Intense
—passionate in emotion, thought, or activity; occurring or existing in a high degree; very strong, violent, extreme, sharp, vivid, etc.—
Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. and no copyright infringement is intended. Written with all respect towards the creators of House, M.D.
Chapter 3: Incompatibility
"Did you see the necklace he bought her?" the ancient nurse muttered to her young friend, not noticing the reaction her words caused as Chase's head jerked sharply upward.
"She's only been wearing it all the time," the medical assistant replied with a roll of her eyes. "I wish my boyfriend gave me stuff like that. How do you know it was from House anyway? I doubt he's the type to think of expensive little gifts."
At the mention of House's name, the nurse cleared her throat meaningfully with a tilt of her head towards Chase's direction. The three resumed their work in silence punctuated only by the patient's beeping heart monitor. Despite himself, Chase's curiosity overcame the strict rules he had set on himself and had abided by for some weeks.
"Well, you guys don't have to stop chatting for my sake," he offered, eliciting a laugh from the nurse. Her face creased into wrinkles as she smiled and she looked surprisingly like the stereotypical kindly grandmother.
"What do you think about it then?" the assistant asked as she handed the nurse a prepared needle.
"About what?" Chase ruefully reminded himself that curiosity killed the cat. Then again, no one ever heard about the second part to that particular saying: satisfaction brought him back.
"Dr. House and Dr. Cameron, of course."
The subject was a prime piece of gossip, or maybe it only seemed that way because he heard it everywhere. Chase gave a non-committal shrug. "What did he get her?"
"It's so like a guy not to notice," the women practically chorused together.
"You work with her every day and don't notice what's around her neck?" added the medical assistant. Chase was about to defend his skills of observation when the nurse interrupted.
"At least it proves that he doesn't try to look down her shirt," she quipped, much to the amusement of her friend.
Cursing his fair complexion and embarrassing tendency to blush—yes, blush, a habit that seemed to have followed him from childhood to adulthood—when the subject included a certain colleague, Chase did his best to ignore the feminine laughter that filled the room. Ironically, he was saved by none other than the patient, who had just then decided to regain consciousness. Or so Chase thought, until he heard the old man speak.
"Thar pretty gal with the blue eyes?" Mr. McGinnes mumbled, lecherous eyes rolling to Chase. "You there boy, listen up! You've no idea what you're missing…"
xxxxx
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
House and his whiteboard marker made almost a hypnotizing team, quickly inducing sleep in all of his listeners. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was five in the morning on a Monday.
TAP-TAP-TAP!
Two heads jerked up, one dark, one light, at the harsh sound right next to their ears. Identical winces met House's cruel use of the marker.
"I don't see why we have to be awake when she's not even here yet," Chase grumbled. "Oh wait, I bet you just like torturing your team until we're all zombie-like from sleep deprivation."
"He thinks it's funny," Foreman said with a yawn. "Seriously, when is Cameron going to get here? We've been sitting for what, fifteen minutes, now? Feels more like an hour."
"I see a familiar set of bangs heading this way," Chase said as he looked through the glass of the conference room. "Unless I'm hallucinating, which isn't as unlikely as it should be."
"You're late," House accused Cameron the moment she opened the door and walked in. Foreman and Chase, having been through similar experiences before, smiled smugly at each other and sat back to watch the show.
"Car trouble," Cameron replied, not in the least fazed. "I had to have a friend drop me off."
"Well, now that my immunologist is finally here, we can get to work." House hmmed, popped open the marker he'd been tapping, and began to write out symptoms on the board.
Foreman's jaw dropped and he turned towards Chase with an incredulous look. That's it? he mouthed.
"What did you expect?" the Australian retorted, inwardly adding, she's his girlfriend after all.
Cameron leaned close to House and a brilliant sparkle momentarily blinded Chase. His eyes widened as he took in the diamond drop hanging from a delicate silver chain around Cameron's neck. No way. House could not have bought that for her. That was impossible. Impossible!
He thought about the nurse yesterday and stared at the proof of House's feelings for Cameron dangling before his eyes. House wasn't a romantic. Period. So why on earth did he give Cameron that necklace, practically a symbol of possession?
Foreman punched him on the shoulder, startling him out of his confused thoughts. Chase looked up to see all three fellow doctors staring at him, Foreman with amusement, House with irritation, and Cameron with some indecipherable expression. Suddenly he realized what it must have looked like—as if he'd been ogling Cameron's…
"Just, ah—" he choked out. "Admiring your necklace, that's all."
"It's an heirloom," Cameron said, deciding to help him out by glossing over the situation. "My mother just passed it on to me recently; it's been in the family for ages."
Chase looked at her inanely for a few seconds before House set them all to work again. His attention was divided, however, even as he tried to think of diagnoses that would explain the patient's predicament.
Well now, there was a nurse and an assistant that he'd very much like to work with today… Of course, it was his own fault anyway. He'd just jumped to conclusions. Any idiot could see that House couldn't possibly have bought something like that for a girlfriend.
Annoyed with himself—for the billionth time this week—Chase set himself to task with furious determination.
xxxxx
"Foreman, think this over before you suggest it to House—" Chase entreated as he hurried after the other doctor, who was convinced that he'd come up with the right diagnosis. Except it only applied to three out of seven symptoms. House would have a good laugh over this one; Foreman was usually great but today his mind obviously was on things other than the practice of medicine. "It's only right if you rule out the skin rashes, and what do you think is responsible for—"
They turned around the corner and froze as they took in the very visible scene playing out on the other side of the clear glass, inside the office. Thought completely forgotten, Chase had the sense to grab Foreman and pull him back around the corner, where they gave each other amazed looks.
Hesitantly they peered around the corner again, but they could have stepped out and danced the tango together with no difference, for all the attention the people of interest were giving them. Cameron and House were standing close to each other and Cameron was saying something, clearly upset.
House shook his head and moved away, and Cameron stiffened, calling out something. House responded with more anger than Chase had ever seen in all the time he'd been working with him, slamming his cane down, the sound penetrating loudly even through the glass. Chase half expected the floor to crack, and from the gasp he heard from Foreman right behind him, the other doctor must have been sharing the same thought.
Cameron had turned away, two bright flares of color on her cheeks, distinct in her otherwise very pale face. Her eyes glittered with hurt and anger. It was like watching some sort of soap opera, except the acting couldn't possibly be this bad. The glass had insulated most of the sound, except for the few words that came out unintelligibly but clearly some sort of damaging, meant-to-hurt kind of phrase.
Foreman gestured for Chase to follow him and they rounded the corner and stood silently watching, prudence completely forgotten. It was too fascinating in a horrible sort of way, like watching an accident about to happen.
Cameron had turned towards them, and House had turned this way as well. For a moment the four of them stared at each other, two on each side of the clear glass. Two suffering, two surprised.
Then Cameron stormed past Chase and Foreman as if they didn't exist, and disappeared down the hall they had just come from. She'd obviously had tears streaming down her cheeks.
They turned back to House and he was now sitting with his head propped on his hands, staring intently at the whiteboard that they used to write out symptoms and possible cures, looking for all the world as if nothing had just happened.
xxxxx
Her eyes were disturbingly red and she looked pale and tired. She turned away and started fussing with some papers or something, as if she didn't want Chase to see. All right, if it made it easier for her, he'd pretend he couldn't see the glistening liquid on her cheeks. Since she was turned away from him, Chase could study her to his heart's content, rather than covertly like he had been doing. He was struck by the loneliness in her posture, the graceful lines of her beautiful body that somehow spoke of sadness, as well as an enduring kind of strength of spirit.
He really wanted to say something, maybe offer her a little comfort, but it was too awkward. Especially since he and Foreman had walked in on it like that. Even so…
"Do you need anything?"
Her head came up and she turned around, hand coming up to swipe at her eyes. She looked confused. The diamond drop that he'd been admiring (and obsessing over) earlier now hung forlornly like a crystallized teardrop. "What?"
He realized what he'd said and cursed himself for just blurting out whatever was on his mind like that. "I just meant, is there anything I can do?"
"No, not really," she said, but she gave him a watery smile as a thank you. "I'd rather you not…mention it."
"Oh. I'm sorry." Such pointless words, and he should have known better than to bring up what was clearly the cause of her misery. But for some reason, maybe the dark hurt he saw in her eyes, he was prompted to try again.
"Come on, our shifts are over in," he looked down at his watch and was pleasantly surprised, "right now, actually. Let's go for a cup of coffee." He could see she was about to refuse, no doubt wanting to go home, where she would probably cry on her pillow in her lonely apartment. But sometimes it was better having someone near, just to know you're not alone in the world and that someone cares about you, however shallow friendship might be in comparison to the kind of relationship you lost.
It was the part of him that had almost resulted him in becoming a priest that urged him on now. He hesitated, and then added softly, "Please?"
She looked startled, and then gave a low laugh that was self-deprecating and wasn't happy at all. "I look that bad, huh?"
"No, nothing like that. You're always beautiful," he said hurriedly. "I just thought you might want some company, not like anything, just a friendly ear if you want to talk." They weren't that close as friends. In fact, he doubted that he even made it onto her list of friends. Cameron was just nice to everyone, so he'd probably overstepped his boundaries, and now he was babbling. "It's fine if you don't want to, I mean…" he said in an attempt to amend the situation.
"Yes."
"—what?"
"All right. Let's go," she said, her chin up, and just the tilt of her head told Chase that she was challenging herself. There was that determined light in her eyes, like the sort that she had when dealing with a particularly difficult patient. She stopped pretending to organize the paperwork and walked over to the door. "Coffee sounds wonderful right now."
"I'll give you a ride home later, too, if you tell me where you live," he added, remembering what she had said that morning about her friend dropping her off.
She nodded, and he escorted her to his car.
xxxxx
He drove Cameron back to her apartment afterward, parked on the curb, and then got out and went to stand with her in front of her door. No, not all of the hurt had left her, but he'd managed to make her laugh once or twice with his stories, and she looked more alive than before, less stricken. At least it was a small improvement, right? He hadn't made it worse, at any rate.
Then there were the little things that usually didn't mean much, but seemed terribly vital and important to Chase. There was a sort of intimacy in sitting together in the corner of the room. The appraising look she'd given him when they had both reached for the bill, and had touched hands briefly.
Then, in the darkness and privacy of the car, the subtle tension that came from an acknowledged mutual attraction that neither would act on. The kind of I-know-that-you-know situation, which warmed him more than the coffee, but at the same time made him feel like scum. It couldn't have been a worse time for Cameron to be looking at him like that, but everything in him was telling him to take the opportunity, because there probably (or, sure as hell) wouldn't be another one. Of course, then not only would she despise him, he would despise himself.
Just before she walked up the few steps she turned to him and blurted the main cause of her worry, once the first wave of pain was over. "I don't know if I can face him." There was obviously no need to ask who she was referring to. "I was thinking…" she trailed off, shoulders slumping just a fraction.
"What is it, Allison?" He'd never used her name like that. Even to each other they were Chase and Cameron, it was just the way the medical world worked. It seemed wrong to use her real name, and yet it sounded right, too. Distance, he chanted to himself.
"Maybe I should get another job, someplace else." She choked a little on the words. "They wanted me, earlier. Maybe the position's still open."
"Do you really want to leave Plainsboro?" He strove for a neutral tone, like he was ready to support her either way. But inside he wasn't feeling like that at all. She was going to leave them, leave the team because of House.
"No," she said. "I love it there. But Greg…" she bit her lip at her slip, and her eyes glittered with a soft sheen of liquid again. Apparently the medical system be damned when it came to relationships, Chase noted rather crossly. "With House, it might be awkward now."
She turned away and he thought that was the end, but she spoke again in a low voice. "I don't think I could last for another round with him. I left once, it should be easier the second time, don't you think?" Cameron gave him a weak smile. "You can say I've had practice."
"Don't go," he said with a quiet intensity, accent more prominent with his emotions. Even wrapped up in her heartbreak, Cameron sensed something, but she didn't know what to make of it. So like it had been for the rest of the evening, she pretended not to notice, and Chase pretended along with her.
"He won't miss me, I assure you."
"He will. You're special to him." It was hard to say it, but it was still true. He barely smiled. "Even if he won't, I will. Foreman will."
"Well, you've had practice too, and I didn't see you guys making a big deal of it then," she said rather sharply.
"And how would you know?" he answered back just as cuttingly, while his heart skipped a beat.
They stood in silence for a while; he half expected her to turn around and leave, but she sighed instead. "I had so many warnings, but I'm just not a good listener, am I?"
"Don't worry." He took his hand in his and rubbed small circles in it, and then stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing. "I'll be there, too. Just call me if you ever need a buffer, okay? It's not like there's any love lost between us already, anyway."
"Yeah," she said, lost in thought. "But it's funny, I think he really does like you. I imagine if he were to adopt a son or something, he'd treat him the same way. Love from him is half torture. You know he really doesn't like you when he doesn't bother."
Chase stiffened at her mention of fathers and sons, well aware that subconsciously, he couldn't help but cast House in the role. Having firmly avoided any self-introspection for months, he wished that Cameron would direct her analysis towards someone or something else. She seemed to feel how uncomfortable he was; she looked down at their clasped hands but didn't remove her hands from his. "Chase?"
"Hhn?" He looked down at their hands too, so he wouldn't have to meet her eyes. She had very small hands with delicate fingers. All that Chase had known before was that she was precise when suturing and her hands were steady, efficient. Now he marveled that such hands were capable of so much. A tiny voice in the back of his head screamed that they shouldn't even be touching hands.
"Thanks. Thanks for everything." She squeezed his hand for a moment and gave him a smile, a real smile with confidence behind it, not just an attempt at it, and then turned to take out her keys.
"Anytime. Sweet dreams tonight." He watched her open the door and enter before he turned away and got back into his car. From the driver's seat he looked back at her and she gave a small wave before closing the door.
He kind of wished that she had called him Robert.
xxxxx
A/N: I hope you like it so far. Please review!