Choux Pastry Heart Chapter 10: Many the Miles, a house, m.d. fanfic

A/N: I know, it's been FOREVER. My apologies. My thanks to all readers/reviewers/silent subscribers. I don't know if I can call her a beta, but my thanks to iyimgrace (who also deserves credit for the last couple sentences) for providing encouragement, inspiration, and writer's-block therapy. Cheers!

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Sairah had to change out of the cool riding gear, much to her disappointment. But she entered the conference room on the fifth floor, in a red silk blouse, dark gray slacks and flats. Fifteen minutes early. The OBNN department was going to have its first meeting, along with her formal introduction to the board by Dr. Cuddy. After inspecting her nails and going over the file in front of her for the millionth time, the door suddenly burst open.

Dr. Cuddy strode in, and the rest of the members filed in after her. Sairah remained standing until gestured to do otherwise by Dr. Wilson.

She scanned the room, mentally identifying every member of the board and the department, trying to fight off a smile as she recalled Greg's 'supplementary comments'.

James smiled at her, and Cuddy had come around to squeeze her shoulder and whisper in her ear.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Sairah replied.

"You're going to do great," the older woman said, before clearing her throat and facing the people that had assembled.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Board and of the OB, NN, and GYN departments, we are here to meet our newest addition. You might have seen Dr. Sairah Khan around the hospital during the week she needed to find and settle into a place of residence..."

She tuned the older doctor out in favor of observing her new department. Sairah knew everybody's names after studying the personnel files James was kind enough to pull for her. She noticed a blond make a late entrance as Cuddy finished speaking and gestured her to stand. She cleared her throat.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, colleagues and superiors. My name is Sairah Khan. I graduated from Oxford University, and did my residency there as well, which is why I write with the seemingly erroneous use of vowels, some of you'll find. I'm a board certified gynecologist, and I have a double specialty in Neo-Natal Surgery, and High-Risk Obstetrics. I was hired to manage the obstetrics and neo-natal divisions, as well as help Dr. Brown in anything he needs overseeing the Women's Clinic and gynecology department. I look forward to familiarizing myself with all of you; my hope for this department is to turn it into a well-oiled machine that provides patients of any age with the care they deserve. Of course, if the rankings improve, then who would we be to complain?" She smiled at the room, taking the time to make eye contact with each of colleagues.

"My predecessor, I was informed, was not known for his stellar communication skills, and I want to make crystal clear that my door is open for those who wish to enter the war-zone that is my office right now." A sigh of relief escaped at the sight of smiles and chuckles. "Please, feel free to sound off. Many of you are my seniors, and I am more than humbled to be afforded the opportunity to work with everybody present. Everybody deserves a voice, as far as I'm concerned, and yours will be heard if and when you choose to use it. I hope I get the opportunity to converse at leisure with every one of you as well as see you in action. I very much look forward to working with you all. Thank you."

She smiled at the polite applause and stood as the Board members filed out, shaking each of their hands. The departmental meeting would start in ten minutes, Cuddy had informed the rest of her audience, who had dispersed. Wilson strode up to her and stuck his hand out.

Laughing, she shook his hand, kissed his cheek and sat on the table she was leaning on.

"Nicely done," Wilson told her as he joined her on the table.

"Thanks. Let's see if I survive everybody else," she replied.

"Why?"

"Greg showed me to the OB lounge right after my interview..."

"Ah," he nodded sagely, smiling at the huff of laughter.

"Yeah."

Remy Hadely was late. Remy Hadely's annoying boyfriend insisted on making her late. Remy Hadely had a patient.

Remy Had--

She shook herself. Oh, balls to this, she thought as she jogged up the stairs. Pausing at the door that led her to the fourth floor, she tugged at her clothes, trying to de-wrinkle them some. Remy walked past the elevator, almost missing two tow-headed doctors walk into the same one. She did a double take, and smirked.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall of that elevator.

Robert Chase had his nose in a file when the elevator doors closed. It'd be nice if I know a little something about Mr. Gallstones, he thought, before I spend an hour…

… wasting his time at the OB/NN/GYN departmental staff meeting that started in fifteen minutes. Why was he going?

No clue.

A nervous clearing of the throat did nothing to break his concentration. That was accomplished by a wave of a familiar smell: metal, fatigue, assorted body fluids... and lavender.

His head snapped up to see an uncomfortable Allison Cameron, leaning against the other side of the—shit. — otherwise unoccupied elevator, studying the glowing buttons with interest.

He cleared his throat.

"Hi."

She turned towards him, eyes… guilty? He watched her expand, taking a fortifying breath.

"Hey, Chase." He cringed inwardly.

Hey, Chase.

Hey, Cameron.

Hey, Foreman. House in yet?

One of the things that irritated him the most about their relationship was her inability to call him by his fucking name. Chase laughed to himself. A commitment-phobic woman… he never thought that would happen. His eyes darkened, as he remembered her dumbstruck expression in the lobby the other day. When House…

No, not commitment phobic. She's just not with the right person.

They had a fight before going on a vacation a couple of months ago… when she stayed back to work with House. That was when he realized… if she meant it when she said that it was not about their ex-boss, he knew. He knew, even when he kneeled in front of her, taking her hand. He knew when she laughed and cried and said yes.

She might have been… but he wasn't The One.

The impulse to fill the awkward silence broke his reverie.

"So…"

Nervous laughter.

He extended his hand.

"Ladies first."

"Chase…" she started. As if she heard him before, the form of address changed. "Rob."

House was pacing the lab, occasionally stopping to check Thirteen's cultures. Damn. Damn! He could feel the answer at the forefront of his brain, just waiting to come out… but something was stopping him.

And if his subconscious is stopping him, then he must definitely be missing something.

Damn!

"Let's take this party outside, kids." He started towards the door. "Daddy needs some air."

They were making their way towards the lobby when Wilson came out of the clinic. What stopped House from greeting him as normal was the sudden reappearance of the green tie. House gaped. The green tie. The green tie.

He had stopped in the middle of the hallway, nearly avoiding a comical collision with the fellows; he stood stock still, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide.

Sairah was following him out of the clinic, hand on his arm, laughing at something that was apparently in the file that she held. Wilson had a huge smile on his face, blissfully oblivious to the whispering that had already started. Wilson turned to her, saying something, evidently taking his leave. Sai headed towards the nurse's station to talk to Brenda, who had beckoned her over. House's eyes narrowed, as Wilson walked towards him.

"Take five," he barked, without turning to his fellows.

He strode up to Wilson and jovially put an arm around him, leading him to the elevators.

"I'm so, so…" she paused. A huff of sardonic laughter escaped. "I don't think that my apologizing to you will fix anything. It won't, I know that. But you should know that I am sorry. Incredibly sorry. I wanted a no-strings attached, casual relationship, and when I proposed to take it further, I really thought I was ready. I really thought, that the flippancy and levity that I treated our relationship before was a sign of maturing, of growing out of my insecurities and fears about relationships. You deserve much, much better than just a drawer, Rob. I wouldn't go so far as to propose friendship, but you're a wonderful man and a great surgeon, and an important part of my life." She took a deep breath as the elevator stopped. Walking up to him, she kissed his cheek. And walked out, looking straight ahead.

She wouldn't know she left a gaping Chase behind her, shell-shocked by her mirror-rehearsed speech.

House's frown deepened as he watched Cameron coming from the other set of elevators, swiping at her eyes. Her almost collision with a fluoroscope was nearly enough to distract him from the mission at hand.

Right.

"Interesting day at the clinic?"

He dragged Wilson, still flustered from the sudden ambush, over to the elevators. Pressing the button so that no one else would get a chance to get in, he turned to his best friend, cutting off his reply.

"Is that it? Amber-mourning period over?"

"What?"

"I mean, I knew, intellectually, that you couldn't keep it in your pants, but seriously."

"What the hell are you talking about? If this guerilla attack conversation could even be considered talking."

"Oh, snap."

"What is your problem?" An exasperated Wilson had his hands on his hips.

"You, Wilson. I will say this once, and once only. Stay away from her. Maintain a ten yard distance. No foreign film festivals, no Hitchcock marathons, no… whatever it is that you two do."

"Who? What? Hitchcock…"

"Sairah. Sairah Kathleen R.." He coughed. "… Khan. You know, female of Eastern European and Asian origin, five foot seven, shoulder-length black hair, doctor to parasites and their hosts. Sai. Who you will stay far, far away from. Little Jimmy will not be making his rounds near my goddaughter, do you hear me?"

The elevator doors opened at the fourth floor again, leaving House to stride to his office.

"Little?"

House stopped.

Little.

He yanked his phone out to call Foreman, just as the parents of his patient entered his line of sight.

"Call whoever's on call at Endocrinology. Call Cuddy, too, just in case." Pause. "We need somebody to confirm Hypopituitary Dwarfism."

They had been poking and prodding a newly adopted two year old, brought into the clinic the previous day by his new parents concerned with his growth. House, in his usual style had whisked his one-way ticket out of Dante's eleventh Circle of Hell, and started his usual battery of tests.

He saw Foreman walking towards him. Ah… he always loved demonstrating his genius.

She didn't know why she stayed so late. She could have just gone home, gone to bed, and watched Will and Grace re-runs with her trusty friends, Ben and Jerry.

But now, at 10:00 pm, Sairah Khan was pacing the NICU, anxiously monitoring her first-ever Harlequin baby.

Damn!

A sickly looking baby girl was born the previous day with obvious symptoms of respiratory distress, rigid lips, and disturbingly yellow skin. As soon as her departmental meeting was over, she had just stepped out of the conference room when one of her residents paged a 911.

The hysterical mother took hours to calm, and it fell upon Sairah to explain to her that while it wasn't jaundice, it was something much, much worse.

She sighed, whipping out her cell phone. And promptly put it back. Whereupon she took it out again. And put it back. After a minute of contemplation, she pulled it out again, stepping outside to dial the numbers.

Sairah waited for the phone to finish ringing, and the message-less beep to follow.

"Just ringing to see if you're up. I'm still here, monitoring a patient— a harlequin fetus was born yesterday…" Click.

The gruff voice was music to her ears.

"Prognosis?"

"18 max."

"I have ginger, but you're gonna have to bring the tea."

She sighed again, quite explosively. "Thank you."

Later, as she was sprawled on Greg's couch, nursing a cup of strong chai, listening to the story of how he and Wilson met, something struck her. "I have a question."

"I might not want to answer."

"Did you say something to James yesterday? I saw him in the clinic today, and he didn't even look at me. It's like he saw me coming, and left."

"Of course I said something. He's my best friend. We say stuff to each other all the time. We Americans call it talking."

"Oh, stop it, Greg. We were talking, too, James and I. Not having kinky sex on the exam tables—" A cookie to the face interrupted her. And dramatic gagging sounds.

"And besides," she continued, "Whether I was or not, I'm a big girl now, PG, so it's none of your business."

"It is so my business, when I see Dr. Panty Peeler putting the moves my godkid. I mean, God, talk about cradle-robbing…."

"Isn't it the same difference between you and Allison?" Sairah giggled at the sight of chai being sprayed all over the coffee table.