Hunger games
Cuddy called 'come in' and looked up to see Sebastian Charles at the door. "Hello, Sebastian. How can I help you?".
"Hi, Dr. Cuddy. I have a slight problem, to be honest".
"Oh? Please". She gestured towards the seat across from her desk.
Charles sank into the chair and fixed his brown eyes on hers. "The preparation for the TB conference is progressing nicely. Only problem is, one of the speakers has dropped out on short notice. As you know, we kick off in three weeks…".
"Ah. You need a replacement".
"Yeah", he replied, lacing his hands together.
"Couldn't you just ask one of the people whose papers you rejected? I'm sure you must've received a lot of abstracts".
"Sure, I could. But we rejected them for a reason. I want the best people for this thing".
Cuddy sensed that he was building up to something. "You have an idea in mind?".
"Yes. Well, someone in mind".
"I'm sure if you just ask them they'll agree, right? I mean-".
"-it's House", he interjected flatly.
"But House isn't a TB expert".
"Not specifically, no. I'm thinking, though, that it might be a good idea to have a more general infectious disease perspective. There's another reason, too—House is a brilliant doctor, and he also saved my life. I'd like him to present at the conference".
Cuddy leant back in her chair and the leather squeaked slightly. "It's a neat idea in theory, Sebastian, but I'm not convinced it's doable. For one thing, House conferenced recently in London. Given that that one was his first in five years, there's very little chance he'd agree to another so soon. Especially since he hasn't had time to prepare".
"But if you asked him, he'd consider it, right? You're basically the only person he listens to".
Highly debateable, thought Cuddy inwardly. "Well, that leads me to my second objection. As you're aware, House suffered a very serious accident and I cannot in all good conscience suggest he begin working barely a month after he nearly died".
"I understand that, of course", replied Charles. He remembered that night clearly because it was also the night Cameron had declared her love for House, thereby leaving himself very much high and dry. It was fine, though. He found Cameron attractive, sure, and his ego had taken a hit to be so brutally rejected. But he was not one to linger on lost opportunities. Far better to focus on what the future might bring instead. "But", he continued, "there are ways to accommodate him".
"Like…?".
"We have a significant online aspect to the conference. I could easily envisage a situation where House simply presents from the comfort of his own living room. As long as the tech stuff is set up properly, it shouldn't be an issue".
"Perhaps", conceded Cuddy slowly. "But I sense that House's objection wouldn't be logistical. In case you hadn't noticed, he's pretty lazy. A paper like this needs work. And, I say again, he's in a bad way".
"Uhuh. I'm wondering if a task like this would actually help him, though. You know as well as I that work can prove a helpful distraction".
"I don't know…". Cuddy remained extremely doubtful.
"No harm in asking, is there? If he says no, fine, I'll find someone else. Either way, I'd need an answer quickly".
"Look, I'm going over there Friday. I'll run it by him. Best I can do". At the end of the day, House was his own man and could decide for himself. As she had more than once reflected in this regard, it wasn't her job to play gatekeeper.
"That's all I ask", Charles smiled. He got up from the chair and straightened his shirt, flashing her a grin. "Now, I'm off for a very expensive brunch with a congressman".
"Enjoy. See you round, Sebastian".
Cameron sat working at the coffee table, enjoying the calm, early morning atmosphere of House's apartment. She had only been here a few nights, but the simple excitement of living in this place had not yet dissipated, even if the couch was an imperfect bed. It felt like moving into a new apartment where everything was fresh. The change of scenery had certainly come at the right time for her. Looking back on the last few months since Christmas, she realised that she had been drifting somewhat. Not so much in terms of her application (she had worked as hard if not harder in the ER compared to Diagnostics), but more in terms of her zeal for the job. For so long it had seemed as if she were running on autopilot. But now she had a purpose.
Still, it wasn't all straightforward. For one thing, guarding against carer burnout would remain a top priority, and Cuddy had made her swear to look after her own wellbeing. For another, she and House both needed to keep up a sense of normality and routine if he were to stand a chance at a full recovery. And they hadn't even begun to think about rehab work yet, itself a challenge which would need surmounting at some point: that could come later, though. Right now it was one day at a time. Taking care of the little things mattered most.
Cameron glanced at the clock. It was still early; too early for House to be awake. Even when healthy he had never been a morning lark. The day of their flight to London she had jolted him up with previously planted alarm clocks and he had not appreciated it. In fact, the only time he had come in early for any significant period was pre- and post- Christmas, around the time of their split.
Enough. Stop thinking about him.
This time of day was valuable and it wouldn't do to be wasting it by engaging in fantasies. Cameron tabbed through to her diary and willed focus on herself.
On the agenda for this morning was virtual triage. For the last few years the hospital had implemented a gateway service whereby members of the public could enter their symptoms into a portal which in turn would trigger a chatbot pre-set to dispense basic advice and 'next steps' depending on severity. Most inquiries received by any hospital in America tended to have simple answers, but occasionally the automated system would flag a potential situation which required human input. Since this job could be done remotely and at all times of day, Cameron had volunteered herself.
For the next hour or so, she carefully read through the automatically generated reports, deciding whether to sign off on prospective patients not needing an in-person evaluation, or else sending them down the next link in the diagnostic chain. Boring and mundane work, to be sure, but no less important for that.
Clicking 'approve' on the latest file, she sat back and stretched her arms over her head. At some point she would need to start going for runs. Early mornings were looking the most likely since it minimised the time away from House while he was awake, and she preferred that time of day anyway. If this phase of her life was going to be a success then she would need to maintain a usual routine as far as possible: exercise, work, free time. She had even brought across from her apartment her clarinet and sheet music, though had kept them stowed out of sight for now since she didn't want House to feel like she was invading his personal space. After all, this was his home, and he'd be within his rights to feel somewhat aggrieved at current circumstances.
The email notification sounded and she tabbed over to read the new message.
RE. Roundtable
Dear Dr. Cameron,
Not at all! I'm delighted to hear from you and happily accept your contribution to our roundtable next month. I attach the main talking points and logistical particulars. Though of course disappointed that you couldn't join us here at Sinai, I look forward to welcoming you to our institution nonetheless. If there's anything I can help with in the meantime, do get in touch. And, yes, House is brilliant.
All best wishes,
Genevieve
Cameron, experiencing mounting confusion, re-read the words before scrolling down the message chain. Taylor had replied to an email sent from the communal Diagnostics account yesterday.
Roundtable
Dear Prof. Taylor,
Please excuse my direct approach, but I noticed that you are short a participant for your very interesting roundtable next month. As it happens, I have been working on a little piece of research which arose out of a recent paper. I think it could be a good fit for your event. I attach my outline to this email and await your response.
I'm sorry I couldn't join you at Sinai, but my boss is just so brilliant and handsome and amazing that no one else really comes close.
Best,
Allison Cameron
"What the f-?", muttered Cameron under her breath. A few moments passed as her thoughts circulated and comprehension dawned. With an abrupt shake of the head she got to her feet and strode towards House's bedroom. The door was open and she looked at him sleeping peacefully. She found herself torn between expressing her anger in no uncertain terms and being unwilling to disrupt his precious rest. She stood on the threshold glaring in his direction but, eventually, turned back with an air of martyred annoyance, heading for the kitchen.
House awoke to the smell of frying bacon and eggs. As was now routine, he spent the initial period adjusting to the pain, glancing habitually to the pills on the sidetable. Rather than swallow them, though, he reached for his cell phone and gingerly typed out a message. Is that breakfast I smell?
The answer came immediately. Yes, are you ready for it?
Born ready, he replied, mouth already watering at the prospect. A cooked breakfast was a rarity during the week. Usually such things were reserved for the weekend.
Before long Cameron entered with a fully laden tray, which she placed on a chair to the side while helping him sit up straight against the headboard. "How're you feeling?".
"No change. You?".
"I'm feeling great".
House noted the tone but quickly turned his attention to the tray. On it rested a full plate of bacon, eggs, pancakes, a coffee press brimming with recently purchased premium Colombian roast, and a plastic water bottle filled with a strange milkshake. Having poured them both a cup, Cameron lowered the tray into his lap.
House licked his lips.
But, quick as a flash, she picked up the plate, sank into the chair, and began to eat the bacon and eggs.
"That's my breakfast!".
Cameron looked up, as if in surprise. "Umm, no? That's your breakfast". Now she nodded to the milkshake which had remained standing on the tray.
House blinked a couple of times. "Huh?".
"Go ahead". Another nod at the milkshake.
"This isn't funny".
"And I'm not laughing. It's a specially brewed protein blend which contains all the nutrients your body needs. I figured it would help with healing". Cameron continued to eat noisily.
House's gaze flicked between the rapidly emptying plate and the 'milkshake'. He still held his knife and fork hopefully. "But…but you're not a nutritionist!".
"With the nurses' help I've drawn up a food plan for you". Now she was beginning to drizzle maple syrup onto the pancakes. "Eat", she commanded, before correcting herself: "or, well, drink. I got you this straw". A Looney Tunes straw plopped into the 'milkshake'.
"Why are you doing this?".
The utter despondency with which these words emerged nearly caused Cameron's cool manner to thaw, but she mastered her feelings quickly. "Because I want you to get better. A healthy diet is your firm foundation".
He grumbled something under his breath. Over her chewing she caught only 'nasty', 'Chicago', and 'bullshit'. Despite the complaints, he began to suck dolefully on the straw, eyes never leaving her plate.
"And Genevieve agrees with me", she added after a few moments' eating and drinking.
House stopped sipping and nodded shortly. "Aha. Man, she works fast. I thought I'd at least have a couple of days' grace".
Cameron aggressively sawed at the latest piece of bacon. "I don't appreciate you hacking into my email-".
"-it was hardly 'hacking'. I sent that thing from the communal account".
"Stop with the technicalities. The point is you impersonated me".
"D'you think I got the tone right?".
"This isn't funny, House".
"And I'm not laughing", he replied calmly, mimicking her earlier response. "Anyway, you've impersonated me before".
"I have not!".
"No? Lacrosse kid? Subacute sclerosing panencephalitis? How did we get that case, do you remember?".
Cameron remembered exactly: she had written a letter promising an evaluation and forged House's signature. The distinctive curly G's in 'Gregory' had given her away. "That's…that's-, that's not the same…!", she stuttered, brushing her hair back from her face. As usual, House had a point.
"Mmm, slightly worse, you think? I mean, signature theft is an actual crime. You would not last in jail".
"What did you hope to gain by signing me up to some random event? Are you…are you punishing me with one of your stupid games?". Cameron felt a well of emotion building in the pit of her stomach. House had been against her moving in, and now he was broadcasting his intentions: to make her miserable and force her out.
"Punish you?", he repeated. "Why on earth would I do that? I love having you here".
This response, seemingly genuine and heartfelt, put her immediately on the back foot. "Well…well…!", she managed. "You can't just do that!".
"You're acting like I just signed you up to the Hunger Games". House, now resigned to his food fate, took little sips of the nutrient shake.
"How do you even know about the Hunger-? No, no, that's not important. Explain yourself". Cameron folded her arms and glared.
House sighed. "Will you at least pass me my painkillers first? I don't want a headache on top of everything else".
"God, of course. Sorry". Temporarily forgetting her anger, she at once got up and did as asked.
"Look", said House eventually. "When I found that card in your purse yesterday…I dunno, I just felt that it was an opportunity for you. So I put out some feelers. Taylor is a decent researcher".
Now it was Cameron's turn to sigh. Given that she had permitted him to search her bag yesterday, she supposed it was no surprise that he had discovered the business card, whose existence she'd forgotten about. "I know Taylor is good. I did my own research when she approached me".
"In London?".
"Yes".
"She offered you a job? And you refused her".
"Yeah".
"A mistake", exhaled House softly. "Those immunology pathways are lucrative and prestigious".
"That stuff doesn't matter to me", she replied, waving her hand in the air.
"It should".
"It doesn't matter to you".
"No", he conceded. "But we're at different career stages. I told you a while back that I want more for you than this fellowship".
"I'm not even your fellow now".
"Nope. You're my nurse. Big step up", he grunted bitterly, taking another swig from the protein shake.
"House", murmured Cameron. "Worrying about me is taking away energy from your recovery. You sent that email when you should have been resting".
"I couldn't have slept anyway—the guy was drilling through my bathroom walls". House took a break from his wholly unsatisfying breakfast and sank back into the pillows.
"Regardless-".
"-I want you to do that roundtable".
"House, it's not…it's not practical. I'd need to do serious research which would bite into my time caring for you".
"You've got a whole month. And I distinctly recall there being a lot of overflow from your London paper; just use that stuff as a basis". House had helped enormously during the draft process and knew as much about her topic as she did. "Besides", he added, "you can do most of the research from here. Crap's online these days, don'cha know?".
"Why are you pushing this?".
"Because it's an opportunity. And because, I dunno…", because I hate the fact I'm dragging you down; because I hate being a burden, "…because it would mean a lot to me if you did it".
"For God's sake", she sighed loudly. "Why'd you have to say that?".
"So you'd find it harder to refuse?".
Cameron scowled but, eventually, her expression softened. "You're incredibly annoying. You know that, right?".
"I know".
"You wouldn't even be aware of Taylor if I hadn't thrown you my handbag".
"That sounds like a 'you' problem, to be honest", he mused.
"Fine. I'll do this stupid roundtable. But I'm not giving you this last piece of bacon". She speared it with her fork, waved it in front of his face, and popped it into her mouth.
House shot her a baleful look. "These food games…I swear, when I'm better you're gonna get a taste of your own medicine, CB".
Cameron's annoyance dissipated and she smiled brightly at him. "When you're better, Greg, I'll gladly taste whatever you want to put in my mouth". With a darting glance southwards, she began to gather up the breakfast things while House dutifully slurped his protein shake, pretending to be unaffected by her words.
