New year, old feelings
A.N. House's interaction with the janitor (S4E1 'Alone') inspired this entry. There's also an adapted exchange from the film Notting Hill which, I don't mind confessing to the internet, secretly holds a place in my heart. Thanks for the continued support in these hard times.
House was the first one back to the office in the new year. In actuality, he had been coming in from Boxing Day onwards, not willing to lose the momentum built up over the last fortnight. This had necessitated working cases alone, and although it wasn't ideal, he had managed to land on correct diagnoses, even if one of them had required him to bounce ideas off the janitor. The poor man had only come in to vacuum the carpets and buff the floor of the adjoining corridor, but the effect on patients of a white coat, a clipboard, and a good old-fashioned can-do attitude could never be underestimated.
Right on cue, the janitor knocked and entered. "Dr. House? This last little while has been fun, but I really do need to get back to my, uh, actual job".
House, who had just finished pouring a coffee, looked wounded. "But…we were making progress…".
"My boss is back from Christmas break. I'm sorry".
"Won't you at least have a hot beverage with me? For old time's sake? I just made it fresh".
"I guess that's OK", he shrugged, mentally preparing himself.
"Great. Take a pew". House set a cup down before his new friend and went to check his email on the shared desktop. "What're your thoughts on academic journal articles, Buffer?".
"Actually, my name is Herb", the other replied, taking a sip.
"Herb Buffer? That's a strange name".
The janitor sighed, recognising a lost cause when he saw it. "I've no idea what a journal is, so, yeah".
"Imagine that your favourite buffer and vacuum were competing against each other, and you needed to know which was the more reliable and efficient. How would you decide between them?".
"I, I…would read reviews online before placing an order".
"Exactly!", exclaimed House. "And how would you know which review to trust?".
"I guess I'd look at how many stars it got and the reviewer's profile. If he has a long history of upvotes, and he gave a good review, I'd believe him more".
"Right. The reviewer's credentials are key. Journal articles are a way of proving the efficacy of…a floor buffer and a vacuum. But they are also a way of demonstrating the authority of the author themselves".
"OK…?". 'Buffer' was confused.
"There is no 'OK'. I'm just explaining what academic journal articles are".
"Why?".
"Because I want you to tell me what you think of them". While he spoke, House's eyes scanned the screen rapidly, smiling a little to himself.
"I don't think I'm qualified to answer". 'Buffer' started to think it had been a mistake to stay for coffee.
"And yet you can pronounce on the usefulness of vacuum reviews?".
"Well, I mean, that's different".
"The context is different; principle's the same. Do you like them?".
"Vacuums?", Herb asked.
"Academic journals".
"Umm, er-".
"-it's not a trick question. Just give me a yes or a no".
Rather than continue to doubt his life choices, the janitor answered quickly: "yes, I like them".
House looked up from the terminal and smiled benignly. "There. Was that so hard?".
Not wishing to be rude, Herb took a swig of coffee which, he knew, would taste like a pile of garbage. This doctor was obviously a high-functioning sociopath, and although he had proved himself to be incredibly intelligent over these last few days, coffee-making was not a skill he possessed.
House looked over. "How is it?".
"Mmm, it sure is. Anyway, I'd best be off". Herb got up and retrieved his mop and bucket from its position by the door. "See you round".
"Bye, Buff. Keep in touch", murmured House from the computer, already losing interest.
The janitor had turned to the door and nearly collided with Cameron who had been walking with her headphones in and face down to her phone. "-oh, sorry-!".
"No, my fault", replied Cameron, removing an earpiece. "How was your Christmas, Herb?".
"Good, thanks for asking. Anyway, I'll leave you guys to it. Bye". With that, the man hurried down the corridor, silently promising that he would get someone else to cover this floor for the foreseeable future.
The immunologist was unsure why he'd mentioned 'guys'. It was early, and she wasn't expecting the others yet. Nevertheless, she wandered in and hung her coat up on the hook, music still blaring in one ear. Only then did she turn around properly to see House staring at her: "-dammit! You scared me".
"I noticed. Since when are you best buds with the janitor?", he inquired casually.
"I'm not. I just know his name and chat to him every now and then. It's a pretty standard human interaction". Cameron made her way to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, not quite comfortable with talking so easily with House. When they were part of the team, discussing medicine, things were manageable. But now it was just the two of them, a situation she had tried to avoid as far as possible because it made the whole thing too hard.
"Have you checked your email this morning?", asked the nephrologist to her back.
"No, just got in", she retorted, both hands on the sink edge, trying to maintain consistent breaths. Pull yourself together.
"I think you should check your email".
"I will in a second". Finally she turned around and met his gaze.
House nodded, allowing a second to pass. "OK, I've allowed a second to pass, now check your email".
"Oh, for God's sake, if it'll shut your trap". Cameron threw her hands up in the air and strode to the computer, pleased to feel a flash of anger scythe through the now-routine fog of depression. He pulled back the desk chair and she sank into it, muttering under her breath while logging on: "if you've signed me up to Gushing Grannies, I swear…".
"It's better than that".
"What am I looking at?", she sighed, scanning the new messages rapidly. "It's just the normal stuff: treatment requests, conference proposals, circulars…".
"Try scrolling back to Monday", he supplied helpfully.
"Monday, Monday…", she murmured. "OK: request to join the department, Cuddy's end-of-year email, Townsend's end-of-year email…damn, there's a lot of crap here. Could've done with keeping on top of this during the holidays".
"Try that one". House reached over her shoulder and pointed. "And read it aloud".
"OK, OK…so this one…'Dear Dr. Cameron, we are delighted to inform you that…". This start caused her to momentarily stop reciting and flick ahead.
But the diagnostician interjected: "read it aloud!".
"'Dear Dr. Cameron'", she sighed, "'we are delighted to inform you that we have accepted your research paper for publication in the American Journal of Medicine. No further changes are needed from you at this time, and we hope to include your article in July's issue, pending the green light from our printers. Congratulations, and welcome to the AJM club'. Oh my God, I got accepted! I got accepted!". Cameron sat back in the chair and exhaled loudly, a wave of euphoria rushing through her.
"Yep. I've literally never said this to anyone, but: congratulations. You'll still need to wait, of course. They tend to plan issues six months in advance".
"How do you know about this?", asked Cameron, surprised by his awareness of the publishing schedule.
"I went to med school with one of the editors. When he saw you worked here, he got in touch and we chatted; asked for an informal reference".
"What did you say?".
"Very complimentary things. And you know how hard that is for me", he replied.
"Mmm. Well, thanks".
"I just said I didn't do anything beyond provide a little reference as your boss".
"I mean, thanks for helping with it, helping me think it through". Throughout this conversation, House had remained peering over her shoulder at the screen, and when Cameron turned to the side, their faces were unexpectedly close. The eyes of both met, and neither said anything for a few seconds.
The nephrologist could detect the familiar scent of Cameron's perfume, and he imagined tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, imagined even leaning forwards and kissing her. "Yeah, well-", he started but had to clear his throat, "-s'fine, you did, uh, most of the work. Sorry". House pulled back, tugging an ear characteristically.
Me too, she wanted to say. Instead, though, she ran a hand through her hair, pretending not to notice their former proximity, reading the email again and feeling another flush of happiness. Her personal life may be in the can, but at least things were looking up professionally, even if she had not yet made a decision on her future as a diagnostician in this department. The notion of seeing House every day and not being able to do anything about their feelings sounded pretty horrific.
"How was your Christmas?", he asked, taking a sip of coffee.
Cameron sighed. "Do you…do you mind if we try and steer clear of personal talk? It's just that, it's easier for me…with you, that is, if we keep some sort of distance".
House dipped his head. "I understand, sorry".
"It's not that I don't want to-".
"-please", he held up a hand, "I know exactly what you mean".
"You do?", she asked.
"Of course".
"But you, you seem-, ah, never mind". The immunologist turned back to the screen, aware that she had just asked that he keep things professional—it wouldn't be right that she immediately come out with a personal observation.
"Cameron, speak your mind".
"After I just shot you down? I don't think that's fair".
"Well, life isn't fair. Speak". The trademark stubborn tone.
Again, Cameron sighed, inwardly relieved that he couldn't see her face from his position by the window. "You seem so normal is all I was gonna say. Like, I'm strugg-".
Before she could continue, though, Chase entered the office with a breezy 'g'morning' and went straight for the coffee pot. Cameron and House looked at each other, the former shrugging, getting to her feet and reaching for the white coat which she had yet to put on. Chase took a sip and surveyed the scene. "So", he asked, "how was everyone's Christmas?".
House was walking back to his office later that afternoon having sent off the fellows to do a battery of tests. As luck would have it, the catering staff were delivering food to patients, and he spied a trolley full of covered trays idling outside a room. With a quick glance around, he pilfered the nearest plate and ambled down the corridor, pretending not to have a care in the world. Rather than lift the lid immediately, he decided to live a little and save the unboxing for his office.
"I saw that", came the voice behind him.
House sighed but carried on without looking back. "Miss Townsend".
"Fiona", she said, falling into step. "Are you busy?".
"I'm always busy. S'why I'm eating this lunch. Gotta keep the strength up".
"Uhuh. How was your Christmas?".
"Huh", muttered the nephrologist, stroking his chin. "Could've sworn I told you last time that we can skip the small talk…".
"And I could've sworn I told you that it wasn't small talk; that I was actually interested".
"Why?".
"In my line of work, it pays to be interested in everyone, even if you aren't interested in everyone".
"That's deep. Sophocles, right?". The pair reached Diagnostics and its boss went immediately to his desk and set the plate down. "What's up?".
"I'm wondering after the paper you delivered in London. I'd like to read it", she commented, standing next to the little television in the corner and tapping a fingernail on the screen while fixing him with an even gaze. Her eyes were completely different to Cameron's—brown, wide, and soft; pretty, in their way.
"Still working it up for publication, sorry".
"Reason I ask is that I heard through the grapevine that Doctor…Cameron, is it? The girl in your department…", House narrowed his eyes slightly at 'girl', believing it a targeted putdown, "…has already got hers accepted at AJM. And given that you delivered your papers at the same conference, I wondered if yours, also, had been sent off yet?".
"Like I say, it's still being worked on. I like to leave a bit of time between each stage".
"I don't mind waiting", she smiled.
House nodded shortly, hand on the plastic lid. "If that's all, Miss-?".
"-so you'll send me it when you've finished?".
"Yes…", he replied, allowing a glimmer of anger to enter his voice.
"That's all I ask! Here's my information, just in case you lost the last one". Townsend placed the card deliberately on the desk before sliding it next to the plate. "I'll see you at the staff meeting Friday?".
"Very unlikely". House sat down and finally removed the lid.
"Enjoy", she smiled again, leaving the office with a swish of red hair.
"Again, unlikely", House muttered, noting with mortification that he had picked up a falafel and beetroot sandwich. A few seconds later, the door opened again while he was staring malevolently at his food and he snapped: "for God's sake, woman, leave me alone!".
"OK, fine…", replied Cameron softly, turning to flee down the corridor.
House looked up immediately. "No, wait! Sorry, I thought you were someone else…", Cameron seemed a little freaked out, and he felt compelled to clarify: "I thought you were Townsend. I'm thrilled that you're not".
"So, uh, can I come in?".
"Of course". House gestured to the facing chair. "You want this sandwich?".
The immunologist eyed it warily. "Spiked?".
"Nah, I would never do that to you. I picked it up on the way back", he waved a hand in the general direction of the corridor, "but it's falafel, so…".
Cameron couldn't help but laugh at his evident disgust. "Who even makes falafel sandwiches, anyway? How is that a thing?".
"A consequence of the Democrats' healthcare plan?", he smiled, always delighted when she laughed. A rare occurrence these days. "Hit me with it".
"We did an MRA and there're definitely areas of concern".
"Stenosis?".
"In the aorta, yes, and looks like the pulmonic valve, too. Do you think that's causing everything else, though? It's a weird presentation".
"Weird, but not unheard of. Book her in for the surgery. Chase and Wildermuth can handle it". House drummed his fingers against the wooden tray. "Still, you're right to be cautious—it's not like these heart problems have come out of the blue, and they still don't explain the blurred vision and temporary paralysis. You're sure the brain was clear?".
"Yes", she replied, noting House's eyes lost in that far-off gaze. "Shall I look again?".
"No, I trust your call. Let's wait for post-op. Maybe all she needs is a good clear-out. If we can tick off the heart, then if nothing else it narrows our focus".
"OK, I'll buzz Chase the go-ahead". The fact that she hadn't gone to deliver the news herself implied that this conversation wasn't over. House waited while she completed the task. "Chase'll go to Wildermuth and see if there's space for her later today".
"Sounds good. What's Foreman up to?".
"He went to grab food".
"Have you eaten yet?".
"I'm not hungry".
House nodded slightly but said nothing. Though he had purposely kept himself busy to avoid thinking about matters of the heart, it still had not escaped his notice that Cameron's lunch breaks were getting shorter and shorter. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing, looking for a positive distraction by burying herself in work. But she still needed to eat. Having been the one to instigate the breakup, though, he didn't think he had any right to offer suggestions.
"I'd like to finish the conversation from this morning", she said, running a hand through her hair. "I know we're still mid-case, but…". The words drifted off.
"Don't worry about that. What did you want to say to me?".
Cameron sighed. What she wanted to say just sounded so ridiculous now that she was here. But this talk needed to be had. "When I said that I thought we should try and keep distance, that we should avoid personal talk because it was easier, you told me you understood. But the thing is, I don't think you do".
House remained quiet as she continued, allowing her the time she needed to formulate her thoughts.
"You're just getting on with business, and that's great. I mean, it's what I want you to do…regain your focus, getting back to medicine. But the truth is, I'm struggling to, to cope. I want you to keep your distance, yes, but I also don't. I wish I could turn off my feelings, but I can't…ugh, sorry, I'm making no sense".
"Cameron, the last thing you need to do is apologise", murmured House, who had always hated seeing her in pain. During Vogler, when she had knocked on his front door and stated her intention to quit, there were tears in her eyes and he had been forced to look away.
"That's the thing, House. I have no idea what I need to do to not feel like this. Meanwhile, you're just…being normal". The blonde cast her eyes to the floor, determined not to meet his eyes. "And, again, that's great for you-".
"-you think it's been normal for me?".
"Well, no, but-".
House span round, dislodged the lupus textbook, and placed what lay behind it on the desk.
Cameron glanced upwards. The bottle of Macallan was empty. "At work?", she asked quietly.
"Just in the evenings".
"Is it helping?".
House shrugged. "In a way, yeah. But it's probably not a long-term solution".
"I haven't been eating much", she said suddenly.
The nephrologist nodded, pushing across the falafel sandwich which had sat untouched through the conversation. "I laced it with speed; should perk you right up".
She smiled mirthlessly, though did tear off a bit of bread to nibble. "Will this get easier?".
"Don't know. What I do know is that I'm not in great shape. During the day is manageable, but…".
"The nights", she sighed.
"The nights. And the weekends. The janitor saw me in here one evening around Christmas…". House waved a hand in the air but didn't continue.
"He knows about…?". Her gaze darted to the bottle.
"Probably, but reckon I've freaked him out sufficiently well that he'll keep quiet".
Finally Cameron picked up the sandwich and bit into it, munching forlornly. "Y'know, I'm not actually sure I want this to get easier". Because it would mean that she was getting over it. And this was the paradox—no matter how bad it felt, it was better than feeling nothing at all.
House, meanwhile, reached for the cricket ball and span it slowly on the glass with one hand, trying to focus on its worn stitching. "Me neither".