nicurt

Stay With Me Chapter 4

She walked over to where the answering machine sat, and gently ran her fingers over it. As if by touching it she connected with him in some small way. He had broken, come to her. He played again. It was what she had wished for, hoped so desperately for. After a couple of minutes, the recording ended. Her heart ached to be with him now. She knew it must have taken unfathomable strength from him to come to that realization. To let her be right for a change. It took her a few minutes of contemplation, as she paced the floor holding her phone. If only she could get rid of her cursed migraine so she could think. Her fingers slowly tapped out the number that was burned into her mind. Hoping that he would pick up the phone, knowing in reality, he probably wouldn’t. After six rings, a voice finally came to her, “Cameron…I’m sorry…. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Are you alright, House?”

“Fine. No need to worry. Go to bed, Cameron. I can tell you’re tired. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, House.” Click on the opposite end.

Her head felt like it would split in two, over worrying, lack of sleep, lack of being near him, where she could at least see him, know that he’s safe. She was in total lack of control. Over her personal life, everything right at this moment.

The next day, she was back in her old routine. Emergency room, reporting for duty at 8am for her shift. Everything to remain as normal, when inside she knew it was not. Her head still reminded her. The day wore on into the afternoon, when the charge nurse came to her.

“New patient in the Treatment Room. Status post MI a week ago, seizures, complaining of leg pain… wants to see you,” as she looked at Cameron, holding a fake admission file in her hand.

The treatment room, isolated in the back of the ER, was reserved for special procedures, emergency deliveries, and severe traumas. Away from the hustle and noise of the rest of the department.

The leaded door of the room was slowly pushed open, and the curtain from around the patient glided along it’s track.

“Had lunch with Jimmy today. Just thought you’d like to know.”

She rolled up a black stool beside the bed, and listened intently.

“And?” she asked.

“It was tense, unpleasant, couldn‘t eat, he looks like crap, wants to resign. Want to hear more?”

“I do, actually.”

“We talked. For about an hour. It was just about as much as either of us could stand.”

“It’s a start, House. He wants to try, or else he wouldn’t have agreed to it. I’m proud of you. And?…..”

“I can’t sleep. Haven’t slept since you left. Would you, I mean do you think you could…come over, stay until I…”

“If you mean sleep in that awful chair of yours…”

He paused, and took in a deep breath. “I wasn’t thinking about the chair.” he said, as he looked at the opposite side of the room, to avert her gaze, as if to dismiss the thought that he wanted her there, to admit he needed her.

She reached over to put her hand on his arm, as he sat there holding his cane.

“I’ll be there as soon as my shift ends. Today was a good thing, House.”

He finally looked at her, her eyes circled by gray, her face drawn, pale, and he knew she had her own battle to fight, and it was winning.

“How long have you had that migraine?”

“Just a tension headache, is all. I’ll take something when I get off.”

“Your pupils say no… Dilated. The tense of your face and your pallor say different. The charge nurse said you haven’t had a break all day, just coffee. Trying to stave off the migraine. Nausea. You need food, sleep, and a narcotic to get rid of it. Just so happens I can give you all three. Get your coat. I’m driving.”

“You can’t, shouldn’t, you just had an MI last week.”

“And who do you think is the safer one? You’re having trouble focusing as it is. And you’ve had nothing to eat all day. Get your coat.”

A small grin came over the older charge nurse’s face, as she saw them walk out together. She had seen many things come and go in her time, and had known House for many years. Never had she seen him give in to anyone. Today she saw it in his eyes, when she was irate with him over taking up her Treatment room. She had raised her voice to him to get out and take up space in his own office, not in her department, taking up a clean bed, as she spoke in a raised voice looking over a pair of reading glasses precariously perched on her nose. She pointed her finger towards the door, ordering him to leave, when he stopped her.

“I need to see Dr. Cameron. Please. Could you please get her for me. It’s important,” he asked, with sincerity in his voice. Then she knew. She promptly stopped her tirade, drew the curtain, and walked out to find Cameron. It was of the utmost importance, for both of them. Advanced in years was the nurse, but not in the heart.  

Chapter 2

He searched in his leather coat for his keys, and unlocked the door. Once he had surveyed his apartment, and thrown his duffel in the chair by the door, he spoke to her.

“You can go now. Thank you for the ride,” as he looked down at the floor.

She was appalled that he would just dismiss her, but was not about to give up that easily.

“You were damn lucky that I got you out of there today. I’m not leaving you. Cuddy’s orders.”

“I need to be alone.”

“I have my ways, I’ll call your mother.”

With that, he scoffed at the mere thought of his mother getting involved.

“I need to grab a few things at home, so I will give you about thirty minutes of peace, if that makes you happy.”

“Suit yourself.”

With that, she turned, and made her way out the door. She didn’t want to be gone too long. It was against Cuddy’s better wishes that he was to be released in the first place.

The almost hour that she was gone was spent sitting on his sofa, slowly enjoying a drink. He thought. He thought long and hard over the past few days. Of ruining everything he had as a friend to Wilson. He would surely never be the same. The department as a whole would never be the same. He hated change. He hated that he could not turn back the hands of time. If only. . . .He thought of her hand covering his last night, coming in his room late to check on him. And why that was so wrong, but felt so right for a change. He knew he had to be careful. He was dangerously on the edge right now. He could crush her feelings with one single blow. As he sat there, he heard a slight knock on the door, she must be back, as the door slowly opened. She laid her things down, apologizing for being gone so long, but that she had picked up dinner along the way.

“Not hungry.”

“Not an option, House,” as she laid the bags on the counter. A square container of rice was opened and handed to him with a fork. He just looked at her, taking it so she would leave him alone. She sat at his table in the kitchen to give him his space. He wanted to be alone to sulk about Wilson, punishing himself for what had happened. So, space he shall have. Her presence was intrusion enough. She could barely take a few bites herself, without feeling nauseous. After she had eaten as much as she could, she put the rest in the door of the refrigerator. Then walking behind where he sat on the sofa, she took the liberty of grabbing her bag to head off to get a much needed shower. It was awkward, uncomfortable, making herself at home.

His bathroom was dark, cold, and very much like him. She took her pajamas out of the duffel, laid them on the edge of the sink. The shower was steaming hot, just what she needed. It was a welcome relief. Her shampoo bottle, looked terribly out of place next to his. Yet, she stood there for a moment, thinking. Knowing that out of what happened over the past few days would forever mold and shape him, into something far worse than they could ever imagine. It made her sick. To think that this man, so revered by his profession, could be ruined personally, by his family, and now, by his closest friend in the world. She wanted so badly to be able to fix it, make it better, but torn by the possibility that it could never be repaired. He had to let her in. It was his only refuge from the storm. She would die trying to save him from this pain, if he could only see it.

She came out of the bathroom, changed by where she was, the thoughts that penetrated her brain. Nothing mattered to her anymore. Right in front of her, he sat on the piano bench, sorting through the pile of mail she had gathered and placed on the coffee table when she got there. He would not look at her, acknowledge she was even in the room. To do so would surely indicate that he was beginning to give in. She pretended to not care.

The phone rang, and she made eye contact with him, knowing he would not answer it, knowing she would. As Cuddy’s voice came over the machine, she picked it up. Her timing was impeccable, she almost was glad for the diversion. Speaking in hushed tones, the other woman was assured that things were fine, when they really weren’t. That she would call her if she needed anything. What she needed right now was unattainable. She put the phone back on the receiver, his eyes moved away from her now, back to his mail, back to the silence that pierced the room.

It was growing late. She needed her ritualistic cup of afternoon tea. She took the paper squares from her overnight bag, and went into the kitchen. The pot was put on to boil. Yes, she could have used the microwave, but there was something about doing things the old way. Reminded her of all the times her Grandmother, who had taught her the tradition, and honoring her by doing it just the way she had. Tonight of all nights it gave her a comfort she so desperately needed. She watched and waited for the water to come to a boil. Time was forgotten as she stood there lost in thought. Then, she could feel his eyes on the back of her head, as about an inch of water had evaporated into the air. He had been watching her from the bench, staring out into nothing, when curiosity got the better of him as he wondered if she was going to let the pan go dry.

“Cameron…. The water….”as she was broken from her train of thought.

“Oh, I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

He returned with a slow shuffle to the bench, and began with the mail again. Mindlessly caring about what was in there, just as she was.

She walked into his space, not asking for permission, carrying two steaming cups. He would not look at her, the cup sat there for a moment, before she retreated back to the kitchen to sit at the table. Leaving his area so he could continue his mourning. He did not allow himself to notice her. As the hours rolled on, he wished all the more to be alone. To be lost in his ever familiar drug and alcohol induced state, removing all traces of Amber, and a grieving Wilson. He knew she wouldn’t let him, and for that, he wished her to leave.

He appeared in the doorway once more, not surprising her with his shuffle. She turned to him, as he spoke, low, the pain evident in his voice.

“The bed’s yours if you want. I’m sleeping on the sofa. It’s been a long day,” as he turned to the living room.

“No, you take the bed. I won’t sleep there, you need it worse than I do. Please let me have the sofa.”

His back to her, “Fine.”

She waited there in the kitchen until she felt it safe to emerge. She walked over to his piano, and without making a sound, ran her fingers over the keys. The place where he had sought comfort so many times before, as he poured himself into the notes, each one carrying away every ounce of pain. She wished he could find it within himself to come to those keys again. She willed it to be so, as she stroked them. There, on the top of the piano, was a legal pad and a pen, with chords and notes scrawled upon it. Music from his soul, she thought. The imagery of the keys being played as soulfully as Nyman or Tiersen came to her. The notebook was placed exactly as it was, with the lines of dust keeping it in the same spot. She heard a noise coming from the bedroom, it startled her into worry over him, as she crept down the hallway. She stopped in the doorway, carefully watching him, knowing that he was in a state of dreaming. At least he’s able to rest, she thought to herself. Not wanting to leave the room, she made her way to the chair next to the window. She pulled the throw on the back of the chair around her, and drew her legs up beneath her. She bowed her head to hide her face from him. She cried for the fact that no matter how hard she wanted to curl up behind his back, just to hold him, here she sat in the chair unreachable.

Outside, the rain pelted the glass, as it shimmered from the reflection of the streetlamp. How appropriate for tonight, she thought. She wished the storm outside could wash away everything that was weighing on him, so that he would come to her. His fingers curled at the edge of his pillow, the same gifted hands that gave themselves so eloquently to his piano. The same hands she longed to have run through her hair, to hold her. She cried silently for the fact that no matter how hard she wished for him to be alright, and knowing that he wasn’t. Wishing more than anything he would play those notes for her ears to hear, for her heart to soak in. She could hear nothing more than the pattern of his breathing and the rain, and waited. 


To be continued my friends...

She sat at her desk, numb, as the stack of files lie on the corner of her desk. They were there awaiting to be signed off on, preferably by the man over Diagnostics. Today, that was not to be. She had taken it upon herself instead of Cuddy to sign them. It used to be her job. But that was before Amber. It had become a marker in time for her. And now, the man that mattered most in the world to her, was in a patient room with their boss. She couldn’t even comfort him. As she took another file, opening it, she thought this was in some way being closer to him. Chase had looked in on her earlier, wanted to know if he could bring her anything, knowing in his heart that he came second. Knowing she would not leave until they were all finished. Not until she could walk by his room and see for herself that he was alright. That there was still some small shred of a chance. Even though the sharp reality was that Cuddy maintained her position holding his hand. After the halls fell silent, she crept down the halls, still wearing the same sweaty scrubs she had on for almost two days.

He was still sleeping, as far as she could tell. Cuddy was not at her usual post. She must have stepped out for a brief moment. Long enough for her to eye the monitors. Long enough for her to gently put her fingers over the top of his hand. He turned to her touch, surprised but not surprised she was there. She could hardly bear his eyes. So very tired. As if he hadn’t slept in a decade. All she could do was to lean over to whisper in his ear, “Goodnight, House. Go back to sleep. See you in the morning.” As she turned to leave, she wanted nothing more than to stay with him there, just to watch over him. She knew Cuddy wouldn’t be long, and decided to avoid her questions. Her fingers slowly pulled over his hand, as he quickly held it in place with the other.

“Don’t go……”

“Cuddy will be back any minute. She’s staying the night. You’ll be fine.”

He shook his head in agreement. He released her hand, and closed his eyes. Leaving him now was to drain every last ounce of life from her, as if the long hours of almost the past two days had taken from her weren’t enough. As she slid the glass doors closed with her back turned towards the room, and the lights dimmed for the night in the unit, she was glad he couldn’t see her cry.

Home at her apartment, she let the weight of everything that had happened come crashing down. Alone, in her oversized porcelain tub, she cried. She cried for everything she could not and would not have. For the stupidity of stringing along Chase, for not speaking her mind about what she really wanted most in life. Almost losing him yesterday made her realize that this was no longer a game. She cried for the fact that she couldn’t make him love her. His voice saying, “Don’t go…” echoed in her mind. She also knew that Wilson was at home crying for everything he’d lost, too. So, there it was. They were alone, all of them.

The sun filtered through her wooden blinds, slightly opened, as she lie there in her bed. Her head felt as if it would burst, her body unable to produce any more tears. Even though it was a struggle, she wanted to get back into work. Just to be near him. Cuddy would go home this morning if he rested through the night, that she knew.

She walked back into the unit in her scrubs, no makeup, just fresh and clean. Cuddy saw her come through the doors, and slid open the door to his room. Cameron was at the desk, leafing through the flow sheets from the night, blood pressure good, slept four hours straight, everything fine, as she closed it, relieved.

“Looks like last night was uneventful.”

“He slept for a while, at least. I had stepped out for a cup of coffee, and when I returned, he was asleep.”

She secretly thought to herself, “That was just after I left. After I touched his hand.“

“Since he’s stable, I think it’s safe to pull his central line, and work on getting him home, maybe tomorrow.”

“You’re right. Since you’re going to be here today with the rest of the group, I think I’ll go home for a while,” Cuddy looked at her as if to ask permission. House had clouded her professional judgment. He was a friend to her, colleague. Probably something more, truth be known.

After Cuddy left, she walked down to the old conference room, and entered it almost reverently. Their cups in a line up on the shelf. As the coffee finished perking, she took his cup down, filled it, and added just the right amount of creamer. She filled hers, and took them in her hands down the hall, the glass door sliding shut behind her. Stopping there in the hall she could see the whiteboard looked the same, the volumes of textbooks they had pulled down so many times, and there, just across the room, was the door to his office. People walked behind her as she stood in the hall, staring at what had been such a wonderful place in her life. Where it all started for her. Where she grew to love him. Where he had fought so many times to not love her.

The nurses had already been in to do their assessment of him, seeing the door opened, and he was awake. He watched her, as she offered his coffee.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m working on getting you out of here. Have you thought about who you’ll stay with?”

“I’m going back to my apartment. Alone.”

“You can’t. I won’t allow it. Neither will Cuddy.”

“I need to be by myself for a while…..And you know it. I know you of all people understand.”

“Your mother. Can I at least call her?”

“No. She mustn’t know. I forbid you to involve her in this.”

“I can respect that. Can you at least allow me to come by and check on you?”

“Only if you bring me my work. I can at least go through charts while I’m there doing nothing. ”

She smiled, knowing that he couldn’t possibly sit at home doing nothing. His mind had to be working, at all times. It was how he functioned. And the fact that he would allow her this one thing, to take care of him, as much as he would let her. Her coffee cup rested on the window sill as she pulled his bedside table up to the side of the bed. If she were to work on getting him home, she had to remove his lines. She laid out some sterile gauze, a suture removal kit, tape, and size 6 gloves.

He turned his head to the side, knowing she wanted to free him from this prison. Her gloved hands gently touched his thicker than usual beard. As the dressing was removed, she clipped the sutures and paused. She searched his face for the right moment to go ahead. He looked at her and nodded. With one quick, long movement, it was gone. Her left hand held firm pressure against the site. She searched his eyes again for pain. He looked back at her and said, “Stop clenching, Cameron. I’m fine.”

As she got rid of her trash she had just created, and got ready to leave the room with her empty cup, he caught her at the door with his words.

“Today. I’m leaving today,” he said. She nodded in compliance, knowing that he’d find one way or another to go home if she didn’t help him, as the doors to his room slid shut behind her.