It's not his holiday, but Chase has made his way through a city smelling of roast bird and bright with apartment lights chasing out the early afternoon dark feeling something like one of the waifs from a Dickens' novel. He stopped off at one of the few stands open for trade and now hefts a paper bag with some kind of midwinter picnic under one arm, along with a few magazines to help the time go. Today was never going to be a day off, but there are other people for whom it should have been.
He's taking over the shift from one of them right now. And he still doesn't quite recognise her, watching from outside the glass of Wilson's private room (staff get all the perks). Her hair bright against the back of the chair, curling in a way he either never noticed before, or which used to be too dark to show.
The glass slides open quietly, his shoes as soft against the scrubbed and polished floor. Looks like Wilson's still out, and hopefully peaceful. No worry about disturbing him with the rustle of the bag of candy dropped into Cameron's lap as Chase passes her, then. He puts the rest of his wares on the trolley in the corner, glancing back to smile.
"Happy Thanksgiving."
☞ and they won't pretend that they're too busy or that they're not alone
Working on the holidays is one thing; tending a sick colleague, a friend, is something else entirely. She's still convinced this is nothing more than a prolonged curse, some odd effect of boxes and buttons-- but given the medicine, and his family history, it's better to err on the side of caution. Oddly, she's glad for the excuse provided by his antidepressants-- it's a much smaller secret to let slip. House will find out about the meds-- it's inevitable, even on the off chance that Chase doesn't tell him outright. He'll put hallucinations and concerned minions together and come up with drug interactions. Keeping secrets from their boss is nearly impossible, but (especially in this case) she considers it a worthy cause.
This is as close to a break as she's managed. Wilson doesn't need the company, but she feels better being here. On a technicality, it means not spending the holidays alone.
As Chase comes in Cameron glances up, briefly turning her attention to the candy before offering him a small smile in return.
[The message starts out quiet, nothing but the usual sounds of the hospital loudspeaker paging a doctor in the background. For half a second, Angela's almost tempted to hang up.]
Umm... hey, Cameron, it's Angela.
[Hello, have a pause before she says to hell with it and goes full steam ahead.]
So I'm having a party on Christmas Eve at six. If you don't have plans, you're more than welcome to come. It's nothing big, just a few people without anything better to do. No gift exchanges either, unless you want to. I can't stop you. Anyway, you know where I live, right? So that's about it. Bye.
[Left (http://i47.tinypic.com/14iipa1.jpg) propped up against Cameron and Eden's door. No note except a tag with their apartment number on and two (http://craftsuppliesforless.com/images/christmas%20ornament%2010.jpg) brown paper parcels. (http://www.polymerclaypit.co.uk/images/products/zoom/SCULPYW-FROSTYFUN_Zoom_1.jpg)]
[Possibly this is in homage to how they first met but Cameron's hair will never ever turn into what that creature was, not with the use of this kit! (http://www.aveda.com/templates/products2/spp.tmpl?CATEGORY_ID=CATEGORY10515&PRODUCT_ID=PROD15546) Look, the people at the shop said it's good for "Girls gone gold." okay? Also, a bag of candy and a card bearing the seal of the lion rampant and his name: Caspian X]
[A DVD (http://www.mickeyxtreme.com/images1/news/92204bambi.jpg) sits on the mat at Cameron's door. The note inside the jewel case reads, I like you, but I'm not watching it with you.]
[At some point during the 27th, a box finds it's way into Cameron's pigeonhole at work. It's white, and the contents (http://z.about.com/d/shoes/1/0/5/7/1/silver_evening_shoes.jpg) are wrapped under layers and layers of tissue paper. There's no note, but there are a pair of cinema tickets, pre-booked for Thursday night.]
It's Thursday and he's waiting in the hallway outside her apartment with the minute hand on his watch at 8:25. He's given it five minutes already out of courtesy, not wanting to interrupt the mysterious rituals by which women prepare themselves for dates. If this is a date. It's dinner, just the two of them, and a movie, but he knows better than to assume anything where Cameron's concerned. They've tried having the benefits and being not-quite-friends, if this is the reverse then he'll take it without complaint.
He's forgotten to ask Eden where she's spending the night, too, and could kick himself for it. The girl seems to shuttle between Cameron's apartment and his, not wanting to keep all her eggs in one basket, and Chase can't say he blames her. Given the choice, however, he'd prefer not to have a jury this evening. He's made an effort, changing in the hospital locker room into a plain white pinstripe button-down, loose at the neck to distinguish it from workwear, with a dark jacket and jeans. As an ensemble, it almost matches. On the way he'd hesitated over buying flowers, but there's a simple bouquet (http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/511XBD8Z1GL._SL500_AA280_.jpg) propped up in one hand revealing his eventual choice. Reservations are made and checked and he just hopes she didn't throw out the movie tickets along with the shoebox from earlier in the week.
8:27. If she's not ready by now she's not going to be. Chase doesn't think he can bear watching the second hand circle the dial another three times, making a fist instead and reaching up to rap at the door.
heart skipped a beat and when i caught it you were out of reach.
Silver shoes are a bit much for the movies, and a bit too little for the weather. The other contents of the box, though, have already been slipped into a purse. Maybe if they last until spring without ruining this-- whatever, exactly, this is, she can't say-- she'll make it up to him then.
She'd like to think it's a date. Not quite enough of one for a dress, but when Cameron opens the door she's wearing lipstick and a small smile, more hesitant than restrained for once. Her coat is draped over one arm, snatched up on her way to answer his knock, but otherwise she seems ready to go, in a blouse slightly too distracting to be work-appropriate.
"Were you waiting?" They agreed on half past, she knows she isn't late; that doesn't mean he wasn't early.
[There's no note, not even a signature, but a framed drawing is left outside Cameron's office. The picture isn't of her or anybody in the City. It's not art of a inanimate object either. It's Cameron's husband that graces the paper in lines of gray and other colors, in multiple poses of doing everyday activities like reading, cooking, running. Nothing fancy, but now Cameron has more than one picture.]
cameron? i hope this is cameron. hi. this is claire bennet. i'm hospital delivery girl and i'm coming to pick you up. just wanted to let you know i was on my way in case the sheep suddenly learned how to knock and speak.
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