Consequences
A.N. Sorry for the upload late on a Sunday night, but I wanted to get this out before tomorrow. I've adapted, and made darker, a couple of lines shared between House and Cameron in S4E14 'Living the Dream'. My adaptation of a certain cast member's entry scarcely needs noting, but here it is regardless.
The following week found Wilson walking down the corridor towards Diagnostics intending to chat to his friend regarding recent developments, not least the return of Sebastian Charles, whom he had spotted leaving the hospital. But when he rounded the corner he could see a line of people sat in chairs outside the department. Some of them were extremely attractive. He smiled tightly at the lady nearest the door, a knockout blonde, and entered the office just as a tall, slender African American woman was leaving.
"OK, I'll be in touch, Dr. Sands. Safe journey home", called House cheerily.
The oncologist walked up to the desk where House was glancing at his computer screen. "I understand that things are tough for you, but are we convinced that a hooker try-out in the middle of the hospital is the way to go?".
"There's a dude in that line. I haven't quite reached the stage where I need his help just yet", returned House archly. "Not that I have anything against homosexuals. Did you know that about ten percent of all animals are gay?".
"Err, what? Is that true?".
"Dunno", he shrugged. "Sounds like it could be".
Wilson shook his head, trying to get back on track. "That doesn't matter. If those women, and man, are not hookers, then what're they doing out there?".
"I'm enlisting an army; it's time for PPTH to secede from the Union. You could be my first citizen".
"House…".
"Ugh, fine. I'm recruiting for Diagnostics. Those people are the ones whose CVs jumped out at me". A few taps on the keyboard and he glanced up, observing his friend's disbelieving face. "OK", he relented, "they may have been the hottest".
"How did you even get pictures?".
"I looked up their professional profiles. There're cool networking websites out there nowadays".
"And they're all doctors?". Wilson folded his arms.
"Pretty much. Well, I mean, I think there's a nutritionist somewhere in the pile. So, not sure we'd call her a doctor. But the rest? All, one hundred percent, medical professionals. Apart from this optician…", he waved a CV, "…unclear at this stage how…", now he studied the name, "…Henrietta Vasquez inserted herself into my carefully considered recruiting drive".
"House, look-, wow, she's actually a babe". Despite his annoyance, the oncologist couldn't help but glance at the picture clipped to the sheet.
"Why d'you think I printed these out? Bedtime reading". House leant back in the chair and winked.
"Gross. Look, if you need to hire a new person, fine. But this isn't the way to do it".
"How would you do it?".
"Well, for starters, I wouldn't invite people to interview based on headshots".
"Oh, relax. S'all good".
"No, it's not. Where are Foreman and Chase, anyway?".
"Clinic", he replied shortly, getting up suddenly and pacing to his whiteboard. "I know what you're thinking. But everything is in hand".
"You're hiring based off attractiveness, House", remonstrated Wilson, before his eyes traced the bandage on his friend's hand. "What happened there?", he pointed.
"Carried away pleasuring myself. Anyway, I'll prove that looks ain't got nothing to do with it". The nephrologist marched to the door, poked his head out to regard the line of sitting women, then closed his eyes. "Attention, ladies!", he called out. "I would like…lucky number thirteen to step forth for a chat. Number thirteen, please!".
A few moments passed in silence. House, who presumed that the candidates were actually counting the number of chairs, winced internally.
"I'm number thirteen", came the voice.
House opened his eyes to appraise the newcomer and his jaw nearly dropped. This woman was beautiful. Probably the second most beautiful woman he had seen in his life. Long, straight brown hair, grey eyes, delicate mouth. Oh dear. "Sorry, one second". House held up his finger and turned back to Wilson through the half-open door ."It's not my fault", he explained, "I really did choose randomly and my point still stands".
"I didn't mean choose randomly; I meant choose smartly".
"Huh. Same difference?".
Wilson sighed.
House, meanwhile, turned back to number thirteen, who had remained in the corridor. "Come in and take a seat. We'll get started".
After she had settled at the desk, House sat down himself, leaving Wilson awkwardly hovering to the side. The nephrologist glanced at his friend: "would you like to kick things off, Dr. Wilson?".
"For God's sake", muttered the other under his breath, pulling up a second chair. "First off, what's your area of expertise and your actual name?".
"My specialty is internal medicine", replied the woman, folding her long legs and regarding Wilson levelly. "And my name is Remy Hadley".
"You wanna get a drink later?". Foreman and Chase were walking back to the department following a lengthy session in the clinic.
"Yeah, why not?", replied Chase, running a hand through his hair.
"Could even ask Cameron. Is she on tonight or…?".
"Hmm, dunno. Can always pop over to the ER on the way down. If she's not there, she'll be at home and I'll text her".
"Yeah, fine. Y'know, I've been quite enjoying the smaller group dynamic, but…pretty tired, not gonna lie". Foreman had been living on never more than six hours of sleep a night for the last month. He considered himself to be a resilient man, and his career had always taken precedence over personal wellbeing, but circumstances were starting to weigh. It didn't help that the three of them were currently running to an insanely busy schedule.
"Mmm. But I guess Tiffany Kim's piece shows how the hard work's paying off. Will be nice to get the recognition. Speaking of, have you heard anything more on our joint article from London?".
"Huh, I actually can't remember where we are with that. Things've been so hectic". The pair left the elevator and wandered down the corridor. "Will follow it up".
"No worries, it's-, what the…?". As they rounded the corner, a stream of women came into view. Some were on their phones, some were talking, some were sitting quietly. All of them, at first glance, were pretty.
"Err, you think House has finally snapped?", queried Foreman, surveying the scene.
"Possibly. Let's see if we can…sorry, excuse me", muttered Chase to a woman loitering by the door.
"Are you interviewing too? There's a line", she protested, folding her arms. "Never seen anything like it".
"Really? Lines are a pretty common phenomenon", joked the Australian.
She was not impressed. "I rescheduled an appointment in New York for this opportunity".
"Oh? Anyway, we work here, so…".
"Ah, of course. Please, go ahead". The woman stood to the side and gestured to the door.
For a split second, Chase considered the absurdity of this situation, that he was being welcomed into his place of work by a complete stranger, but quickly entered Diagnostics, Foreman on his heel. "House, there's a bunch of, er, ladies out there".
The man himself, who was at the window talking, apparently, to yet another 'interviewee', span around. "And these", he spread his arms, "are your new colleagues, Robert Foreman and Eric Chase. Men, this is Thirteen".
"Um, hello", offered Chase as he extended his hand. "Those aren't actually our names, by the way".
"Hi there", Hadley replied, shaking hands with both. "I could say the same because, y'know, 'Thirteen' isn't my name, either. Remy Hadley".
"So what's your specialism?", asked Foreman, trying manfully not to stare into her pale eyes, a desire which stemmed both from attraction to her beauty and belligerence at the threat she now posed as colleague and competitor. It didn't help, also, that House had given no indication regarding this recruiting drive.
"Internal medicine specifically, though I've done a fair bit of work in ERs as well".
"That's enough conversation", intervened House, turning to his drawers and pulling out blue files, which he handed around. "I've managed to, ah, procure a patient as a sort of test case for you. If you screw it up, you're fired".
"I understand", she nodded, seemingly unfazed by this summary pronouncement.
"So, differential diagnosis, people". The nephrologist stood at his personal whiteboard spinning the marker between his fingers.
Chase glanced at the crowd still outside. "Umm, House? What about all those people in the corridor? Someone should go tell them the position's been filled".
"Oh, yes. Off you go. Sounds like a good job for an Australian—you guys are great at turning away refugees".
"Coming from an American…", he muttered, nevertheless moving to carry out these instructions as Foreman and Hadley remained buried in the files.
Towards evening the three fellows were heading to the lab to pick up their test results. Hadley, whom House had called 'Thirteen' unceasingly for no apparent reason whatsoever, acquitted herself well, and even Foreman could grudgingly accept that she appeared to be a good fit. It was still early days, of course—indeed, it hadn't yet been a single day—but she seemed intelligent, considered, and careful. In these respects, he supposed, she resembled Cameron. Still, the pecking order would need re-establishing, because Foreman couldn't shake the feeling that House had hired someone on a whim because he was tiring of Diagnostics. If the man retired or moved on, Foreman wanted to be in prime position for promotion.
"…and then we go to the bar on Friday nights, every now and then", finished Chase hopefully. "Do you get out much?"
Hadley nodded shortly. "Not really. I find it gets in the way".
"Fair enough", added Foreman. "So, yeah, the lab is basically just round the corner. Generally we have free rein on the equipment; just flash House's name and people tend to get out the way".
"He seems pretty convinced of his own intelligence, huh?".
"Isn't that why you applied for this position?".
"I guess", she shrugged. "I fancied a challenge. Life's too short to mess about".
"But you're still young, right?", Chase chuckled softly.
"Anyway", continued Hadley brusquely, "I intend to get as much out of this thing as I can".
The trio rounded the corner and collided with Cameron, who had her head buried in a file. "-oh, sorry!", she said automatically before registering her former colleagues: "hey, guys".
"Hey", offered Chase. "You OK?".
"Yes. Actually, I'm glad I bumped into you. We're having difficulty with this case. Porter thinks it's a forlorn hope…nine years old, lungs, liver, you name it. I thought maybe you could pass it onto House, if you…?". Cameron trailed off as she noticed 'Thirteen' for the first time. "Hi there. Allison Cameron".
"Remy Hadley". The pair shook hands. Although she had been decidedly frosty with Chase and Foreman, Hadley's tone lightened with Cameron.
"Are you, er, on placement or something?". The immunologist smiled crookedly at this woman, whom she suspected was a particularly gifted student Cuddy had foisted on the department.
"Oh, no. I'm new to Diagnostics. Started today".
Cameron's smile froze and her eyes darted to the two men, who shifted uncomfortably. "What's your-", she cleared her throat suddenly, "-specialism?".
"Internal medicine. You?".
"Immunology. I mean, I'm down in the ER now, but…", she waved a hand in the air seemingly absentmindedly but in truth her mind was racing as she thought through the implications of Hadley's hiring. Granted, things had been quiet with House recently, but he could at least have given her a heads-up. She had spent a long time agonising over what to do about Sebastian Charles out of consideration for House's (and her own) feelings. And now he had brought in someone new without a moment's hesitation. Or at least that's how it appeared from the outside. Anger infused with hurt began to bubble beneath the surface.
"Ah, I've done placements in ERs myself. You really feel like you're making a difference, y'know?".
"Anyway", interrupted Foreman, as if acknowledging his erstwhile colleague's mood, "we'd best get to the lab otherwise we'll be stuck behind God knows who".
"Fine", nodded Hadley. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Cameron".
Chase looked at the immunologist. "Do you still want us to take that file?".
"No", replied Cameron tightly, turning on her heel and adding over a shoulder: "I'll deliver it myself".
A couple of years ago, meek and mild, she would have let this slide.
But not now.
House was watching television and munching Doritos, trying to get back into the groove of Prescription Passion. Having sorted out the staffing issue with Thirteen's hiring, the next item on the agenda: restore TV to its rightful spot at the centre of his life. The way he saw it was that the show hadn't changed; he had changed, become more focused on his work, but also more depressed. Sure, the storylines were as ridiculous as ever, but that didn't matter because he hadn't been giving them due attention anyway. The problem lay with him not with the show. It just needed a bit of focus to get things back to normal. The fellows were off looking after their case, so that left him alone to get on with this solemn task. He popped a Dorito into his mouth.
The door opened, but rather than divert attention away from Tyler and Bonnie's argument onscreen, he merely muttered: "I figured you guys could manage a single test without me. Obviously I was wrong".
A file slapped down on the desk. "I brought you a case".
House span to face Cameron. As usual, his heart skipped a beat and his throat thickened; as usual, he worked to suppress this reaction. Remember, Greg, you are mad at her. Sebastian fucking Charles. "You aren't my fellows".
"I brought you a case", she repeated.
"I already have a case. Another? Hard pass".
"It's a nine year-old girl".
"Unlike you, Cameron, I don't feel the need to patch every booboo and dry every tear. I assume the people in the ER, your people, are working on it full steam ahead. Now, if you don't mind-".
"-House, you're taking this fucking case or I will smash your TV screen". Cameron's eyes were glassy, her voice flat. The combination unnerved him because he had never seen it before. Normally delightfully emotional, even when angry, now she exuded a cold aloofness.
The nephrologist sighed and picked up the file, leafing through it as she watched on silently. Only the TV produced any noise as the characters argued. "This does look interesting", he admitted finally, "I'll take it". With that, he turned back to the screen. Cameron hadn't moved and he felt compelled to add: "you're still here".
"You hired that woman to replace me".
Once more House sighed. "How do you even know that?".
"Not important", she snapped. "You hired Hadley to replace me. When were you going to-?".
"-yeah, yeah, all pretty girls are fungible, what of it?". As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it.
Cameron took two steps back, recoiling as if from a slap in the face. "Is that what you think?", she managed eventually, voice deathly soft.
"I didn't mean-".
"-fuck you, House. I'm leaving". Cameron turned so quickly for the door that her hair whipped across the pale skin of her face.
The diagnostician, meanwhile, leapt up and covered the ground rapidly, grabbing her arm. "Wait. Let me explain".
"Explain what? That I'm just a pretty girl, just lobby art, after all? After all we've shared together? After all we've done?". These words betrayed all the insecurities she had felt for the majority of her adult life. So many times in medical school, in placements, in hospitals, gnawing at the back of her mind: am I here because of my looks? My grades were good, but not the best; my work is decent, but not ground-breaking. Am I, truly, defined only by my body?
"I didn't mean it, Cameron. I'm an idiot. I saw you with Sebastian Charles last week and, I dunno, I just had his face in my mind and took it out on you".
"Thing is, House, it's not your business who I'm with!". White hot anger flooded through her.
"I understand that", he nodded slightly. "So you are together?".
Cameron met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm still thinking about it".
"That's your prerogative. But what can I do? Do you want your job back? I'll fire Thirteen". House recognised he was grasping at straws, trying desperately to retrieve a situation which had escalated for no good reason other than his own stupidity.
"That's, that's not the point, House!", she shouted. "It's OK that you hired someone. I accept that. I've moved on. But you didn't even tell me, didn't even do me the courtesy of a heads-up. Instead what you've done is pinpoint my own insecurity. You knew this. I explicitly told you our first night together, told you how I'm always comparing myself to others, no matter how hard I try to do differently. I trusted that you saw more in me".
"I do!".
Cameron shook her head. "No. You've wounded me, House; undermined everything I thought we were. I'm going to go now. Please let go of my arm".
"I didn't mean what I said".
"And yet you said it".
"I'll let you go if you tell me what I need to do to make this right", he replied softly.
"Sorry, House, but that's not my job anymore. Actions have consequences. Let go of me". These words carried a tone of finality.
House's hand fell limply to the side as Cameron stormed from the room.
House and Cameron are pretty far apart at the moment. Shall we set them on the winding path back to everlasting love? It's all planned out and, I think, true to the series. Fair warning, though, it'll be a slow-burn return, and uploads will still be slow (I don't believe in instant gratification). But it's going to be fun. I'm really looking forward to writing this next phase.
