November 5, 2007 - Morning

[amber_v]

Lonely: that was Amber's first drowsy feeling to waking up alone. It was still dark and her alarm hadn't gone off. She'd woken up this way countless times, perhaps most of her life, and yet it felt wrong not having someone in here with her. Someone to make muffled but satisfied sounds as she climbed onto them, kissing and being held back. She missed Eric and it hadn't even been more than half a day since they'd parted.

Despite how keenly she felt his absence, Amber couldn't help smiling into her pillow. She'd become conditioned to having him in her bed. The space seemed pointlessly immense without him hogging half of it. Well, there was an easy solution: get him in here soon. Luring him back shouldn't be a problem; Amber could think of half a dozen ways to convince him and that was without trying.

The only reason he wasn't there as she stretched, working out the lasting soreness from their basketball game, was because they both had lives to get back to; Amber had house chores, as probably did Eric, and her reading wouldn't get done through sheer wishing. If it weren't for that, Amber would've been happy to spend another weekend afternoon with him, even after all the ups-and-downs on Saturday.

Still, she'd see him today at work. That was reason enough to make her spring out of bed earlier, so as to pretty herself up all the more. Eric would notice and appreciate her effort; it'd make up for how disgustingly casual she'd been around him this weekend.

The fact that she'd worn his Colombia hoodie to bed... what he didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Her mom had called Sunday, pointedly asking if she should expect only Amber or plus one for Thanksgiving. "Just me, mom."

"Hmmm?" she'd intoned, judgment and curiosity rolled into a single package. Amber just hoped there wasn't a dash of hope mixed in there. "Broke up already?"

"No," Amber replied with more vehemence than necessary, thinking back on how instantly tense Eric had become at the mere mention of the visit. With his mother's disease, his brother's imprisonment, and his dad's who-knew-what, it might actually be because it was too hard for him to face anyone's family and not because he was scared to meet hers specifically. "It's barely been a week. We're still getting to know each other."

"A few days ago it sounded like you were about to marry him, has it cooled off already? Are you bored with the sex?"

It was the bit about marriage that made Amber sputter softly. Yeah, keeping Eric away was the wisest course of action. "Everything is fine, mom. We're still together and, no, not bored with the sex." There definitely was nothing wrong with their sex life-- in fact, the very opposite. For all that Amber fretted that they were drying up into a drought, Saturday night had been sweetly intimate, in an orgasm-filled way, and Sunday morning they'd tried out the lazy morning sex she'd been anticipating so much. Turned out it was every bit as delicious as she'd imagined.

Aside from that and having to hear her mom describe in minute detail her Thanksgiving plans (arranging rides to pick up her brothers at the airport, finding accommodation for non-immediate family members, shopping for the cheapest yet best food, and on and on and on), Amber's Sunday had been pretty quiet. Just her, her journals, and an endless supply of coffee.

Monday Amber took the time to blow-dry her hair and apply a more careful, if still absolutely professional, layer of makeup than she usually bothered to for work. It made her feel good all morning long, through breakfast and the drive. But as she stepped into the parking lot, the same way she'd started so many other days at PPTH, reluctance overcame her. Things were different here. It'd been so easy to forget once Friday rolled around and they'd fled the hospital, but she had bigger things to think about than "them." She had a career, a purpose. He had his. His partially consisted of keeping her under control; hers, stomping all over him as the occasion called.

It'd keep their sex lives interesting, Amber mused as she shut her car door.

It wasn't just how different their relationship had to be, though. There were other people to consider as well. House, who needed to keep his nose in his own business; her pathetic colleagues, who already looked at her askew for sleeping with the pseudo-boss; and who knew who else decided they had the right to an opinion about her personal life. Ignoring them all would have to do as a policy, Amber decided; that and hunt down anyone who dared try to make her miserable.

Despite the extra time she'd spent in the bathroom and her unhurried breakfast, Amber still arrived before anyone else. A nice change of pace, compared to the previous week. Content, Amber chose an aisle seat in one of the middle rows and settled down with a more recent edition of JNEN.

Comments

[eric_foreman]

Blankly, Foreman watched Amber go through the motions of tidying the lab. She didn't really have to. The techs could do that sort of thing. During the more frantic cases, when they didn't have time to run all the cultures themselves, they'd left messes behind them. Hadn't really thought about who ended up putting everything away. How could Amber go to this effort on their behalf, easily and unconsciously, when she knew what a mess she'd made with Casey and she hadn't so much as acknowledged that she'd done it? Or had a hand in it, at least.

Foreman wasn't prepared for her offer. He stared at her, not taking it in for a second, before the tilt of her head and her arched eyebrow finally registered. God, sex was the last thing that was going to solve this. He'd done it again, walked in expecting a damn apology, given her another opening, and all she wanted was to ignore it or subsume it somehow. He didn't even have the energy to be angry. He'd thought she couldn't hurt him worse than by doubting his medical opinion and sneaking behind his back to sabotage his case, but this was the last straw.

"I can't," he said, drawing back in on himself. "Not tonight." He'd be staying here, sleeping in the on-call room if he could, showering in the change room. He couldn't remember if he had a spare shirt in his locker; he might end up wearing OR scrubs if he got vomited on. Par for the course. He didn't even know how to tell her what the hell she'd done to him. If anyone else had screwed up, he might be tired, he might still be chained here overnight, but he wouldn't be this exhausted. He felt like he'd been beaten up, bruised so deep that simply moving enough to keep awake and keep thinking hurt. Fine. Fine. She hadn't let him alone before, but he also hadn't told her off. When she'd chased him, he'd let her in. Too deep, he saw that now. Too fast. This time he'd keep her at a better distance, so that she couldn't do this to him. Put those walls back up that he'd trusted her enough to let down. He cleared his throat and picked up his untouched coffee again, heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

[amber_v]

I can't. It cut through her, the automatic rejection. Amber flinched. She'd only offered because she thought he wanted to be with her, needed comfort from her just as much she needed from him. What, he didn't? What was he doing here then, bringing her coffee and his long, pouting face? Had he been fucking guilt-tripping her?

She was too damn tired for this-- all she'd wanted was a bit of down time with him and now he'd come in here and deliberately thrown that in her face, making her feel like shit. Despite having soothed herself through the simple process of cleaning up, her fingers twitched, her temple pulsed. "If you're angry, just say so!" Amber shot at his retreating, cowardly back. How dare he not tell her, just bottling it up and punishing her by keeping her guessing. "It's not as if you were perfect today!" God, she was so angry at him; just thinking about it made her feel hot. His arrogance, his refusal to contemplate any idea that hadn't been borne from his own damn skull-- she wouldn't have had to treat Casey her way if he'd just listened.

"Whatever," she spat out. Now she was the one who didn't want to have anything to do with him. It’d been stupid to wave aside all the ways he'd infuriated her today just so she could make herself feel better by simpering in his arms and getting laid. For orgasms Amber could bring herself off, use a vibrator, or even find herself a more convenient partner-- there was that spineless boy, the doctor she'd used to get her coffee and breakfast last week, he'd jump at the chance-- if Eric was going to shut her out. Amber picked up the almost-full coffee he'd gotten her and chucked it into the trash bin on top of used gloves and empty plastic cups. "Go off, do what you want."

[eric_foreman]

"I can't because I'm staying here," Foreman said. God, she should understand that. She might have the luxury of going home, but he was fucking responsible for this case, whatever happened. Something that had been straightforward had turned into a nightmare, and if he weren't here when shit went down, then he wouldn't be surprised to be fired again. She thought her job was precarious but House could be swayed by bold moves; Cuddy only saw what he could do for her hospital, how he could keep the lawsuits away. He was supposed to be in control when House was away. The buck stopped with him.

He stopped short, with his hand on the door, and turned back to her. Angry? He'd been fucking furious. On some level, he still was, but that had nothing to do with why he was staying at the hospital. He'd been going to work through it, on his own, away from her, until he could lock it away--whatever hurt and anger he felt--so that he wouldn't take it out on her. But if she wanted to hear it, then fine. Fucking fine. "You undermined me as a doctor," he said. "You had no respect for my decisions. You know this is the only job I could get after I was fired from Mercy, but you did your best to make me look like an idiot in front of the patient and the people I'm supposed to oversee." He shook his head, glaring at her. "I don't have the luxury to go off and I do what I want. I know no one else's career matters to you, but I thought I did."

[amber_v]

"Why?" spilled from Amber's lips. House couldn't be bothered to stay overnight, not when there was no thinking to be done. Did Eric expect a pretty gold star by staying up and guarding Casey? The hospital had a night staff that'd take care of any emergencies and if there was more diagnosing to be done, that's what pagers were for. "You won't be any good tomorrow if you don't sleep properly." Amber didn't want him anywhere near her home anymore, but this was one more example of his stupid, stupid work decisions. He'd be shooting himself-- and Casey-- in the foot if he tried to live up to his huge pride. Amber couldn't let him do that, not without getting an earful from her. Idiot boss or not they still needed him at the top of his game.

He turned back to her, forehead creased and frown furious. And yet his voice was icy as if there’d never been any warmth between them. "Oh, wah," Amber snapped at his accusations. She stalked towards him, her hair brushing against her cheeks with her hard, firm steps. "You undermined yourself. You thought you knew better than any of us and instead of doing a bit more harmless testing, you had to have it your way." She jerked her chin at him. "What would've you done, if you thought House was being reckless? Stand back and wring your hands? No-- what have you done?" No way he'd never fought against House's decisions.

Everything out of his mouth sounded like a whining child who'd been refused a ridiculous and expensive toy, but his last sentence stung. "I care! I care too much!" Amber’s voice rose, angrier than ever. "When will you understand that this isn't about you?" They'd been over this, for fuck's sake. Her fists curled up uselessly; even if physical action were the answer, they'd already established, thoroughly humiliating her in the process, that he had the upper hand. If only there were something she could strike here that didn't cost thousands of dollars.

[eric_foreman]

"I'm not going to leave them on their own!" Not only because he couldn't stand the thought of a patient of his dying when he was happily at home asleep--maybe he'd get over that some point, but not this soon after Lupe--but because, big surprise, he didn't trust the people he worked with. Who knew what Brennan might do, if he took it into his head? And Foreman knew he couldn't trust Amber. "I was treating diagnostically. If I'd been wrong, we could have changed strategies. But that wasn't good enough for you; you had to muddy the waters! I like being right but I've never treated directly against the team decision." House was insane but he was also in charge. That was a factor Amber didn't see, or didn't respect. She didn't respect him. And she didn't care that it hurt. "I find a better plan! I come up with a better idea! If it looks like House is going to kill someone just to get a damn answer, I tell Cuddy. That's my job! Not to second-guess!"

She cared. Foreman swallowed down just how much that cut through him. She hadn't shown it. So much of who he was was wrapped up in his career. He couldn't just separate them out. Being a doctor was who he was, and if she had any ounce of feeling for him, then she'd accept that. Foreman knew Amber felt the same way, that her abilities mattered to her. "I've never disregarded your opinion as a doctor," he said, more quietly. "I disagreed. I made a decision. I was willing to be proved wrong. You didn't give me that chance." He snorted softly. "You didn't give me a chance at all."

He pressed his lips together and looked away. His knuckles ached where he was gripping the door handle. Thank God it was late enough that no one had come by. "If you think that wasn't about me..." Then you have no idea who I am. He was tired of this conversation. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be proved right. "If I'd dismissed you like that, behind your back..." He didn't even know how to say it. She would have been incensed, stricken just as much as he was now. Maybe it shouldn't matter, maybe he was making a big fucking deal out of it, but he'd never been in the position before where someone he cared about had cut him down like that. He shrugged, struggling to pull himself back. "Never mind," he said. It was pointless to try and explain. He pulled open the door and walked away.

[amber_v]

"What good will playing the martyr do? Are you going to stay up all night holding her hand, is that it? Think that'll cure her paralysis?" The image of Eric curved over a stool, clasping those warm, soft hands of his she knew so well around one of Casey's pale ones pierced Amber through, spiking her with venomous jealousy. And why not? If they broke up it'd be because of her. God he was infuriating, pig-headed and irrational and an idolater of his own brilliant ideas.

"I wasn't trying to be right!" Amber exclaimed. Now the hurt spread with the after-shock of her sudden and sharp jealousy, merging into the urge to scream. Why couldn't he believe her? She wasn't lying. "I was doing what I thought was best for her, how is that so wrong?!"

Wrong because now Casey couldn't move her legs. Wrong because it could be her fault. But it wasn't. The problem couldn't be with her immune system. Amber wouldn't believe otherwise until there were results declaring so. She might not have handled the treatment as picture-perfect as Eric liked, but Amber hadn't fucked up to that extent.

They were face to face now and never did Amber feel further away from him. Eric’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he took in such sharp breaths they couldn't stay still. "You did," Amber returned, quieter than her near-yells but so very bitter. "You ignored the test pointing to lupus."

You didn't give me a chance at all. Amber looked away, staring down at the floor. That much was true. She hadn't trusted him to try out his own idea, which had been (and was) just as likely as lupus. But she returned his gaze before long, eyes narrowing. Boohoo. Was she supposed to coddle him when she didn't agree? Would he have rather she sit back when she believed he was harming a patient? With all the cool strength of her determination, Amber repeated: "I was doing what I thought was best for her." If-- and very unlikely so-- she'd hurt Casey, then he could scream at her and her methods all he liked. But for her intentions? Amber wouldn't hear of it.

God, he was harping again about her work being all about him. "The patient comes first," Amber said. "Always." How could he gloat about being such a great doctor if he couldn't get that most basic notion down? "Look, do whatever you want-- ignore me, laugh in my face, stick gum on the sole of my shoes-- if you think that's what'll help best." Results. That was all that mattered. Why didn't he see that?

Eric went back to the door, turning to leave. Disgusted, Amber just crossed her arms. Let him. If he couldn't understand, or believe in, her words, then there was nothing else she could do.