Instant Karma
She's avoiding House this week and thankfully they aren't back at the place yet where he's likely to call her on it - at least not by seeking her out. After their confrontation in his office last week, she knows that he is not as unaware as everyone else has been.
He's barely back and already he's accusing her of hiding something. She doubts that anyone has even guessed that she's been on a date, let alone that she's been seeing someone regularly these past few months.
She's not as surprised at she wants to be - he has always had this way of watching her, knowing things about her.
There was never any way that she could hide this forever. Honestly, that this thing with Lucas is still going on surprises her more than House's accusations. It's easy and comfortable - she is happy with him. Despite that, she feels an overwhelming need to hide their relationship; it's her right, her private life is her own.
In reality, she knows it's because of House. She knows the details of his hallucination and she doesn't for one minute think that he can handle the fact that she is with someone else.
Especially, since that someone else was once his Wilson substitute.
She has no doubt that it would never have even gotten past a date or two, if it had even gotten to the first one, had he not been in Mayfield.
God, and Lucas knew too.
He had thought it was odd they had managed to have so many uninterrupted dates and had done some checking up on House. He asked her about it and she had confirmed he was at Mayfield, but had been tight lipped about the rest.
After a particularly grueling day that started with the receipt of the Atlantic Net contract and spiraled into putting out fires all over the hospital while placating Wilson, who had been moaning about how frequently she had been canceling their standing lunch with little to no notice, she had come home exhausted and stressed.
Lucas had been there and she drank more than she was used to these days and every detail had poured out.
She had deeply regretted it the next morning and asked Lucas to keep his knowledge to himself. She had been pissed thinking back over the evening and the leading questions he had asked her adding to her mortification and guilt that she had broken a tacit trust between herself and House. Things cooled between them for a little while, but his promises had placated her and she had missed the presence of someone else in her life, so she let him back in.
She sighs to herself, her thumb rubbing her temple. The glint from the silver key on her desk catches her eye and it suddenly becomes clear to her where House's accusations came from - she had found him sitting in her office the night of Dibala's death.
She reaches out and pockets the key.
She never would have had it here in the first place, but Lucas had placed it on her desk one night and she had she had been too distracted with work and getting him out of the building - even though it was so late no one was likely to see them - that she had forgotten it. Then she just hadn't given it any thought; there had been no need to hide things when House was gone.
She closes her eyes as she contemplates whether she should just tell House and get it over with or go the easier route and just break it off with Lucas.
Neither sounds appealing to her.
Further contemplation is cut short by the ringing of her phone.
*
He's much easier to find these days; he doesn't avoid the patients so much now that he's not their 'real' doctor.
The door slides open and she walks in resolved to be friendly with him in the hopes that he won't think anything is off about her. She leans over the counter, giving him a small smile, and what she knows is a good view of her chest. "Everything okay?"
He looks over at her absently, his mind is so frequently preoccupied with her of late that her presence seems to be an extension of it, "Just waiting for whatever is about to go wrong."
"Thirteen called."
That's interesting, he thinks to himself. "She have a theory that makes more sense than abdominal epilepsy?"
"She said someone hacked into her email account and canceled an airline reservation. I'm guessing Foreman."
That's even more interesting, he thinks. "Really? You're accusing Foreman, not me? Cool."
"You really want Foreman to stay in charge of the team?" she asks him again, still not convinced that he really doesn't want his old job back.
"Makes sense. He loves power, and I love puzzles."
"You love power and puzzles."
"True. But when I had them both..." He leaves the words, 'I went crazy', unspoken, but they both hear them and he doesn't like the look that it brings to her eyes. "It wasn't Foreman." He corrects her.
"How do you know?"
"He said he's moved on."
"And you believe him?"
"I believe that he believes it." His pager goes off, and he pulls it out reading the message on the screen. "Looks like it's time for me to get off the bench."
He gets up and limps out towards the door, barely casting her a glance - glad for the excuse to leave. He is thinking to himself, that something is certainly up. She's been avoiding him and now she comes to him with something as boring and inconsequential as Foreteen. And the way she leaned over the counter and her sense of ease - something was up and she was trying to put him off the scent.
*
She furrows her brow and shakes her head slightly puzzled by his seeming dismissal. He had barely looked at her and seemed too preoccupied with his case. Maybe she didn't have anything to worry about just yet - maybe he had just been playing the offensive. But that didn't feel entirely true either. She looked over through the glass doors into the room and watched him silently. A small smile flit across her face; she had missed this - him in her hospital working his genius- his presence.
Her Blackberry vibrating in her pocket breaks her reverie. She pulls it out and is already moving through the sliding doors, when House looks across the room, his gaze settling on her departing figure for a split second before he returns his attention to the patient.
*
"So what's up with Chase and Foreman?" she asks, hugging her clipboard to her chest as she catches up with him leaving the Morbidity and Mortality meeting.
He looks at her with a calculated blank stare, " I can neither confirm nor deny that they are keeping it on the down low," he says, leaning in towards her conspiratorially.
She rolls her eyes at him, "Right, like Cameron would let Foreman anywhere near Chase. House, I'm serious, something is up with them and it has to do with Dibala. They have been acting strange this week and you... Is there something I need to know?" she asks her eyes searching his as they come to a stop at the elevator.
He studies her quietly, having a silent conversation with her - one they have had many times before - before leaning over to press the button. "No."
She bites her lip, wanting to say more, but saying nothing. The doors open and they step into the elevator, riding down a floor to his office level. As he is exiting the elevator, she places her hand on his arm, holding him in place, "Thank you," she whispers.
He doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge her beyond a slight nod of his head. She releases him and watches him make his way to his office through the closing metal doors. She leans back against the wall. Her eyes close and she sighs with relief that he is back and she doesn't have to clean up all the messes on her own - her mouth turning up in a slight grin at the irony that most of those messes are his.
He's barely back and already he's accusing her of hiding something. She doubts that anyone has even guessed that she's been on a date, let alone that she's been seeing someone regularly these past few months.
She's not as surprised at she wants to be - he has always had this way of watching her, knowing things about her.
There was never any way that she could hide this forever. Honestly, that this thing with Lucas is still going on surprises her more than House's accusations. It's easy and comfortable - she is happy with him. Despite that, she feels an overwhelming need to hide their relationship; it's her right, her private life is her own.
In reality, she knows it's because of House. She knows the details of his hallucination and she doesn't for one minute think that he can handle the fact that she is with someone else.
Especially, since that someone else was once his Wilson substitute.
She has no doubt that it would never have even gotten past a date or two, if it had even gotten to the first one, had he not been in Mayfield.
God, and Lucas knew too.
He had thought it was odd they had managed to have so many uninterrupted dates and had done some checking up on House. He asked her about it and she had confirmed he was at Mayfield, but had been tight lipped about the rest.
After a particularly grueling day that started with the receipt of the Atlantic Net contract and spiraled into putting out fires all over the hospital while placating Wilson, who had been moaning about how frequently she had been canceling their standing lunch with little to no notice, she had come home exhausted and stressed.
Lucas had been there and she drank more than she was used to these days and every detail had poured out.
She had deeply regretted it the next morning and asked Lucas to keep his knowledge to himself. She had been pissed thinking back over the evening and the leading questions he had asked her adding to her mortification and guilt that she had broken a tacit trust between herself and House. Things cooled between them for a little while, but his promises had placated her and she had missed the presence of someone else in her life, so she let him back in.
She sighs to herself, her thumb rubbing her temple. The glint from the silver key on her desk catches her eye and it suddenly becomes clear to her where House's accusations came from - she had found him sitting in her office the night of Dibala's death.
She reaches out and pockets the key.
She never would have had it here in the first place, but Lucas had placed it on her desk one night and she had she had been too distracted with work and getting him out of the building - even though it was so late no one was likely to see them - that she had forgotten it. Then she just hadn't given it any thought; there had been no need to hide things when House was gone.
She closes her eyes as she contemplates whether she should just tell House and get it over with or go the easier route and just break it off with Lucas.
Neither sounds appealing to her.
Further contemplation is cut short by the ringing of her phone.
*
He's much easier to find these days; he doesn't avoid the patients so much now that he's not their 'real' doctor.
The door slides open and she walks in resolved to be friendly with him in the hopes that he won't think anything is off about her. She leans over the counter, giving him a small smile, and what she knows is a good view of her chest. "Everything okay?"
He looks over at her absently, his mind is so frequently preoccupied with her of late that her presence seems to be an extension of it, "Just waiting for whatever is about to go wrong."
"Thirteen called."
That's interesting, he thinks to himself. "She have a theory that makes more sense than abdominal epilepsy?"
"She said someone hacked into her email account and canceled an airline reservation. I'm guessing Foreman."
That's even more interesting, he thinks. "Really? You're accusing Foreman, not me? Cool."
"You really want Foreman to stay in charge of the team?" she asks him again, still not convinced that he really doesn't want his old job back.
"Makes sense. He loves power, and I love puzzles."
"You love power and puzzles."
"True. But when I had them both..." He leaves the words, 'I went crazy', unspoken, but they both hear them and he doesn't like the look that it brings to her eyes. "It wasn't Foreman." He corrects her.
"How do you know?"
"He said he's moved on."
"And you believe him?"
"I believe that he believes it." His pager goes off, and he pulls it out reading the message on the screen. "Looks like it's time for me to get off the bench."
He gets up and limps out towards the door, barely casting her a glance - glad for the excuse to leave. He is thinking to himself, that something is certainly up. She's been avoiding him and now she comes to him with something as boring and inconsequential as Foreteen. And the way she leaned over the counter and her sense of ease - something was up and she was trying to put him off the scent.
*
She furrows her brow and shakes her head slightly puzzled by his seeming dismissal. He had barely looked at her and seemed too preoccupied with his case. Maybe she didn't have anything to worry about just yet - maybe he had just been playing the offensive. But that didn't feel entirely true either. She looked over through the glass doors into the room and watched him silently. A small smile flit across her face; she had missed this - him in her hospital working his genius- his presence.
Her Blackberry vibrating in her pocket breaks her reverie. She pulls it out and is already moving through the sliding doors, when House looks across the room, his gaze settling on her departing figure for a split second before he returns his attention to the patient.
*
"So what's up with Chase and Foreman?" she asks, hugging her clipboard to her chest as she catches up with him leaving the Morbidity and Mortality meeting.
He looks at her with a calculated blank stare, " I can neither confirm nor deny that they are keeping it on the down low," he says, leaning in towards her conspiratorially.
She rolls her eyes at him, "Right, like Cameron would let Foreman anywhere near Chase. House, I'm serious, something is up with them and it has to do with Dibala. They have been acting strange this week and you... Is there something I need to know?" she asks her eyes searching his as they come to a stop at the elevator.
He studies her quietly, having a silent conversation with her - one they have had many times before - before leaning over to press the button. "No."
She bites her lip, wanting to say more, but saying nothing. The doors open and they step into the elevator, riding down a floor to his office level. As he is exiting the elevator, she places her hand on his arm, holding him in place, "Thank you," she whispers.
He doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge her beyond a slight nod of his head. She releases him and watches him make his way to his office through the closing metal doors. She leans back against the wall. Her eyes close and she sighs with relief that he is back and she doesn't have to clean up all the messes on her own - her mouth turning up in a slight grin at the irony that most of those messes are his.