Catch me if you can

A.N. This is a silly little chapter, but since both Cameron and House run in the series, and since I love running myself, I couldn't miss the opportunity to write this. If you don't like running, or entries with few lines of dialogue, feel free to skip this one. Nothing much happens.


"Is that what you're wearing?". Cameron stood with hands on hips as she appraised her companion. The two had reconvened in the office after changing into their running gear. She had gone for GORE-TEX jogging pants, gloves, and layers, and her hair was tied back into a high ponytail. Her phone was fixed to her arm, ready for the earbuds, and there was a Fitbit on her wrist, already pre-programmed with resting heart rate, estimated time, including kilometre splits, and projected calorie consumption.

House, meanwhile, had gone for a t-shirt, shorts, and the sneakers he wore at work. "You reckon it's too much? I thought about just going naked like the ancient Greek athletes, but I didn't particularly fancy getting picked up for public indecency".

"Aren't you going to be cold?", she smirked, completing a few stretches.

"See, that's the beauty of running—it warms you up. Besides, I wanna make absolutely certain that people can read my t-shirt". House glanced down at the writing, which read 'I'M WITH STUPID' followed by an arrow pointing to the side. "Remind me to run on your right, by the way".

"Sure thing. But what if I leave you eating my dust? Then your little slogan will be ineffective". Cameron took a swig out of her water bottle before stowing it under the desk.

"That's a possibility, I'm not going to lie to you", he nodded sagely. "But if it happens, I'll at least be able to check out your ass more easily. So it's a win-win as far as I'm concerned".

"The official line is that I'm offended and you're a pig", she grinned.

House threw a salute. "Acknowledged. Show me the map? I want to doublecheck if we're going the way I know".

Cameron did as asked, highlighting the path on her phone. Though they'd set off together there was a possibility that one of them would pull ahead, and House didn't want unfamiliarity with the route to be the reason why he lost. He could endure losing in a straight race—as Wilson had mentioned, Cameron was a fair bit younger—but geographical ignorance was not a viable excuse.

The two made their way down to the hospital entrance, House carrying out some quad and thigh stretches. His leg had been pretty good over the last couple of months, in spite of one or two minor twinges. As with most things, regular exercise had grooved him into it, and he wasn't anticipating any problems. Swimming was the ideal since it was low-impact, but he didn't know if Cameron was into that.

"I'm gonna listen to my music, OK?", she said, beginning to take a series of exaggeratedly deep breaths.

"Whatever. I'll let you lead off. Also, what the hell are you doing?".

"I'm oxygenating my blood, dummy". More deep breaths.

"It's a good thing you're hot because you look like a right weirdo at the moment".

"Enough trash talk—are we doing it or what? I've got serious money riding on this". Cameron selected her workout playlist and slipped on her earphones.

The doctors exited the hospital and looked at each other. House gestured, allowing the woman to take the lead, and they set off through the parking lot before making it out onto the street.

Both quickly settled into a rhythm, Cameron using the music beat to aid her breathing. House had won the sprint up to Diagnostics from the basement, but she anticipated being able to pull ahead over this longer distance. Though he had been able to resume hard exercise after the ketamine treatment, and had already proved himself to be fit, there was no substitute for the stamina borne from the kind of regular workouts that she had been able to enjoy over the last couple of years.

Unknown to Cameron, her companion's thoughts were following along similar lines. House was intensely competitive, but even he was forced to admit the long odds of winning this race. The simple fact was that he was older. And despite his leg having healed, he'd quickly realised upon resuming exercise that the body ached more than it used to. Getting out of bed the following morning was always the challenge. As he pounded the pavement, House thought back on the sports he had enjoyed for the first half of his life, until the infarction. If pushed, he'd confess swimming to be his favourite, though rowing and cricket came a close second, despite the reality that he'd not played the last one in many years. Cricket teams were rare in New Jersey.

The pair ran side by side along the sidewalk. Every now and then, one of them would tuck in behind to let a cyclist by, or to overtake a pedestrian themselves. House was content to stay on Cameron's outside shoulder as they reached the halfway point, allowing her to set the pace. He was comfortable enough at this stage, focusing on maintaining consistent strides. It had been a long time since he had run with someone. Even since he had returned to work, Wilson had been unwilling to join in for joint exercise. No reason had been given for this reluctance, though House assumed it was because the oncologist feared pushing him too hard. As if that guy could beat me. Spurred on by this thought, he resolved to keep pace for as long as possible. If he remained close, there was a chance he'd be able to use his greater strength to stretch free in the sprint.

Cameron could see House in her peripheral vision. Already she was quietly impressed that he had managed to stay on her shoulder past halfway. The man was a natural athlete—long of stride, loose of limb, and possessed also of a fierce determination to see things through. Cuddy had noted as much when the women had met up for a drink on Monday, even though the context to the comment was completely different. At that thought, a sudden thrill of anticipation coursed through her system as she realised what awaited when they made it back to her apartment. She was combining one of her favourite things, running, with something—someone—who was rapidly becoming her most favourite thing.

As the pair navigated the darkening streets, as they pushed through the autumnal evening, Cameron experienced a burst of euphoria. Running with House beside her, feeling the breeze against her face, felt amazing. For so long, they had been nothing more than colleagues, and he had been forced to rely on a cane simply to walk. But now, as his partner, she could share in his liberation and enjoy it with him. Still, this reflection didn't mean that she was going to take it easy. Not only did she not want to lose a hundred dollars, but Wilson also had a stake in her success. If House beat her, he beat Wilson. They'd never hear the end of it. Cameron increased her speed, testing to see if her competitor would respond.

House scanned the surroundings, noting that they were about fifteen minutes away from Cameron's apartment. He'd expected her to try and pull ahead at this stage, to take advantage of her superior stamina and lighter tread. If he conceded a lead now there was no chance of making it up at the end. Instead, he had to remain on her shoulder for as long as possible. Like in football, if he could drag it out to the final quarter anything was possible.

As the speed increased, House could feel his legs begin to burn and his breathing, which had been deep and regular, become more ragged. Buildings he recognised passed by with greater frequency: here was the bakery he'd bought the chocolate brownie before their first date; there the German restaurant where they'd nearly been caught during an intimate moment. If he was still in touch when they reached the bank he stood a chance. Luckily, Cameron's music would drown out the sound of his strain. If she knew how much he was struggling she'd likely sprint off into the distance. If that happened, there was no chance he could keep up. The one advantage was his convenient position in her slipstream. The New Jersey wind blew strongly into their faces, but as the leader Cameron took the brunt of it as she ploughed a course through the gloom.

Cameron looked askance at House. She was setting a serious pace, yet he hung on grimly. The two flew past a young woman talking on her phone, who noticeably flinched as the runners overtook to the right and left. The Fitbit display beeped: personal bests for the last two kilometres. The immunologist had no idea how House was feeling, but it couldn't be better than her. Despite the chilly air, sweat pricked down her face, and she wiped an arm roughly across her forehead. Her heart hammered in her ears and a fearsome stitch speared through her ribs. Still House remained on her shoulder. How the hell is this guy still with me? The bank passed by on their left. Home was two minutes away. She was not going to lose.

House had decided he was going to be sick at the end of this, the tell-tale heaviness settling in his stomach. Perhaps a pre-race snack and a coffee hadn't been the best idea because it was sloshing around, as if fighting to get out. Idiot, Greg. Rookie mistake. He ran a quick internal diagnostic check as they turned into the street one over from the finish line.

Legs: cement. Urgent maintenance required.

Breathing: unsustainable. System reboot advised.

Insides: explosion predicted. Seek shelter.

Prognosis: inevitable doom.

Fantastic.

House's breaths had become so tortured that each exhalation sounded more like a cry for help. The only consolation was that he could hear Cameron's difficulty as well. Throughout the race, she had maintained a consistent rhythm of nose inhalation followed by mouth exhalation. But now she was gulping down air in wild swallows, like someone trying desperately to keep their head above water. This recognition brought him comfort, and he attempted to summon up courage for the final sprint as they turned into her road. But his body wouldn't obey, legs in treacle.

Cameron seemed to notice and kicked on, ignoring the pain and her screaming lungs. At last, she pulled ahead. House could do nothing. Though his mind was strong, more speed was impossible. It was over.

The winner reached the door of the apartment block and immediately bent double. She didn't have the strength to acknowledge the other, who pulled up nearby, some seconds later. House made his way over to the bushes.

Both remained silent for a couple of minutes, taking deep breaths.

"Good race", Cameron muttered. "I didn't think you'd be that close".

"Neither did I", he grimaced.

"How are you feeling?", she asked, hands clasped behind her head.

Rather than reply directly, House inquired: "uh, how attached are you to this hedge?".

Cameron eyed him warily, though with a glimmer of amusement. "It's communal, so not overly. Are you in strife?".

"Absolutely not. Peak…ugh…condition. Just out of curiosity, do you have a spare toothbrush and mouthwash upstairs?".

"Yeah, you're all covered. I even have some guy clothes for you to change into". Cameron glanced down at her device. They'd set a rapid time.

"Excellent, excellent", replied the other, promptly throwing up into the greenery.

The evening was off to a flying start.