Hold On

Well, I managed to get part 9 done today. If you like it, please let me know =) With all the stress of the bar exam (ahhhhhh! it's next week!) your comments really make my day. Thank you again for all the great feedback.

-K-

She’d only had one panic attack this week. It was an improvement, down from four last week, and it had been easier to talk her down. He was a bit concerned that she seemed to be reacting more to his voice rather than his words. He didn’t want her to rely on him psychologically; it probably wasn’t healthy, and once she went home, he wouldn’t be around her much outside of work.

Cuddy had arranged for her to see someone in psych. Actually, two someones. Dr. Westein seemed to be working out well, but the first guy had given Cameron anti-anxiety meds that she didn’t want, and accused her of not wanting to feel better when she didn’t take them. Apparently, she’d exploded at the shrink, and had told the man where to go and how to get there. Even though that didn’t sound like Cam, he realized that she probably had quite a bit of anger built up, and he was proud. Not only had she actually stood up for herself, she’d even borrowed some of House’s insults to do it. Something about the guy having his head so far up his ass he could see his own uvula. Note to self: stay off of Cameron’s bad side for the foreseeable future.

*****

He was hiding in his office, hoping to keep Cuddy and clinic duty at bay for the hour left in the workday, when Foreman strode in. “You are going tonight, right?”

House looked at him blankly. “Going where?”

“To Cameron’s. The party.” He’d almost forgotten. Cuddy had run out of excuses to keep Cameron in the hospital, as everything had healed except her fractures, and the stitches for the spleen surgery were being taken out today. Chase, Foreman, Wilson and Cuddy had arranged a “welcome home” party for Cameron that night. Wilson said she’d been pleased that her friends had taken the time to move all her stuff for her, although she’d been a bit worried about the Steinway until he had told her that House had taken care of it.

“No.” The last thing House wanted was to be stuck in a house with a girl who should hate him, koala, a car thief, a guy who used way too much hair gel, and Cuddy. Too many co-workers after hours. He’d far prefer going home to his scotch and his piano. Wait a second… piano? As much as he loathed playing for an audience consisting of more than himself, this was a Steinway. Exceptions could be made for Steinways. “Maybe.”

Foreman put on his best glower. “She’s hoping you’ll come.”

“Cameron hopes for a lot of things. She hopes the world will be filled with cute fluffy bunnies and disaster will stop lurking around every corner.” House snarked.

“No.” Came the voice from the doorway. Both men turned to see Cameron leaning against the door frame. “I know better than that.” She looked very pale in her black sweater and jeans, and the still fading bruise on her cheek stood out starkly against her skin.

“Aren’t you still supposed to be upstairs?” House snapped, more than a little disturbed that she’d heard his remark. He’d forgotten for a moment that now she knew very well that the world wasn’t a kind place. He hoped that knowledge wouldn’t change her too much. Cameron wouldn’t be Cameron without that unsinkable optimism.

“No. They let me out.” She looked over at Foreman. “I was hoping for a ride home? I’m still on a few too many opiates to be comfortable driving.”

Foreman shrugged. “Sure. I’ve just got to finish up my charting.”

Before he quite knew what was going to come out of his mouth, House blurted “I can take you now.” For a moment, he was a bit surprised at himself for the offer, but then realized it was perfect. He could get his hands on the Steinway for a bit; although he didn’t like an audience, Cameron hardly qualified as an audience, and then put in a very brief appearance at the party before calling it an early night.

Cameron seemed surprised at the offer, but hesitantly spoke “Um, okay.”

House nodded and grabbed his keys and draped his coat over his arm. “You okay to walk all the way to the lot?”

She nodded. “I’ve got a broken cheekbone and ribs. No broken legs last I checked.”

She walked slowly, obviously her ribs were still causing her pain. He guessed she wasn’t taking nearly enough of whatever was in the pharmacy bag in her left hand. “Where’s your jacket?”

“At home, I guess. The one I was wearing…” He vaguely remembered one of the nurses cutting it off her after her pressure dropped in the ER. They had to get to her veins quickly.

Wordlessly, he handed her his wool coat. The same coat he’d draped over her shoulders that night. There had been bloodstains on the lining, but the cleaners had done a good job. She opened her mouth to protest and shut it when he raised a finger to silence her. “Just take the damn coat.”

Apparently she realized that this was an argument she was not going to win, so she slipped the coat over her shoulders, slipping her hands and the pharmacy bag into the pockets. The coat was knee length on him, so it was almost to Cameron’s ankles.

It was lightly snowing, and he’d taken the ‘vette. Nobody had stolen his parking spot today, so he wasn’t too far away from the entrance. They got to the front door, and she froze.

He turned and gave her a curious look, and she looked down, ears turning pink. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t been out there since - I’m being silly.”

“Sounds like a perfectly normal reaction to the location of a traumatic experience.” House observed. “Car’s right over there. I can pull it up to the door.”

She shook her head. “The car is thirty feet from the door. Silly to move it to get twenty feet closer. And I have to go out there sometime, right?”

House made a mental note to tell Cuddy to move Cameron’s parking pass to the other lot.

He grasped her elbow firmly as they stepped outside, and she looked down curiously. He answered her question before she asked it. “It’s icy. You’re high on whatever it is that they shot you up with -“

“Demerol, I think.” She supplied.

“Demerol. You’ve got four broken bones already. Wouldn’t want you to slip and add a wrist or coccyx to your collection.” They arrived at his car, and he escorted her to the passenger side, opening the door. After all, he didn’t want her to twist the wrong way and aggravate her ribs. She seemed surprised at the gesture, but let it go.

In the car, Cameron snuggled down into his coat, closing her eyes as they left the driveway. Lucky he already knew where she lived now; she wasn’t in any state to be giving directions. He was also disturbed to find himself slightly jealous of his own coat. Shaking off the strange feeling, he started the heater and flipped on the radio for the traffic report.

He pulled into her driveway and glanced over, and as he expected, he found her asleep. “Cameron?” No reaction. “Cameron!”

He shook her shoulder slightly and she stirred and yawned like a sleepy kitten. “Hmm?”

“We’re here.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry!”

“Stop apologizing and wake up enough to walk to your front door.”

“Are you coming in?”

He shrugged. “If you want me to. It’ll save me the drive back here in two and a half hours.”

“You’re coming to the party?” Surprised. So she didn’t expect him to actually turn up.

“Foreman has demanded my presence under threat of I don’t know what. You interrupted before he’d finished.”

He noticed she seemed a little disappointed that he was only making an appearance due to threat of Foreman-wrath. “Sure. Come on in. I’m guessing the guys figured out how to hook up the television.”

He followed her indoors. Her new home was spacious. Vaulted ceilings, tile floors. Probably had great acoustics. He noted the new alarm panel by the door and wondered if it had come with the place or if Foreman had anything to do with it.

She slipped the coat off and hung it on a hook by the door. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes. I smell like a hospital.” She smelled just fine to House, but he knew better than to mention that. Normally, teasing Cameron was fun. Now, he wasn’t sure how she would react. Her emotions were all over the place, and he figured they probably would be for a while.

She ducked upstairs, leaving him to explore her new home. The den seemed fairly normal. Sofa, television, stereo. Nice stereo. He wandered into the living room, where he saw it. It was beautiful. Mahogany, fleur-de-lis pattern carved into the legs. He opened the key cover. Real ivories, very slightly yellowed with age. Not the plastic wanna-be ivory that pianos were made with now, but real, honest to god actual ivory. He’d seen ivory keyed pianos in museums, but had never actually played one. He guessed this piano was about a hundred years old, if not older.

He raised the lid and examined the inside. Whoever had been caring for this piano had done a meticulous job, and he knew it hadn’t been Larry. The bill he’d gotten was only for tuning and getting the dust out of the case. The inside of this piano gleamed. He propped the lid on the shortest prop stick. It wasn’t right to play a grand with the lid closed, but the longer prop stick would allow too much sound for the room.

Unable to resist any longer, he pulled out the bench and played a simple scale, noting with pleasure the sharp action of the keys and smooth texture of the ivory. It was very different than plastic. It had a more intimate feel, somehow.

Unable to stop himself, Chopin flowed from his fingers, followed by Beethoven and Mozart. He finished with a smooth little Tom Waits blues number and finally let his hands fall from the keyboard and jumped slightly when he heard soft applause behind him.

Cameron was sitting on the couch, listening. “That was beautiful. I heard the music upstairs and thought it was the television. I’d guessed that you played, since Wilson said you’d sent your piano guy here, but that - my grandmother played like that. I don’t think it’s been played since she died. I’m glad someone else is able to do justice to the instrument.”

He had no idea how to respond to that. He was phenomenally flattered that she felt his playing did justice to this beautiful creation, and found himself pleased that she’d stopped to listen, although he didn’t know what to make of the feeling. “Thanks.” He replied, unable to think of anything else, and pushed the feeling to the back of his mind. He hadn’t had anyone listen since Stacy, who never bothered to remark on it. She had simply treated it like any of House’s other hobbies and wouldn’t have complimented him on his playing anymore than she’d have complimented him for beating Resident Evil Four.

“They’re going to be here in about ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” He’d been playing for over two hours? How long had she been listening?

She nodded. “I came downstairs and sat down to listen, and I guess we both lost track of time.”

He stood, leaning on his cane and trying to cover his surprise that she’d been listening for over an hour. The doorbell rang, saving him from needing to reply. She stood and headed towards the foyer.

“Cameron.” She turned back to him. “The keys are yellowing. Leave the key cover open. Light will bleach the ivories back to white.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, and turned to answer the door.