“I’ll miss you,” Cameron’s words echoed through House’s mind. Such a simple phrase, three little words, well four actually if you counted the contraction of ‘I’ and ‘will’. Who would have thought that idiom would pack the emotional wallop it had?
House absently rubbed his jacket sleeve in the precise spot Cameron had branded him a lifetime ago with her touch on her path out the door and out of his life. He had been stunned when she did it; the perfect complete puzzle that was Allison Cameron came crashing to the floor.
Upon hearing the news of Chase’s dismissal House figured Cameron would put up a fight, make a grand stand of leaving only to remain there as always or maybe even expect House to beg her back as he had before. He hadn’t foreseen the resoluteness with which she left, the finality of it all.
“I’ll miss you.” House peered down, searching Cameron’s eyes for weakness, for sadness, for any twinge of doubt. But they were ambiguous, damn crystal clear emerald pools of certainty.
House slouched on his couch, strumming idly at his new guitar. The loss of the other ducklings barely registered in his psyche, the fear of change causing him more distress than the actual act of losing them from his team. But how had he possibly misjudged just how far he could push Cameron?
Chase, House honestly could care less about his firing; it had been a long time coming. The act should have occurred the moment Chase rolled over to Vogler but House had been forced to keep him on staff. House knew Chase wasn’t going to evolve anymore as a doctor under his tutelage. Chase was one hell of an Intensivist, anymore time in Diagnostics wasn’t going to matter.
Foreman, that had been a blow professionally. House knew Foreman was a brilliant Neurologist, there was no denying it, but he still needed that extra little push to bring him to his full potential. Foreman was consumed by fear and uncertainty, which caused him to make safe decisions and therefore reluctant to think out of the box especially if there was a possibility of being wrong.
Unfortunately for Foreman, he was human just as they all were, bound on this Earth to makes errors in judgment. Foreman had to learn that but his pathos wouldn’t allow it, instead he blamed House, “I don’t want to be like you!” Yeah like he could ever be that lucky. In the end after near groveling to get Foreman to stay House was fed up, it might be hard to find a talent like Foreman’s but he was far from irreplaceable.
But Cameron, no she wasn’t supposed to leave. She was meant to stay, to remain a constant in his life. She was so damn pure and good, the one person besides Jimmy that he could depend on. She wanted House to be a better man but didn’t try to force change upon him, accepting him for all his faults.
Unlike Jimmy, Cameron wasn’t an enabler; she would stand up and refuse to put up with his shit, letting her feelings be known. Wilson only did that after months of pressure then erupting like a volcano only to revert back to the dormant mountain seconds later. And when it came to an attack on House, Cameron emerged like a tigress; claws extended fiercely battling at his side.
If Cameron and Jimmy were a Science experiment Jimmy would be the control specimen, completely safe from the weather and other tests, nothing about him would change. Cameron on the other hand was the sample that was exposed to the harshest conditions and adapted to the challenges perhaps even becoming stronger than before.
Sighing House pushed himself to a seated position his eyes catching a glimpse of the black phone on the end table, the urge to call Cameron all consuming. How could he go in to work on Monday, knowing she wasn’t going to be there coffee ready, his red cup in hand made just the way he liked it? To not be able to shoot down her ideas for the differential? To not watch her at her desk when she wasn't looking as she checked his emails and went through his mail.
Somehow that ingénue had pressed through the barrier he surrounded himself with, made him feel again, and made him care. She wasn’t just a beautiful piece of art hanging in the gallery of his life anymore, no she was so much more than that, she was his friend.
Grunting House pulled his tall body to a standing position, relying on his cane to cross the living room. His hands cradled the receiver as he pressed the proper digits, hoping not to make a fool of himself but almost past the point of caring. He would beg her back, give her anything she offered. “Cameron…”
The scattered puzzle had to be lifted off the ground and reassembled and then all would be right in House’s world.