Chapter 10
Cameron sat to House's left as he resettled himself. Bent forward, with his chin resting on his cane, House avoided Cameron's inquisitive gaze. Finally Cameron leaned closed and whispered, trying not to disturb Dr. Jessup's phone call.
"What are we doing here?"
"You wanted in," House said. "This is it."
Cameron was about to question his meaning when Dr. Jessup hung up the phone and cleared his throat. Leaning back from House, Cameron straightened in her chair and gave Dr. Jessup her attention.
"Dr. Cameron, I'm not sure how much Dr. House has filled you in on this, but I've got a very tight schedule today so I'm afraid we'll have to just jump right in. Dr. House can fill in the missing pieces for you himself," Dr. Jessup had taken a patient file from his desk while speaking and withdrawn MRI images, which he now stood and placed on the light board. "Dr. House, I've reviewed your MRI and unfortunately you're correct, there is some definite nerve degeneration. At this point, it doesn't meet the requirements for my surgical trial."
House closed his eyes in disappointment. When he'd heard that Dr. Jessup had decided to run his surgical trial at Princeton-Plainsboro, he'd leapt, figuratively speaking of course, at the chance to join. Anyone who knew House knew he'd never been one to shy away from experimental treatments. Normally he used them on patients, but in this case he'd been eager to participate himself.
"The trials will be ongoing for at least four or five months. With your permission, I'd like to monitor your leg for signs of further degeneration. I'd also like to take over your pain management regimen so we can more closely monitor its severity. You're just barely outside our criteria. While I wouldn't wish further nerve degeneration and pain on anyone, even a minor change in your condition could qualify you for the trial," Dr. Jessup explained.
House looked at Cameron, who was unusually quiet. Cameron, unlike House, was less comfortable with experimental treatments. She understood the importance of research, naturally. But she also felt that patients who participated in clinic trials were often there because they had run out of options. It saddened Cameron to know that House considered radical surgery his only choice. It also saddened her that his pain had been increasing to this point and she hadn't noticed.
Cameron finally met House's eyes. He seemed to be waiting for her to give an opinion. She wasn't even sure what the trial was that Dr. Jessup was running but if it was this important to House then it was important to her too. She also realized that she'd made a decision. She nodded. House turned and nodded to Dr. Jessup.
Dr. Jessup handed Cameron a file outlining the clinic trial he was running. Engrossed in the details of his treatment, which involved the removal of damaged nerve endings and grafting over the remaining areas to cut off the nerve pathway sending pain signals, Cameron was only peripherally aware of House and Dr. Jessup discussing pain management options while House was being monitored for admission to the trial. Cameron sensed rather than saw House tense and focused in on the conversation.
Dr. Jessup was proposing the use of a fentanyl patch for pain. Although his doses would be carefully monitored, Cameron understood completely why House would be uncomfortable with any narcotic treatment. It was just too easy to slide back down that slippery slope. She reached out and squeezed his hand. House nodded at her and squeezed back before releasing her hand and telling Dr. Jessup he was a recovering addict and would prefer not to use a narcotic prescription. They finally settled on a gabapentin and amitriptyline combination.
Standing in the hall outside Dr. Jessup's office, gripping the information Dr. Jessup had given her like a life preserver in a maelstrom, Cameron waited while House made a follow up appointment. He entered the hall and stood before her.
"Dr. House," Price called from the end of the hall. House gritted his teeth and frustration flooded his face. "Dr. House, excuse me. We have a patient. Good morning, Dr. Cameron."
"Thanks for the consult," House said quietly, and Cameron only nodded. What needed to be said was not for an audience.
Hours later, well past the time when Cameron would have gone home, House finally returned to his office. Their patient was stable, for the moment, and House was exhausted. Foreman, Jasper and Price had just gone home and House felt, although he would never admit it, they had done well today. They still didn't have a diagnosis, but not for lack of trying. Too bad Price hadn't read any text books on metabolic disorders.
House limped into his office slowly and stopped just inches inside the door. His eyes were drawn to it immediately. It was only about an inch square. Just a small black box, sitting innocuously in the middle of his desk. But that small black box currently captivated his attention in a way that little else ever had. He stood and stared at it for fully two minutes, almost as though he were waiting for it to do something. He slowly limped through the room, around the desk and to his chair, where he settled himself and leaned forward, never once taking his eyes off that box.
He was stunned, and House was rarely stunned. Maybe he was just a little too damaged for even Cameron to handle. He reached his right hand out with painstaking care and let it hover over the box momentarily. Touching it would mean it was really there, and its presence made her decision real. He closed his eyes and cursed his damn, stupid cowardice. He opened his eyes and lifted the box from the desk gingerly. At that moment, his computer dinged to indicate he had new email. It was enough of a distraction to tear his eyes from that cursed box since he'd entered the room. Glancing at the computer he saw his email was from Cameron.
House had never been dumped via email before, and he lamented the day when at least your 'Dear John' letter would be tear-stained and smell slightly of your lover's perfume. Switching the box to his left hand, House clicked open the email from Cameron, wondering what she would possibly type him that she couldn't say. There was no message, only an attachment. House clicked it open and music poured from the computer's speakers.
Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married
Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married
Gee I really love you and we're gonna get married
Going to the Chapel of Love
Laughing a slightly mad sort of laugh, House opened the box. It was empty.
A/N: Sorry there was such a delay, I hate it when real life gets in the way of what's really important:) So I decided to post two chapters at once to make up for it. The lyrics in this chapter are from 'Going to the Chapel' by The Dixie Cups.