Safe ground

A.N. I'm very excited to write this phase of Confessions. I have lots of things planned. I'm also very excited for the second appearance of 'spread-eagled', a word from the third line of this story (second line if you read on your desktop computer). Truly, I lead a pitifully sad life.


The first thing Cameron noticed when she awoke was that the blankets with which she had draped herself were hanging off the edge of the couch, leaving half her body bare and her skin chilled: early springtime in New Jersey was no laughing matter. As a veteran of Chicago weather, it annoyed her that she had not thought to bring more layers from home. Rather than gathering up the bedsheets, she simply lay spread-eagled for a minute while she got her bearings. Eventually, she reached out for her phone to check the time and to ensure that she hadn't missed any emergency messages or calls from House. At last, with a final stretch, she swung her legs over the side and reached for the dressing gown which had already been placed close to hand the night before.

A House check was the next item on the agenda. As quietly as possible, she padded over to his door and peeked around it. He was fast asleep, pillows still propped up against the bedhead; presumably that position was more comfortable for his injuries. She looked on fondly for a few moments before walking to the kitchen and filling the kettle with water. Unlike most others she knew, House used a coffee press rather than a machine. A quick browse of the internet while waiting for it to brew, after which she poured him a cup and left it in the microwave for when he awoke.

The immunologist wandered back into the living room and headed over to the window, sipping her drink thoughtfully as she enjoyed the early morning view. Princeton was quite a sleepy town, really, with a genteel, collegial atmosphere. House's place was centrally located just off one of the main roads so there were plenty of cars and people plying the streets and sidewalks. Still, sometimes she missed the frenetic bustle of Chicago. New York, quite close to Princeton, was the nearest substitute, but that city's monolithic industrialism lacked the charm of her hometown. But then, she thought, you would say that. House didn't call her 'CB', Chicago Brunette/Blonde/Bitch (depending on his mood in that particular moment), for nothing.

Cameron took the remainder of her coffee to the couch, where she folded up her bedding and deposited it discreetly in the corner of the room; then, she pulled out her phone and checked email: one from Porter, her ER boss; a couple of circulars; and another from Diagnostics, filling in House about their agnosia patient. Given that she no longer worked in that department, this last one surprised her, but Foreman had apparently copied her into the thread intentionally. It was drugs, which meant that her cranial MRA idea had been superfluous, after all. House would call her stupid. There are worse things, she grinned to herself.

At that, she gathered up her shower kit and headed to the bathroom.

"Cameron?".

She diverted immediately and jogged into House's room. "Hey, how're you?".

House's eyes widened: she was wearing sleep shorts, a tight t-shirt, evidently with no bra, and the Hufflepuff dressing gown which she hadn't bothered to tie. Combined with the messy bed hair, her look went straight to his throat. "Didn't sleep that well, to be honest", he croaked. "But, y'know, at least I made it through the night".

She sat on the edge of the bed. "How much pain are you in?".

"Err, seven out of ten".

Cameron gestured to the plastic pill case by the lamp. "Have you had your medicine yet?".

"No. Is that coffee I smell? I'll take 'em with that".

"Sure. Be right with you".

House sat back and closed his eyes. His night had actually been pretty terrible, but that was to be expected. Every day that passed things would get just that bit easier. Garden variety, over the counter, meds. Not an opioid in sight—that was the goal, at least.

The woman returned with his drink, watching as he sipped gingerly, downing his allocation of pills at the same time. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs?".

"Actually, I'd like to nap a bit once these things kick in", he replied softly, handing back the mug which she placed on the bedside table.

"Good idea", she smiled.

"I think I'll be fine for now. You should head into the hospital and grab what you need to work remotely from here".

"I'd really rather not leave you". Cameron, scanning his pain-pinched face, sounded dubious.

"Honestly, just go. I'll be sleeping anyway. Pick up your gear, come back here, and by then I'll be ready to tackle the shower. After that we can drive into town for a new cane".

"I don't know…what if you need the bathroom?".

"Please, Cameron, just trust me, OK?". For a second, that trademark tone of impatience, something she had experienced frequently over the past three years in Diagnostics, cut through the air between them.

At length, she nodded. "You make a persuasive case. But…", she reached across and took his cell, holding it out to him, "…unlock your phone".

"Go on, then. 0412".

"Huh, that's funny", she chuckled, duly typing in the code, "April twelfth is my birthday".

"Mmm".

Something about the tone caused her to glance into his eyes: expressionless yet nuanced; shockingly blue. Of course, she had long since learnt to interpret them. Nothing else was said, but still she understood. Cameron felt a lump in her throat, and she hurriedly looked back to the screen to hide the swell of emotion. "Right, I'm just gonna put myself on speed dial, so if you need help while I'm out…". But when she navigated to his favourites, she was surprised to find herself already on there. This time, the lump in her throat resulted in actual tears.

"Hey, hey, come on", complained House softly. "You know I hate it when you cry on me. Stop, woman".

"Yeah, well", she laughed thickly, "you should've thought about that before putting me in your favourites and making my birthday your goddam passcode". It touched her beyond words that House, a man who usually forgot his own birthday, had seemingly placed hers front and centre.

He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly: "well, I mean, as for the first, maybe I just used your birthday 'cos I simply didn't wanna deal with your whiney drama if I forgot it? And as for the second, maybe you're just my favourite Chicago Bitch? There's not much competition there. Anyway, I did both those when we were still-, I mean, I never got round to, er, changing it after we…".

Once again their eyes met. House, for his part, was unsure about the look in Cameron's: though still brimful of tears, they nevertheless seemed fierce and passionate. She still had his phone in her hands.

"Err, anyway-", he began, trying to get back to safe ground.

"-I'd normally kiss you now", she announced evenly, talking over him. "But I suppose that would be crossing the line, especially after my earnest speech a couple of weeks ago. No distractions. Your recovery is more important".

"I suppose so", he agreed quietly.

Suddenly she swiped to the camera function, pulled her t-shirt away from her body, and snapped a couple of pictures from underneath. "Oops. My hand slipped. How careless. Sorry". The phone she now placed deliberately in his own hand, brushing their fingers together. "Well, I'll take a quick shower then head to the hospital. Would you like anything from your office?".

"If you could grab the same stuff you stuck in my hospital room…?", he managed. Really, only one thing occupied his mind at the moment. Well, technically a pair of things. "Toss me that Kleenex box—my nose has been running".

Cameron did as asked, hiding a sly grin. Then, she tapped the bedsheets and headed for the door. "OK. I can always pop back whenever. What about your balls?".

"Don't worry about my balls", he answered immediately. "I'll handle them in due course".

"Uhuh. Well, enjoy your…nap, Greg".

"I will, thanks. Give my non-gay love to Foreman and Chase".

With a final grin, Cameron left House to it.


Following her transition meetings, Cameron went to IT and secured a laptop, headset, and various other miscellaneous items needed for this phase of her practice. Thanks to the understanding of both Cuddy and Porter, she had managed to avoid going on sabbatical for the time being. Instead, they had agreed on a trial period, in which she would provide an off-site referral and oversight service for those cases that needed it. Hours were flexible, to be fitted in around her caring for House. If it transpired that even this was impossible, then they would revisit the situation. Cameron had tried insisting on a wage cut, but Cuddy had immediately refused, saying that she was technically still on her fellowship contract and thus locked into a paygrade. They also discussed a few details concerning House's schedule, and one of the senior nurses had given her a run-down of things that would need attention. None of it was revolutionary.

After this, she travelled up to the fourth floor to retrieve the requested items from the office, which had only just been replaced by herself yesterday. Expecting the department to be empty, she was surprised to see Foreman sitting at House's desk typing away on the computer.

"Err, hey", she said, hovering on the threshold. "Mind if I come in?".

"Oh, hi". For a brief moment, Foreman looked like a teenager caught red-handed, but he quickly composed his features. "Yeah, sure. What's up?".

"Just here to pack a few of House's things".

"No worries". Foreman got up from the chair and stood back while Cameron bustled around the office, having dumped her equipment by the door. "How's it going? Cuddy mentioned that you'd be overseeing his nursing".

"Nothing that official but, basically, yeah". Even though House had only asked for the cricket ball, she tossed into the backpack slung over her shoulder the baseball and oversized tennis ball as well.

"You're staying at his place?".

"Yep; sleeping on the couch. It's not ideal, but it is what it is". A few more items disappeared into the bag before she went into the conference room, noting with just a twinge of jealousy that the communal desk and computer had been rearranged. Hadley's name had replaced her own on the in-tray.

Foreman followed her through. "Nice of you".

"Uhuh. So, guess you're in charge for now, then?".

"Yeah. I mean, it's not permanent, obviously, but Cuddy's happy to have me overseeing Diagnostics while House is recovering".

"Makes sense", she nodded. Foreman had been temporarily promoted last year, and she had always thought him the most likely to either take over this department after House finished, or else go off to head one elsewhere. "Chase and Hadley toeing the line?".

"Still early days, isn't it?".

"Mmm", she smiled, now heading to the kitchen area. "Well, congratulations. I know you've been wanting more responsibility".

"I have. And thanks. I noticed your gear…", he jerked his head towards the IT equipment in the adjoining room, "…planning on working from House's place?".

"That's the plan, yep, but we'll see how it goes. One day at a time, y'know?". Cameron had been rifling through the cupboards, but now she stood up and glanced over: "where's House's red coffee mug? Was gonna bring that back, too. Just in case".

"Not seen it for a while, to be honest", shrugged Foreman.

"Hmm, OK. No big deal". Cameron had taken her own mug down to the ER upon her transfer and made a mental note to pick it up before heading back to House's place. She made a final scan. "Think I've got everything. Are the others doing tests or something?".

"Nah. We just solved a case yesterday-".

"-oh, thanks for copying me into the email, by the way".

"No worries. Anyway, yeah, I figured after the insane pace here the last couple of months that we should take some time after each triumph".

"Sounds sensible to me". It intrigued her to learn that Diagnostics had been pushed so hard in recent times, even after her own departure. There had been a few clues, but this was the first real confirmation. Like her, perhaps, House had continued to bury himself in work as a coping mechanism.

"I'll tell them you dropped by", smiled Foreman. "Give my best to House?".

"Cool. Will do". They had made their way back into the office and Cameron had slung the equipment bag over her left shoulder, the backpack over her right.

But his question caused her to turn: "are you and House back together, then?".

"No. I'm just his nurse because he scared off everyone else".

"Ah. That's a shame".

"Really?", she asked, stunned that someone House frequently called 'Iceman' would willingly linger on personal subjects.

"When you had dinner together a couple of years ago, I was convinced it was a mistake and that it would end in tears. Think I even told House that to his face, actually. But over this last while, he has been absolutely miserable. I think you two make a good couple".

"Umm, thanks, I guess. But, like I say, I'm just his nurse".

"Sure thing. Good luck…Allison". Foreman held out his hand.

Cameron shook it, still slightly flat-footed. "Thanks…Eric".


Cameron returned later that morning to see House on the sofa watching TV and sipping coffee. "Get your crap sorted?", he asked, not turning from the screen.

She dumped her bags just inside the door and sank into the neighbouring seat, bumping against his outstretched fist with her own. "Yeah. You OK?".

"I managed to get out of bed, so that's something".

"That is something. Well done", she beamed.

House rolled his eyes. "I swear, you are so easily pleased".

"Rule one of the nursing code is to always be positive". Cameron reached across, took his coffee cup, and sipped from it.

"Right", he scoffed. "What a load of bull…".

"Speaking of bull, I managed to secure all yours. More or less".

"Nice, thanks. Chase didn't spray you with pheromones?". Still he remained facing forwards at the TV.

"Only saw Foreman—he was in your chair typing on your computer".

House shrugged. "Makes sense. Big Tits mentioned something about it yesterday".

Aware that she had left him with images of her own breasts this morning, Cameron felt immediately self-conscious that he had used this signifier of their boss. But she said nothing, and a few moments elapsed in silence.

"I prefer yours", he added, taking back the coffee.

"Hmm? My what?", she asked obliviously.

Finally, House looked to the side, his blue eyes penetrating her own. He swore to stay on safe ground. And he would, but not right now. "They fit in my hands and mouth just right".

The immunologist's face flushed and she cleared her throat, brushing a hand through her hair, temporarily forgetting that House already knew this to be a sign of her arousal. "So, um, Cuddy cleared Foreman's promotion with you?".

House stifled a smile. "Yeah. He's been looking to sink his butt into my seat for years. I guess now we'll see if he's got the chops for it".

With that, both doctors settled in to watch TV, but not before Cameron once again sipped from his mug. "Also, I couldn't find your red cup".

"Oh. Yeah, I dropped it". House saw no reason to confide the truth that he had smashed it in anger at seeing Cameron with Sebastian Charles a couple of months ago.

"Too bad", she murmured. "That thing has been with you for years".

"It's only a coffee mug. There are more important things in life".

Cameron nodded but nevertheless made a mental note to drop by the store at the next opportunity.

"Right, let's tackle the bathing situation. There're guys coming in tomorrow to install a seat and grab rails, so I'd rather not attempt anything too drastic until then".

"Fair enough. What're you thinking for right now?".

"If you could, sort of, help me with the washcloth. That'll tide me over for a day or so. Y'know, like, arms, legs, face…and, er, we'll see how we get on".

"Whatever you say, boss", she smiled.