mcanallys_pub - Handwritten letter to House

2008-01-20T01:22:13Z

((reposted from LiveJournal))

Greg (complete with loopy 'G') -

I don't know why you don't want to talk to me, so I have to do this this way.

The simple version is - you scared me, then you abandoned me.

Forget about words for the moment, this is about perceptions. I felt abandoned.

Now, while I wasn't expecting hugs and placating words of tenderness - because you don't operate that way - I was hoping you weren't quite so cold-hearted.

But let's back-up. How did you frighten me - I'm sure you want to know. It wasn't any one specific thing, but the combination of everything - food, money, sitting up all night, not fucking with me - without reason, that did it. I don't mind being put off-balance by you, but when half of what you do in the course of a twelve-hour period is out-of-character, it's going beyond 'off-balance'.

Here's where I get pissed off - I told you that you were scaring me (after asking what was going on) and your response was to leave. Just leave. That made no sense and was not helpful. You do what you do because it's right, but what was 'right' about leaving me there?
and I'm having the weirdest sense of deja vu

I've never asked you for anything you weren't going to give anyway. But can you honestly tell me you don't have a single ounce of human compassion? You must. You have to. You've been in love before (don't read more into that than is there, House), you know what comes with the territory. I'm not asking you to change. I want you to be you. I like you the way you are. That is why I freaked when you were acting different.

Am I in love with you? No. I don't think so. Do I think I could be at some point? Maybe. Does that scare me? A little.

I want you. I like being with you. If you want something (or don't want something) - ask me. If you want me to do something (or not do something) - ask me. But please, don't keep me in the dark about what you're doing, why you're doing it and what you want - it's scary there and it hurts to not understand what you're doing and what you want from me.

This is longer than I'd planned it to be, but I needed to get all of this out. It was crushing me. Even if you never see this, I feel better and that was the point.

I'd ask if you understand now, but since you're not actually reading this, it doesn't matter.

I don't know how to better explain this to you, so this will have to do.

A. Cameron

mcanallys_pub

2008-01-20T01:21:12Z

((reposted from LiveJournal))

Lately, she's been tempted to call Cuddy or Wilson, just to hear a familiar voice and talk about House with someone who knows him. Damping down that temptation was generally easy, because she couldn't very well call from work or from bed with House. That would be weird. That didn't mean she stopped thinking about doing it.

She wanted to hear their voices and their million questions about how House was doing. But, at the same time, she wanted to keep him to herself. She liked being the person he came to at night, after work when he needed someone - at least, that's what she told herself when he showed up. She liked having sex with him. He was amazing in bed - despite the leg, or maybe in spite of it.

He talks to her. Not the way most people would assume, but in his own way. And she's beginning to understand him better. She knows when to back off and leave him alone - most of the time - and she knows when to push him to get the answers she wants. With House, one only has to push 'too hard' once to get that lesson down.

That, though, was only when they were alone. At work she could be as pushy as she wanted. House wants that. He thrives on it.

She had been highly amused by the reactions from the two other doctors House had hired for the team. Excellent doctors, but a little stiff. They had nearly jumped out of their chairs the first time Cameron had argued with House about a diagnosis. Their astonished faces nearly had her in hysterics, but she maintained her professionalism... until House sent them off to draw blood and run tests on the patient, then she couldn't help it - especially after House's rude, but witty comment about their reaction.

Maybe a little of House was starting to rub off on her.

mcanallys_pub - leaving New Jersey

2008-01-20T01:20:25Z

((reposted from LiveJournal))

She had the dream again. The one where he shoves her down on the desk and makes her scream. That one. Usually it was a satisfying dream, but not this time. When she woke from it this morning, she remembered he wasn't there anymore. It wasn't his desk, his office, his team, his department. He was gone.

That made getting out of bed harder. Progressively harder with each passing day. It wasn't just about him, though; it was the atmosphere. Everything had changed when he left. She had tried to go on like it was the same, like nothing had changed, but the little things were starting to bother her.

Chase and Foreman claimed not to care that House had gone, but she knew they did. Wilson, however, was the worst of them all. It had gotten to the point where she had offered to steal some of Wilson's food to make him feel better.

"Thanks, Cameron, but it's not the same," he told her, picking over half a sandwich.

She smiled softly, nodding. "I know. Worse now that Cuddy's conducting interviews."

Wilson blinked at her in astonishment. "Already?"

She nodded and picked a stray piece of turkey from his sandwich.

"That was fast."

"Yeah. I'm putting in for a couple positions." The comment came out more idle than she'd intended.

"Where?" Wilson didn't seem surprised by it though.

She shrugged. "Couple places. Not here."

Wilson nodded, rubbed his chin. "Need a recommendation?"

"Cuddy's writing them. Thanks."

She watched the man who had been House's best friend lower his head. "Do you think he misses us?"

It was her turn to blink. She'd been thinking the same thing, but never expected something like that from Wilson. "Um, well, maybe you." She shrugged. "He never liked the rest of us."

There was a chuckle from across the desk. "He liked you. He just wouldn't ever admit it."

"He told me he didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Like me." And it hurt to repeat. It had hurt to hear it, but she'd dealt with it and moved on - sort of.

Wilson sighed. "He's an idiot. He did like you. Maybe not the way you were wanting him to, but he did."

She shook her head, certain Wilson had no idea what he was talking about, best friend or no. "How do you know?"

A little laugh and a bit of a smile from the oncologist. "He took you out on a date to get you back on his team."

"Obviously he never told you how that went."

Wilson blinked. "No, but he went to a lot of trouble beforehand. His shirt was ironed; he wore a tie; he bought the corsage. I'm sure he spent a lot of time thinking about which one to get." He grinned and sighed. "Allison, even if it was the worst date you've ever had, the fact that he did it, means something."

"That he's a manipulative shit?"

"Well, yes, but he's always been that." Wilson leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. "I've known him a long time and I've never seen him do anything like that before."

"So, he didn't tell you anything?"

He shook his head. "He told me what you had for dinner."

"The conversation was less than pleasant."

Wilson laughed. "You didn't expect him to change overnight, did you?"

Cameron snorted. "No. And I didn't want him to. I just thought we'd have a nice evening. Instead, it was almost like being here, but with nicer clothes."

Wilson laughed again. "He doesn't date much."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "I know."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Wilson shook his head. "No. I mean, he never has."

"Because of his father?" she guessed. It was the only thing that made sense to her, based solely on the conversation she had with him the night his parents had been in town.

"That was some of it," Wilson answered with a nod. "There's more, but it's not my place to say."

"I know. He didn't tell me much, but I think it was enough." She rose to leave. "I should get back."

Wilson sat up in his chair, leaned on his desk, then, as Cameron reached the door, asked, "Hey, you want to grab pizza tonight or something?" He paused and amended, "Not a date. Just dinner with a friend. Bring Foreman and Chase if it'll make you feel better."

Cameron smiled. The offer was nice. "No, it can just be us. You can tell me more about House."

"Maybe. I'll find you when I'm ready to go."

"Or, I could just come by your place around seven."

"Fine." He looked up at her, confused. "Are we sure this isn't a date?"

Another smile and a laugh. "Positive. I have the hots for your best friend, remember?"

"Right."

"Damn, Wilson, if I'd known you could cook like this, I would've given up on House," Cameron teased, savoring the bites of perfectly grilled steak and vegetables - the pizza idea, while a good one, was long-since forgotten.

Wilson smiled at her. "Is it too late to try to win you over?"

She offered a small, polite grin in return. "I think so." She took several more bites before asking, Wilson to tell her more about House - what he's like when he's not at work.

"Not much different." Wilson sighed and gave Cameron a look as he put down his fork. "What you have to understand is that he's miserable. He's in pain and rather than sharing it with friends, he keeps it to himself."

"Yes." She nods. "I know that part."

"But you don't know why." Wilson knew he was treading dangerous ground with this conversation, but he hoped he would give her just enough to not violate House's trust.

"I figured he just hadn't found the right person to open up to."

Wilson nodded once. "That's probably part of it. But there's more. Nothing I can specifically tell you, so please don't push me for more, but he's been hurt."

"Right. Stacy. I know that too."

"No, before that."

"Another girlfriend?"

"No."

Cameron frowned. The only other 'hurt' she could think of was physical. "Someone beat him?"

"Not exactly."

"But he was abused by someone?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Hell, Wilson, you've told me everything but!"

Wilson jumped out of his chair and paced the floor a few steps. "Look," he shoved his hands through his hair, "I've already told you more than I should have. I promised him I wouldn't say anything. Now I have and I've betrayed him again."

"Wilson, it's okay. I'm sorry. You asked me not to push and I did it anyway. That was my fault."

"I wish I could tell you," he said, his head down. "It's hard to carry it alone."

"I know." She got up from the table, crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

The movement was slow, not telegraphed at all, as Wilson turned and pulled her into a desperate kiss. It startled her and she wasn't sure what to do at first, then, she decided she had to pull away.

"I'm sorry if you thought I came here to..."

Wilson licked his lips and turned away, rubbing at the back of his neck. "No. I'm sorry. I was out of line. I don't know what I was thinking."

Cue the awkward silence where neither has any idea what to do or say. Cameron shifted her feet, staring at Wilson's back, while Wilson stared at the dark window.

"You don't have to stay if you're not comfortable," Wilson finally broke the silence.

Cameron shook her head, though she knew Wilson couldn't see her. "No, you shouldn't be alone either."

He turned, a sad smile on his face, but she could see the glistening of tears in his eyes. She bit her lip and folded her arms around him to hug him.

Wilson poked his head into the office where Cameron was sitting behind the desk that used to belong to House. "Hey, got a sec?"

"Yeah, what's up?" She clicked something on the computer, then turned to face him.

"Cuddy finished the last interview today," he said as he took a seat.

She nodded. "I heard. Decision next week or so."

"So, you're going?"

Another nod. "First interview tomorrow. I came here to work with House. He's not here. No reason to stay."

"Thanks," Wilson snerked.

"Sorry. I like you, but you're not why I was here."

Wilson smiled. "I know. Where do you like?"

"Penn. Someplace in New York. I don't know. I have a lot of options."

"Good luck."

She smiled back at him. "Thanks."

"Let me know when you're leaving, I'll take you to dinner," he commented as he rose from the chair.

"Sure. Thanks." She waited until he was at the door. "Hey, Wilson," he turned, she continued, "I'm sure he misses you too."

"I doubt it, but thanks." He left the office.

She turned back to the computer and pulled up the window she had minimized when Wilson came in - a photograph of the four of them - Foreman, Chase, House and herself, all scowling at the camera because they had more important things to do, but Cuddy had insisted on the photo. She e-mailed it to her home e-mail, a memory to carry with her.

"You're leaving?" Chase asked as he watched Cameron packing up her few belongings from the office.

"Yeah. She didn't stop placing things in the box.

"Without finding out who our new boss is?"

She looked up sharply. "It's not House, so I don't care."

Chase crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what, you're going to go looking for him across the country? You won't find him."

"I'm not looking for him." And that's the story she'll tell herself and everyone else, whether it's the truth or not.

"Well, are you going to at least keep in touch?" Chase asked.

"Sure," she told him and went back to packing.

Typically, she would be the one keeping in touch; the one who actually wrote letters to friends once a week, but this time, she wasn't sure she wanted anyone to know where she was going. Maybe once she got settled, she'd look people up, send them letters. Then again, maybe not.

She put the lid on the box and lifted it from the desk. A little scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, gave it a glance and tucked it into her pocket.

"Good luck. Wherever you go, Cameron," Dr. Cuddy said, reaching out for a hug.

Cameron hugged her, thanked her and didn't let go for a bit. She would miss people here. She thought of them all as friends, even if they didn't return the sentiment.

"Are you sure there's no way to convince you to stay?" Cuddy asked.

Allison shook her head. "Only one."

Cuddy smiled, but it was short-lived. "And he's not coming back."

"I know. That's why I have to go."

"I wish you would reconsider. Marcus is a good doctor."

"But he's not House."

Cuddy sighed. "Which would be a much more convincing argument if you were going with House."

"Lisa," Cameron began, "I can't work here without him. He's why I came here. If he's not here, I have to work someplace else."

Cuddy nodded. "I think I understand."

Cameron hoped she did; she didn't want to have to try to explain her reasons beyond what she had. Mostly, she was thinking she needed to get away.

"Again, good luck."

"Thanks."

That night, she had dinner with everyone - except Marcus, who had claimed to be 'busy'. Cameron didn't care, she spent the evening with her friends before she would have to leave the next morning. It was bittersweet saying good-bye, but it was something she had to do. Wilson drove her home, walked her to her door and gave her a hug (he by-passed the kiss this time). Then, he lingered in the doorway, talking for over an hour.

The first few interviews were easy, typical, boring. It wasn't until she got to Chicago that she felt needed. Big city, big hospital - she liked it. The first interview at Cook County went very well. So well, that the newly formed Diagnostics Department was mentioned. The department was so new that they had only just chosen the department head and no considerations for the position had been extended to any applicants before her. She had been told the only reason it was brought up was because of her background. She assumed they had meant her previous work in diagnositcs, but after her 'interview' with House, she began to consider that they figured since she'd already worked with House, they'd have one less position to fill.

Then again, maybe she was thinking too much.

Her mind continues to drift back to that night with him - the smell of his body, the feel of his skin, the touch of his hands, the taste of his kiss. She tried to remember it all. The way he hardened when she touched his leg; the growl as he rolled them over and pressed himself into her; the tears in his eyes when she kissed his scars. That last one, she still isn't sure she understands. What could have been so moving about her gentleness that would make him cry?

Why didn't he understand why she wanted him? Merely because he's not perfect - not because he's damaged, well, not entirely - is why she wants him. That's one reason. There are others. She's mentioned them before, though not to him. He's sexy in ways she can't begin to describe with words. And as much as he confuses the hell out of her, he turns her on - he can do it with just a look or a growl.

She thinks about what he said - I don't want you to fix me - all the time now. What does he like so much about being broken? Unhappy? Miserable? He doesn't have to be and she wants to teach him that. To show him the goodness and light in the world. She should tell him he'll still be broken physically, just less broken emotionally. Friends are important - they help, they support, they console, they do so many things that seem so unimportant until much much later.

There's something else he had said that flits through her head from time-to-time: We should get a dog. That had caught her off guard for about the tenth time that day. She's not confused about him wanting to get a dog; she's confused about why he said 'we'. Her fantasy always included 'we', but he had said it in her reality. Greg House had told Allison Cameron that, together, they should get a dog.

In her fantasy, they share a little house, with a little fenced yard and have a dog - an English Setter - and a big lazy cat. They carpool - or is it bike-pool? - to work. They have dinner at home when they can and she's even gotten him to cook a couple times.

In her fantasy, he's still a big grouch, but he smiles more. They take their dog to the part to let her run while they sit in the shade, his arms curled around her, and say nothing, because the silence doesn't bother her anymore.

In her fantasy, she can tell him she loves him. And sometimes, he can say it back - and mean it.

Her reality isn't like that. There is no little house (not yet), no dog, no cat, no dinners at home, no walks in the park, no quiet not-cuddling and certainly no 'I love yous'. Most of those could happen, but that last one - even she's not sure would ever happen. She can't. Not after... not after her husband.

The part she finds ironic, is that she didn't realize it until she found House in Chicago. The thought never crossed her mind in Princeton, but once she had kissed him, talked with him, had sex with him, she realized she might be able to 'think' the words and maybe someday feel it, but she was sure she couldn't vocalize it. That she found confusing and frightening. And she wondered if it was some strange affect that House had on her.

She wants the fantasy, but she knows she'll never get it. The fact that she's gotten as much of him as she has still shocks the hell out of her. She appreciates every last second she has his full attention, because she's well aware that, at any moment, he could decide to slip off without a word.