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alwaysright2009-08-20 07:55 pm
eric_foreman) wrote in alwaysright2009-08-20 07:55 pm
October 29, 2007 - Evening
Nothing around here works the way it's supposed to work.
Of everything their John Doe--Robert Elliot--had said when Foreman had been with him, that was what rang the most true. It was stupid to think that talking with a patient with Giovianni's syndrome could change anything, least of all how he saw himself. The guy wasn't psychic; he was only picking up on the cues that Foreman had dropped inadvertently. Changing because of that was worse than stupid. It would imply that not only was Foreman ignorant about his own feelings and what he wanted, but also that he was spineless enough to act differently because of a stranger's neurological disorder. Foreman made his own choices. He wasn't looking for any advice, whether it was his own reflected back at him or not.
After the day's humiliation, Foreman had been more sure than ever that Princeton wasn't the right place for him. Less than an hour later, Chase had come up to him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and laughingly asked if it was true.
Foreman fixed him with a furious stare. "I didn't know she worked here. And I didn't have to beg her every day for weeks."
Chase, far from being offended, just grinned wider. "Once a week. Anyway, I heard Amber was the one calling the shots."
Foreman didn't bother pointing out that Cameron walked all over Chase on a daily basis. "I have to run a biopsy," he said, turning to walk away, his shoulders hunched as he pushed his fists into his pockets.
"She seems like just your type!" Chase called after him. "Did you ever consider lightening up and enjoying yourselves?"
Fat chance of that. Not with the whole hospital in on the joke and watching. For what it was worth, Foreman didn't have to work with Amber directly for the rest of the day. Both of them were too busy running cultures and keeping the patient alive. Foreman let House do whatever crazy thing entered his mind. He didn't have any illusions about being able to stop him today, and Foreman was more interested in keeping his head down. In thinking about how to get away.
But when House sidled up to him with a job offer from Mount Zion, Foreman's first thought wasn't to jump at the opportunity. It wasn't even to suspect that House was having him on, dangling the possibility with every intention of yanking it away the second Foreman seemed likely to believe it was real.
His first thought had been, I can't go yet.
That had surprised him more than anything, made him stop and frown once he'd finally shaken House off. After having his affairs aired in the middle of a differential like a choice piece of gossip he couldn't believe that there was any reason not to take up the job hunt again. Farther afield, where the hospitals wouldn't have heard of him, or had their diagnostics cases redirected to Princeton-Plainsboro, so that they'd only know House by his reputation, not by personal experience. Maybe as far away as California; Foreman still had contacts there.
But he didn't want to go.
Partly it was the medicine. He'd felt in the thick of it again today. Working against the clock to solve a case. Challenged, following the clues from one to the next. He'd always loved that, even if he hadn't been happy working for House. But partly, Foreman knew, it was Amber, and he didn't know what do about that. He'd been shot down enough, rejected enough, that he should want to stay away from her just to avoid any more scenes like this morning's. Even so, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Wondering what she really felt and whether the attitude she'd shown in front of House was all there was.
Well, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to ask. Once the case was solved, all Foreman wanted to do was gather his things and escape. It was late, and dark, and he headed for the doors slowly, already knowing he wouldn't have the same luck he'd had on Thursday. Nothing worked out the way it should.
Of everything their John Doe--Robert Elliot--had said when Foreman had been with him, that was what rang the most true. It was stupid to think that talking with a patient with Giovianni's syndrome could change anything, least of all how he saw himself. The guy wasn't psychic; he was only picking up on the cues that Foreman had dropped inadvertently. Changing because of that was worse than stupid. It would imply that not only was Foreman ignorant about his own feelings and what he wanted, but also that he was spineless enough to act differently because of a stranger's neurological disorder. Foreman made his own choices. He wasn't looking for any advice, whether it was his own reflected back at him or not.
After the day's humiliation, Foreman had been more sure than ever that Princeton wasn't the right place for him. Less than an hour later, Chase had come up to him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and laughingly asked if it was true.
Foreman fixed him with a furious stare. "I didn't know she worked here. And I didn't have to beg her every day for weeks."
Chase, far from being offended, just grinned wider. "Once a week. Anyway, I heard Amber was the one calling the shots."
Foreman didn't bother pointing out that Cameron walked all over Chase on a daily basis. "I have to run a biopsy," he said, turning to walk away, his shoulders hunched as he pushed his fists into his pockets.
"She seems like just your type!" Chase called after him. "Did you ever consider lightening up and enjoying yourselves?"
Fat chance of that. Not with the whole hospital in on the joke and watching. For what it was worth, Foreman didn't have to work with Amber directly for the rest of the day. Both of them were too busy running cultures and keeping the patient alive. Foreman let House do whatever crazy thing entered his mind. He didn't have any illusions about being able to stop him today, and Foreman was more interested in keeping his head down. In thinking about how to get away.
But when House sidled up to him with a job offer from Mount Zion, Foreman's first thought wasn't to jump at the opportunity. It wasn't even to suspect that House was having him on, dangling the possibility with every intention of yanking it away the second Foreman seemed likely to believe it was real.
His first thought had been, I can't go yet.
That had surprised him more than anything, made him stop and frown once he'd finally shaken House off. After having his affairs aired in the middle of a differential like a choice piece of gossip he couldn't believe that there was any reason not to take up the job hunt again. Farther afield, where the hospitals wouldn't have heard of him, or had their diagnostics cases redirected to Princeton-Plainsboro, so that they'd only know House by his reputation, not by personal experience. Maybe as far away as California; Foreman still had contacts there.
But he didn't want to go.
Partly it was the medicine. He'd felt in the thick of it again today. Working against the clock to solve a case. Challenged, following the clues from one to the next. He'd always loved that, even if he hadn't been happy working for House. But partly, Foreman knew, it was Amber, and he didn't know what do about that. He'd been shot down enough, rejected enough, that he should want to stay away from her just to avoid any more scenes like this morning's. Even so, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Wondering what she really felt and whether the attitude she'd shown in front of House was all there was.
Well, it didn't matter. He wasn't going to ask. Once the case was solved, all Foreman wanted to do was gather his things and escape. It was late, and dark, and he headed for the doors slowly, already knowing he wouldn't have the same luck he'd had on Thursday. Nothing worked out the way it should.
no subject
"Was that it?" Amber laughed with relief. It had nothing to do with her. "Oh god, no, I've never let anyone do something to me I didn't want them to." Except for tonight. She propped herself up on her elbow, smiling warmly down at him, even if he couldn't see. It hadn't been about her. Not really. Thank goodness. One of her hands squeezed his back, the other lifted to his chin and traced it with her fingertips. "That was sweet of you. To get so angry at the thought." Unnecessary, too. One more facet of his gentlemanly behavior asserting itself to protect her in ways she didn't need. But she was starting to figure out that the chivalrous attitude was how he expressed affection. And no one-- outside of Amber's family-- would've really cared if she’d been mistreated. Her heart stuttered, that he’d been so affected.
"Eric." Amber didn't know how else to say this, so she'd have to use the words in her head, in her heart. "I really like you. And you don't have to reply to that, if you don't want to." Tonight’s events had given her a clue of just how much he cared about her, even if he was terrible at putting those feelings into words. "I'm new at this, I've never-- really had a long-term relationship." She closed her eyes. It had never mattered before, because after the first failures, she hadn’t wanted anyone. A partner seemed like one more anchor to sink her down. But now she felt the weight of her amateurism. Maybe she’d keep screwing up with Eric because she’d never used training wheels before, and now, inexperienced, she was trying to ride a two-wheeled bike. Uphill.
She lied back down, her head resting once more on his shoulder. Exhaustion suddenly washed over her. The whole day was taking its toll. If what happened before had been tiring, this conversation was downright draining. Discovering a limit and confessing to so-far hidden pieces of herself was wringing her out like staying awake for forty-eight hours never had. Despite all the things she wanted to talk about with Eric and the anxiety taking root in her stomach over how much she could still mess up, sleepiness was overtaking her. Amber kissed his cheek and tried to wrap the discussion up, for now. They could go over more later, when they weren’t so tired. When they weren’t so wary and worn down they whispered like field mice. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m starting to realize I’ve got a lot to learn. But I’m good at catching up.” Her eyes fluttered and her hand holding Eric’s relaxed. It’d feel so good to fall asleep here, with him besides her. Her breathing evened out, slow and steady.
no subject
The light trace of her fingertips along his jaw felt at first like part of her patronizing response and Foreman tried to hold himself stiff, away from the comfort, but he stopped when Amber said his name. He nodded--didn't know how much she saw--when she repeated that she liked him. He wanted to say it back. Jesus, it was more than like, whether they'd known each other less than a week or not. But he was still miffed by her laughter, and he kept quiet, listening.
He'd had a few long-term relationships. If things had gone even slightly differently, he might still be with Claire. But they'd both been heavily recruited out of medical school, and she wouldn't move with him across the country when her dream internship was on the East Coast. They'd talked, even, about keeping up something long distance. Foreman thought Claire had known, even then, that he wouldn't manage to keep it up. He'd sent a card when she married. They'd even managed to trade sides of the country again--she lived in San Francisco now. And there had been other women, other times when he'd carried on for months without anything going wrong on the surface; but he, or they, had always eventually faced the fact that the reason was that there wasn't much between them below the surface.
Still, Foreman doubted a few long-term relationships put him in any better position than Amber to figure out how they were going to work out whatever was between them. He licked his lips, ready to tell her so, but her voice faded to a murmur. Foreman sighed. He'd leave it for tonight. Let her sleep, let himself recover from the wild changes in direction they'd gone through this evening. He pulled the covers over the two of them, easing Amber into a slightly more comfortable position, cushioned on his shoulder. "It's okay," he murmured, letting himself press close to her. "It'll be okay." She was probably already asleep. Exhausted, finding it easy to close his eyes and listen to Amber's even breathing, Foreman let himself follow her into sleep.