Bedbound
When House next awoke Cameron still sat in the chair. This time, instead of reading a book, she was playing his Gameboy on low volume, head down. Rather than disturb her session he took the opportunity just to listen. By the sounds of things she was tackling Wacky Races and having a hard time. Given that she had shown absolutely no indication of being a gamer, it was something of an exciting revelation to bear witness to her learnings in real time.
Only after a few minutes of her frustrated noises did he decide to break his silence: "you gotta drive over the boosters otherwise you can never win".
Cameron looked up in surprise and smiled widely. It never ceased to amaze him, when they were together, how genuine those smiles were. No one looked at him like that. Not even Wilson or Cuddy. And normal people, well, when they weren't actively staying out of his way, they displayed attitudes varying from mild terror, to annoyance, to naked hostility. But Cameron always seemed positively buoyed by his presence. He just didn't understand why. He had never understood why.
Unfortunately, however, her smile drew attention from the screen and the tell-tale 'game over' sirens emitted from the speakers. She set the thing down and prepared to speak, but he cut across: "try again".
"It's really hard. I've been playing for the last hour".
"You can do it. What track are you on?", he murmured, still waking himself up.
"Uhh". She glanced down and pressed a few buttons. "Grand Canyon".
"Oh, that's simple".
"How is it simple? There are falling rocks, mudslides, traps, and the boosters are in weird places".
"Just stay nimble on the steering. You can slingshot between boosters and avoid most of the crap. The key is not to change line unless you really have to. And don't get bogged down by Dick Dastardly or Muttley. The rest are doable. Apart from Peter Perfect".
"Oh, sure", she scoffed, "when you put it like that it sounds real simple".
"Try again. And turn the sound up so I can hear your progress".
"You want a drink of water?".
"Race first; water after".
For the next little while House attempted to coach Cameron into winning. It soon became apparent that she was not particularly good. Only once did she reach the final lap: "I think I've got the hang of this now. I just gotta keep it steady all the way round".
"Just avoid the rocks-".
"-done", she announced, the rubble and engine noise mingling with the tinny music.
"Peter Perfect's cunning ruse…". House glanced to the side and saw her tongue stuck out in concentration. A cute sight.
"Yep".
"Dick Dastardly's rocket trap…".
"What-rocket-trap?", she asked rapidly, the words running together.
"The-".
"-no!". The 'game over' sound. "God, where did that come from?!".
"You need to keep an eye out".
"I'm trying! It's hard".
House chuckled, but this caused excruciating pain to lance through his entire body, even piercing the fog of industrial-strength painkillers.
"House!". Concern etched itself into the delicate lines of her face.
"I'm…I'm fine", he winced. "Water".
"You shouldn't be laughing". She held the plastic cup gently to his lips and he took a few gulps, throat dry. As he drank, Cameron discovered that her fingers had been stroking his hair and stopped it before he realised. "You shouldn't be laughing", she repeated.
"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be so crap at that game", he retorted, sinking back into the bedsheets as she replaced the cup on the little table.
Cameron sighed good-naturedly but seemed on the point of talking about serious things: "House-".
"-no, please. I don't want to know. Not yet. Just…give me a bit more time". Ignorance is bliss. It made him happy to be here, with her, doing nothing important. The first time around, after the shooting, life had changed. He didn't want to confront reality quite yet.
The immunologist chewed her lip but relented, a softness in her eyes. "Fine".
"Try again", he commanded, lifting a finger in the direction of the discarded console.
"I honestly don't think I can", she admitted. "I think this foe is beyond me".
"Was that…a Fellowship of the Ring reference?", he asked suspiciously.
"Why are you always so surprised that I like films? Anyway, saw it a couple of months back. Wasn't as boring as I expected but gotta build up to tackle the rest".
"Watched it without me…", he grumbled.
"Sorry", she grinned.
"Try again".
"I'm telling you it's impossible".
"It's not. Just…just sit here", House tilted his head towards the bed edge that remained free. "I'll be able to coach you easier if I can see the screen".
Cameron's heart began to beat faster but she tried to stay professional. "I don't think there's room. And I don't want to touch a part of your body, just in case".
"It'll be fine. I'm dosed to the eyeballs anyway".
"House…this isn't-".
"-just sit".
"For God's sake, fine, but if I cause you any pain, you tell me straight away and I'll literally roll off in one second flat".
He caught her eyes. They appeared deadly serious. "Really? One second flat?".
"One second flat".
"You don't have the balls to throw yourself to the floor that quickly", he scoffed. At least, he tried to scoff, but the elaborate mouth movement proved more pain that it was worth. Truly, his life was already quantifiably worse.
"You know nothing about balls. I've seen your bowling, remember".
"Ouch. That's not very nice".
"Right…I'll just…perch". Cameron lowered herself gently onto the bed, stretching her legs out as carefully as possible so that she could avoid disturbing the sheets. House had not been awake long, and he had actively discouraged talk of his physical state. Painkillers were still very much in effect, and she did not want to disrupt this period of respite. There would be a time in the next few days when they would need to discuss things. But not right now. Right now it was just them.
"You need to press 'continue game', dude".
"Don't 'dude' me, pal", she replied, jolting out of her reflections. "Are your pillows OK? I can plump them for you".
"It's fine. But tuck in a bit more".
"No. I'm not touching your ribs".
"They're screwed anyway".
"They're not screwed, House", she murmured, turning her head a touch to meet his eyes.
"Well", he replied, "that's enough about me. How're you doing these days?". The Gameboy remained idling in Cameron's hands as they both sat, or lay, side by side on the bed.
"Me? Oh, you know…picked up a hobby or two. But I think I'm about done with your ridiculous TV dramas". Prescription Passion and Real Hospitals of Los Angeles had been on loop for the last seventy-two hours.
"Don't be like that. You gotta give 'em the old college try".
"They've been on loop for the last seventy-two hours", she announced flatly. "I think that counts as a good ol' college try".
House looked askance at her. "You've been here that long?".
"I have no life", she smiled at him.
The other seemed lost in a reflection but eventually cleared his throat and gestured to the console. "Come on then, bombshell. Let's see what you can do".
Cameron nodded and fired up her save file, hiding another grin at the nickname. That was something she hadn't heard for a while.
It didn't take long for House to sigh. "Of course you chose Penelope Pitstop".
"Nothing wrong with a bit of girl power, is there? Besides, she just had the cutest little top on!". For this last statement the immunologist adopted a valley girl tone, high-pitched and vacant.
"You're not good at playing the blonde airhead, either", he remarked shortly.
"I dunno, man. All that time watching Real Hospitals…feel like I've lost a few braincells, y'know?".
Before he could stop himself, House chuckled again. And again he winced in pain.
Cameron twisted on the bed and held a hand to his shoulder. "Stop laughing. If you rip your stitches out-".
"-s'fine. Benefit of being in a hospital is that they got people to sort things. And these painkillers are pretty fantastic. Anyway, I bet your stitching is top notch now with all those hours logged in the ER?".
"It's certainly better than my chopstick technique, I'll tell you that much". This allusion to their time in London and the Chinese restaurant caused both of them to smile. Cameron still had her hand on his shoulder but didn't remove it, instead gazing past the swollen cheeks and vivid red cuts into familiar blue eyes. That was where the magic happened.
"I missed you", he murmured.
"Of course you did. I'm adorable".
The pair said nothing else for a few moments, enjoying the proximity.
Eventually House glanced down at the Gameboy. "Umm, shall we?".
"Yes. We shall". Her hand dropped at last to the console.
"Now, remember", he said with mock seriousness, "nimble on the steering…".
"Hey, what're you doing?". Cuddy came up behind Wilson as he stood in the corridor, looking through the glass at House and Cameron.
"Hmm?". Wilson turned towards her slightly. "Oh, just watching. House is awake".
"Yeah? Great! Let's go in and see how he is". Cuddy began to move to the door but he kept her back by the arm.
"No, wait. Just give them a few more minutes".
"What? Why?".
"See for yourself". He gestured in their direction.
The Dean returned to stand next to her friend and observed a scene which softened her heart: House lay propped up on the pillows and Cameron had sat down next to him, their legs side by side, heads close, examining something. She couldn't make out what it was. "Sweet. Are they back together?".
The other shrugged, but shepherded her away from the room. "The night of the accident House and I were at karaoke. Remember?".
"Yes. We still need to have a proper debrief".
"Uhuh. Anyway, the reason he was on the bus in the first place…". Instead of finishing the sentence Wilson handed over the napkin with House's scrawled message.
Cuddy studied it and raised her eyebrows.
"Obviously, we can't be certain-", he began.
"-but it seems like he wants her back", she finished.
"The thing is, that was before the crash".
"What do you mean?", she asked, handing the thing back.
"Well, you know what House's like. For such a pain in the ass he has an honourable streak. How severe are his injuries?".
"Ah", muttered Cuddy, aware of what her friend was driving at. If his injuries were bad, House might well be unwilling to inform Cameron of his desire due to some sense of chivalry or self-sacrifice. "I don't know how serious they are. Well, I know they're serious, but not how serious. Wildermuth says it's a wait-and-see game at this point".
"Hmm. Let's go in. We've given them long enough".
Cuddy nodded and followed Wilson as they knocked on the door and entered. The pair on the bed had been sharing a joke and both looked up.
"Hey", said Wilson. "How're you feeling?".
"With this morphine, I'm feeling pretty swell".
"Yeah, sorry about that. It was a necessary decision according to Wildermuth".
House grunted. He was familiar enough with pain to appreciate that, without these drugs, he would likely be writhing around on the floor. "It is what it is. Evening, Cuddles".
"Actually, it's morning", she replied. "Your parents are due in at some point today or tomorrow".
"You called them?". A scowl.
"Of course. You nearly died, House".
Before any further conversation could materialise, however, Wildermuth came in and glared around the room. "Excuse me, but only one visitor at a time, please". He turned to Cuddy: "Lisa, I thought I made myself crystal clear earlier".
"Yes, you're right. Sorry. Let's go, James".
"Actually, I'd like to speak to Wilson", interjected House. "D'you mind giving us a few minutes?". This was directed at Cameron.
"Of course", she smiled, hopping down from the bed. "I could use some air anyway".
"I'll join you", said Cuddy. Both left.
For the next several minutes Wilson sat in the vacated chair while Wildermuth completed his checks of House's injuries and dressings. Only when he was completely satisfied did the surgeon glance at Wilson: "you have ten minutes. Then my patient is sleeping".
"Thanks, Wilders", offered House.
The man frowned at the nickname but exited without another word.
Wilson spoke up: "you OK?".
"I'm alive".
"House, I'm sorry. I should've been there for you. I shouldn't have let you get the bus". Wilson knitted his hands in his lap.
"None of this is your fault. I made the decision and, well, it was a case of 'wrong place, wrong time'". House spoke resignedly. There was a kind of liberation in complete resignation, he thought. No agenda, no demands, no puzzle. All he had to do was lie in this bed and think about life.
"Whatever you need to…acclimatise to this, I'll do".
"Actually, there are a couple of things I need from you".
"Name them", he said at once.
"There was a woman on the bus with me. She put a tourniquet on my leg. I'd like you to track her down. See what became of her".
Wilson made a note on his phone. "Don't s'pose you got a name?".
House shook his head. "We didn't talk. She had blonde hair and a red scarf. It wouldn't surprise me if she worked in another hospital nearby—good technique".
"I'll take a look around. Chances are she ended up at another location. What's the second thing?".
"That napkin from the bar. Have you still got it?".
"Yes". He fished it out of his pocket and made a token effort to smooth it over.
"I'd like you to put it in my wallet, wherever the hell that is. Or my jeans pocket".
"They stuck your stuff in a locker downstairs. Will check it out. Can I ask what you plan to do? You gonna tell Cameron?".
"I'll tell her the truth".
"Meaning?".
"Meaning everything. There'll be no more secrets", sighed House, wincing slightly at the pain.
"So you're asking her to get back together?", asked Wilson tentatively.
"I'm not sure yet", admitted the other. "We'll discuss it and come to a decision. I don't even know if she wants to get back together. Things are not straightforward".
"True enough", nodded the oncologist. He allowed a few moments to pass in silence before adding: "I'm glad you didn't die, man".
"As long as you don't confess your undying love to me…". House relaxed back into the pillows.
"In your dreams", he snorted.
"Speaking of dreams, Wilders was right. I'm pretty tired. You can fuck off now. Dim the lights on the way out".
