Foreman had no reason to think that Amber would show up. She'd probably had her fill of him. He hadn't told her to come, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask her and risk outright rejection. He hoped she'd show up, that was all. And that proved just how hopeless he was. After he'd walked out on her last night, unable to listen to her justifying herself any longer, he'd known it was a step that he might not be able to undo. In that moment, he hadn't wanted to. But hours later, no sleep, and this result--he couldn't pretend he didn't know how important it would be to her.
He was surprised, though, at how quickly she showed up. She looked as cold and angry as last night. Nothing had changed, then. Foreman didn't bother making more of this than what it was. "Not you," he said. "Brennan." He pushed the print-out across the lab bench. He had no idea what Casey might actually have, but Brennan's "cure" was nothing but snake-oil. Amber was the one who enjoyed ruining careers, but in this case, it was legitimate. Brennan had deliberately falsified test results. Who knew if they'd be able to save Casey's life now after treating her for nearly twenty-four hours with nothing but orange juice? He deserved to have his license stripped from him. Getting him kicked out of House's game, though, was probably what mattered more to Amber. Foreman shrugged, and returned the vial of Casey's blood back into the fridge, where they'd have access to it if they needed more proof. Though he imagined a new blood draw would show the same results. Brennan couldn't have gone as far as actually infecting Casey with polio--besides, she was vaccinated, and it hadn't faded or vanished into thin air like Brennan had tried to pretend.
"Take that to House," he said. He faced Amber finally. It wasn't like he wanted to work with her, and see her every day, if what they'd have together was over. But he wasn't going to hold her career back because he needed to make much of himself or because they'd had a relationship, however brief. He could be a fucking professional. He wasn't as selfish as she'd accused him of being. If this was what she wanted, he'd give it to her. He didn't need it.
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He was surprised, though, at how quickly she showed up. She looked as cold and angry as last night. Nothing had changed, then. Foreman didn't bother making more of this than what it was. "Not you," he said. "Brennan." He pushed the print-out across the lab bench. He had no idea what Casey might actually have, but Brennan's "cure" was nothing but snake-oil. Amber was the one who enjoyed ruining careers, but in this case, it was legitimate. Brennan had deliberately falsified test results. Who knew if they'd be able to save Casey's life now after treating her for nearly twenty-four hours with nothing but orange juice? He deserved to have his license stripped from him. Getting him kicked out of House's game, though, was probably what mattered more to Amber. Foreman shrugged, and returned the vial of Casey's blood back into the fridge, where they'd have access to it if they needed more proof. Though he imagined a new blood draw would show the same results. Brennan couldn't have gone as far as actually infecting Casey with polio--besides, she was vaccinated, and it hadn't faded or vanished into thin air like Brennan had tried to pretend.
"Take that to House," he said. He faced Amber finally. It wasn't like he wanted to work with her, and see her every day, if what they'd have together was over. But he wasn't going to hold her career back because he needed to make much of himself or because they'd had a relationship, however brief. He could be a fucking professional. He wasn't as selfish as she'd accused him of being. If this was what she wanted, he'd give it to her. He didn't need it.