Foreman didn't answer Amber at first. It was easy to set her question aside while they rode in the elevator--he was monitoring the patient, and the last thing he wanted was for John Doe to catch them by surprise with haematemesis or something worse.
He wasn't trying to avoid what she was asking. He'd lied once and lost out on more than he'd bargained for. Even if Amber wouldn't believe him again, Foreman wanted to be honest with her. It wasn't easy. He didn't really know himself how to answer her question. He hadn't considered if he'd call it winning, to solve his case and stay at Mercy. It would have made him proud, to make the right call and be recognized for it. He'd be a damn sight more content than he was now...or so he'd thought.
The fact of the matter was, Foreman didn't think much of being bitter. He'd rather move forward--well, he'd rather move up, and his move back to Princeton was neither, but there was no point in living in the past. If he hadn't come back, he never would have met Amber at all. As brief as it had been, it had been worthwhile. More than that. It had been good. And, hell, right now, what was he doing? Working one of House's cases, confronted directly with half a dozen symptoms he couldn't explain. He should be happy. Intrigued, interested, hooked by the case until he could piece the puzzle, or at least some of the pieces, together. He was right back at the hub of the action. Instead of having most of his cases diverted to Princeton-Plainsboro, leaving him with only minor mysteries he'd learned to solve in his sleep, he was at the forefront of the field. Teaching had felt uncomfortable to him, unnatural; he'd been resisting most of what he wanted to say, to point out to his students everything that was obvious, that was right in front of their faces. It astounded him what they couldn't see, and it was hard to praise them every time they took a baby step.
Once they were back on the main floor, Foreman rushed the patient back to his room, grabbing a couple of orderlies on his way to help them shift him onto the bed and hook up the monitors. John Doe hadn't complained again, and by the time they got him back to his room, he seemed both vacant and asymptomatic again. Foreman shook his head and picked up his chart to make a notation of what he'd observed when they were in the lab. It was only then that he turned back to Amber. They had a few minutes before the rest of the team would be assembling in the lecture theatre. He stopped to meet her eyes, to show he was serious. "No," he said. After all, he could have been fired just as easily for incompetence as he had been for overstepping his bounds. "If I'd been wrong, I wouldn't have met you."
no subject
He wasn't trying to avoid what she was asking. He'd lied once and lost out on more than he'd bargained for. Even if Amber wouldn't believe him again, Foreman wanted to be honest with her. It wasn't easy. He didn't really know himself how to answer her question. He hadn't considered if he'd call it winning, to solve his case and stay at Mercy. It would have made him proud, to make the right call and be recognized for it. He'd be a damn sight more content than he was now...or so he'd thought.
The fact of the matter was, Foreman didn't think much of being bitter. He'd rather move forward--well, he'd rather move up, and his move back to Princeton was neither, but there was no point in living in the past. If he hadn't come back, he never would have met Amber at all. As brief as it had been, it had been worthwhile. More than that. It had been good. And, hell, right now, what was he doing? Working one of House's cases, confronted directly with half a dozen symptoms he couldn't explain. He should be happy. Intrigued, interested, hooked by the case until he could piece the puzzle, or at least some of the pieces, together. He was right back at the hub of the action. Instead of having most of his cases diverted to Princeton-Plainsboro, leaving him with only minor mysteries he'd learned to solve in his sleep, he was at the forefront of the field. Teaching had felt uncomfortable to him, unnatural; he'd been resisting most of what he wanted to say, to point out to his students everything that was obvious, that was right in front of their faces. It astounded him what they couldn't see, and it was hard to praise them every time they took a baby step.
Once they were back on the main floor, Foreman rushed the patient back to his room, grabbing a couple of orderlies on his way to help them shift him onto the bed and hook up the monitors. John Doe hadn't complained again, and by the time they got him back to his room, he seemed both vacant and asymptomatic again. Foreman shook his head and picked up his chart to make a notation of what he'd observed when they were in the lab. It was only then that he turned back to Amber. They had a few minutes before the rest of the team would be assembling in the lecture theatre. He stopped to meet her eyes, to show he was serious. "No," he said. After all, he could have been fired just as easily for incompetence as he had been for overstepping his bounds. "If I'd been wrong, I wouldn't have met you."