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Changes, Part 2
by OldHamster
Chapter 3: Words and Music
House was playing the piano when he heard the knock. "It's open!" he yelled and kept playing. He hated to leave a piece unfinished.
Cameron entered, smiling at him, at the music, at the scene. She loved the look that came over him when he played -- perfectly content, transported to a place where there was nothing but him and the music.
He took his left hand off the keys long enough to pat the spot beside him on the bench. She sat.
She recognized the song. "Sing it," she said.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd like to spend a quiet evening at home, not rush you to the ER with bleeding eardrums."
"Oh, stop. You'll only hurt my ears if you're completely tone-deaf. And I can tell from the way you play that you aren't. I don't care if you don't have a voice like Sinatra. Just sing."
"Actually, I sing much better than Sinatra."
"Really?"
"Of course. He's dead."
She elbowed him in the ribs. "Smartass. I'm serious, Greg. Sing it."
"Fine. I guess that's the only way I'm going to get any peace. Or any nooky. But don't say I didn't warn you.
"See the pyramids along the Nile
Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle
Just remember, darling, all the while
You belong to me.
"See the marketplace in Old Algiers
Send me photographs and souvenirs
Just remember when a dream appears
You belong to me."
His voice was a husky baritone, perfectly on pitch and with a way of wrapping itself around the lyrics that made you feel them. Very Sinatra-like, in fact. Cameron smiled, then touched a finger to her lips, signaling him to stop. He assumed the smile was simply politeness and the shushing gesture meant she couldn't take any more. But no, she just wanted a turn.
"I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue,"
she sang in a smoky alto that made him shiver. Where the hell did she learn to do that?
She gestured for him to sing again, and they harmonized the last verse:
"Fly the ocean in a silver plane
See the jungle when it's wet with rain
Just remember 'til you're home again
You belong to me
You belong to me."
They stared at each other, incredulous, for a long time. Finally he broke the silence.
"You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That sound. It's Sinatra. Applauding. Your voice is incredible. How many other lights are you hiding under that bushel that I haven't seen yet?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing. You sing beautifully."
"You're prejudiced."
"Maybe a little, but so are you. You should sing more. You know, Cuddy is still looking for some in-house talent to entertain at the benefit next week, while the band takes a break."
"No way in hell."
"Oh, why not? Everyone would love it."
"Because I'd rather perform an appendectomy on myself than sing in public. And if you give me that speech about how I have a gift that I owe it to the world to share, then the cafeteria burrito I had for lunch is going to be all over that smart little suit you're wearing. And the stench won't let me get close enough to rip it off you."
"At least think about it."
"I just did. Two whole seconds. No. Case closed. Subject change, stat. How'd your interview go?"
"He said he'd let me know by the middle of next week. I feel good about this one. I really want this one. It's a great opportunity.
"Now, you said something about this suit? About ripping it off me?"
"I do love the way you change the subject."
Chapter 4: Disharmony
Cameron stormed into his office, looked around to make sure nobody was there but House, and closed the door.
"You ... bastard!"
"You knew I was when you got involved with me. What's up?"
"Cuddy, that's what's up. She just asked me to sing at the benefit. Now, I wonder who could have told her that I can sing. Could it be the guy who's too chicken to get up onstage himself but has no problem pushing me up there?"
"I don't recall hearing you say that you were afraid to sing in front of people. I recall hearing me say that I was. Are you going to do it?"
"Couldn't say no. She said the only option she had left was having Dr. Wilkes do his stand-up comedy routine. Which I haven't heard, but I understand is horrible."
"Let's just say calling it 'comedy' is being kind. OK, my place, tonight. We have work to do."
"Huh?"
"I don't want to sing in front of people. That doesn't mean I have a problem playing the piano in front of them. You'll need an accompanist. Now get back to work, Dr. Cameron. Sick people, remember? Oh, wait. You have a phone message. How the hell did I get stuck taking phone messages for my employees, anyway? I'm going to talk to Cuddy again about getting me a secretary."
He tossed the slip of paper at her. She read the name at the top and felt her heart begin to pound. "Wish me luck, House," she said as she reached for her cell phone.
Chapter 5: Surprises
Cameron arrived at the benefit on the arm of a short, balding, 40-ish man with a full salt-and-pepper beard and a paunch. She introduced him as Dr. Bradley. House, Cuddy, Wilson, Chase and Foreman were already there. House shook the man's hand and offered to show him where the bar was. Cameron excused herself to the ladies' room.
"Hardly seems like Cameron's type," Chase whispered to Foreman when the three were out of earshot.
"Maybe she doesn't have a type," Foreman whispered back. "She had a thing for House, she had a thing with you. You two aren't exactly the same type."
Chase shook his head, still wondering what the hell was up. Across the table, Cuddy and Wilson exchanged winks.
Dinner, small talk, speeches, the usual benefit routine. Everyone was bored. After a while, the music and dancing began. House nursed a scotch and watched Wilson dance with Cuddy and tried not to look at Cameron's attempts to dance with her date. The guy danced like a rhinoceros who'd had too many tequilas. Even with this leg, I'm Fred Astaire compared to him, he thought.
House enjoyed the show more when Foreman cut in. He was a smooth and skilled dancer, but he wasn't the one House was looking at. Cameron was a vision tonight, in a deep forest-green dress that set off her eyes, and it was sheer pleasure to watch how gracefully she moved, now that she had a decent partner.
Cuddy and Chase. Cameron and Wilson. Chase and Cameron. Cuddy and Foreman. Chase and a redheaded intern -- McGreevy? McGregor? -- who looked about 14 years old and gazed at him as if he were God. Cameron asked House to dance, but he begged off. The leg. It was bad tonight. Probably nerves. He popped an extra Vicodin.
Eventually the band took its break, and Cuddy got up onstage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat tonight. Every year we try to bring you some hidden talent we've discovered among the Princeton-Plainsboro staff. Allow me to present the song stylings of Dr. Allison Cameron, immunologist and fellow in our department of diagnostics. She will be accompanied on the piano by our head diagnostician, Dr. Gregory House."
Applause. Magic time, thought House. "Knock their socks off, woman," he whispered to Cameron as they took the stage.
He sat down at the piano; she took a microphone off its stand and smiled shyly at him. "Music, maestro."
He played the introduction. The room fell silent as she sang:
"It had to be you
It had to be you
I wandered around and finally found
Somebody who
Could make me be true
Could make me blue
Or even be glad
Just to be sad
Thinking of you."
She looked directly at House, who tried not to look at her -- and failed miserably -- as she sang the next verse:
"Some others I've seen
Might never be mean
Might never be cross
Or try to be boss
But they wouldn't do.
For nobody else gave me that thrill
With all your faults, I love you still.
It had to be you
Wonderful you
It had to be you."
House stole a glance at their table. Wilson was grinning like a fool. Cuddy was beaming like a mom at her kid's recital. Chase was staring, slack-jawed. Foreman was whispering in Chase's ear: "Bradley is so screwed."
A second of shocked silence, then the room broke out in applause, whistles and shouts of "Encore! Encore!"
House and Cameron were conferring. Arguing, it looked like. They saw her nod in the direction of their table, and House shrug in resignation.
She picked up the microphone again. He played. She sang:
"That certain night, the night we met
There was magic abroad in the air
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square."
She strolled over to the piano as she sang the last line of the verse, and held the mic in front of House. Knock their socks off, she mouthed.
You owe me big, he mouthed back, and sang:
"I may be right, I may be wrong
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square."
Cameron:
"The moon that lingered over London town
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown."
House:
"How could he know we two were so in love?
The whole darn world seemed upside down."
She leaned in close to him so they could share the mic, and they harmonized:
"The streets of town were paved with stars
It was such a romantic affair
And when we kissed and said goodnight
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square."
House:
"I know 'cause I was there."
Together:
"That night in Berkeley Square."
Another second of silence, then deafening applause. She took his hand and walked him to the edge of the stage. "Bow, you idiot," she hissed. He obeyed. His world had gone foggy, like the times he'd taken too many Vicodin washed down with scotch. But different, somehow. This wasn't a place he was going to crawl into for escape, because she was holding his hand and wouldn't let him go there. He was vaguely aware that the crowd was on its feet.
He didn't know how they got off the stage and back to their table, but they were there, and his head was clearing. He shook it to get rid of the remaining fog and took note of the faces staring at him. At them.
"Chase, pick your jaw up off the floor," he snapped. "It's unsanitary. And a huge turn-off to that intern who was making eyes at you earlier."
Chase blushed. "I don't know what's shocking me the most. Cameron's voice, your voice, the fact that you actually got up there and sang, or the way you were looking at each other."
"Congratulations, Dr. Cameron," said House. "Wombat World, it has been rocked."
Foreman, never one to mince words, spoke up. "House, what the hell is going on? I mean, you've been treating Cameron like crap for months, but tonight .... And she's here with this other dude, and the singing? I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone."
"Let's start with the easy one," said House. "I sang because she appealed to my sadistic side. Told me that the looks on your faces when I opened my mouth would be worth it. She was right. As for the 'other dude,' as you call him, how about letting him explain?"
Bradley grinned. "I'm Dr. Cameron's new boss. This lovely lady sitting between me and Dr. House is the new assistant head of immunology at Princeton General. Starting in two weeks."
Chase's and Foreman's faces lit up. "Cameron! That's great! Congratulations!"
"He's also an excellent beard," said House. "I suggested he come as her date to throw you boys off the scent ... which is the same reason I've been harsh with Cameron at work. You get my drift?"
"You two are ... together." Chase sounded like a little boy who had just learned there was no Santa Claus but had discovered his big brother's Playboy stash about 10 minutes later.
Foreman turned to Cuddy and Wilson. "You knew?"
"I found out two days ago when she handed in her notice. But I suspected something," said Cuddy. "I just had no idea what. This one" -- she cocked a thumb at Wilson -- "has known all along."
"All along, minus about two weeks," Wilson corrected her. "Which means I've known for about six months."
"I ... have ... no words," said Chase.
"I can come up with a few," said Foreman. "Congratulations, House, Cameron. I'm happy for you."
"All right, enough sentimental talk," said House. "Cuddy paid good money for that dinner. Shame to see it go into the commode."
The band was back. Wilson rose. "May I have this dance, Dr. Cameron?"
"Of course." She smiled at House as they headed for the dance floor.
"I guess I was wrong," Wilson told her as they glided around the floor to the strains of "Tennessee Waltz."
"About what?"
"About House not having a soft side. About you not being able to fix him."
"I haven't fixed him, Wilson. Haven't you been listening to him tonight? He's still House. Maybe ... he just wasn't as broken as everyone thought he was. As he thought he was."
"Maybe," mused Wilson. "But whatever's going on, thank you."
"I should thank you," she said. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't spoken up."
"Ahem."
"House? What are you doing?"
"Cutting in."
"Your leg ..."
"Improving. Music therapy. Now back off my girl, Wilson. Or this" -- he brandished his cane -- "is going where the sun don't shine." He tossed the cane to his friend and took Cameron in his arms. "I'll get through this as long as you don't try anything fancy."
"You two looked great out there," said Cuddy as they returned to the table.
"Not bad for a cripple, eh?" said House.
"Are you up for another one?"
"With you? Absolutely. My Indian name is Dances With Funbags."
"You're right," Wilson said as he watched them walk away. "He's still House."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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