Bookworm

The following week Cameron had just left the office of Porter, her boss in the ER, when she came face to face with Sebastian Charles. "Oh, er, hello, Sebastian", she managed. They had not spoken since the night of House's crash and her blunt rejection of his advances.

"Hi, Allison". His smile, though wide, nevertheless seemed a little strained. "What're you doing here?".

"Just came in for a talk about workload and future direction", she replied, gesturing at the door through which she had just exited.

"Ah, you're off-site these days, right? Nursing House?". Charles leant against the wall, which had the effect of forcing her to walk around him if she wanted to leave.

"Uhuh, yeah. But still managing to contribute to stuff remotely on top of that". And this was perhaps more true than she herself realised. Even though she no longer had the cut and thrust of ER (or diagnostic) work in her daily life, she nevertheless felt able to clear a sizeable load regardless. Maybe House had been right all along—seeing patients was overrated.

"Mmm, doesn't surprise me", he nodded. "I think remote, or at least hybrid, working will be pretty common in the future. Obviously, there'll always be a need for hospitals to maintain doctors on the ground but there's something to be said for flexibility.

"True. I mean, I certainly appreciate not having to choose between career and home life.

"And under which of those headings would caring for House fall?", he asked softly, brown eyes meeting hers.

Unwilling to meet him on personal ground, though, she asked a question of her own: "how's the conference prep going?".

"Ah, you know about that?". Charles accepted the change of subject seamlessly.

"Cuddy may've mentioned something, yeah".

"It's progressing pretty well, all things considered. I've actually been trying to enlist House as a presenter. One of my guys dropped out".

"So I hear", she nodded.

"Wanna put in a good word for me?", he asked casually. "He could do it remotely, no problems".

"I'll think about it", Cameron shrugged. Charles didn't need to know that she had already promised House not-quite-sexual favours if he did indeed give a paper.

"Great, thanks".

"No promises, mind. His full recovery comes first, and we'd need to ensure that he's completely comfortable with the situation". The phone in her pants pocket vibrated.

"Of course. Well, guess I'll see you round".

Cameron met his smile with one of her own as he moved off, before fishing out her cell. A message from House. For a split second she feared it to be a request for urgent help, and she rapidly tapped it open.

Pick up some books for me? They should be in my office, but failing that they'll be in the hospital research library. I'll send you the titles.

Sure thing, she typed back, excited that he seemed to be thinking about medicine again. While waiting for a reply she headed out of the double doors and towards the bank of elevators. Hopefully someone would be in the department because she no longer had a key.

Before long, her phone vibrated again. House wanted a bunch of volumes. I know it's a lot. If you can't carry it all dw about it. But definitely the ones by Mouritsen, Klinger, Nolan, and Granger.

I'll bring them all, she returned, pressing the button for the fourth floor. As you know, my handbag is a bottomless pit.

Thanks, CB.

Before long she reached Diagnostics, noting through the glass that the others were clustered around the whiteboard. Cameron smiled to herself and entered her old stomping ground with a noticeable twinge of excitement.


Later that afternoon Cameron returned to the apartment. "House?", she called out, dumping the books just inside the door. She had borrowed a plastic bag from the cafeteria for transportation purposes.

The man himself soon rolled into view. "Success?".

"Yep. Got 'em all", she announced triumphantly.

"That's great, but I was actually asking after your meeting with Porter".

"Oh. It was fine".

"Cool", House made his way over to the bag and started to sort through it. He glanced up, noticing that Cameron was looking at him oddly. "Err, sup?".

"Nothing. I just…don't expect you to ask how my day was. Like, you don't need to". Cameron had long grown used to dealing with his aloof manner: not many things interested House anyway, but certainly not the events of other people's lives. Those things were, for him, the height of mundanity.

"Ah, well…". But House soon trailed off, lost in reading. Evidently he saw no need to explain himself.

Cameron hung up her coat and scarf. "Coffee?".

"Yeah. Could you also take these books to the table? I wanna get started now. D'you mind if I use your laptop, too? It's just more convenient than the computer right now".

"Of course", she smiled, duly transferring the heavy bag to the living room table as he followed in her wake, and then logging into the machine. Given the titles, she could already guess what he was researching, but she decided to make his drink first and ask about it afterwards.

While she waited for the coffee to brew, Cameron reflected, as she often did in idle moments, on House and life. It had been over a month since his accident, and around three weeks since she had moved in as an on-site nurse. Things had progressed about as well as could have been expected, and his injuries were improving with each passing day. The remarkable thing was that he had not yet had recourse to Vicodin. He was still in a great deal of pain, but his stated desire not to slide back into opioid addiction was powerful. It was also brave and incredibly admirable. One of these days she would tell him so, even if he would likely roll his eyes and gag in her face.

As for herself, there were things she missed, of course. Nursing a single patient didn't take too much effort, though the nature of his condition meant that she couldn't leave him, except for planned excursions every now and then (like today's rendezvous at the hospital, for instance). And occasionally, doing much of her work from House's living room, she felt a little disconnected from the wider hospital community, despite her boss' efforts to keep her in the loop.

And yet, Cameron knew enough about herself to recognise that this last little while she had been happy. Or, at least, approaching something akin to happiness. She didn't need to be a genius to understand why. The slightly disconcerting reflection was that, for so long, she had subordinated her personal life to her professional life: from medical school, through her internship at the Mayo, through the vast majority of her time at Princeton Plainsboro, nothing had been allowed to get in the way of her career. Being alone mattered little to her, despite the sporadically anxious inquiries after the boyfriend situation from her parents.

But a few months ago she and House had started a relationship and everything had changed.

Not only was she no longer alone, but she loved the fact. A boyfriend—this boyfriend—no longer felt like an imposition or an intrusion. Instead she had thrown herself into a meaningful partnership for just the second time in her life. Each day had been a blessing, and when it had ended she had felt desolate and empty.

So, now, despite his injuries, his pain, his grumpiness, living beside House every day brought a smile to her face. He would get through this, she would help him, and, maybe, when the time came, if he was comfortable with it, they would be together again.

"What's going on in there?", came the voice.

"Coming!". She snapped out of her reverie and poured coffee into his new red mug. The stuff was probably stewed. Oh well.

Cameron made her way back into the room and set the cup on a coaster.

"You collect the beans from Columbia yourself or something?", he asked, though still focused on the laptop screen.

"Nah, was just, ah, finding Nemo", she announced, sinking into the neighbouring chair.

House's gaze snapped across and he narrowed his eyes.

"Y'know…marching the penguin?". The clarification felt somewhat pointless given that he himself often mentioned to his own staff the concept of self-pleasure.

He glanced pointedly down to the couch on which they were both sitting. The truth was that he didn't actually know what happened on this thing when he had already gone to bed. "Hmm".

Cameron did nothing except raise an eyebrow.

"God, I wish that was true", he managed finally.

"Mmm, yes. Well, I'd have no reason to flee into the kitchen, would I?".

"What do you mean?", he asked, having turned back to his work.

"Oh, I'd probably just do it in front of you or something". She was being mean teasing him like this, but her reflections in the kitchen had put her in a playful mood.

House released a guttural noise like a choke, but hid it with a throat clear.

"So", she said, stifling a smile, "can I ask what you're working on?".

"You can ask, but I won't tell".

"No worries; will just read over your shoulder". She slid across the leather and made a show of doing just that.

"Go away, woman", he sighed, pretending to ignore her proximity.

"'The uncertainty of tuberculosis diagnosis compared to non-standard infectious diseases'", she intoned. "Gee, that sounds like you intend to attend that conference, after all, Dr. House".

House sat back and folded his arms. "You're being annoying, Chicago".

"OK, sorry", she grinned. "I'll behave. Actually, since I can't use my laptop, d'you mind if I play on your computer?".

Now it was House's turn to grin. "Ohh, I've made you a gamer, have I?".

"Nope. Just bored, is all. And if you don't want me to bother you, then this is the only course of action".

"Go ahead. It's on standby. I won't tell the hospital you're bunking off in the middle of the workday".

"Great, thanks". She got up and ambled over to the doorway into the adjoining corridor.

"Hey, Cameron?".

"Mmm?".

"I'm not, er…I'm not doing this conference because of what you, um, offered in return. I'm just doing it because it might be fun, because it might take my mind off the pain, and because I'm bored. That's it". House tugged an ear habitually and remained looking in her direction.

Cameron leant against the doorframe. "That sounds like a fair enough reason to me. But please don't push yourself. It's only a good idea if it aids your recovery".

"Well, I'll just do some research, some writing, and see what happens. If I end up pulling out at the eleventh hour and screwing Charles over, I'm totally fine with that".

"Then I am, too", she laughed. "I saw him today, actually. Sebastian. He wanted me to get you to present at the conference".

House scoffed into the coffee cup from which he had been sipping. "You share with him your…incentivisation plan if I agreed?".

"Nah. That's for your ears only".

"Oh, what? So I can't even tell Wilson?".

"You can do what you want, House", she shot back. "I'm not one to influence what goes on between a man and his husband—not my business".

"Touché", he chuckled. "Did you think I was onto something, by the way, thinking Wilson is screwing someone? He was definitely off at poker".

"Maybe", Cameron shrugged, still leaning against the doorframe. "He scrubbed up pretty nicely on Friday. Though I never got why he and Mathilde split in the first place".

"I think they just drifted apart".

Wilson and Mathilde had quietly imploded in the weeks after House's own breakup with Cameron. Given that her knowledge of Wilson's personal life stemmed largely from conversations with House, it was no surprise that she remained in the dark on certain things.

"Shame", she mused. "Especially because I put in all that investigative legwork last year".

"I guess".

"D'you think we'll drift apart?". The tone was thoughtful rather than antagonistic.

"Nope".

Cameron laughed from her position across the room. "What makes you so sure?".

"I like you too much", he replied truthfully.

She could feel herself blushing and ran a hand through her hair. It was annoying how easily he could provoke a heightened reaction. "Well", she managed, "I like you too much, too".

House exhaled and turned back to the laptop: "stealing my lines…".

"It was a good line. Anyway, gaming awaits. Enjoy your books—I'll see you at dinner tonight".

"Yep, until later".

With that, the roommates went their separate ways, each secretly thinking of the other.