Brand new information

A.N. This chapter is horribly clichéd, but I make no apology. The title comes from a Friends episode. Rude words ahead.


It was night the next day by the time House returned to the hospital. Much of the last thirty-six hours had been spent on the back of a bike, and though his butt and thighs now ached, his mind was a whole lot clearer. After parking, he made his way to the office, intending to check up on the patient he had left with his fellows. It had been an easy case, so problems were unlikely. With a sudden burst of pleasure, he remembered the bottle of Macallan stashed behind the lupus textbook. Thank God for lupus. Maybe after glancing through the files he could make a dent in that and really put his mind at ease.

House walked into his office where, to his surprise, he found Cameron, who had looked up immediately, sat in his chair talking on the landline: "yes, he's here. Yes. Yep. OK, will do. Bye". The phone slammed down with more force than he thought strictly necessary. Nevertheless, he moved to the coat rack and was half out of the jacket as Cameron got to her feet and barred the way.

He sighed, having hoped to put this off until the morning. "Yeah, no, you're gonna have to move or else I'll have to hang my jacket over your head. And no one wants that. Least of all the jacket". Cameron's face barely flickered but he carried on regardless: "I've already had to tell Wilson that strong and silent really doesn't suit him. Don't make me start with you, too".

"Start, is it? How about this for a start?". Cameron balled her hand into a fist and half prodded half punched him in the chest.

Most of the blow was cushioned by the leather, but he pretended to be hurt, uncertain of the look in her eyes. "Ouch. You really need to stop doing that. Domestic violence is no joke".

"Oh, that was on Wilson's behalf. As for me, you might wanna put that helmet back on…".

House laughed, though his treacherous hands brought the helmet up fractionally. The other's body seemed to quiver, and her fingers flexed at her side, posture belligerent. "Cameron, listen-".

"-no, you listen, House. I'm a pretty easy-going person, OK, and I would never presume to demand you keep me informed of your movements. You're your own man, and I respect that immensely. Hell, it's one of the reasons I like you so much. But if you ever, and I mean ever, make me, make us, that worried again, I swear to you, I'll, I'll…", Cameron paused, searching for a suitably serious punishment, "...I'll kidnap your guitar and have your motorbike melted down for scrap".

His face turned white. She meant business. "I just went for a little bike ride, that's all. No big deal".

"A 'little bike ride'?", Cameron's voice emerged in a high strangle and she brought it down a couple of notches. "You walked out of your workplace with no warning and completely disappeared for nigh on two days. Wilson has been everywhere looking for you. Didn't you get our messages?".

"The signal sucked and I was on the road most of the time". House pulled out his phone and checked. "Wow, yeah, you guys must've really missed me, huh?".

"Really missed…?", Cameron repeated, before opening and closing her mouth wordlessly. She pulled him into a fierce hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey, what's the matter? Are you OK?". House dropped the helmet on the floor and wrapped his arms around his immunologist.

Cameron pulled back, her eyes shining. "Am I OK? Are you OK?".

"What do you mean?".

"Well, Wilson thought you may have gone to some dive bar or, or opium den to get wasted or something. And then when you weren't answering your phone…half of the messages weren't even getting through and those that did weren't being read…we thought maybe you'd...".

House raised an eyebrow. "An opium den? We're not in Victorian England, Cameron". But her glare suggested that she wasn't ready to start joking yet. "I'm fine. I just needed to get away. Clear my head".

"Why? What's happened?". Cameron thought back on Chase's words yesterday in the cafeteria: maybe he had a bad weekend. And that could only have happened after their date on Friday—because of their date on Friday. She started speaking quickly, panicked: "was it something I did? Did I do something wrong? If you just tell me what it is, I can fix it. Honestly, I don't mind. Whatever it is, just tell me and I'll put it right. God, I knew clarinets was a bad idea…".

"Hey, stop. Please, just sit". House shepherded her to the desk chair.

"I know that tone. That's the tone you take when you reject prospective cases". Cameron was going to go down swinging: she had waited too long to let her dream go up in smoke without a fight. "You're going to end this, aren't you? Well, I don't accept it. I don't accept it. You have no right to ride roughshod over my feelings. Under New Jersey law, partnerships can only be dissolved if both parties agree. And I do not agree". Where that came from was anybody's guess, but at least it sounded impressive.

House smiled in spite of himself. "Easy there, Judge Judy". But she looked utterly despondent, so he tried a different tack. "Hey, look at me", he murmured, reaching out to tilt her chin upwards. "I don't want anything to end, OK? But some new facts have come to light, and it's only fair you know the full story before you make a decision".

"What new facts?". For a fraction of a second, Cameron imagined that Stacy had come back to town and declared her undying love. The thought made her face fall even more.

House sighed, battling his own demons. She had to know, even if it meant losing her. "I've got something to show you", he said, reaching into his pocket.

Cameron's mind raced and she barely registered House pushing the phone across the desk towards her. Now she imagined it to be a wedding ring and a written declaration that he'd eloped with Stacy. That fucking bitch.

"Read".

Completely depressed, her eyes drifted downwards and traced what was on the screen.

A fraught silence settled in the office.

After about fifteen seconds, House, believing her to be thinking of a way out, began: "hey, don't worry about me, I'll be-".

"-sorry, what am I looking at?". Cameron scrolled through the messages.

"Err, the message on the screen?". House looked over and saw that she was browsing through his conversation history with Wilson, so he reached across and returned her to Wilson's message from Friday.

"This one?".

"Yeah. So, obviously, this changes things. And, obviously, I would never expect you to choose me over him. It's OK, though. Really. I've thoroughly enjoyed our time together. No hard feelings. I'll try and ensure things go back to normal, but obviously-".

"-House, sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about". Cameron's face was a picture of complete confusion.

House sighed again, and he experienced a flash of anger that he had to spell out the implications of the message. "Chase is asking questions about us".

"OK…I'm with you so far", she said slowly.

"Chase likes you, Cameron. God, I thought it was pretty obvious from that but maybe not".

"Umm, OK?".

House suddenly snapped. Either she was being unintentionally dense, or she was rubbing it in. Whichever, it was pissing him off. "It means you can go back to him, OK? It means that this, whatever this was, can end, and we can reset to the way things were, when I was miserable, and you and Chase were shacked up making little Chicago-Australia hybrids. Ugh". This final thought caused him to turn to the window in disgust.

"House". Cameron got up from the desk. Relief coursed through her veins as she realised, finally, what had happened. "Look at me".

He turned around, saw she was smiling, and got angry all over again. "This is not funny. What the hell is wrong with you?".

"It actually is funny, but you'll have to listen otherwise you won't get it. First of all, I was never with Chase".

"But you had an argument-".

"-not listening", she interjected firmly.

The man fell silent.

"I did have an argument with Chase, but it wasn't about a relationship. Or at least, not about a relationship with him".

"What does that mean?", he asked, suddenly tired of this back and forth. Sleep had been lacking these last couple of days and he was looking forward to bed. The Macallan behind the lupus textbook would keep for another time.

Cameron took hold of the lapels on the biker jacket and held him tightly. "For such a smart guy, House, you really are a complete moron". He looked down uncomprehendingly, unsure if he was charmed or offended, and she risked a chuckle: "we argued about you, you loveable idiot. Chase realised my feelings towards you the day you came back to the office. Then, that evening we went out to dinner and he challenged me on it". A pause. "He hinted that he liked me, and I shot him down in no uncertain terms. Hence the frostiness in the office".

Comprehension dawned. "So you knew about Chase all this time?".

"Yep. Brand new information it ain't. I've known about Chase's feelings pretty much since day one. I'm used to men pursuing me, and he was no exception. He asked me out within the first few weeks, and I said no".

"But you slept with him. I thought maybe that was the start of things between you two, and that the argument had ended it". House was still trying to figure things out.

Cameron nodded. "I slept with Chase, yes. I did it because I was this close to contracting AIDS from that patient, and you didn't even seem to care. Then you told me you loved me, just to stick a swab in my mouth".

"I'm sorry-".

But Cameron held up her hand. "-forget about it. I'm just trying to explain what happened. I was in a bad way, I thought you had abandoned me, and that AIDS patient made me feel boring and unadventurous. So, I got high that night, Chase turned up at my place, and we fucked. It didn't mean anything. Not to me, anyway. Pretty much the long and short of it".

House considered her words but remained quiet.

"Anyway, I think Chase had designs on asking me out again while you were recuperating after…y'know". Her gaze wavered briefly. "But I put him off. And now Wilson thinks he knows about us, and I'm struggling to see what the problem is with that".

House digested everything she had said, nodding slowly. "So…you still want to be with me? You don't want to be with Chase?".

Cameron moved both of her hands to his face and took hold of his ears. She had never done that before. "House, when are you going to get this into your skull? I waited for you. I want you. Not Chase, not Foreman, not Wilson, not Cuddy, not the janitor on the second floor. You".

"Are you sure? 'Cos the janitor on the second floor is basically a male model, and I would pay good money to watch you with Cuddy". House's voice was low, despite the joke.

"Yes, I'm sure. No one but you, Gregory House, Head of Diagnostics at PPTH, Princeton, New Jersey, America, Earth, the Milky Way, the Universe".

"That's very specific".

"I know. I don't suppose even you could possibly overthink your way out of that one". Cameron tilted her head as she spoke.

"Probably not", House conceded. "But, boy, you'll have egg on your face if the multiverse model is ever proven".

"Maybe", she nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder how the other Camerons are getting on explaining this situation to their Houses".

"That's assuming these Houses and Camerons ever get together", he pointed out.

Cameron moved her hands to his cheeks, and their gazes locked. "They get together".

The certainty in her voice caused House to swallow. "I believe you", he replied softly. They kissed tenderly. But before he could cop a feel, Cameron pulled away and retrieved her jacket from the back of his chair. "Err, what? I thought we-". House had been looking forward to a serious make out session now that they were fully reconciled.

"-don't 'what' me, bozo. You stink of bike fumes and sweat and I'm still mad at you for abandoning me without warning and sending Wilson traipsing all over Princeton. Your kissing rights are hereby rescinded until our date Friday. And you better bring your 'A' game, because I do not forgive easily. See you tomorrow, Dr. House". Without so much as a backward glance, she swept from the room leaving her boss open-mouthed.

After a few moments of stunned stillness, he sniffed under his arm and spoke aloud to the empty room: "did she just call me a stinky bozo?".

House sank into the seat, put his feet up, and tossed a baseball from hand to hand, reflecting on what had been a surreal couple of days.


As always, thanks to readers and those that take the time to review: it means a lot. Stay safe!