alwaysright | November 28th, 2007

November 28th, 2007 - Wednesday

Amber eyed the small mountain her bags added up to. Part of her wondered if she hadn’t overdone it; this wasn’t the apocalypse. The rest of her new better: Thanksgiving with her family? Was worse. In those suitcases were provisions for all possible disasters, including a sleeping bag and extra bed sheets. Her mom would not accuse her of forgetting anything.

The salad, though, they’d get that in Worcester itself. Amber preferred to face last-minute Wednesday lines than bring six-hour wilted lettuce from Princeton-Plainsboro.

That ought to be it, though. Time to go. They were going to have a lot of traffic as it was since House had insisted they stay Wednesday afternoon despite the fact that they had no case—and also despite the fact most of the hospital had been gone since yesterday. House couldn’t actually be that lonely and bitter, not when she knew for a fact that Wilson had invited him to a full Thanksgiving meal cooked in his very own apartment. If House wanted to stay at the hospital to impress and/or to get into the pants of Cuddy—who would be working through the holiday, according to Amber’s sources (Cameron)— he didn’t have make them all suffer with him.

Amber got her cell phone out and texted Eric: Leaving now, be ready to go. He probably knew by now she would not spare him his life if he and his own bags were not waiting for her on the curb. He was rather inconsistent about when and when not to get into a power struggle with her, but for his own good and for her punctuality, she hoped he wouldn’t make a case of it today. Throwing her cell phone back into her purse, Amber began the wonderful journey of torture, starting with getting all her damn things down a huge staircase. First thing she’d do when she got back was get in the apartment management’s face about getting a damn elevator.

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Foreman was pacing.

His bags were by the door--only two of them, one with his best suit, freshly dry-cleaned, and the other with general clothing and toiletries, his usual shaving kit for travelling, and a few journals that he could reasonably excuse as "work reading" if he desperately needed to get away from a social situation. Sometimes it worked out better that way. They'd want a chance to talk about him, and he'd be happy enough to give it to them.

Foreman hadn't been this tense before presenting his last major conference paper. Hell, the job interviews he'd been through, even the ones after it became clear that he'd been blacklisted, hadn't felt like he might be facing the door of a torture chamber rather than another Dean of Medicine's tastefully decorated office. He'd be able to keep his cool once he was standing in front of the firing squad, but in the few moments of freedom he had left, he couldn't help giving in to the roiling knot in his stomach. Anger, nerves, resentment--it wasn't pleasant, and he knew it would be even worse if he inflicted any of it on Amber in the car.

His phone buzzed and Foreman actually flinched, rolling his eyes at himself a second later. Amber's text sounded sharp an clear; he wouldn't be off the hook with her either. God, why had he agreed to this? Why had he not only let himself be led to the slaughter, but volunteered to go?

Because Amber's family was important to her. Because he could see he was losing points in her eyes the second he reacted badly to her invitation. Because he was trying to prove something--yeah, like he'd been trying to prove something ever since he'd gotten fired. That he was still worthy of some damn respect, no matter what source it ultimately came from. He was kidding himself if he thought he'd get recognition from Cuddy or House for doing his damn job, but surely Amber's family would have to soften and admit he was a good choice, the right choice, for their daughter, no matter what they thought of his skin colour.

Grabbing his bags, Foreman headed out the door, locking it behind him. He'd wait downstairs; at least there he wouldn't let himself pace, since he might be seen. It was time to start closing down, shutting off any avenues people might have of getting to him. Public scrutiny was what he was in for, so it might as well start now.

Once he was outside the building, Foreman stamped to warm his feet, and blew through his hands, waiting for Amber to pull up in the loading zone in front of him.

Three trips up and down the stairs to get everything into her car. Despite the near-freezing weather, Amber worked up a sweat, feeling all the grosser because of her layers. Even taking her coat off the in car once the heat kicked in wouldn't do any good, given that the pit stains would still reach her carefully-selected blouse. Well then, it'd be a stop for salad and a change of clothes.

Amber tore into second, third, and fourth gear as she drove to Eric's place, barely letting the car adjust with each change. Traffic in this part of the city wasn't too bad, fortunately-- probably everyone by now had hit the highways or were already at their destination. She envied them. Why couldn't an emergency case have come in at the last minute? It wasn't too late to call in cancelling everything. "Sorry, mom, they need me! Everyone's out, this is my chance to shine." All she had to do was reach into her pocket and make one call (and put up with her mom's complaints for the rest of her life). Then she wouldn't have to drive for hours, worry about how much American lettuce and cherry tomatoes, or subject Eric to her family.

But Eric was the precise reason why she couldn't fake a cop-out. He'd have to meet them eventually and this way would be the fastest and presumably the least painful. Amber had always been a fan of ripping the bandage off in one merciless go. And Eric wouldn't be thrilled to have to dread the inevitable for at least two more months, ruining another holiday. They could skip out on Christmas.

Was that him? It was hard to tell from a distance, but the lone figure on the curb was wearing what looked like one of his coats and, the closer Amber got, the more it seemed like him. A little more huddled and curved than usual, but it was pretty damn cold. The important thing was that he hadn't kept her waiting. She skidded to a stop in front of him and jumped out, ready to get his bags into the car as quickly as possible. "Ready?"

Foreman jumped back from the curb when Amber's car skidded to a barely-controlled stop in front of him. Forget about whatever torture her family would inflict; he might be lucky to reach their home alive, with Amber behind the wheel. He knew she went fast, and was normally an excellent, controlled driver despite that, but fast combined with icy, sleety weather, and the stress of this family get-together probably weren't the best ingredients for a safe drive.

"Of course," he said, his instinctively tight response to Amber's abrupt question almost lost under the slam of the car door. He'd picked up his bags before she'd opened the trunk, although instead of just tossing the suitcases in among hers, he had to stop and adjust the...six bags she'd packed. Christ, had he missed the memo where everyone dressed for dinner and were going out on a six-month expedition between turkey and pie besides? Shaking his head, Foreman found space for his bags and shoved them in, watching for Amber's fingers before closing the trunk firmly.

At least the car was warm. Foreman climbed in, unclenching slightly without the arctic wind blowing down his collar. He wasn't feeling his most talkative, and he didn't know how Amber planned to spend the drive--if it was lecturing him on every possible family quirk and her strategizing for dealing with it, then probably tense silence was better than an argument.

Amber opened the trunk and Eric was already there, piling in his suitcases; at least they were efficient together. Then again, after the first handful of intubation and operating table experiences, you got used to executing complex actions as a group. Packing up a car hardly compared. They were ready to go in a snap and back in the car just a fast.

She started up the car again and drove on, only fiddling to strap herself in once they were back on the road. In doing so, her gaze glanced over Eric. He was no happier than she. "This’ll be fun," she said, smirking wryly. "Mom called to say everyone but Brian is already there." The car was too hot. Amber had cranked up the heating to stop the shivering, but now she was starting to sweat again. She dialed the heat down, simultaneously zooming past a green light just before it turned red. "Which is good and bad-- everyone will wanna meet you right away, but we can also slip away pretty easily. Everyone in my family wants to be the focus of attention."

There were almost out of the Princeton-Plainsboro city; in a few more minutes they'd be on the highway. It'd been raining earlier and the streets were still wet, but nothing worse than some sodden leaves clumping around the streets, already turning to mush under the weight of previous cars.

Foreman loosened the collar of his coat, although he hadn't warmed up enough to shrug it off his shoulders yet. It'd been a long day. Clinic patients didn't disappear just because Thanksgiving was approaching, and House had been wavering between manic and sullen for most of the week, his usual insanity around holidays manifesting. He hated them, but he loved the themed pranks he could pull, even if there wasn't a single practical joke that would stop him from being bitter and alone when all was said and done. Amber and the other candidates had been left to their own devices, fretting and bored, but Foreman had been putting out as many of House's fires as he could before taking off for a few days. If there was chaos in the meantime, Cuddy would just have to deal.

When Amber spoke, Foreman blinked, a smirk tugging at his mouth before he had a chance to defend against it. It wasn't fair. He'd been psyching himself up to treat her parents like a job interview or a firing squad. Whether they liked him or not, he refused to provide them with any evidence against him. Stiff politeness he could do, as long as he was consciously drawing up into himself to present his most conscientious facade. But Amber's dry comment nearly had him chuckling. He relaxed when he was with her. It wasn't a habit he wanted to break, but it made everything with her family that much harder. "I never would have guessed," he said, teasing back. Why was he borrowing trouble, anyway? The drive was long enough for him to enjoy being with Amber at a time when they both weren't rushing in opposite directions down the hospital hallways.

Outside the windows, other cars' taillights flashed as Amber passed them, handily making use of the left lane. It was dark and damp out, but Foreman leaned back in his seat, rubbing the last of the cold out of his hands and listening to the drone of the fans. "Brian's younger, right?" he asked. All of the Volakis siblings were pretty close in age, he thought he remembered. "And he's bringing his girlfriend?" It'd be nice if some of the attention could be diverted from him. He was pretty comfortable with sacrificing somebody else to save awkwardness himself.

Amber shot him a glance, smirking. "Calling me an attention whore?" She jumped in on the teasing eagerly; it broke away the tension making her clench the wheel. Her back relaxed, easing into the seat’s leather. It was a good thing, too. Driving that long all strained would've given her a back ache together with the inevitable headache she'd get tonight. And it was true enough, anyway. Amber loved attention.

A sudden turn to the left and then she was zooming on to the highway, optimistically cranking the car up to fifth gear. She'd probably have to come to a jolting halt to avoid crashing into traffic that was surely up ahead, but it felt good to go fast, even if for a couple of minutes. "Yeah, Brian's the youngest, Geoffrey's the oldest and the favorite. And I have no idea what Brian's been up to, I haven't tried to keep up with his dating for years now." Back when they still lived together, knowing her brother's romantic lives was a part of Basic Survival Strategies. Plus, she could always weasel out favors from them in exchange for Girl Advice. But Geoffrey’s was pretty straightforward now—Still Married—and she didn’t talk to her mom enough to know about Brian. "Last I heard, he had a girlfriend, a lawyer like him. But that was a couple of months ago." Brian tended to have longer relationships than Amber's one-night stands, though not by much.

She’d ask about his brother, but the answer would probably be depressing. No self-respecting girl would put up with a boyfriend that long in jail. And if he had an inmate sweetheart, well, it didn’t seem they were talking enough for Eric to have heard, and even if he had, Amber really didn’t want to know.

"If the shoe fits," Foreman answered with mild amusement, happy enough to focus on topics neither one of them would take too seriously. He nodded as Amber explained a bit of the family dynamics. At least she wasn't treating it like a campaign she had to strategize, telling him how to act. It would've been impossible to bury his resentment if she'd tried that. Any hint that he shouldn't be himself, whatever himself he planned to be, would drag up all the misgivings he had about her family's attitudes.

With a sigh, Foreman realized he'd relaxed enough and warmed up enough that he might start to nod off if he didn't pay attention. Amber's driving was fast but smooth, and he'd been missing a few hours' sleep here and there, especially on the nights they didn't spend together. It added up. The last few weeks had been uneventful, with Amber surviving another round of House's picks. At this rate it seemed like she'd get the job, as long as House didn't make some last minute asshole move just because he hated to see Foreman happy. Amber would be more than pissed if House focused on her because of Foreman, and not for anything to do with her own merits or failures. God, Foreman didn't want to get within a hundred miles of that showdown. Amber would be right, too--it wasn't fair--but of course that was why House would be so tickled to rake them over the coals again at the eleventh hour.

More trouble it wasn't worth getting knotted over in advance. Foreman raised his eyebrows, trying to keep his eyes open. "Can't believe House didn't fuck off earlier," he muttered. Amber's mother had said something on the phone about them arriving no later than four, but that was obviously an impossible goal for two doctors. They'd still been at the hospital then. Maybe Mrs. Volakis had meant on Thanksgiving Day, although in that case Foreman didn't know why Amber had insisted on driving up tonight. Well, the timing at least meant they could easily excuse themselves for an early night if the introductions went sour.

As predicted, the highway thickened with cars before long; it was either slow down or crash. Amber wasn't that desperate to get out of Thanksgiving dinner-- and she'd worked in hospitals over holidays enough times to appreciate how much reckless drivers sucked-- so she softened her hold over the gas pedal, falling back to fourth gear.

"Should've sent him a hooker this morning, if we wanted to get out early," Amber muttered in reply. Then he wouldn't have left the house and they could've exited the hospital whenever they liked. That wasn't a bad idea, actually. She'd save it for the next time she needed to keep House away.

But when Eric's reaction was slow in coming, she looked at him: his eyes were more closed than open and he'd slumped towards the window. Amber knew that slack-jawed look. She snorted. She was just as overworked as him and under far more pressure, but she was able to stay awake just fine. "Go to sleep," she said. Amber didn't need him for the drive and the better rested he was before reaching her family, the better.

Foreman let out a short breath at Amber's encouragement, half-amused and half-bridling that she'd caught him nodding off. He'd been so wired earlier that he hadn't needed coffee to keep his energy up. Being pissed off at House and anxious about tonight had been more than enough stimulant. He felt a bit guilty for leaving the driving to Amber, but at the same time, it was obvious that she'd bite his head off rather than give up that control, and she was the one who knew where they were going.

It wasn't the most supportive thing he could do, conking out for a nap when he knew that Amber was just as jittery as he was, even if she wasn't showing it. The intent way she gripped the steering wheel and the at least three redundant bags in the trunk showed that. But still, all Foreman wanted was to check out for a few hours. Push off the actual moment until the future. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window and closed his eyes, his breathing deepening slightly. He'd be there for Amber when she needed him, he promised himself. That didn't mean he couldn't slide into sleep for the moment.

Eric must've been pretty far off into sleep, the way he barely replied to her invitation/command to sleep. All she got was a soft snort before more silence-- relative silence, anyway. Outside were sounds of engines and slowly-moving tires. Amber couldn't believe anyone could sleep with all that noise or the anxiety adrenaline flooding her, but good for him. He'd slumped off to the side, like a kid despite the first-class suit. He was pretty damn cute, in fact. Amber grinned; she'd torture him with that fact once he woke up.

The ride was boring. Eric was hands-down the most attractive scenery around but, as much as Amber loved him, she wouldn't have wanted to spend hours staring at him even if she didn't actually have to keep her eyes on the road. It was dark, the other cars were slow, and Amber kept watching out for holes in traffic to advance into. She wasn't going to stay stuck to the bumper of some old geezer scared to hit 50 mph. A chorus of honks complained at her weaving in and out of traffic, but so what? It just spurred her on to go faster and show them who was boss.

But, aggressive driving or no, there wasn't much to do except think about what was up ahead. It'd be good to talk to Brian. He'd find Eric boring, probably, and tell her to find someone with a proper sense of humor-- then again, Brian considered toilet jokes the sign of a real man. Amber wasn't about to take his advice. If Eric were white, Geoffrey would think him too good for Amber. God, Geoffrey would be insufferable, as he always was, but the good thing was that she'd had to deal with him a whole lot less ever since his family started tagging along to these functions. "The little Princess," if nothing else, was very timely with her look-at-my-doll and I-spilled-coke interruptions.

Frustratingly slowly, the states rolled by, all of them the same expanse of asphalt and dark-green highway signs illuminated up by car headlights. Finally, though, her ass numb and arms cramped, the exit for Worcester came up and Amber took it. Within a few minutes she was driving into a Star market parking lot.

Foreman woke up with the slightest start when the car engine cut out and the heaters whined into silence. He blinked and lifted a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, before pulling in a deep breath and looking to see if they'd arrived. But instead of an austere, perfectly-groomed suburban street, they were in a shopping centre parking lot. That was a relief. He had a chance to get himself together, maybe even grab a coffee, before the moment of truth. "How was the drive?" he asked, a little cautiously, in case he'd managed to sleep through a high-speed chase or Amber picking off the drivers of the other cars with a sniper rifle, not out of road rage but from the simple fact that their trip would be more expedient that way. She looked tense, still, lips slightly compressed and the usual gleam of mischief in her eyes slightly dulled. Foreman hoped they'd have enough privacy this weekend that he could help her unwind, even if it was only by watching her pace and listening to her vent. He could bottle stuff up; Amber, he had a feeling, would explode like an oxygen tank in a smoker's room if she didn't get a chance to let off steam.

He climbed out of the car, tilting his head to one side and then the other to crack his neck and work out the kink he'd gotten from sleeping slumped against the door. Walking around to the driver's side, he met Amber and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pressing his lips to her temple in a gentle kiss. "Hey, I'm sorry I wasn't much company," he said quietly. Glancing up at the lights of the grocery store, he remembered that they'd been supposed to bring something, and Amber had wanted to get it fresh. "Can I help with the shopping?"

Having turned off the car, Amber turned to shake Eric but he was already slowly blinking, sitting up and rubbing at his face. Most times when they woke up together, Amber was jumping out of bed at the ring of the alarm clock or it was a day off and they started to kiss and touch while still half-asleep. It was strange to see Eric waking up from a nap, disoriented, looking around like he had no idea where they were. Strange and wrong. Eric was sharp, not a confused sheep bumbling about.

"Terrible," Amber supplied, jerking the door open. Her stiffness and impatience made her steps out of the car stilted, almost wobbly. "No one else should drive, ever." Amber threw her hands up over her head and stretched, reaching for the sky. The movement made her trapezius ache, but in a good way. A few more steps and she felt less canned sardine and a little more human. "I need one of those helicopters, then I could just fly over the traffic."

With her family mere miles away Amber couldn't quite smile, but it was impossible not to melt into Eric's touch. Just the brush of his arm against her back released some of the strain and she found herself leaning into him. She could almost forget he'd be the one under her family's scrutiny before long. "It's alright; it would've been long no matter what." It was amazing, how gentle he could be under the circumstances. Amber closed her eyes at the press of his lips, reveling in the reminder that good things existed, too. "Yeah-- you can build your own salad here. Go get a lot of everything. I'm going to go get changed." It didn't matter that they'd been traveling for hours, her mom simply wouldn't approve of wrinkled clothes.

Yeah, the drive sounded about as bad as he'd feared. "I'll mention that to the highway commission," Foreman said, teasing very lightly. He waited for Amber to grab whatever she needed from her luggage. She wasn't taking the state of the nation's holiday traffic out on him, and for that, Foreman was grateful. Once she was ready, he let his arm around her fall to her waist, since she'd leaned into his touch like she needed the reassurance. She might not ask for it, but he could give it, nonetheless. It was only for the length of the parking lot; they'd diverge once they were inside the doors. "Okay. Any allergies or preferences I should know about?" He could avoid the seven most common allergens easily enough, but he'd hate to find out once the salad was on the table that Mrs Volakis couldn't abide romaine and iceberg lettuce in the same bowl.

When Amber had mentioned changing, Foreman had glanced down at himself reflexively and brushed at his camelhair coat. He'd changed into this suit at home before she'd picked him up, and even though a few hours' scrunched-up sleeping couldn't have been good for the line of the fabric, the check pattern wouldn't show wrinkles easily, and he'd paid enough for the suit to know that the material should hold up to harder wear than a long car drive. He'd bought it knowing he'd probably end up sleeping in it sooner or later, and still need to look professional the following day. With simple unpuncturable confidence, he could make it work.

"See you in ten," Foreman said, when they'd entered the store. He headed for the fresh foods, got the biggest container they offered, and filled it almost to the brim, remembering his mom's phantom voice telling him not to let the top layer get crushed by the lid. He grimaced at that reminder; his dad had called him about coming to Trenton for Thanksgiving, and Foreman had put him off without being specific about his plans. If Dad assumed it was work that kept him away--or, more likely, from the way he'd harrumphed, he thought it was because Foreman couldn't stand to see Mom on the holiday that had always meant so much to her--then at least it gave Foreman more leeway. No matter what he'd said to Amber about getting the family meeting out of the way and over with, he was much more willing to put their relationship to the test under her family's scrutiny than his.

Foreman finished packing the salad and ordered two coffees as long as he was paying at the deli cash point. Carefully balancing everything well away from himself--spilling coffee on his dress shirt ten minutes before meeting the Volakises was not going to happen--Foreman headed back to the front doors to meet Amber.

"Mmm, yeah, my aunt can't stand cherry tomatoes and my dad refuses to eat spinach, so you should put those in separate containers. Brian eats only iceberg lettuce, but no one'll mind if he has to pick out the parts he wants-- if he bothers with the salad." That ought to cover everyone. Geoffrey and her mom would never dare admit to not liking every possible salad ingredient, and her sister-in-law was easier going than her brother. Her niece's tastes changed every time Amber saw her, so there was no predicting the right answer there. The brat probably would probably just have turkey and ice cream, anyway.

Her bags were under Eric's, so it took a bit of yanking around and rummaging to pull out another blouse and skirt combination. She draped them over her right arm and with her other hand held Eric's as they walked into the fluorescent lights. It was only for a few seconds before they each headed off to their separate tasks, but by then it was a habit, reaching out for him when they walked together. Being able to curl her fingers around his was one of the things she'd chosen for herself, by dating him. This visit wouldn't take that or him away from her.

There was a line at the bathroom, but holding a hand to her mouth and dropping a few hints about a delayed period got the other ladies to let her in before them. To fulfill the illusion, Amber made a few convincing hurling sounds and flushed the toilet before switching outfits. "Thank you so much," she gushed at the women; they nodded with self-satisfied generosity.

Her errand was, of course, faster, so Amber had to wait a few minutes at the door. What was taking Eric so long? It wasn't as if there were that many people in the store, even with it being the day before Thanksgiving. Amber almost grew irritable again, but at the sight of two cups, hunger won out over grumpiness. She whisked one of the coffees and nearly gulped it down, like the first drink of water after exercising. "Didn't realize how much I needed that," Amber said with a sigh. A quick look at the container Eric held confirmed that he'd fulfilled her request, but then again, it was salad. Amber trusted him with that much.

The automatic doors had been opening and closing next to her all this time she'd been standing there, with every passing person a reminder that she'd have to leave soon. Amber tried a wry smile at Eric but it came out a grimace. "Well, I guess we can't put it off any longer. Let's go." There was one good thing about going back into the cold and walking briskly towards her car-- they were close to getting this over with.

Foreman hated the uncertainty that made him look down into the salad he'd constructed to double-check that he hadn't included any of the verboten ingredients. He knew what he'd picked--walnuts, apple slices, and raisins, with some crumbled blue cheese to sharpen the flavour. It was best on spinach, but he'd taken mixed spring greens to be on the safe side. Might not be what the Volakises usually ate, but the salad wasn't the most controversial thing they'd be working to accept this weekend. If they couldn't take his choice of vinaigrettes, they were going to have a damn hard time choking him down.

Once Amber had taken her coffee, and gulped it down despite the hot contents, Foreman was able to carry his own coffee in one hand and the salad in the other, reducing the possibility of a disastrous spill. He relaxed enough to grin at her. On the verge of possibly getting every second of their relationship picked apart by vultures, he couldn't help looking at her like Hallmark's sappiest copywriters had invaded his brain. Her vehemence, and her annoyance at what her family might put him through, made up for a hell of a lot of his own nervousness. "We'll get through this," he said. "I know I'm not what they're expecting, but you can't tell me this is the first choice you've made that they might second-guess." He wished he could put his arm around her again as they headed back to the car, but there was too much to carry. "I know you're not going to let somebody else's opinion get in the way of what you feel."

It'd been a busy few weeks, and they hadn't exactly been spending every second together, but even so, they'd had their soft and tender moments. Times when the word love slipped out a little more often than Foreman could possibly consider safe. Even saying it made his chest tighten and a smile appear on his face, his stomach doing a ridiculous little flip; part of him hoped he never stopped feeling like he'd just parachuted out of plane when he said it. He climbed back into the passenger seat carefully, keeping the salad on his lap. "It's one meal, a few days. We'll be all right."

"I'm the perfect daughter," Amber defended herself with false haughty tone. She really was all but perfect: top colleges, med school, and now she was a doctor. Maybe she screwed up a few of the little things, but they couldn't stamp failure on her or anything. If anything, probably one of her mom's biggest regrets for so long was that Amber hadn't brought any men to second guess. "It's not my fault if they can't see that."

There was resentment in her joking, but none of it was directed at Eric himself. "Yeah," she said, smiling perhaps for the first time day. She heard the affection in his tone, and it cut through her stress. He was here with her and, in a strange way, doing this for her. That was what mattered, not the stupid salads and excess emergency supplies. "They can't change that." Amber knew her own feelings wouldn't change with this trip; what really worried her was Eric reconsidering their relationship, once he'd been subjected to-- whatever they'd subject him to. But like he said, it was just a meal and a few days. Amber knew all the ways to get away from her family, if it came to that. "It'll be over with, soon. And who knows, you might even like Brian."

Amber was half-tempted to drive more slowly than normal-- that is, at the legal speed-- but she'd complained enough. She didn't want to show anymore how bothered she was. She and Eric were in this together, end of story. She could face her family just as she stared down disapproving bosses.

Amber drove through suburban streets she knew as well as the lines in her face. "This is so weird," she said, mostly to herself. "Part of me still feels like this is home, but it's been years since I've lived here..." Some of the houses had sections added on, others were repainted. More than a few yards were missing the trees they used to have. But it was pretty much the same as during her last visit, and more changed than ever since her last extended stay here.

The drive didn't take more than a few minutes. Amber parked on the street, behind another couple of cars that were already there. Her aunts and maybe cars her brothers had rented? Amber turned off the ignition. She turned to Eric, barely visible in the darkness, and raised an eyebrow he couldn't possibly see. "Home sweet home." On impulse, she leaned over and pressed her lips against his, not deep but firm.

With a smile that wasn't belied by his skeptical raised eyebrow, Foreman accepted Amber's assessment of her family. It was gratifying to see Amber perk up, if only slightly, because of his reassurance. "I'm sure I will," he said. Taking a few gulps of his coffee, and burning the back of his throat, Foreman felt much more alert and prepared to play the perfect houseguest once they'd arrived.

He watched through the window as Amber drove through her parents' neighbourhood with practised assurance. The homes were tasteful, set back from the wide road, with lawns and gardens that looked neat and tended despite the autumn weather and the bare tree branches; he supposed anyone who didn't rake up their leaves or trim their summer perennials would set the neighbours gossiping. That actually felt familiar. "I know what you mean," he said. "The last Christmas I was home from college...all the rooms felt so small." His brain caught up with what he was saying, and he lapsed into silence. The last time he'd truly felt at home. New York had been his world by then, and later Maryland for med school. It felt contradictory to miss that, when he knew he'd never want to go back. Amber seemed confident, and no matter what she said, she seemed perfectly comfortable as she drew the car up behind a few others and turned off the car, so that silence settled around him.

Foreman felt her hand on his shoulder first, and turned on time to catch the firm press of her lips against his. In the cool air, she felt all the warmer, and her familiar perfume was soothing. He breathed in through his nose, leaning into the kiss although not deepening it, his hand moving up to cover hers. As he drew back, he squeezed her hand and kissed her fingers, too. The lights from the house gleamed in her eyes, giving him a slightly better view of her than she probably had of him, since he was sihouetted by the porch light. He cupped her cheek for a moment, smiling in the dark. "Ready to face the firing squad?" he asked, keeping his voice ironic. "I'll get the suitcases."

Amber half-heard Eric's comment about his last visit home. Another time she might've jumped on that, discreetly turning him to talk his mom without getting all upset and shut-up the way he usually did. His past was one of the most depressing things Amber could imagine, but her curiosity couldn't resist wanting to know more. As it was, though, Amber was traveling through her own time-machine, years melting away as she passed by the Richardson's-- she'd babysat the youngest boy a few times, he must be over twenty by now-- and the corner where she'd accidentally fallen off her bike.

Eric's beard scratched against her chin, as it always did when they kissed, a strange newer familiarity in a sea of years-old memories. His eyes shone in that moment before he closed his lids, intense and loving-- just like the feeling in his kiss. Amber held on to that. And then it was over, fading away even as he touched his lips to her fingers. "Oh no you don't," Amber said. That could be the topic for a whole day, how she'd walked in alone and let her 'boy' carry her things. "You're coming in with me. C'mon."

She'd barely gotten to her feet and shut the door close when more lights lit up on the front porch of her house and her mom came out. "I knew I heard something," she said, a note of smugness in her voice.

Amber crossed her arms, stuck for a moment. “Hi, mom.”

Her mom looked as proper as ever, dressed in season-appropriate brown and beige. "Geoffrey, Chris! She called over her shoulder. "Amber and-- Eric are here, come help them carry their things."

It took them a moment to appear; they’d probably been in the living room talking. “Whaddya know,” Geoffrey said in the amiable, everyone-loves-me way he had, easily tramping down the porch steps. “I thought it’d take you another hour, with the traffic. I heard on the news it’s awful.”

Geoffrey’s rapid approach got Amber moving again, springing to open up her trunk and grab as many of her bags before he could arrive. “Yeah, it was pretty bad,” she said.

Her father wasn’t quite as nimble, but his steady gait was steady and relaxed. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, smiling, reaching out for a hug. Amber hated to give up her plan of getting all her bags before Geoffrey could, but what else could she do? She wrapped her arms around her dad’s large and heavy frame, hugging him longer and harder than she’d meant to. “Welcome home.”

The switch in Amber's tone and focus were as sharp as if she'd cut the moment through with the knife. The softness of her hand and her mouth disappeared, and she rushed to leap out of the car as fast as if House had demanded ten diagnoses and promised to fire the last one to blurt out an idea. Foreman sighed and unclicked his seatbelt, climbing out the passenger side onto the sidewalk. The home was nice bungalow, and as he stood up, the front door opened and Mrs. Volakis stepped out. For the last second he'd have to himself, Foreman hung back from Amber's greeting, holding the salad and waiting to be introduced. Before Amber could start--although it looked like it hadn't occurred to her--Mrs. Volakis was calling for the rest of her family.

Foreman could feel his back stiffening, but he kept any sign of it to himself. When a tall, bluff man with a shark's smile that had to be shared among all the Volakis siblings started towards the car, Foreman went into action. He was the stranger and the interloper; fine, that was a given. He could work with that, he always had. He intercepted Amber's brother and, balancing the salad in one hand, he offered his right to shake. "Eric Foreman," he said, with every appearance of outgoing interest.

"Geoffrey Volakis," Geoffrey said. His handshake was firm but not crushing, and his air of self-confident friendliness wasn't as off-putting as Foreman had feared. "I'm guessing you let my sister drive--if she had her way she'd buy a car with jet propulsion."

Foreman smiled, a fraction tightly. "The drive was fine," he said. Despite one or two of his own private thoughts about Amber's need for speed, he couldn't help bristling slightly at her brother's complacent pomposity.

"Geoffrey, the bags," Mrs. Volakis said, coming up beside them.

Foreman looked over his shoulder at the car. "I can--"

Geoffrey clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about a thing, Eric," he said. "I know where I'm taking them." He headed for the trunk Amber had opened and started pulling out suitcases.

"So," Mrs. Volakis said, taking Foreman's elbow and giving him an appraising look up and down and nodding as if he'd already passed muster. "I'm so glad to meet you, Eric. Don't worry about the drive, we were just glad you could make it," she said. "Amber wasn't sure you two could get the time off."

"Of course," Foreman said. It was early yet, but so far he hadn't gotten any sign that he was 'controversial', let alone unwelcome. That might come later, after a few glasses of Thanksgiving wine or a heated talk about politics, or, he suspected, if anyone tried to puncture Geoffrey's attitude, but his first fears had been somewhat soothed. Amber's family were a bit overbearing, but nothing Foreman hadn't felt before from his own parents. It was almost traitorously welcome to be fussed over. "Wouldn't miss it. I, ah--" He proffered the salad, only the slightest bit hesitant, and Mrs. Volakis smiled.

"It looks delicious. Thank you, you're very thoughtful," she said, taking it out of his hands. "Come on, now, let's get you two out of the cold."

Her dad chuckled into her hair. "Miss me?"

That meant the hug was over. Amber drew away, mostly smiling. "Maybe," she teased, and then, exclaiming at Geoffrey, "I got it!" Her stupid brother had four of her bags and was all too merrily abducting them into the house.

"These all yours?" he just asked, not stopping. But weighed down as he was, he couldn't go fast; Amber caught up and wrestled back the two from his left hand. "How long are you planning on staying, anyway?"

"Oh, like you didn't bring just as many," Amber retorted. She let him get away with the other two. It was an acceptable defeat. As long as she was fast on the way back...

"Yes, but I have a daughter, remember?"

"Like you'd ever let me forget," Amber muttered under her breath, knowing full well Geoffrey would pretend not to have heard her. He liked to think himself above petty sibling squabbles.

Inside, Amber could hear a couple of female voices from the living room. "Hello, Amber," she heard her Aunt Jude call.

"Hi," Amber replied. She'd greet her later; if she stopped now, it’d take half an for Aunt Jude to recount all the interminable things she thought vital to tell right away, like the price of petrol and her latest gastrointestinal woes, and by the time they were done, all of Amber’s other bags would be upstairs.

Leila walked into the hallway, stretching out her arms. "Hi, need help--?"

Geoffrey stopped her before Amber could. "Don't be silly," he said, pausing to kiss her forehead. "You know you can't overexert yourself."

Interesting. Was she sick? If she was, their mom would've already fussily called Amber about it, demanding that the first thing she do upon arriving was check up on the health of her granddaughter’s mother. And Leila certainly hadn't broken any bones she had no casts on.

Amber mulled over these possibilities as she went up the stairs, turning to the left at the end into her old bedroom and dumping the bags onto the floor. It seemed smaller and more cramped than ever. And was that her parents' old computer on her desk? At least they hadn't tried to cram in the unwanted mountain bike too... what was Eric going to think?

Oh god, Eric. In trying to one-up Geoffrey, she'd all but abandoned him out on the street. For all she knew, the door had been slammed shut on his face. With a breathless "'Scuse me," Amber pushed past Geoffrey and ran down the stairs, off to recuperate her boyfriend.

Over Mrs. Volakis' shoulder, Foreman saw Amber pull out of her hug with her dad and chase Geoffrey down with the bags. There were still four in the trunk, including his two, and he started to move in that direction.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Mrs. Volakis said. "Geoffrey will get you two settled. Come and meet my husband." Carrying the salad, she took his elbow and turned him towards the house, where Mr. Volakis was holding the door for them.

Once they were all inside and the door swung shut lightly on the cold, he turned to Foreman with a smile. "Hi, Eric. I'm Chris, Amber's dad." His handshake was as firm as his son's, but more casual.

"I'll just get this to the kitchen," Mrs. Volakis said. "Chris, get Eric something to drink."

Before Foreman could catch up with where Amber had disappeared to, he found himself ushered into the living room, a large, warm room. He'd expected, somehow, the same sort of good quality but worn furniture that still sat in his parents' house--the stuff that had been there all through his childhood and had suffered a couple of teenage boys wrestling on it more than once--but the Volakis' decor was, while obviously meant for comfort, was equally obviously meant to impress with its style and modernity. Foreman found himself clasping hands with Geoffrey's wife--Lisa or Lola, he was beginning to lose track of names--and Amber's aunt. "You'll have rye, Eric?" Mr. Volakis asked, and Foreman nodded; he hated rye, but a drink would be welcome, at least to occupy his hands.

"Amber tells us you're a doctor," her aunt said, seeming unwilling to give up her hold on his arm and his attention.

"Neurologist," Foreman agreed, with a quick glance around the room. Where had Amber gotten to?

"Oh, that's wonderful," the aunt--Foreman tried to drag her name back to the front of his mind--said. "I've been having this tingling in my hands. For months now--it comes and goes. That's not right, is it?"

Foreman hesitated, and was saved from answering when Mr. Volakis put a glass in his hands. "Jude, it's your circulation, Dr. Mitenko told you that." Finally, in a rush, Amber appeared on the stairs. Foreman didn't want to seem like he'd been feeling like a cornered animal without her to at least take some of the brunt of socializing, so he sent her a pained smile from across the room instead of going over to her, hoping it didn't look like he was begging her to rescue him.

Amber's feet hit hard the narrow steps-- they'd felt wider before puberty-- as she thundered down the stairs, worried about where Eric had ended up. She found him in seconds, though, the proverbial worm on her aunt's hook of an arm. She slowed down, catching his gaze. There was something... quasi-tragic about his quiet panic, only somewhat hidden behind a stretched smile. Tragic and hilarious.

Amber choked back a laugh. Oh, now he understood her pain.

"Hey, come on," Geoffrey cajoled from behind.

"I'm going, I'm going," Amber said, striding towards the front door again. If Eric had managed to get into the house, he'd survive another few minutes alone with her relatives. Outside, she and Geoffrey fought over the last of the items; she let him carry the lighter of Eric's two bags. That didn't count, right?

Her mom was waiting by the door, an eyebrow raised. "Still too busy to properly greet your mother?"

"I said hi," Amber protested, but was already lowering her loads to the ground in order to hug her mom; this was a much quicker business than with her father, with them leaning in towards each other only just long enough for Amber to pick up the scent of her mom's perfume.

"Look at you," her mom said, pulling back and yet holding Amber's wrists, as if to hold her in place. "Are you using a new blush?"

Amber would've touched her face self-consciously, but she couldn't. "No, same as before."

Her mom smiled in a way Amber didn't quite understand until she said, "Well, then I suppose this glow is thanks to your new boyfriend, then." And then Amber really must have been glowing. "You look lovely, dear."

At this point her mom's hold loosened enough for Amber to let go, and she did so. "So's the house--" she hadn't noticed in her initial rush, but it might as well have been a new first floor. The furniture was certainly all newly acquired, and Amber felt a pang for the worn, tired sofas with their outdated prints. They hadn't been elegant, but they’d been a part of home. "You guys went all out with the reforms, didn't you."

There was no mistaking the pride in her mom's soft, assured voice. "Oh, this, I had enough time to plan it. I've been imagining these reforms for the past twenty years, after all."

That Amber could attest to; she'd been hearing her mom go on about that exact shade of robin blue for the living room walls for as long as she could remember. "It looks great."

"I know. Come, let's get you a drink, and you can introduce me to Eric." And there was no saying no, not when her mom took her hand and led, not even with the bags she'd left by the entrance. Oh well. She could get them later, they weren't going anywhere. Amber followed towards the center of attention Eric had become.

"A general practitioner," Jude said, with all the snobbery that Foreman had ever felt for doctors who wouldn't buckle down and choose a real specialty. "He's in, he's out, and you're back in the waiting room before you've even had a chance to explain." She launched into the explanation Dr. Mitenko hadn't allowed her, but Foreman barely heard. He locked eyes with Amber when she came down the stairs, and she smirked at him. Right before she walked out of the room.

Foreman stiffened slightly--not enough that Jude noticed. Oh, so that was how she was going to play it? Leave him to the mercy of her family? He didn't know if she hoped he'd hate them, or get the lightning-fast version of Stockholm and love them. Either way, that was playing dirty. She'd recognized that he wanted her support and she'd all but laughed at him.

He'd show her. "I understand," he told Jude, patting her hand on his arm and smiling at her with a mixture of gentleness and the firm professionalism he showed to clinic patients. "That sounds like idiopathic peripheral neuropathy."

Jude's mouth opened for a moment, and then she beamed at him. "Oh dear," she said, utterly delighted. "Is it serious?"

Foreman nodded solemnly. "It can be. Is it your hands, or your feet too?"

"Oh, yes!" Jude clutched at his forearm. "And I just feel so tired all the time--could that be related?"

Chris Volakis, still standing nearby, watched them warily, although he didn't seem to mind Foreman usurping the family doctor's diagnosis. He'd been getting drinks, although Geoffrey's wife (Leila, Foreman thought he'd remembered it right) had begged off. "Is it treatable?" he asked, with a thoughtful frown.

Foreman looked up, extending his aura of doctorly authority. "Well, obviously it would be important to run some tests," he said. "But it's possible--" Here he looked meaningfully at Jude, and lowered his voice as if he was consigning her to a terminal illness. "--that you might have a B12 deficiency."

Jude finally let go of his arm, to touch her own chest as if she was checking that her heart was still beating.

"A vitamin--?" Chris started to ask, and Foreman nodded sternly, interrupting, "You might need to take supplements regularly for the rest of your life."

Chris blinked, and then a grin started to form on his face. "Pills?" he asked.

"Yes." Foreman touched Jude's shoulder. "I know it can be difficult," he started, but she shook her head, her eyes shining. "I knew that quack had missed something," she said.

Foreman smiled. In less than five minutes, he'd earned the goodwill of at least two of Amber's family members. Jude wanted a doctor to take her seriously; it wouldn't matter to her that a vitamin supplement was likely all that she needed. She'd feel important whenever she took them. And Chris looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or be impressed by Foreman's acumen. Well, Foreman would take either, gladly. Leila, who'd been sitting on the couch, seemed to have caught the by-play, too; at least, she seemed amused. When Amber came back into the room, she'd find that Foreman had gotten his footing even without her to guide him. Foreman took a sip of his rye and almost forgot how much he hated the stuff.

Her hand on her mom's forearm, Amber arrived just in time to catch Aunt Jude's triumphant declaration that she'd known all along that her quack had been wrong. Amber glanced quickly at Eric; it didn't take a genius to know he'd just given her some new, miraculous diagnosis. Damn it, she should've remembered to tell him that with Aunt Jude, brushing her off was the only option. To be honest, it was so obvious it didn’t even merit mentioning.

Too late for that now.

"Did you hear that, Kate?" Jude beamed, squeezing Eric's arm. Amber was greatly relieved that her jealousy did not extend to relatives with more than three decades on her. "Eric here very kindly listened to me, and in no more than five minutes he figured out that I have peripheral neuropathy! Not at all like that doctor you sent me to!”

Peripheral neuropathy? Amber guessed that applied, but the last diagnosis she’d—-silently—-attributed to her was hypochondria. She hadn't found any reason so far to alter her opinion.

Her mom tilted an eyebrow upwards. "No, I didn't know. I haven't even really had the chance..." she held out her right hand.

Amber knew a cue when she saw one. "Mom, this is Eric." To her surprise, it was hard to say, not unlike the time she'd been accepted into college and had to tell her mom she really was leaving town. Eric had already introduced himself to the other adults and Jude had just said his name; besides, who else would the black man in the middle of their living room be? She might as well state her own name next.

Amber hesitantly looked into Eric's eyes, her face warming up again. The whole point of this trip was to show him off, right? "He's my boyfriend," Amber blurted out rather stupidly.

Foreman carefully rescued his drink when Jude squeezed his arm again and crowed to Kate Volakis about his assessment. Foreman smiled slightly, raising his eyes to meet Amber's. She looked skeptical at best, but Foreman tilted his head, trying to communicate to her what else could I do? Generally he hated it when people asked for medical advice at parties, as if learning that he was a doctor was a perfect excuse to treat a friend's living room like an exam room. He'd had to stop more than one person from showing him their various rashes, bumps, and cuts. But in this case, if it helped him feel at ease with Amber's family, like he was already on his way to being respected, then he wasn't going to ignore someone asking for his help.

When Kate stepped forward, hand outstretched, Foreman came forward to shake her hand with a confident smile. "Mrs. Volakis," he said, after Amber's introduction.

Kate tsked at him and shook her head. "Kate," she said, reminding him of something she'd already told him.

"Kate," he said, giving in with good grace. A little courtesy at first never hurt, but now that the formalities had been observed, he could call her, and Chris, by their first names without undue discomfort.

He met Amber's gaze with a warm, teasing smile, when she blurted out that she was his boyfriend. She sounded all but defiant, as if somebody in the room would deny it, or try to snatch him away from her. Her face was glowing red. Foreman could feel the heat in his own skin, but at least his flush wouldn't show. He reached out for Amber's hand, holding it firmly and moving to stand at her side, so that they formed one side of the conversational circle--the two of them against the world.

"We know that, Amber," Geoffrey said, from his comfortable seat on the couch with his arm around Leila's shoulders. "Nice of you to finally bring your catch home; I was beginning to doubt all those big fish stories."

"Oh, Geoffrey," Kate said, but without much censure. "So, how did you meet?" she asked. "Amber, let Eric tell us, he might be a little more forthcoming."

Foreman cut short the glare he wanted to level at Geoffrey and cleared his throat. "At work," he said, his natural reticence surfacing. With a glance at Kate's face, he could tell that wasn't going to cut it. "Ah, it was during a rain storm. We were both leaving the hospital. I offered to share my umbrella." There--he hoped that would count as 'forthcoming' without detailing how he and Amber had ended up fucking in her apartment less than two hours later.

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