He said, she said

A.N. The case with Dr. Ezra Powell occurs early in season 3 ('Informed Consent') and, strictly speaking, is just after our timeline. But it's an interesting Hameron episode so I'm transplanting it earlier.


Cameron arrived early the next morning in order to write up the case from yesterday and to answer a few outstanding emails. Before leaving last night she'd noticed one from Holy Cross hospital asking after specifics of the just-concluded case. Aside from their personal addresses, all four of them had access to the communal email account, though Cameron had long ago assumed the role of unofficial departmental spokeswoman. Chase and Foreman chipped in occasionally, especially if requests came from doctors or institutions in their respective fields. House never bothered. Undoubtedly this derived chiefly from laziness, but she suspected he also appreciated how uncommunicativeness added to his aura of mystique. And the fact was, it did. In both the personal and the professional sphere.

The immunologist wandered into the department and put coffee on to brew. She had always enjoyed this time of day when the hospital was quiet and subdued. Most of her paper had been written in the early mornings before any other fellows made it in. As she hung her coat up, she glanced towards House's office, expecting it to be dark. But surprisingly the man himself was already working at his desk, by the light of a single lamp. No wonder she hadn't noticed it before; and he obviously hadn't noticed her, so engrossed did he look in the task at hand.

After a brief internal debate concerning whether to disturb him, Cameron knocked on the door. "Hey. You're in early".

House looked up, blinking. "It was an accident. I got an anonymous text saying there was cake in my office. And if there's something I love more than food, it's free food. And boobs. But mainly food".

"Would you like a coffee?", she smiled.

"Yeah, but I'd like a kiss even more".

"I think that can be arranged". Cameron walked over to where he was sitting and leant down, meeting his lips with her own.

But as she was about to pull away, he tugged her into his lap, nuzzling her neck. "Hmm", he rumbled, "you smell different".

"You like? I'm sampling a new perfume". Cameron had picked it up from Victoria's Secret last week.

"It's yummy. Vanilla and an undercurrent of spice?". The combination of her scent and smooth skin caused a stir in his pants. The perfume was even more enticing for its subtlety. House disliked women (and men) who slathered themselves in artificial product. But up close the smell was delicious.

"Well, basically, yeah. But it has a fancy name", replied Cameron, wiggling her butt in his lap.

"I love it. But I hope you didn't switch just for me".

"No. I fancied a change. I'd had the old one for a while and variety is, apparently, the spice of life".

"I could not disagree more with that sentiment".

"Unsurprising. You're allergic to change". Cameron prodded him in the chest to emphasise her point.

"If that were actually the case, I'm not convinced we'd be going out at all, silly goose. I thought you were smart".

"That's true", she conceded. "You still haven't told me quite why you were so receptive to my advances upon your return to work. What changed?". Although she delivered the question casually, her heart rate quickened. Of all the questions she wanted answered, this one was top of the list. Something had happened, whether because of the shooting or after it. In a way, the reason was irrelevant since the desired result had been achieved. But that did not make it any less interesting, or less pertinent. Whatever the case, there can't have been no reason. House was the most rational man she had ever met, and his actions were always explicable.

Unbeknown to the other, House's heartbeat also accelerated, and he tried to smother the inquiry in humour. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you".

Cameron recognised the diversionary tactic but decided not to push it. "Fine, keep quiet. I bet the answer is boring anyway".

He chuckled, appreciative of her tact. "It's not boring, and I will tell you". How that would go was anyone's guess: yeah, so, while I was lying bleeding on the ground you came to me in a vision where I used robot arms to undress you. Since then, and after weighing your good and bad points with my friends, I thought I'd give us a try. Crazy, huh?

"When?", she asked, taking advantage of the opening.

"When I'm ready".

The reply was laced with a hint of tension and the woman silently cursed herself for not following her first instinct to let it slide. "No problem. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable".

House sighed and pulled her a little further into his lap. "You don't need to apologise. I'm still new to this, to opening up, I mean. It'll just take me a bit of time to…adjust to this new reality. Is that enough, for now?".

Cameron gazed into his blue eyes, which were serious. "It'll always be enough, House. I ask only because I'm interested, but you're allowed to have secrets, or things you only confide in Wilson".

"How did you…?", he asked in surprise at her perception.

"Please. Even I know that it's bros before hoes". As she spoke, there was a twitch against her butt. "What the…? It wasn't even dirty", she whispered, wiggling again for good measure.

House cleared his throat. "Nah, I just haven't got used to the fact that you're not a cuddly, innocent teddy bear. So, when you say stuff like that…I dunno…it's a pretty neat contradiction".

Cameron suppressed a grin. Once more, a theory had been proven correct. This time, it was a hypothesis she'd alighted on following their sprint up to Diagnostics a few weeks back. I ought to keep score. "Well", she murmured into his ear, "I can be cuddly, House, if you want. I can be your, ah, 'hoe', if you want. I told you, on our first night together, that you can use me. I told you: I'm your willing…slut".

This final word, delivered against his stubble, caused House to harden fully. The fact that they were in the relative formality of the office made the situation even more erotic. "Mmm", he swallowed. "I don't think I'll ever see you as a hoe".

"What if I dyed my hair blonde?". Another twitch, and she made a show of looking down innocently. "Oops, that looks painful. Was I the cause? I guess you chose the wrong day to wear jeans to work, Greg. Anyways, how about that cup of joe?". Before House could react, she sprang down and darted to the dividing door, flashing him a mischievous grin: "be right back!".


"You must be nearly finished with the paper now, surely?", asked Cameron as she returned carrying two mugs of coffee.

House accepted his drink with a tilt of the head and sat back, appraising the computer screen for a moment or two. "Yeah, pretty much. Just need to finish a few housekeeping jobs and it should be good to go".

"So I can read it later?".

"You can. But I do need to run something by you before I start handing it out. I promised both Foreman and Chase a section as well, remember".

The immunologist settled into the chair opposite the desk. "Sup?".

House picked up the oversized tennis ball and span it on the wood with one hand. What he was about to say could go one of two ways; hence why he had put it off for so long, and also why he had kept his cards close to his chest. "So, you know it's on euthanasia. What you probably don't know is that it's based off our experience with Dr. Ezra Powell. I've changed all the names, hidden the sketch bits, and presented it as a hypothetical scenario. But I wondered if you were OK with me writing up that case, since it was kinda full-on for you".

Cameron was silent for a long time, weighing the other's words while considering her own. When she finally spoke, her tone was careful, even timid. "I, I…did what you suggested, with him, to him, in the end. No one saw me. Do you understand what I'm saying?". Powell had begged them to end his life. House had found her weeping in the hospital chapel afterwards.

He reached across and covered her hand with his own. "Yes. And you were right to do so. I've never been prouder of you than I was then. But I take full responsibility for the progression of…events. Nothing that happened was your fault".

Cameron shuddered. "I helped a man die, House". There was no use tip-toeing around the reality.

"On my orders", he interjected firmly.

"Are you sure your paper needs that case? Can't you focus on something else? There's still time for you to rewrite". She knew the request was unfair—after all, House had been the driving force and he deserved the opportunity to publish.

"It's precisely because it was so hard that I need it. Even leaving aside the astronomically high zebra factor, Powell forced us to confront reality, to ask uncomfortable questions. We have a duty as doctors to present the medicine. And I think he was correct to insist on his right to die. But…", he paused, taking a deep breath, "…if you really object, I can pull my punches and try something else".

At this, she looked up. "Really?".

"Yes".

Cameron sighed. House's genius, his need to seek answers amid seeming chaos, was his very identity. This was what had attracted her in the first place. But if she were to play censor now, just to avoid unpleasant memories, she'd consider herself a hypocrite. Being with House was a package deal—she couldn't just pick and choose elements of his perspective that sat right with her while conveniently ignoring, suppressing, or explaining away the rest. It was all or nothing.

"No. You should present your paper as is. Just because I'm conflicted about my own role in the whole thing doesn't mean it should impact what you do. Besides, it was pretty fantastic medical deduction on your part".

"Well, I couldn't have done it without my trusty sidekicks".

"We're protected, though? The science is sufficiently camouflaged?". The prospect of what might happen should House's paper backfire caused adrenaline to surge through her body. There'd be formal investigations, police involvement, court appearances. But worst of all, their relationship would probably collapse under the stress. Once more she shuddered.

"Yes. I've spent a lot of time on this, and Wilson's read it through as well. If it passes his pathetically rigorous ethical eye, we should be fine", replied the other, still holding her hand reassuringly.

"But if it's not? What if people realise that the subject is not hypothetical at all?", asked Cameron worriedly.

"Then I'll say that I helped Powell die and that you had nothing to do with it. Everyone at the time knew your reservations, and they knew that you sat out treatment. There's no reason for you to be implicated".

"But you'd still be lying for me. I don't like that. I should be the one to face the music if it goes south".

"No". He replaced the tennis ball and his eyes took on a flinty quality.

"It's not your decision to make, House. I'm responsible for that man's death and I won't let you fall on your sword for me". Cameron met his gaze firmly and the two stared at each other across the desk.

"It is my decision. I was in charge, I was responsible, and this is my paper. If people start asking questions, you're to keep quiet and let me do the talking".

Outside in the hallway, conversation and footsteps filtered through the glass.

The other tilted her head. "Are you suggesting this as my boyfriend or telling me as my boss?".

"Whichever will get you to do as I ask". House folded his arms.

Cameron chewed her lip, recognising his stubbornness. "Fine", she relented finally. "But if the shit hits the fan-".

"-it won't. You're fretting for nothing. The most that'll happen is I get a few probing questions from the audience and some morally outraged reviews when I submit it for publication. Nothing I can't handle". Now that the tension had been resolved, he took a sip of his coffee which was cooling rapidly.

She held up a hand. "If it hits the fan, we'll need to discuss a plan of action that doesn't involve me watching helplessly from the sidelines. And that's non-negotiable".

"Alright", conceded House, "we'll play it by ear".

"Good". Cameron took up her own drink and the two remained in silence for a few moments. "Why can't you be a normal doctor", she questioned eventually, "publishing perfectly respectable articles on kidney disease or diabetes every year or so? Why must you court controversy in everything?".

"You've known me long enough to answer that yourself, Cameron. If you want a normal doctor as a boyfriend, then I can point you in the direction of a certain oncologist a few doors down. And a certain Australian intensivist who can be found most days working under this very roof".

"Bleh", she retorted, green eyes twinkling. "I'll stick with you, but only because your hair is thinning up top and you need me on your arm to soften the blow". The thought of going back to sleeping with Chase, having now become used to House, was enough to eradicate the last vestige of irritability she felt towards the latter.

"Hah, good one. Speaking of being on my arm, Cuddy's forcing me to attend a departmental soirée in a couple of weeks. The Townsends are going to be there. You fancy coming along as my date?". House felt nervous asking, even though he knew her answer. It would be their first appearance in public as a couple.

"Sounds great. I don't want Fiona trailing after you like a bitch in heat, anyway". Already Cameron was considering what she could wear to mark out her territory.

"Rude", he replied, eyebrow raised.

"Not. A bitch is a female dog. Nothing rude about that. Anyway, you calling me rude is like the pot calling the kettle black".

"Racist".

Cameron shook her head. "Are you gonna send me the article or what, buster? Time's ticking on: we leave next week, and I want to enjoy it at my own pace".

"I will", said House, taking another sip of coffee.

"When?", she replied, folding her arms and trying to look threatening.

"I'll tell you 'when' at the bowling alley tomorrow night. Alley Cats at seven. Be there or be square, Camster".

"If you think being mysterious will make me like you more…then you'd be right", she grinned, quickly putting aside her disappointment that they wouldn't be seeing each other this evening.

"It's almost like we're made for each other, eh? High five, sister". House extended his palm, and Cameron slapped against it with a giggle just as Foreman entered the adjoining office to signal the start of the working day.