Trying something a little different this time. I have only a vague idea of how this will go, but it should be interesting to see how it turns out (I believe in letting the story tell the author what happens, not vice versa).
The idea is to explore how House would cope if he finally decided he had something to say to Cameron, but was temporarily unable - physically - to say it. It won't be as straightforward as in Opening Doors, that's for sure. But we'll get them there in the end. ;)
Please review; your kind words of encouragement are what keep me writing!
Regards,
-RGB
Silence reigned in the corridor leading to the radiology department, but House stood and listened intently.
One more hour, he thought. Just sixty minutes. Or maybe fifty.
If he could continue to evade Cuddy for just a little longer, she'd give up on chasing him for the two remaining hours of clinic duty he was meant to complete today, and he'd be free for the weekend.
He knew she was out on the prowl, trying to find him; he'd seen her several times during the course of the afternoon. He wasn't about to let her catch him now. He was near to one of the labs, and was sizing it up as a hiding place when faintly, from further down the corridor and around a corner, he heard the sound of a door opening. He froze, except for a small grin springing onto his face. This was kind of fun.
A pause; silence again. Then, an unmistakable sound: the distinctive tak-tak-tak of a woman's high heeled shoes echoing down the hallway. Very quietly, House crept into the lab, and stood just around the corner inside the doorway.
The heels were coming closer, but hadn't quite reached this part of the corridor when they stopped. Suddenly, he heard a sigh of frustration which his mind identified effortlessly.
That's Cameron, he thought, and leaned his head around the edge of the doorway.
"You get to hide next," he said, and Cameron gasped in fright, almost dropping the case file she was holding.
"What are you doing?" she scowled, flushed and irritated at having been frightened, and House stepped fully into the doorway, looking at her appraisingly.
"Clinic duty," he said, glancing briefly up and down the corridor, and she sighed once again. He could be such a child at times. She shook her head and then held up the case file.
"Well while you were hiding, our patient was discharged," she said. "I just need your signature on these notes. I can't believe I've had to search three floors for you."
He smirked, raising his hand to reach for the file. "No-one said practicing medicine was easy," he began, but the sentence was never finished. Another door, much closer this time, had just been opened around another corner further up the corridor, and this time the sound of heels was a furious staccato. Cuddy would be here in moments.
In a single, smooth movement which belied his usual awkward gait, House grabbed Cameron by the shoulders and pulled her into the lab room and around the corner of the door-frame. A bookcase lay just inside the room, and before she knew what had happened her back was up against it and House was pressed against her, his hands still on the sides of her shoulders.
"Shh!" he whispered almost silently and with a glint of boyish excitement in his eyes, but the instruction was unnecessary. She was far too shocked to utter a sound.
She couldn't help but glance briefly towards the doorway as she heard someone, almost certainly Cuddy, approaching rapidly, but when she then looked up at House's face she saw that his eyes were squeezed shut and he was grinning devilishly.
She mirrored the grin involuntarily, and felt a shiver of excitement chase through her. For all the frustration it caused her on an almost daily basis, she had to admit to finding his mile-wide mischievous streak incredibly attractive. He was both brilliant and wounded in equal measure, but there was a large part of him which would always be some mixture of a five-year-old and a sixteen-year-old. The fact that he'd not lost his impishness despite everything that had happened to him was something she had pondered many times, and it was also perhaps his best quality.
And there are plenty to choose from, she thought, and immediately blushed and looked away.
Cuddy's footsteps had passed the room without slowing, and were now receding. She felt his grip on her shoulders loosen slightly, but he didn't release her. She risked another glance up at him, and saw that his eyes were once again open.
He was looking towards the doorway with a smirk on his face, still listening to the ever more quiet tapping of Cuddy's footsteps, which were now becoming very faint. His face was lit only by reflected light from the corridor and the criss-crossing glow of the many machines in the room, and in this subdued atmosphere she thought that his eyes were the color of the ocean at dusk.
Another small shiver. Another slight blush.
"That was a close one," House said quietly, still looking towards the corridor. When Cameron didn't respond, he turned his head towards her and met her eyes. A declaration of triumph vanished from his lips without being spoken.
Her face was only inches away, and his eyes automatically moved to record every detail. Her large green eyes, angled up towards him, sparkled in the reflected glow of the machinery in the lab. Her hair seemed to take on fiery highlights which flowed downwards, framing her face and then tumbling over the small, round shoulders his hands still loosely grasped. He became very aware of her lips, which seemed almost to shine with a light source of their own.
She was heartbreakingly beautiful.
Cameron saw House look down at her and open his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as they roamed over her face; her eyes, her hair, her lips. The small crease in the center of his brow which was usually visible above his eyebrows had vanished. His eyes came to rest upon hers once again, and she saw his pupils dilate.
What's going on? she thought, and her heart quickened.
What the hell is this? he thought, and he dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back, his eyes flicking down towards the floor.
There was a long moment of silence, throughout which he could hear both her breathing and his own. Both were faster than normal. At last, he spoke.
"If you've got a pen, I'll sign that now," he said, and she looked momentarily confused before realizing he was talking about the file. She handed it to him along with a pen from her lab coat, and his eyes lingered on her for an instant longer than usual before his head turned down towards the file in his hands.
Cameron was frowning. She had no idea what had happened - or almost happened - but that had been a very un-House look. From any other man, it would have meant... but that didn't bear thinking about. She brushed her hair back from her face nervously.
House signed the case report and flipped the folder closed before handing it back to her. There was another moment of silence before he turned and walked out into the corridor, and Cameron followed close behind. She was both glad and disappointed to be back in a well-lit area. Standing out here, the moment in the darkened lab barely seemed real.
But it was, she thought. And she knew she'd be thinking about it for the entire weekend, even though he had probably already dismissed it. Damn him for doing this to me again, she thought, suddenly angry.
"You don't usually work this hard to avoid the clinic," she said, and he was surprised by the coldness in her voice. He regarded her for a moment with a small frown, then took a breath and reached into his jacket pocket, producing a colorfully printed slim piece of card.
"Swan Song are playing tonight. Don't want to be late," he said by way of explanation, and she raised one eyebrow.
He shook his head in a show of exasperation, but a small grin curled the corners of his mouth.
"Girls," he sighed. "They're a Led Zep tribute band. Remind me to give you my music lecture sometime."
She snorted a small laugh, but after a moment she frowned. Only one ticket? she thought. That wasn't like him.
"Wilson's economizing," House said, easily guessing her train of thought. "I sold his ticket on eBay."
She nodded, feeling somewhat ashamed for her sudden anger at him. He was going to a concert on a Friday night on his own, and she wished that Wilson had been able to go with him. A small voice from the back of her mind remarked that House would no doubt berate her for her pathological empathy once again, but she didn't care. She couldn't help how she felt.
House saw the echo of pity on her face, and was suddenly uncomfortable. He was unsure what had happened a few minutes ago in the darkened lab, but he did know that he didn't like it.
Just caught up in the moment, he rationalized, and that seemed eminently reasonable. The tension of suddenly having to hide, then finding himself in close proximity to her; it was all understandable. It meant nothing at all, and that was exactly how it should be.
All the same, it was time to be on his way. He slipped the ticket back into his jacket pocket.
Still got about 55 minutes to kill, he thought, and tapped his cane against the floor twice.
"See you Monday," he said, and began to turn to leave.
"Have a good time tonight," she said earnestly, and he glanced at her, once again holding her gaze for a long moment. She wore a timid smile and her eyes were apologetic.
"Why wouldn't I?" he replied, and limped off.
Cameron stood and watched him moving away down the corridor. He started whistling, and she recognized the tune as the theme from The Great Escape. She smiled and shook her head. He was the one man she'd met who could still consistently manage to surprise her on almost a daily basis. She didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse, but it fascinated her. He fascinated her. And she was sure that she'd seen a fleeting glimpse of a deep loneliness on his face just as he had turned away.
Her smile faded. She watched him disappear around the corner at the other end of the corridor and heard him go through a door, and then she was alone. She stood there for almost half a minute before turning and heading for the door Cuddy had earlier entered through.
She knew it was a trick of her mind, and that it raised questions she had lately preferred to avoid acknowledging, but she swore she could still feel the warmth of his hands clasping her shoulders.