#dralliscameron

Papers, papers, more papers. Lisa’s two and a half cups of coffee in -- and realized she should have switched to tea about half an hour ago, hence the kettle now steaming quietly from the kitchen. She’s exhausted.  

Allison’s shut the bedroom door a while ago. Lisa doesn’t want to disturb her . . . and yet.   Suddenly a pang.  When was the last time they’ve caught each other -- been in the same house -- relaxed, work finished, spending time beside one another? Through the scribbles and prescriptions and data, Lisa’s started a headache -- and she’s started to miss Allison. How long has she missed her?

Lisa wanders the house, arms crossed, streaming through the living room momentarily. Staring blankly at photos. Book titles. Maybe she can put a fire on again? It’s died forty minutes ago; it’s weakly clinging to the finishing crackles, the charred wood, now . . . no, Lisa decides, it’s too late and she’s too tired. She makes her way down the hallway and to their bedroom, pushes the door open with the tip of her fingers, leans on the archway. She can see the small, fuzzy shadow of Allison in the dark, in their bed, back turned to her . . .  she can’t tell if she’s awake or not. The amber light from the hallway, streaming in, should be enough to stir her if so.

“Can you tell me where I can find the psych department? These signs- you know, I can’t figure out where anything is. You got rooms 282 to 340, but it stops before I can find-” Nate stops a moment, eyes focusing on her face. His gaze darts to the ground, then back up after a second, as if he’d roll his eyes back and exchange glances with his own brain if given the chance. He places her, certainly. 

He realizes his mouth was open and shuts it, cutting short the “um” sound he hadn’t realized he was making.

> Medicine / Prodigy <

   “A spoonful of sugar just to sweeten the taste.”

 That went for bad news as much as the medicine, but really, this stuff was vile, how did they expect you to drink a whole glass of it? Maybe the CT scan wasn’t worth this level of torture, but Emily would never speak to him again if he didn’t do what he was told.

      They’re driving; it’s summer. It’s warm -- humid, even. Dusk; night is just settling in, and, for a June evening, it’s overcast. It’s been raining in Princeton all week. Lisa is staring ahead, reflecting on her girlfriend’s words -- her girlfriend, who is sitting beside her in the passenger seat, as quiet as she -- from the other week. 

Well if you asked me, I wouldn’t say no. To marry her, she had meant. Lisa forgets how this had even come up -- and truthfully in the scheme of it all, it doesn’t matter as much -- that sentence had struck her the most. ALLISON. MARRYING HER. As soon as Allison says it Lisa is so, so certain she WANTS it that it almost hurts. Should she? Is that right? Allison says yes when the answer is no more often than anyone cares to consider, Lisa knows. She can’t let that slip past. And she also knows, though very little, about Allison’s past with marriage. A tricky subject. Something she suspects she’s never truly dealt with.  

LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED ANYTHING. 

Try as she might to forget something as nonsensical as a gesture of propriety . . .  Dr. Cameron’s words from two days ago will not leave Lisa Cuddy. 

She’s been in since a little before 8am; striding into the clinic, Blackberry at the ready, nodding her commands to the front desk, opening a case file to sign off on the procedures already needed for the morning. She knows House has a case; she knows everything about the inner workings of this hospital -- everything she needs to know, anyhow -- the less useful information is stored away elsewhere, or perhaps expelled. 

                          House has a case. Dr. Cameron must already be here. Unless she hadn’t pulled the short straw; but no, Cuddy remembers -- she’s seen Foreman and Chase for the past two nights. Cameron is too forthright, too moral; she’d have been here, too, despite what straw she’s pulled. Perhaps it’s too bold of an admission to herself that she’s been somewhat tracking the other woman’s whereabouts since their last conversation. SHE CAN’T HELP HERSELF. She needs to know. And it’s getting more and more sensical. Two injections, starting today. What had been her plan, anyway? Whatever she had logically formulated has been squashed in favor of this new development. It makes sense. It fits.

❛  Morning Steph,  ❜  she greets her assistant on her way into the office briskly.  She’s distracted. Stephanie opens the door after her, a few moments later, as Lisa is reading the top of her inbox, back leaned against her desk, a paper clutched in front of her through pinched fingers. 

❛ I have your 9am conference details but Kevin at AtlanticNet is asking if you need an external dial in? ❜ 

Cuddy lifts her chin from the paper slightly, without looking at Stephanie, indicating that she is listening.  ❛  Actually you can cancel that. I just spoke with them this morning. And schedule me for that 3pm Executive Leadership call please, I’m presenting.  ❜  She glances up, and as she is finishing her statement . . . a GLIMPSE OF THAT FAMILIAR, PRETTY HAIR CROSSES FROM OUTSIDE . . . Cuddy spots her from the window.

                                                              Dr. Cameron. 

❛  Excuse me.  ❜

Cuddy strides out, without another word, dismissing herself from her assistant. She is purposeful, direct. She heads straight for the other woman; she wants to catch her before she is out of sight. 

c + c  / an allison cameron & lisa cuddy playlist.