Tough love
A.N. The first (OK, second) day of summer. Here's a chapter to celebrate.
"You…hallucinated me?", asked Cameron, still unsure about what she had just been told.
"After I was shot, yours was the first face I saw. You were sitting by my bed. Together we solved the case". Throughout the explanation House had kept his eyes on the woman beside his bed, somewhat self-consciously—only Wilson knew the extent of his mental disintegration. Now Cameron did too. Quite what she thought of it was currently being sorted through.
"What case?".
"The case in my head. Guy with a big tongue-, anyway, that's not important. After I woke up for real, I had to figure out what the hell it all meant. I decided it meant I liked you and, well, the rest is history".
"Huh". She sat back in the chair and ran a hand through her hair.
"Yeah".
A few moments passed in silence.
House felt compelled to fill it. "D'you, er, have any thoughts on…what I just said?".
"Well, I mean, I flirted with you when you returned to work but I never actually thought you'd, like, accept my advances". Cameron could still remember the butterflies she had felt when he had walked through the door his first day back; could still remember her complete excitement that, for some reason, he was not pushing her away. The door had been ajar, and she had no intention of allowing it to slam shut in her face.
"Mmm".
"Always guessed it was something mental. I knew something had happened. You were at war with yourself".
"Which you pointed out during our head-to-head in the office". That afternoon remained imprinted on his brain. It was the first time she had kissed him, her lips to his cheek. Back then he had been absolutely petrified of acknowledging possible feelings for his troublesome immunologist.
"Sorta assumed it stemmed from your own mortality, no longer wasting time and stuff". Cameron sipped some water before helping House do the same.
"That contributed too", he admitted, slightly perturbed at how calm she seemed. "Wilson helped me talk things through during my, uh, convalescence". It felt vaguely weird to reduce weeks of inner turmoil, compulsive exercise, and self-doubt into one word.
"Interesting". Cameron decided not to mention that she also had struggled during that period post-shooting. Of course, he already knew many of the details, confessed to him their first night together: not least the therapy, nightmares, and paranoia. But she didn't wish to divert attention onto herself when he was the one with potentially life-changing injuries lying in a hospital bed.
"Interesting? Yeah, guess so".
"And you hallucinated me again after this incident?".
"Correct. Pretty fucked, huh?".
But Cameron asked another question: "what was I doing in this one, then?".
House momentarily shut his eyes as he thought back on these events that didn't happen. "You were swimming in the sea. I was on the beach. We talked and ate ice cream".
"That sounds…mundane".
"Actually, it was great". He neglected to mention that the white bikini had played its part.
"Yeah? You don't strike me as a beach bum", she smiled, though reflecting fondly how easily he tanned in the sun.
"Especially after I saw you with Sebastian Charles. That felt pretty shit".
"What on earth would I be doing with him in your brain? Please tell me we weren't having se-".
"-no, no", he interrupted quickly. "You guys just stood over my bed, made me feel like a steaming pile of garbage, then you left to have his children who, apparently, would be able to run further than me".
Cameron's mouth fell open.
House couldn't help but attempt a wry smile. "Yeah, well", he added, "imagine how I felt. But it's my brain's fault, not yours. Don't worry about it".
"I'm really sorry", she managed, still struggling to process things.
"Like I said: my fault, not yours. The real question is why I'm hallucinating in the first place. I think it's something to do with the painkillers, hence my cutting back on them".
"Mmm, maybe. This would actually be an interesting research paper, don't you think? For once, the patient is the author". Cameron's AJM article was due out in the summer and she had been struggling to land on a new idea while in the ER. A number of factors contributed to this, she knew; not least a lovesick heart that refused to fully heal. But also the simple fact that, without diagnostic medicine in her daily work life, inspiration was hard to come by.
"True", he grunted. "Have you made progress on anything else?".
"No. It doesn't matter". She waved a hand in the air. "Did you finish yours, by the way?". Cameron could recall seeing it on his office computer the day of their interview for Scientific Inquiry. Although that particular piece had not yet appeared in print, Cuddy mentioned the numerous requests she'd already received from industry insiders.
"My article? I did, yeah, but never got round to finding a home for it. Well…", he said, getting back to the matter at hand, "…I think that pretty much covers everything. You now know the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me Satan".
"Not quite. I have another question". Cameron knew she was pushing her luck, but this opportunity to fill in a few gaps could not be missed. If House shut her down, fine. But she needed at least to ask.
"I've told you everything about the hallucinations".
"Not those. What were you doing on the bus the night of the crash?".
House hesitated. The hallucinations were safe ground, in a way, because they only concerned him and his own failures. But the reason for why he was actually in this bed concerned Cameron as well. The last thing he wanted to do was put her on the spot or make her feel uncomfortable. Additionally, he felt horrifically conflicted over his own situation. Everything about his injuries pointed to a long-term problem, and if that were the case he needed to leave Cameron well enough alone. He would not drag her down.
And yet I really miss her.
Stop it. You're being selfish.
"Greg?", she asked, her soft green eyes searching his own.
What am I going to do?
You need to lie.
No. No more lies.
House closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he opened them, having seemingly come to a decision. "If I…if I tell you the truth you need to, to, not read too much into things".
"Umm, OK".
"I…I, ah, was going to see you. I'd been drinking with Wilson; couldn't drive. The bus stopped outside our bar, so I hopped on. Figured it would head towards your place".
"Why were you going to see me?". Cameron's heart started beating faster.
House sighed. "I didn't really think that far ahead, but, y'know…I've missed you a lot, and then we sang REO Speedwagon-".
"-REO Speedwagon?".
He had begun to fiddle with the sheets, keeping his eyes studiously down. Even at the best of times discussing feelings made him want to walk on hot coals. "It's a band. From Chicago. Or Illinois, anyway. You don't know them? Just some cliché bullshit. But it made me think of you and your annoying accent".
"Well, why wouldn't it?".
"So, uh, sorta decided on the spur of the moment to check what you were up to, and maybe to, er, see if you, er, were…seeing someone, and if not-".
"-I'm not seeing anyone", she blurted out. And even if I were, I'd drop them like a lead balloon.
House finally looked up and gave a half-smile. "Right. Anyway, like I say, didn't really have a grand plan. But was gonna maybe ask you a question or something. About, er…", he cleared his throat softly, "…maybe starting back up again. Possibly. So…yeah".
Cameron's heart was beating out of her chest and her throat was dry. "Oh", she croaked.
"Mmm".
"And how do you…feel now?".
"Conflicted. I feel conflicted. The truth is, my health currently is…not robust. Who the hell knows if and when I'll be back to where I was?".
"There's a long road ahead", Cameron nodded. Forgetting for a moment her own feelings of excitement, it reassured her that House seemed to be thinking in terms of regaining his mobility. Given what had happened, it would be easy for him to adopt a fatalist perspective. There was still time for that, of course. And no one could blame him.
"If I were to ask you, hypothetically speaking, obviously, if you wanted to maybe think about getting back together…what would you say?".
"I-", she began almost instantly.
A knock on the door.
"-hello, Dr. House, we're here for your ablutions". A team of nurses entered the room and Cameron, who had been leaning in close to the other and holding his hand, bolted back in surprise.
"This is not a good time. Just get lost for a few minutes?". House felt anger and frustration building at this intrusion.
"I'm sorry, but we have a lot of people to do. Let's go. Diane? Gab? If you could sort the bed out? Thanks". The two named nodded and took a side each.
"For God's sake-".
"-House", interjected Cameron softly, "it's fine. We can talk later".
"But I want to talk now. These nurses can fuck off".
The three women bridled at the language. One of them touched a crucifix around her neck.
"We'll talk later. I promise". The immunologist gave him a last fleeting smile before being shepherded outside. The blinds were quickly drawn across.
Cameron had intended to return to House's room as soon as possible, but various things had kept her away until evening. Although she had taken a couple of days' leave, Porter had seen her in the cafeteria earlier and asked for help with a particular case in the ER. In the time since leaving Diagnostics, she had more than once reflected on how these acquired skills still saw some use every now and then. Ordinarily this provoked excitement, since it broke up the monotony. But today it took all of her self-control not to flatly refuse.
"Er, I was just about to head back up to see House…", she replied, having turned around at her name.
"Ah, yes, how is he?", Porter asked.
"Still too early to say. But he's awake at least".
"Excellent. You'll pass on my best?".
"I will". She suppressed a smile at House's imagined reaction to the well wishes from someone he not only barely knew, but also did not believe to be a proper doctor.
"Listen, as I said, I know you're on leave, but we have a situation that could really use your input".
Cameron sighed, glanced at her wristwatch, and sighed again. But she couldn't in all good conscience walk away. "OK. Let me grab my coat—will meet you down there in five".
"Great, thanks".
That had been three hours ago.
The time wasn't wasted, however, because it afforded her an extended period of reflection, even while overseeing treatment. Things with House had been so full-on that she felt better for taking a time out. As Cameron stood in the locker room she stared at herself in the mirror. Her appearance left a little to be desired: though not lank, her hair was certainly in need of a good wash; makeup had been the first casualty over these last few days. She looked tired and pale. Before going back up to House, the shower beckoned. Grabbing the towel, gel, and shampoo which lived in her locker for just such a situation, she stepped into a cubicle and relaxed under the steaming water.
Thirty minutes later, feeling like a human again, she entered House's room. Cuddy sat in the chair.
"Hey. How's it going?", asked Cameron, smiling at the pair. "Porter sends his best".
"Cuddles was just filling me in on the football scores", explained House. He looked a touch healthier with every passing hour.
"Eagles lost; Bears won", offered the immunologist automatically.
"I didn't know you were a fan", said Cuddy, eyebrows raised.
"I'm not really".
"She says she's not, but it's a lie", House smirked.
"My family are fans. I just go with the flow".
"Brothers?", asked the other woman.
"And Dad".
"I pity you".
"Whoa, hey. Enough of that", complained House, "no need to kill my vibe. I'm on my deathbed here".
"Hardly. Allison, you can sit. Take over my solemn score-reading duty before I lose the will to leave". Cuddy got to her feet and moved to the door.
Cameron laughed but did as instructed, settling into the warm chair. "How can I refuse?".
"House, I'll run things by Wildermuth, OK?". With that, the Dean left to see to other business.
"Run what by Wildermuth?", asked Cameron.
"I want to go home. Not staying here. The TV is complete crap. It hasn't even got its own speakers, and it's too high up". House looked genuinely appalled at this reality.
"Are you sure you're well enough to move?". She took a moment to examine the man before her: his face wasn't quite so black and blue, and some of the bandages on his chest had been removed. Both his arms rested over the sheets—they harboured more than their fair share of cuts and bruises but seemingly nothing more serious than that. As ever, the unknown was the state of his legs. They remained hidden.
"Only one way to find out. The bones that can be are casted; the ones that can't be are manageable".
A few moments passed in silence before they both spoke at once:
"House-".
"-Cameron".
"Sorry", she smiled. "Go ahead".
"I was, er, just going to ask if you've had a chance to think about our conversation from earlier", he murmured.
"I've thought about nothing else all afternoon. I'd've come earlier but Porter needed me". She gestured vaguely in the direction of the corridor.
"No worries. The jury always takes a bit of time to consider its verdict". House took a breath and laced his hands together.
"House…". Cameron leant forwards and placed her own hand over his. "I'm not going to be your girlfriend. Not yet".
The man's shoulders slumped and he dipped his head. "I understand. I don't blame you for not loving me anymore. I don't deser-".
But she reached out and tilted his chin up. "-shut up. I love you. Still. Always".
"Then why…?".
"Because I want you to focus on getting better, Greg. Nothing else matters. I don't want you wasting time on me. I simply will not allow it. Your job now is to get back to where you were, with one hundred percent of your energy. If you can do that, if you promise to devote yourself to this goal: rehab, exercises, whatever, then we'll revisit 'us' in time".
"So you only want me when I'm healthy".
"I want you when you're you. I fell in love with you when you still had your cane, House. But I've seen first-hand how happy you've been these few months thanks to the ketamine treatment. I would never forgive myself if I unwittingly sabotaged your recovery by monopolising your time and effort". She had told him, the night of their breakup, that she would sacrifice her own happiness for House's wellbeing. And so she would.
"But what if I never get back to where I was?", he asked softly.
"If you feel that you've exhausted every option, or if we decide that it's in fact out of reach, then I will of course be your girlfriend", she answered, feeling a well of emotion surge upwards. "But I want you to swear to me, right now, that you will devote yourself to getting better. If that turns out not to be enough, then fine. But swear to me that you will try really fucking hard". There were tears in her eyes now. "Promise me, Greg".
"I promise".
"Good". She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
"Hey, blondie?".
"What?", she coughed thickly.
"You're an interesting human being", House smiled lopsidedly.
"And you", replied Cameron, "are the light of my life. Now shut up and sleep".
"You're not leaving?", he asked tentatively.
"Hell, no. I'm camping out in this chair".
House grunted but did eventually turn over on his less bruised side. The woman, meanwhile, shut off the lights and closed her eyes. Within a minute, both were sound asleep.
