Paraphrasing Freud
A.N. Happy Easter. In S1E20 'Love Hurts', Cameron reveals her interest in psychology and she paraphrases Freud. I like referencing the really early stuff, and the clip was uploaded to the House YouTube channel yesterday.
Having dumped the first load of belongings into the living room at 221B Baker Street, the pair were just about to head out again for lunch when Cameron trooped off down the hallway: "with you in a sec; just need to use the bathroom".
House ambled over to her books piled on the floor. Many of the titles were familiar from the various occasions he had browsed her shelves during their first relationship, though he did spot a few new entries, mainly novels. Buried in the piles were a couple of slightly more distressing discoveries, with names like Coping With The Pain: How To Get Over The Loss Of A Loved One and Finding Light In The Darkness. This last item sounded religious, but a quick glance at the contents page thankfully revealed nothing overtly spiritual.
There was no way to know for sure, but if House were a betting man (and he was), he would wager that these weighty tomes belonged to the period post-breakup. In the new year Cameron had mentioned the challenges she faced dealing with life apart from him. Challenges he well knew, of course—he had thrown himself into work, setting an ultimately unsustainable pace, for the same reason. Their coping mechanisms clearly differed.
Finding light in the darkness…
The thought that he had pushed her simply to pick up such depressing reading material stimulated a powerful wave of self-loathing which rolled slowly through his body.
You drove her to this just to preserve medicine. You selfish bastard.
House closed his eyes as he allowed the anger time to reach every part of his being.
Remember this feeling, Gregory. Remember it just in case you ever screw up again.
For too long, it had been she to sacrifice aspects of her life at the altar of himself. She had waited patiently for him to acclimatise to a relationship last year, despite having been in love with him for ages; she had made the effort to get to know his friends, just because; she had let him use Powell as his conference paper subject even though it risked her own wellbeing; she had agreed to their breakup purely to preserve his career and later moved departments herself; she had nursed him back to health and slept on the couch.
Cameron had done everything for him. Everything that one person could do for another.
And what have I done?
At least now his priorities were realigned in a far more healthy way: Cameron first, all else second.
Hearing the toilet flush, House placed the book he had been holding back on top of the stack.
"I've made a mess of your living room", said Cameron, coming up behind him.
"Our living room", he corrected. "We can sort out where it'll go later. Push comes to shove, some of my crap gets dumped in the study".
"Great. Ready for lunch?". Cameron made to turn to the front door, but House grabbed her hand and prevented the movement. "Sup?".
Rather than reply with words, he kissed her instead, both hands slipping to her waist.
"That was nice", she croaked eventually, her own hands on his chest.
"I just want you to know I'm very grateful you're here with me", he murmured. "I know I'm an acquired taste. I know I'm…not easy. Already it's been the best birthday in years".
"What exactly happened while I was in the bathroom?". Cameron reached up and tapped his nose, using playfulness to mask the fact that she was, suddenly, close to tears. At some point, perhaps, maybe in a year or three, these confessions of his would not affect her so much. But after such a long time apart she had yet to accrue the necessary tolerance for House's unexpected, heartfelt confidences.
Deciding not to reveal that he had caught sight of her reading material, he shrugged. "Just seeing your stuff here, dunno, makes me reflective. And thankful".
"Well, I appreciate it, but you don't need to thank me, Greg. We're in this together, remember?".
"I remember". He had spoken this phrase to her at go-karting, she to him just prior to their first sleeping together. And yet another time in his head. Given that he had just withheld information in the shape of knowing her books, he decided to offer this alternative truth as compensation: "d'you recall me telling you about the dream I had after the crash?".
They were still in close, standing amid the boxes, breath mingling.
"The Sebastian Charles one or the one of us eating ice cream on the beach?".
"Beach. You saw the ice cream truck, suggested it, and I apologised for not having my wallet handy to pay-".
"-obviously a fantasy, then", she smirked. "Not a chance in hell that real-life you would shell out actual money".
"Look, if you weren't so hot, I wouldn't have to take this".
Cameron laughed, but soon inclined her head for him to continue.
"Anyway, as I was saying, I apologised, and you said: 'you don't need to thank me, buster. We're in this together, remember?'".
"And what happened next?".
"You went off to get ice cream, presumably using your own…funds".
"Hmm. Well, I'm glad I was with you in your dream to remind you that I'll always be in your corner, no matter what".
"No matter what?".
"Uhuh, s'what I said".
"Nice to know", said House, kissing her own nose, which she wrinkled predictably.
"Since you brought it up, what I'd like to know is more about this beach scene. Describe it, if you remember". Cameron had mainly booked their upcoming trip to New England for House's birthday, of course, but it was a happy coincidence that she had long wished to go on holiday with him anyway. Neither of them took much vacation time, so Connecticut felt like a small but significant first step: a return to normality, where they were together, yet still breaking new ground.
"Of course I remember. Felt like a Caribbean paradise—white sand, blue water, a few people around but pretty sparse. You came out of the sea and sat down next to me".
"Sounds amazing", she hummed. "I don't think Connecticut has any white beaches, unfortunately".
"Shame. Food now? I'm starving. Then we can get back here and work on clearing away your stuff".
"One second". She scrunched his shirt to prevent him from moving off. "This was your coma dream. But could it also have been…your unconscious fantasy?". Now she tilted her face upwards, looking closely for his reaction.
"Interesting theory, but it followed hot on the heels of you and Charles taunting me with how many kids you were gonna have. Not really a fantasy of mine".
"So you had two consecutive visions-".
"-not really 'visions'", interrupted House, automatically uncomfortable with the quasi-spiritual vocabulary.
"Still, if I were into psychology…which I am", she grinned, "I would interpret that-".
"-are we really doing this? Not even had lunch". House's hands fidgeted at her waist. He had never been very good at receiving analysis, even if he knew that she liked offering it. In times past he would have simply walked away. But times had changed. Plus, he still felt guilty about the pain he had caused her.
"I would interpret that", Cameron repeated, completely ignoring his complaint, "as a nightmare leading into a fantasy. How'm I sounding so far?".
"Like a load of crap", he answered immediately.
"So…", she carried on, "…if your nightmare is me marrying Sebastian and having his kids, that implies you don't like the idea of me being permanently attached to another guy. Conversely, in your fantasy, you're sitting on an idyllic beach, sun on your face, not many people. And then I come out from the sea and sit down next to you. Thus proving that you view being with me as an intrinsically happy state".
"What about the fact that you're emerging from the water, and I like swimming, so it's a combination of my favourite things: you and swimming". House added this suggestion in his trademark sarcastic tone.
"Yeah, very good", she nodded, patting his chest for good measure.
"Food now?".
"Last detail—what was I wearing?".
"Why does that matter?".
"Simple interest".
House scowled.
"Don't look at me like that, buster. Tell me what I was wearing and we can get food".
"Cameron…".
"What? Was I naked?". She raised her eyebrows.
"Obviously not".
"It was your imagination. I could easily have been naked. Tell me".
"A white bikini. Happy now?".
"Now, that is intriguing", she smiled slightly.
"Not really. You were swimming in the sea, so you'd need a suit".
"But a white one. White symbolises…innocence? Salvation?".
House had spent most of this conversation with an affected air of martyred boredom, but now he did snap back to attention. "You are my salvation, Chicago".
"Stop ruining my superficial Freudian analysis by trying to make me cry", she frowned. "It's not going to work".
"Just telling you the truth".
"Well". Cameron brushed his brow tenderly with her thumb. "Allow me to share a truth or two of my own. Firstly, you talk like I'm 'saving' you, or doing you a favour, but really I consider myself the lucky one. Before we got together, maybe I wasn't unhappy, but I definitely wasn't happy. I've loved you so much, the fact I get to be with you…I'll always be grateful. Do you know how unbelievably amazing I feel waking up every day with you beside me? There's no one on this planet more fortunate".
To punctuate her words, and also to ensure he kept quiet, she pecked him on the lips.
"Secondly, and not much less important, I do not own a white bikini".
"Actually not a problem", answered House without missing a beat. "You can borrow mine".
"Hmm. Do we think it'll be, uh, generous around the waist?".
"A bit", he shrugged. "Not a lot. Are you in the hospital tomorrow?".
"Tomorrow is purely clinic and Friday I'm in the ER".
"Your ankle up to it?". House sounded sceptical.
"It's fine. Almost as good as new".
"Yeah, right, sure. No way it happens that quick".
"The power of love has healed me", she grinned.
Personally, and this was something upon which House frequently reflected, he remained uncomfortable with how she refused to take time for herself. Since the accident she had made a habit of sacrificing aspects of her own life in favour of his comfort and wellbeing. Of course, he well understood the part played by morale in recovery—his own lightning-fast progress bore that out—but only a few days ago she could barely walk. It would be a fairly miraculous turnaround.
"Honestly", she continued, seemingly sensing his mood, "I need to be in prime shape for our trip anyway, and you know I wouldn't risk jeopardising that if I didn't think I could handle a couple of days on my feet".
"Fine", he sighed, "I guess you know your own body slightly better than I do. But you're not coming swimming with me tomorrow".
"Oh, why not?".
Cameron looked so crestfallen that House nearly folded then and there. But he quickly summoned up his resolve. "Because I'm not risking you exacerbating-".
"-'exacerbating'. Literally no one uses that word, professor".
"I wouldn't have to use it if you weren't such a stubborn mule, Allison".
The use of her first name provoked an automatic frown (the 'mule' part was par for the course). "Are you being serious?".
"I am; would really rather you took it easy. Please?".
Cameron chewed her lip. House rarely said 'please'. "Fine. I won't swim with you tomorrow".
"Appreciated". He kissed the parting in her hair.
"What am I meant to do instead, then?". The frown deepened.
"Dunno. March the penguin? I'll be home straight after—could grab some takeout and bring it back here".
In any other circumstance, with any other man, Cameron would not even mind. But since she had so nearly lost him, when she had hated herself for not insisting on spending every single minute in his company, and aware of the desolation that had spread inexorably through her body at the thought that she might not see his smirk again, it mattered to her that they do as much as possible together.
But how to confess this without sounding like a clingy sociopath?
Freud would probably posit any number of theories to crack that particular chestnut.
Freud could go to hell.
"What if I just sat and watched?".
"You'd prefer to watch my pool rehab than chill out here?". Once again he was sceptical.
"Rather than chill out here alone", she corrected swiftly.
"Fine by me, if that's what you wanna do".
"It is. D'you think it's pathetic?".
"I think nothing about you is pathetic, CB. Not after everything you've done". House's blue eyes softened as he brushed her cheek with his thumb. "You keep me in my place, that's for sure".
"Always", she grinned, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him flush on the mouth.
"Cameron?", he murmured eventually.
"Mmm?".
"For the love of God, let's get lunch".
She laughed and took his hand. The pair did now head out for food, some thirty minutes after having returned home.
