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Breather
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By Lunagrrl74

Breather

Post ep: Heavy

By Lunagrrl74

Summary: Late night musings and conversations with friends. House/Wilson, more friendship than anything else at this point.

 

Cameron sort of takes a beating in this, I really do like her character, sometimes, but this weird infatuation thing with House just bugs me.  And I'm not sure of the Wilson's state of marriage at this particular time. Comments, constructive, are appreciated.

 

Acknowledgements:  Many thanks to rtlemurs for the beta on this.  Lots and lots! 

 

Disclaimer: Kudos to Fox for actually airing more than a couple episodes of a good show. Reminds me of the early days of the X-Files thingy. Here’s to House and to the hope that Fox doesn’t make the same mistakes with it that it did with X-files. Oh yeah, I don’t own them nor did I make any money off this piece.

 

Rating: PG 13-ish, mostly for language.

 

Breather

by lunagrrl74

 

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why Cameron keeps insisting that I have feelings for her. I have to admit, I find her boldness refreshing. And yes, she is charming and attractive, though, not exactly my type.  She’s still unfinished, somehow, still a girl, despite having finished a lengthy and unforgiving education and burying a husband.

 

Does she think if she says it often enough, it’ll come true? A self-fulfilling prophecy and we’re back to first year psych again.

 

Wilson taps the door and sticks his head in.

            “Lurking in the dark?” He’s slightly rumpled from the day’s work but still looking years younger than his actual age. Lucky man.

 

            “Why doesn’t Cameron like you?” I ask, irritability, waving him in.

Good man, he doesn’t even blink, just comes in and settles himself into the chair with a tired sigh.

            “Wounded bird syndrome. You’ve seen it before.”

 

I grunt. One of the greatest irritants of having the cane is the hordes of women who want nothing more than to smother me with care and affection. I can wipe my own ass, thanks.

 

            “Why not you? “ I lean back and study him. “You’re a handsome, charming and intelligent doctor whose specialty creates a lot of long term angst.

 

He shudders for an instant as the image flashes in his head.

            “No, thank you. Besides, you’re the one with the bad-boy rep, the obvious emotional baggage and the brilliant medical mind” He leans back, closes his eyes, and delivers the kill shot.

            “And you’re her boss. Male authority figure. Just like Dad--”

 

            “Ew. Thank you very much for that image. Not!” I pick up my ball and start throwing it against the wall.     “It does make a certain kind of sick sense, given her history.”

 

            “Speaking of history, how did Chase take it?” Wilson asks. He’s had to have heard already, but he’s polite enough to want my version.

 

Thump.

 

Such a good man, Wilson.

 

            “He didn’t take it, Vogler wouldn’t let me fire him.”

 

“Jackass.”

 

Rattle, thump. Oops, that one hit the glass.

 

I roll the ball around in my hand, squint and fire off another one.

 

            “He doesn’t really care about firing anyone. He just wants me to roll over and show him my belly.”

 

He breathes a laugh. “He obviously doesn’t know you very well.”

 

            “I’d admire his strategy, if we weren’t playing against each other. He wants me gone, and preferably, the whole department. But I’ve got tenure and head of department perks, as well as a couple of donors who bring in a lot of money. So it’s a hassle. He figures he keeps torturing me and I’ll quit, go lick my wounds in my cave.”

 

Thump.

 

“Like I said…”

 

Thump.

 

“Yeah, he’s a jackass.”

 

Thump.

 

“So, are you going to fire anyone?”

 

I shook my head, “What’s the point?  It’s a power play. Anyway, Cameron offered to quit.”

 

“Cameron?” He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t think she’d be the type to just give up.”

 

“She’s frustrated because I won’t play her game.”

 

“Because…”

 

Thump.

 

“Because it’s a ridiculous game! Not only am I her boss, I’m technically her teacher.”

 

“And if you weren’t her boss…”

 

Thump.

 

            “Still never going to happen. Wounded bird, remember?”

I catch the ball one last time. Carefully placing it in it’s cradle, I grab the I-pod (one of the most brilliant inventions of the last few years) and stuff it in my satchel. Lever myself up slowly, trying not to catch Wilson’s half-lidded eyes.

 

            “Mrs. Hernandez checked out this afternoon. Surgery went well, no complications.” he tells me, standing, when I’m finally standing.

 

He’s a good man.

 

“Well, at least something went to plan today”

Wilson waits until I’ve passed him then turns and follows me out of the office.

He grabs my satchel from couch.

 

“Small favors, right?” he asks, handing me the strap.

 

            In the dim light of the hallway, it’s easy to miss the shadows under his eyes, the tired lines of his face,  the way his tie is pulled down, and the slight smear of  a reddish something on his lapel.  I eye it suspiciously for a moment. Could be blood, could be lipstick. His hair isn’t mussed, so I’m betting blood.

 

“Yeah, right. You want some dinner?  I seem to recall that you owe me a meal.”

 

“I bought lunch!”

 

            “From the hospital cafeteria. It barely counts as food” I tell him, straight-faced.

“How about the sushi place?”

 

He sighs. He knows I’ll pay for dinner. He just knows better than to skip any steps in the routine.

 

“I guess. Julie’s probably already eaten anyway.”

 

I shake my head; James and his endless rationalizations. I’m not sure he’s aware of it, but he really doesn’t like his wife. He may love her, but, as I am very aware, like and love are two very different things.

 

He follows me to the elevator and punches the button.

 

“Vogler’s toast, you know” he tells me with a slight smile.

 

“Yeah, I know.” 

 

James really is a good man.  

 

End.

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