Mother goose
A.N. Truth be told, I'm getting a bit (read 'very') self-conscious about the length of this story. I honestly didn't intend it to be this long, but the fact is I have a whole thing planned and it's going to get even longer still. If it were down to me, I'd flesh it all out properly, but who the heck is going to start a story which is already 260k words and counting? At the end of the day, reading is meant to be fun, and if people feel like they're wading through words then changes may need to be made. We'll see what happens moving forward. If engagement drops like a stone, I'll look at condensing a bit. The good old "a few months later" shtick, y'know?
Cuddy knocked on Wilson's door and entered at his word. "Hi-", she began, but stopping when she caught sight of his black eye, "-the hell happened to you?".
"I slipped in the shower", he murmured.
The Dean levelled her gaze at the other. "Does anyone actually believe that kind of response anymore?".
Wilson massaged the side of his face. "What's that meant to mean?".
"Someone's obviously punched you". She thought back to yesterday's conversation with Foreman and Chase, in which they had mentioned House's unusually bad mood. The man was rarely violent, but he did possess a foul temper.
"Nah, I really did slip. I'm getting a new adhesive mat to stick on the shower floor". The oncologist had no intention of ratting on House, even to Cuddy, a shared friend. She would need to get the truth of the matter from the man himself.
"OK, suit yourself. You want me to prescribe you anything?". Doctors were not allowed to sign for their own medication.
He shook the small bottle of painkillers on the side of the desk. "I'm fine. It's just a black eye, nothing to write home about. What's up?".
"I just came for your report on the new hires in oncology. There's a board meeting within the next few days and I'm sorting out what I want to present".
Wilson clicked through the folders on his screen while she waited patiently. "Hmm, yes, I have it here. I'll email it across?".
"Sure, but can I get a brief summary now? Unless you have somewhere to be?".
"No worries, there's nothing on my calendar for the next half-hour or so".
The two doctors spent fifteen minutes in conversation, Wilson recounting the (largely good) news surrounding his recent hires. Oncology had been one of the departments to benefit from the injection of funding provided by the Townsends, and Wilson had seized with both hands the opportunity for expansion. At length, the man sat back and tried to keep his voice disinterested. "I don't suppose Diagnostics is also on the table for a similar plan?".
Cuddy looked up from her tablet. "You mean staffing increases?".
"For example, yeah". Wilson took a sip of coffee in an attempt to hide his eyes which, he knew, often betrayed his emotions. In the event, House had not confided whether a breakup with Cameron was on the cards, but he knew from long experience how things could develop rapidly when House set his mind to something. Certainly, when it came to medicine, he could be ruthless and relentlessly rational. Love, it turned out, did not conquer all, and the oncologist could foresee a situation where House brought in more staff to re-establish standards.
"Fiona mentioned it to House recently but met with a tepid response".
"Maybe you ought to check again, just in case".
"What's that mean? Do you know something?", she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I'm just very aware how great it's been having a few extra hands in oncology the last couple of months or so and I'd want House to get the same opportunity".
"Hey, Wilson?", she asked conversationally.
"Yeah?".
"You and House haven't had a falling out, have you? Like, you'd tell me if you had?". Wilson's eyes shifted at this, and Cuddy sighed. "Oh, for God's sake. What's happened? You guys argue over football teams or something?".
"Look, it's not my place to say. If you want the lowdown, you're gonna need to see him personally". This reticence wasn't just because of some imaginary 'bro code' – the pair's relationship was decidedly frosty at the moment – but mainly because Wilson appreciated that his friend's problems impacted his practice of medicine. Cuddy's responsibility as Dean would likely conflict with her desire to support House as a friend, and Wilson had no intention of initiating this conflict any sooner than necessary. He had meddled enough.
"Suit yourself. Are you coming to the Christmas party, by the way?". Cuddy finished her notes and switched the iPad to standby.
"Yeah, was thinking of bringing Mathilde as my date". Wilson let out a discrete breath, happy to move the conversation to firmer ground.
"Guess you guys are getting more serious, then?".
"Dunno", he shrugged. "I like her, but don't wanna put a label on it just yet. What about you?".
"Oh, no. No time for men at the moment. Maybe when we're settled in with the Townsends. It's been a pretty hectic few months leading on from the shooting".
"Uhuh, sure, but you shouldn't let work get in the way of your own happiness". The oncologist gave a little smile, and for a second it was possible to forget that he had a black eye at all.
"True", she nodded. "I s'pose with you and House in relationships, I'm now the odd one out, hey? Anyway…", Cuddy rose to her feet, missing the shadow which flashed across Wilson's boyish features, "…I'll see you later".
"Bye", he replied, looking sadly at the door through which she had just left. If House had indeed broken up with Cameron (and he wasn't completely certain if he had), it wasn't Wilson's news to break.
Following a full morning of meetings, Cuddy's next stop was the cafeteria. Ordinarily she ate hurriedly at her desk, but today she fancied a proper sit down. Wilson had been right - life was too short to let work dominate to the extent that it was currently. Often she felt that, as a woman, she needed to put in more hours. And normally this was what she enjoyed doing. But today she was going to eat a proper lunch and take thirty minutes for herself.
After paying for her food (heart-healthy omelette with baked peppers), she looked around for somewhere to sit. Wildermuth and Cross were deep in conversation, and she had no desire to join them: the former was an awful bore, and the latter a bit of a creep. On the point of heading over to an empty table, she spotted Cameron in the corner browsing her phone. "Hi, do you mind if I join you?".
The immunologist looked up in surprise and gave a thin smile. "Please, feel free".
As Cuddy sank into the seat opposite, she glanced inadvertently at the phone on the table: it looked like Cameron had been examining a photo of her and House. "No turkey and stuffing sandwiches today? I remember you were eating them last time I joined you for lunch".
"Ah, no, unfortunately not. Just soup…not feeling too well". Cameron slowly twirled the spoon in the bowl.
"Cold?".
"Something like that".
"No surprise. This time of year is always a lottery. I blame all the kids home from school".
"Yeah, you're probably on to something there".
They lapsed into silence as Cuddy took a few mouthfuls of food and Cameron continued to stir her soup. The former stole a glance across the table, studying the face of her companion: pale, drawn, tired. Everything about her seemed flat. "So, are you coming to the Christmas party?", asked Cuddy, hoping to cheer her up.
"Oh, I'd completely forgotten, to be honest. When is it?".
"Friday. Should be good. Fowler and Orchevsky in endocrinology are organising it; even got a band in, I think".
"Ah, well, I dunno. Kind of depends how I feel; probably just gonna be curled up in front of the TV". Cameron wanted to stew alone, not be surrounded by happy people celebrating Christmas. At that thought her face fell even more: she had bought House a present (actually three) ages ago, but to give them to him now…it just felt weird.
These last couple of days each had done their best to avoid the other. It was best now to keep things completely professional, focused on medicine. House needed that focus. Already, however, she could sense Foreman and Chase getting suspicious. Good thing she didn't give a damn what they thought. The only person she gave a damn about was her boss, which is why she had been willing to walk away in the first place. As she had told him, her own happiness was something she was prepared to sacrifice.
"-hard to get him there anyway". Cuddy had been talking all the while.
"Huh? Sorry, zoned out".
"I was just saying that you'd have a hard time getting House there anyway. He doesn't normally like gatherings with other humans, does he? That's assuming he is human, of course".
"Yeah, he…he…". Suddenly, and completely without warning, Cameron felt a tidal wave of sadness overwhelm her. In a desperate attempt to hide the tears from Cuddy, she tried to cough into her hands, covering her eyes.
"Whoa, hey, what's up? Cameron?". The Dean reached across and gently held the other's wrist.
"Nothing, sorry, it's…it's my cold", she sobbed. "I'm fine, I'm fine…sorry".
"You are not fine. What's happening?".
"Nothing, it's OK".
"Hey". Cuddy reached across and held both of Cameron's hands, forcing her to look up. Both eyes were red and at odds with the fair white skin of her face. "Tell me".
"It's just the cold", she tried again weakly.
"How about this: as the boss of this hospital, I'm ordering you to tell me what's going on".
The immunologist let out a shuddering sigh. This was an argument she just had no desire to win. "House…", she started, "House and I…we, we broke up. Two days ago".
This news hit Cuddy like a freight train. They had seemed so happy together, not least at the party recently. Something must have happened, and Wilson's words from earlier in the day came back to her. These events must be connected. Cameron was still sobbing quietly, eyes empty. "Oh, Allison…I'm sorry".
"It was mutual. But I, I'm not doing too well. I guess it'll take time". The woman tried to put on a brave face, especially because a few people at neighbouring tables were beginning to snatch furtive glances at them. God, I must look a mess.
"Where is he? What did he do?". Cuddy's voice was hard.
"No, it wasn't his fault. Honestly, it's for the best".
"I'm still going to talk to him. You don't deserve this".
"No, don't-!". But before Cameron could continue, the pager at her belt erupted. Their latest patient needed attention. "Please", she pleaded, standing up, "I just, I just want to deal with this myself, and I don't want House to know about my…state. He's got enough on his plate as it is".
The Dean sighed but nevertheless inclined her head in assent. "Fine. I don't agree, but it's your choice".
"Thanks. Anyway, I need to go". Cameron took a deep breath and wiped a sleeve across her face. "How do I look?".
"Like you have a bad cold".
Cameron attempted another smile; this one emerged lopsidedly. "I'll take that at this stage".
"If you want to talk, I'm always available, you know?".
"Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that, but right now I'm needed upstairs".
"Good luck". Cuddy watched her go before looking down at the soup left behind on the table. Although just a small bowl, half of it still remained, and she reached across and placed it on her own tray, thinking.
For about three years now, Cuddy had been convinced that Cameron was the perfect woman for House: calm, patient, understanding, yes, but also single-minded and strong enough to withstand his idiosyncratic brand of ordered chaos. What's more, House knew this too: they had several times spoken about it at great length. From this perspective, the breakup made no sense, because she was almost convinced that there was nothing House could do or say that would make Cameron call it off.
The whole thing was completely weird. Cuddy would get to the bottom of it, and she would keep an eye on her friends.
