Cameron could feel the new doctor behind her shoulder, watching everything she was doing.
"Am I just supposed to stand around and do nothing?" she huffed, crossing her arms. "If you don't need me, don't hire me, right?"
Cameron sighed, placing a syringe to the side. "House... is kind of particular when it comes to picking team members."
Fletcher raised an eyebrow. "What, why'd he hire you?"
Well there was no way she was telling her the truth. 'He thought she was pretty'? She shook her head. "I... don't know."
"An enigma, huh? I can get behind that." She walked over, pulling up a seat.
Cameron smiled half-heartedly. "I don't think you want to get behind this one." She sterilized the needle, studying the metal tip shining under the fluorescent lights. It shook, trembling from side to side. No, her hands were shaking. It was just a routine test. Why was she nervous? "Hey, do you want to draw some blood?"
"Hm?"
She held out the syringe. "You'd be less bored, for one thing."
The blonde took it, looking slightly confused. "Sure." She rolled over to the patient, and filled the syringe in one fluid motion. "Here." She held it out, and Cameron accepted it, putting it in a sterile bag.
"Thanks."
"So... how long have you and Doctor Chase been together?"
Well then. Cameron pressed her lips together into a hard line. "I... don't know how to answer that. Sorry."
"Still figuring things out then?"
"Yeah, you could say that." Cameron stood up, walking out of the room. She really didn't want to be having this conversation right now.
"Have you guys had sex?" And that nosy girl was still there.
"Look, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop snooping around my personal life," she snapped, walking faster. She could only remember that one time when she was high on meth, but, to be fair, that was barely a memory of its own right. It had to have happened more than once, though. Otherwise this whole baby situation wouldn't make any sense.
"Well, I was just trying to be social. Sorry if I offended you."
"Right." The other doctor's mere presence seemed to make her head hurt more. She walked into the diagnostics room, noticing Foreman hunched over at the table. "Hey, I've got something for you." He didn't show any sign of comprehension, so she walked closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Foreman?"
His head rolled loosely to the side. "Oh my God," she whispered, before a soft snore cut through her words. She shook the shoulder, and he snapped awake, lifting his head up.
"Huh...? Oh, hi, Cameron. Must've... dozed off there." He rubbed his eyes, almost in an attempt to rub away the evidence of his exhaustion.
She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. "I thought you were dead for a moment."
"Nope. Not yet."
She placed the bag on the table gently. "Here. Go run some tests." She looked behind her at the younger doctor. "And take Doctor Fletcher with you." As if on cue, the other two's pagers went off simultaneously, filling the room with tiny beeping. "Or we'll see what House wants..."
He stood beneath a series of lit up diagrams, the blue light they emitted illuminating the otherwise dark room. Even in the darkness she could still make out Chase's form, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed, IV stand beside him.
"What's new?" Foreman asked, shutting the door behind the entering group.
"These," House started, pointing at the diagrams with a finger, "Are some of the results of the autopsy. Anything look funny to you guys?"
"Yes," Cameron said, walking over to Chase. "What are you doing here?"
"Physical therapy started early," he said, gesturing his head toward House.
"Better question. What are you doing here?" House said, raising his eyebrows at Cameron. "Unless you were hallucinating a little beeping thing on your waist, in that case we might have to refer you to the psych ward."
"I work here," she retorted, sitting down. "Unless Foreman suddenly doesn't remember signing a release form."
"I... what?"
"If you're not useful, you're a liability. Get out. I'll tell you when I need you." House turned away from her, pointing at the diagrams again. "What looks strange here?" he demanded, louder this time.
Foreman shook his head. "It looks fine? I didn't sign any release-"
"There. Right there." Fletcher ran up to one of the diagrams, tapping on it. "A lesion in the lower left lung."
"Exactly, Doctor Fisher."
"Fletcher."
"Yeah, whatever. So, knuckleheads, what does this mean?"
"Could mean a lot of things," Chase said, shrugging.
House gestured for him to go on. "The patient had no history of breathing problems, suggesting..."
"That this was a later development," Foreman said, arms crossed.
House nodded. "Check both our patients. Do a chest MRI, anything you can think of that would tell us the issue."
"We've been running in circles. We're not getting anywhere," Chase said, frustrated. "If you're dragging us out of bed, there better be a good reason."
"You agreed to it."
"I agreed to it because I thought you had something new! We're running all the same tests on different people. We need something definitive!"
"You ripped your stitches."
"What?!" He put a hand to his back in a panic.
"Nah, I'm kidding." Chase dropped his hand down, glowering. "Doctor Chase is not a complete idiot. But, seeing as these are different people, it makes sense to run similar tests again."
"Does that sound like House to you?" Foreman whispered, coming up to Cameron's side.
"No," she replied, confused. "It doesn't make sense for him to not have a theory by now."
"Well? Didn't you kids hear the 'go run some tests' bell? Go!"
"I don't know," he whispered, shrugging. "By the way, meet me in your room in an hour." He got up, walking out the door.
"Chase," Cameron said, stopping him in the hall. He turned, interested. "Why are you out of bed? I thought we were going to be split tasks."
Chase snuck a glance back at the dark room, before leaning in. "He's getting desperate."
She nodded. "Yeah, I can tell. Your pager's hooked on your collar."
He shrugged, looking down at it and grinning. "I'm not wearing pants," he said, raising his eyebrows to give her a look before walking off as if he hadn't said anything.
She crossed her arms, watching him go with a smirk. She could swear that man was a child sometimes.
To be fair, though, she wasn't wearing pants either.
"Hey there. I finally got some news for you," Foreman said, walking in. "After, you know, I found your file."
Cameron looked up from sitting on her bed. "What's up?"
"Well," Foreman said, taking a deep breath, "it looks like the memory loss is going to be permanent. Though I feel like you were expecting that already."
She nodded. That was what she had thought, but she still felt engulfed by the cold tendrils of disappointment.
She was sure he could see it clearly on her face, as he quickly tried to backtrack. "It's not all bad, though. The disorientation should go away, and cognitive function should return for the most part. I wouldn't even be surprised if bits and pieces started to come back here and there."
She nodded again, the cold, gnawing feeling not changing in any noticeable way. "Thanks." It sounded hollow, even to her.
Foreman stood stiffly for a moment, contemplating what to do, before sighing. "This isn't my job, but, you're not just a patient either." He shook his head. "It's going to get better. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but... it will. Trust me, I know. The only thing you can't do is give up."
That was... oddly touching. She smiled gratefully, and he returned it.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to finally get some rest for once," Foreman said. "Good night."
She watched the door close behind him before leaning back with a sigh. Concussions were boring beyond belief. Cameron wanted nothing more than to be able to curl up with a good book, watch a show on TV, anything that would pass the time faster. She closed her eyes, waiting for the world to fade away... Tomorrow would be better, she told herself. Tomorrow would be better.