Let's talk (1)

A.N. Happy 2022! How about a two-parter to kick things off?


The following week found Cuddy and Cameron at lunch together in the cafeteria. Both were eating light: Cuddy, because she was attempting to burn off a little holiday weight; Cameron, because she had not yet recovered her full appetite. The Dean, of course, didn't comment on the other's appearance, which was as pale and thin as she could remember. "I heard back from Tiffany Kim; very grateful".

"Yeah?". Cameron picked at her open sandwich. Just as Kim was packing up, the immunologist had approached her and sought to clarify the comments she had made concerning House. It wouldn't do to have an ill-considered declaration of love splashed over the magazine article like tabloid gossip.

"Was it a useful experience? I imagine you guys will be getting a fair few approaches from interested parties, with both the article and the London conference".

"It was fine, I guess. Just seemed like a standard interview, nothing fancy. Did I mention an approach from a woman in London, by the way?".

"Tried to poach you, did she?", asked Cuddy, not at all surprised. PPTH was lucky to have these diagnosticians. Though the three fellows were still early in their career, each had skills uncommon to most other doctors. House's tutelage had helped, too. Three years on, she fancied that the trio had incorporated aspects of their boss into their own practice: Foreman, his relentless desire to seek answers; Chase, his stroke of ingenuity; Cameron, his attention to detail.

"Mmm. Sinai. Immunology pathway, more money…".

"What did you say?".

"Thanks but no thanks. I didn't want to leave House".

Cuddy nodded, but allowed the silence to settle. Only after another spoonful of soup did she continue: "I mean, that was then-".

"-I don't want to leave House", interrupted Cameron immediately.

"OK, fine, but you kind of are already".

"Sure, the ER is a ways from Diagnostics. But all I need is distance; not ready to move on from PPTH".

"Have you started packing your stuff yet?".

"No…".

"You're leaving in three days, Allison. I know things are awkward, but House deserves at least a bit of time to prepare both himself and the department".

"Yes, yes. I will tell him-, them".

"Sooner rather than later?".

"Sooner rather than later", she repeated softly.


House and Wilson joined the lunch queue talking about monster trucks. "Did you see the height on the third jump? It was insane. Guy must have crunked his spine on the way back down".

"I saw it", laughed Wilson. "Though was more concerned about the splash zone from Red Vampire's crash. No wonder they make the VIPs sign releases".

"Yeah, well, if you took an axle to the face it may actually straighten out that quiff thing you got going on there". House twirled his finger in the general direction of his friend's hair. "Mac and cheese", he told the server, who scooped out a portion and handed the plate across.

"Huh? This", Wilson pointed at his own head, "is an actual style. Just 'cos yours is falling out. The salad".

"You sure? I'm paying". At the oncologist's incredulous look, he added: "well, like, you paid for the tickets, so, yeah…".

"T-bone steak, fries, and a salad, please!".

The woman behind the counter merely rolled her eyes while dispensing the items.

"You're pathetic. You really need…".

Wilson assumed House had simply paused for dramatic effect, but when the extended silence caused him to look up, he could see the man's eyes fixed on some indistinguishable point in the distance, and he followed the gaze. Cuddy and Cameron eating together. "Greg?".

"Mmm?". House throat-cleared softly.

"It'll get easier".

"What? I'm fine". They reached the till, paid, and went to find a seat in the crowded cafeteria. Only after a minute or two of quiet munching did House pipe up again: "I've got no right to be upset about this because I'm the one who ended it".

"There's no rulebook in these situations. You're allowed to feel too, y'know. Remember, this is coming from a guy who has been through his fair share of breakups".

The nephrologist took a forlorn sip of Coke and shook his head slightly. "Only one thing matters—that Cameron repairs herself".

Wilson bit into his steak to hide a sudden look of surprise.

But House noticed and shot him an enquiring eyebrow.

"I just, er…".

"Speak, Jimbo".

"You're being very selfless is all".

"Hardly. Our relationship has ended precisely because I'm being selfish; I'm choosing medicine over Cameron. There's no getting away from that fact".

"Can I ask you something?".

"If you must", he sighed loudly, observing the women out of the corner of his eye. Cameron faced away from them, but he could still see the golden hair tied back in its band. When they were together, the mere sight of it immediately brightened his day. No one he knew had hair that colour. It was, in his mind's eye, her calling card.

"What's your goal here?".

"Meaning?". House's gaze slid reluctantly back to Wilson.

"Like, I get the reasoning for ending things temporarily, getting back on track, restoring focus et cetera. But…but you can't honestly think it's a long-term solution, being alone".

"Are you fucking serious?", snapped House. "Not one month ago you were suggesting pretty plainly that I'd lost my edge because of Cameron. Now you're saying it's time I got a girlfriend. What the hell do you want from me?".

Wilson held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "All I'm asking is whether you could see a future where you get back together; maybe a situation where you can balance a relationship with your work…?".

"My duty is to medicine", he enunciated carefully. "If that changes, I'll be sure to let you know". After another slurp of his drink, the nephrologist got up rapidly.

"Where're you going?".

"Coma guy. He doesn't ask me dumbass questions. See you later".


On the way back upstairs, having diverted via the ER, Cameron considered Cuddy's words. Perhaps she was right: it would be easier to start packing as soon as possible. Goodbyes were never a simple affair, but the longer she left it, the heavier it would weigh. Porter, the ER's chief, had just assured her that everything was in place for the transfer and that a desk had been cleared. Unlike Diagnostics, there was no solo office. Instead, the full-time staff members shared their own area, which had computers, a rest zone, and kitchen facilities.

When she reached the department it was something of a relief to find the lights off. This made up her mind. Before this newfound conviction could dissipate, Cameron began gathering up her belongings. Though no box lay handy, it would be worth making a mental note of the things that needed taking when she packed up on her final day. There wasn't much. Each of the fellows had their own drawer, and she spent a little time sifting through some of the stuff within. Most of it was fairly small and easily transported.

After this, she skimmed through the papers in her tray. Again, each fellow had their own, and hers was meticulously arranged according to subject area, date, and importance. The most recent files concerned her soon-to-be-published paper, and these she glanced at briefly, noticing a sheaf of scribblings which still displayed coffee stains, the evidence of an especially frantic spell one day a few months ago. House had come through from next door, given her a big hug, and made her feel wonderfully safe, like nothing else mattered but themselves. The thought caused her lip to tremble. A few deep breaths.

"You OK?", Foreman and Chase stood looking. So caught up in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed them enter.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I, er, had a bit of a moment".

Chase went to the sink and poured a glass of water, which he handed over.

"Thanks", she smiled weakly, taking a sip.

"What's going on?", asked Foreman, running his eye over the open drawers and items on the desk.

"Just tidying up a bit".

"Uhuh. To paraphrase yourself, when I mentioned having sex with Katie a while back, 'we've known each other long enough to speak plainly'".

"Meaning?", she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Meaning you can tell us the truth".

Once again Cameron sighed, and she leant back in the chair, fixing her colleagues with an even gaze. Ah, what the hell. "I'm leaving the department".

Both men glanced at each other. Foreman spoke first. "When?".

"Couple of days".

"Why? Not because of my-?", began Chase.

The immunologist held a hand up, hoping to avoid mention of the Tuesday note. "-nothing to do with you. I just need some space away from these walls, away from House. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but it's only just been sorted".

"Thursday is a weird weekday to leave".

"It is what it is".

"You'll still be at PPTH?".

"In the ER", she nodded.

"For how long?", asked Foreman.

Cameron moved to the window, watching the late January scene play out below. A couple of pigeons grappled with some bread scraps and a doctor whom she vaguely recognised from Cuddy's Christmas party strode across the parking lot with his collar up against the rain. "Honestly, I have no idea. Guess it depends how I find it, whether I miss immunology or something". She didn't add the personal aspects: whether she could find peace, whether it was possible to heal herself. Whether, fundamentally, she could get over House. This was the million dollar question and, a month on, the answer seemed no closer.

"This has happened pretty quickly", murmured Chase.

"Well, Cuddy has known for a bit. We saw no reason to spread it around until things had been set".

Foreman went to stand next to Cameron by the window. "Stitching up wounds, setting bones…it's not as interesting as diagnostics. Are you likely to be happy down there?".

Happy. An emotion far from her mind. This new role would not make her happy—such a thing felt impossible. But it could at the very least help soften some of the more extreme cycles of despondency and elation which arose whenever she saw House. Every now and then, while working a case, she would forget that they were still broken up and, in a rush of affection, move to touch his back or shoulder; these small signs had seen frequent use over the last half-year. And then the reality would crash in: we are no longer together. Keep your hands to yourself.

Cameron realised that Foreman expected an answer. "Dunno", she managed. "But the ER will let me do some good while also getting some distance to…think about how I want to proceed in the long term".

"That sounds serious". Chase also reached the window.

The three fellows stood quietly for a few moments. One of the pigeons, having come off second best, flew past their sightline.

"I'll just see how it goes", sighed the immunologist. "But I'll miss you guys".

Foreman turned to the side and draped an arm over her shoulders. "We'll miss you too, kiddo. At least until you inevitably come back, of course".

"'Kiddo'? We're basically the same age!", she protested, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

"Fine, we'll miss you too, Allison", teased Chase this time, and he placed a hand on her other shoulder.

"For God's sake. Anyway, I'll still be around. We can get coffees or something".

"Have you told House yet?".

"No. It's the last thing on my list to do before Thursday".

"Why wait?", came the voice behind them.

Cameron turned at once, automatically shrugging off the loose embrace of her colleagues. "House, I didn't-".

"-forget it. No worries", interjected the man himself, who was standing in the doorway to the shared office. Before anything else could be said, he had turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor.