn't needed any longer and he finds himself wanting to stand so close to her he can feel her belly touch his. "I'm House. You expect too much of me, Cameron."
"You just expect too little of yourself! I was with you for almost a year. I know how much of a jerk you are, but I also know how much of a human bei –."
"I'm not a good person."
The statement is blunt, almost shy and uncharacteristically scratchy as it leaves his mouth. "I'm not." Shrugging his shoulders, he continues. "That's the truth. It doesn't matter what I want. It does matter what you want."
It almost sounds like he's putting her feelings before his. She watches him carefully, not about to step into the trap that doesn't even look like one.
"No," she breathes thoughtfully. "You need to know what it feels like to put yourself out there and not know what's going to happen. What do you want? Do you even know?"
She waits for an answer, looking into his eyes and searching his face for some hint of what's whirring in his mind.
He's lost track of how many times she's looked this way at him, only to turn around in frustration.
"You can't possibly want anything to do with me after what I've done."
"House, in any other situation, you're right. I'd be done. I wouldn't even look back." Cameron bites her lip. "But I'm pregnant and you have every right to stay in your child's life, or leave it. You need to make up your mind because I won't let you do both. Not like you did with me."
Whatever great thing he thought he'd say to her earlier in the day leaves him as she begins to walk away.
"And," she halts, slightly turning, "you may not be a good person. But you're not a bad one either. Clichés work for you."
A/N: Blech. My so called 'hump' chapter since I couldn't quite get this right, but I needed it to kind of lead us into the ending segments of the fic coming up. Thanks!