Chapter 33

Thanks to the grace of a god in whom she did not believe, Cameron survived the week of Cuddy's absence without burning down the hospital, in either the literal or the figurative sense. Price had decided that he was ready to return to work, which meant House was coming back to PPTH as well. Plans were being made to move what few pieces of furniture Cameron was keeping to House's apartment. All in all, things were looking up. That should have been Cameron's first clue trouble was near at hand.

Thursday morning saw House limping through the doors of the hospital lobby, his normal cane-aided swagger toned down a few degrees. He was back; no need to piss off the boss on the first day. There was always tomorrow. House limped through the clinic and into the administrative offices to be greeted by piles of boxes.

Cameron was nowhere in sight, so House limped around the boxes and entered Cuddy's office. Confusion spread across his features when he found stacks of boxes in Cuddy's office as well.

"Moving?" he asked stupidly.

"What gave it away?" Cuddy retorted, without looking up from her paperwork. House positioned himself in front of her desk and dropped three envelopes on her desk. Cuddy looked at him warily. "What's this?"

"Letters of apology," House said.

"You're kidding," Cuddy said, clearly not believing that House would have actually followed her instructions.

"Yes, they're actually copies of the petitions I've sent to board for Naked Wednesday, Naked Thursday and Naked Friday," House snarked at her.

"I didn't think you'd really do it," Cuddy breathed.

"You didn't give me much choice," House shot at her.

"Like that ever made a difference before," Cuddy muttered under her breath. "Thank you. I'll see that they get these. Now, it shouldn't be necessary, but since it's YOU … you will not, let me stress NOT, under ANY circumstances or in ANY manner harass Dr. Price about his sexual orientation for the remainder of his employ at this hospital."

"So, once he's left the hospital, I can harass him all I want?" House asked cheekily.

"House," Cuddy growled. House only grinned and held up his hands in surrender and to indicate he was kidding.

"Seriously, what's with all the boxes?" House asked, nudging a pile of precariously stacked boxes with the end of his cane.

"We're moving," Cuddy said, wincing in anticipation of the crash.

"Who's we?"

"The administrative offices," Cuddy said. "We're moving to the unused space down the hall next to the physical therapy department. I'll have a larger office with a small conference room and Cameron will finally have an office of her own."

"How did you talk the board into that?" House asked. He didn't really care, but something in the way Cuddy smiled made him think there was more to this than just a bigger office.

"We're expanding the clinic," Cuddy said, an evil glint in her eye at House's horrified reaction.

"You do know that means more sick people?" House asked in disgust and terror.

"I do," Cuddy replied. "We're adding two new exam rooms and a proper records room. More exam rooms mean less waiting time for the patients."

"And, coincidentally, more doctors to staff them?" House asked.

"Hey, what do you know, you're right!" Cuddy exclaimed happily. House made a face at her; he had nothing sarcastic to say. The thought of more clinic duty was enough to whither even his sarcasm muscle. House retreated slowly, thankful he'd eaten a light breakfast.

House limped into his office, a puzzled expression on his face. Two different nurses had welcomed him back on his way upstairs. The fact that two nurses voluntarily spoke to him was scary enough, but coupled with pleasantries it was downright terrifying. Between that and the prospect of more clinic hours, House was feeling a little nauseous. He dropped his bag in the yellow chair and limped to the conference room for a cup of coffee he hoped he could keep down.

Price, Foreman and Jasper all looked up at him when he entered. House had already decided the only way he was going to not make fun of Price was to not speak at all. Cuddy would give them their letters of apology anyway; he had nothing more to say. Six eyes needled him constantly while he took down his red mug and filled it. He grabbed a packet of a sugar substitute and was already stirring it into his coffee before he realized what he'd done. Damn Cameron.

House took his coffee and limped back to his office. In the conference room, Price just shook his head. He hadn't been exactly sure what to expect this morning, but nothing hadn't been it. Jasper gave Price a sympathetic shrug; at least House hadn't belittled him. Foreman sighed. The last thing he wanted was to go talk to House now, but it was already Thursday and he needed that paperwork signed. Resignedly, he heaved himself out of his chair and headed into the office.

"Disappointed?" House asked as Foreman entered. "Were you hoping I'd call him a fairy and get myself fired so you could finally take over?"

"No," Foreman said. "I don't really care what you do as long as you sign my resignation."

"Your what?" House asked.

"Do you even look at your desk?" Foreman demanded in annoyance. He stepped up to House's desk and rifled through the mountain of papers until he found the orange file from Human Resources. He thrust it at House.

"So the last little chickie is flying the coop?" House drawled. "Sure you're ready to be out there on your own?"

"Yes, sign it," Foreman said tiredly. He'd been waiting a week to get this paperwork back from House. He was scheduled to start his new job in two weeks and he still had to pack and find a new apartment, none of which he could do until House accepted his resignation.

"Got a new job?" House asked, taking a pen from the cup on his desk and toying with it.

"St. Augustine's," Foreman replied. "The Chief Neurologist there is retiring in five years; I'll get his department when he goes."

"St. Augustine's is a small hospital," House commented. "Five years is a long time."

"I'll be a department head at forty. St. Augustine's has a good reputation," Foreman defended his choice.

"But that's not the real reason you took the job," House pressed.

"My mom is worse, it's close to home," Foreman admitted. He hadn't wanted to discuss his private affairs with House, but it was worthless to try and hold him off, especially when he needed that signature.

"Good enough for me," House said. He signed the form with a flourish and handed the file back to Foreman. Foreman nodded his thanks and turned to exit. House waited until Foreman was almost out the door before calling him back. "Foreman! I was a department head a thirty eight and a half," House informed him. Foreman just shook his head. Some things never change.

House limped across the balcony and over the wall to Wilson's office just before lunch. Wilson hadn't checked up on him at all during his week long absence. House assumed Wilson was pissed and waiting for an apology, which House would have to fake his way through in order to get his lunch. He hated that, but Wilson was needy. What could he do?

House opened the door and sat down on Wilson's couch. Wilson didn't look up from his desk. Oh, Jimmy's in a snit, House thought. I'd better make this good.

"So, I heard from the night janitor …" House began. He paused for Wilson's reaction. 'I heard from the night janitor' was basically their code phrase for 'I got some juicy sex gossip about somebody gettin' freaky'. It never failed to get a reaction from either of them, until today.

"Right, so the night janitor let it slide that the sleep lab techs are renting out the empty rooms downstairs for $20 an hour," House continued. This was true; House had already paid the tech $40 for a 'reservation' and was just trying to convince Cameron not to let his money go to waste.

Wilson finished the chart he was working on. House expected a reaction at this point, but was let down. Wilson picked up the next chart from the pile and began working on it, never once lifting his eyes from the desk or acknowledging House in any way.

"Okay, you're pissed, I get it," House said. He sighed and looked down at the floor. He hated apologizing, hated it, and he'd already had to do it three times today in writing. A fourth was almost more than his ego could take. "You know, the whole thing really had nothing to do with Cuddy, uh, Lisa."

Wilson stopped writing and House thought he was off the hook for a second and a half. But when the fourth second and the fifth ticked by without any word from Wilson, House looked up. At least Wilson's icy glare would be an acknowledgement he was there. Wilson's eyes remained steadily trained at the desk, and when the seventh second ticked he began writing again.

"You're not pissed," House said quietly. "You're never quiet when you're pissed. Or furious, or morally outraged or any other descriptive words that usually apply."

Wilson finished his second chart and replaced it with a new one. House was now genuinely concerned. Wilson was never, ever silent about House's antics. Even when they were directed at him. Something about this was different and House only liked different when it came to patients and symptoms. Otherwise different was hard and scary and almost never good for him.

"You're calm," House noted. "You're not flushed or breathing heavy. You're not gripping your pen in frustration or boring a hole through your charts."

Wilson continued to make notes on the chart in front of him. This was seriously disturbing. House leaned forward from the couch and lifted his cane to the top of the desk. He waved it in front of Wilson's face a few times.

"Have you gone deaf? I know you aren't blind, or you wouldn't be charting," House said. "Amnesia? I'm hurt that you'd forget your bestest friend in the whole wide world, but it's not your fault, you have a neurological problem."

Wilson placed the last of his charts in his outbox. He clicked his pen closed and returned it to its place among the others in his pocket protector. He logged off from his computer and rolled down his shirt sleeves, buttoning the cuffs closed fussily. He stood from his chair and smoothed down his tie. Finally, he looked at House.

"I'm done," Wilson said. He said it quietly, calmly.

"Great, let's get lunch," House said.

"No. I'm done with you," Wilson said. He lifted his lab coat from the rack and left House sitting on the couch in his office, his cane tapping the floor.

House sat in Wilson's office and waited for half an hour before he finally gave up and decided Wilson wasn't coming back. He limped his way tiredly to the elevators and rode down to the lobby. He crossed the clinic, interrupted only by Nurse Katie's 'Welcome back Dr. House!' and planted himself in Cameron's office. Cameron continued typing after he came in; acknowledging his dramatic entrances and exits only encouraged him.

"Wilson's done with me," House announced.

"Wilson's done doing what with you?" Cameron asked, glancing away from her computer for a brief moment.

"Not doing me, done with me. I went to apologize," Cameron raised an eyebrow. House huffed. "I went to smooth things over and he said he's done with me."

"What else did he say?" Cameron asked, typing furiously.

"Nothing," House sighed. Cameron stopped typing and looked at him. She was surprised at how serious he looked.

"He had nothing else to say?" Cameron asked again. "That's weird."

"I think he means it this time," House said quietly, shifting in his chair to look out into the clinic.

"So, he's been done with you before," Cameron said. She was concerned. His leg was getting worse. Cameron knew if he qualified for the trial he'd want the surgery. If things went well, she could handle it. It was the surgery not going well that scared her.

"A couple times he's 'washed his hands of me'. Once he even tried to 'wash me out of his hair', but he never … seemed like he meant it. Cuddy's over it, you're over it, hell Price is even over it! Why is he being such a … such a …?" House's voice trailed off.

"Why is he putting Cuddy before you?" Cameron asked gently. House rolled his eyes. He hated when she was right, which was becoming all too frequent in his opinion. He looked away again to avoid having to answer that question when his eyes fell on Nurse Katie at the clinic reception area. Something clicked.

"Cameron," House said slowly. "How did you and Cuddy convince the board not to fire me?"

"What?" Cameron asked. She had returned to typing but her fingers stuttered across the keys at that question.

"I still had a month left on my probation when this all went down. The board should have fired me outright. How did you convince them not to, once they'd seen my suspension?"

Cameron closed her eyes and House clenched his teeth in anger. She was a terrible liar, really the worst he'd ever seen. She hadn't blinked; she'd closed her eyes. That meant she knew she was caught. She gave up the lie before she'd even said it.

"You lied to me," House said.

"No," Cameron said. "I … just didn't tell you the whole truth."

"You said you couldn't overturn my suspension," House argued.

"That was true," Cameron hedged.

"In what sense?"

Cameron sighed in defeat. "In the sense that you were never officially suspended." House just stared at her in stunned disbelief. "We couldn't suspend you and protect Price …"

"So you lied to me," House interrupted angrily.

"Yes," Cameron said. She turned to face him. She wasn't proud of lying to him; she'd hated every second of it. But she still believed they'd done the best they could in a nearly impossible situation. "We told the board you and Price had influenza."

House nodded. That explained why people welcomed him back. "Cuddy must be so proud," he spat at her, as though the words were left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What would have had me do?" Cameron demanded. She'd known he would be angry, but she hadn't counted on it reminding her how angry she was at what he'd done. "Let Lisa suspend you and have the board fire you? Ruin Price's reputation and his career before he could even set up his own practice? You didn't exactly leave me with a lot of choices, House."

"It didn't have anything to do with you!" House exploded, thumping his cane hard into the carpet and waving his free arm.

"Who do you think talked Lisa into this? Who do you think lied to the board about it and saved your sorry ass, again? Me and Jimmy, that's who!"

Cameron's words hit House hard. This was now the second time she'd saved his job. And Wilson? Really, House couldn't begin to count the number of times Wilson had bailed his ass out of some situation or another. Sometimes literally. Damn these people and their caring. What was he going to do when she finally got fed up with him too?