Chapter 19: Coffee
The coffee shop is small, tucked between a bookstore and a dry cleaner, the kind of place where hospital staff escape when the cafeteria becomes unbearable.
Cameron's already there when I arrive, sitting by the window with two cups. She gestures to the empty seat.
"Got you a flat white. Figured Australian roots meant you'd have opinions on coffee."
"Good guess." I sit down, take a sip. It's decent—not great, but better than hospital sludge. "Thanks for this."
"Thanks for coming." She wraps her hands around her cup. "I wanted to talk about the maternity case. Away from House and his commentary."
"Fair enough."
We're both pretending this is purely professional. We both know it's not.
"You took risks you didn't need to." She doesn't waste time. "Testing that chemical without protection. Staying overnight when you could've gone home. Why?"
Careful. She's testing me. Looking for damage or heroism or stupidity.
"I've got an unusually good immune system. Documented genetic thing—rare HLA haplotype. Makes me more resistant to infections, toxins, environmental exposure." All technically true. "Made me the logical choice for the risky work."
Her eyebrows raise. "You didn't mention that to House."
"I told HR. It's in my file." I shrug. "House doesn't read files. He'd rather figure people out himself."
"That's actually smart." She takes a sip of coffee. "So you knew you'd be safer than the rest of us."
"Safer. Not invulnerable. There's a difference." I meet her eyes. "But yes, I assessed the risk as acceptable for me specifically."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. Then: "The babies. You stayed with them overnight. That wasn't about immune systems."
"No. That was about not wanting them to die alone if something went wrong."
"They're babies. They wouldn't have known they were alone."
"Their parents would've known. I would've known." I set down my cup. "Look, I know it's not standard protocol. But I couldn't go home and sleep while five infants were fighting for their lives. Would you have?"
"No," she admits. "I would've stayed too."
The tension breaks. We both smile.
The conversation shifts, becomes easier.
She talks about the case—the environmental detective work, the systematic testing, the relief when all five babies survived. Then, carefully: "House said you worked ER in Australia. High volume, rapid assessment."
"Brisbane Central. Four years. Fifty patients per shift sometimes." True for original Chase. "You learn to prioritize fast or people die waiting."
"Is that where you learned to read people so well?"
She's probing. Looking for the source of my observational skills.
"Partially. Also worked rural medicine during fellowship. Indigenous communities, remote clinics. When you can't just order every test, you learn to trust your eyes. Notice details. Make educated guesses based on what's visible."
"That makes sense." She studies me. "House thinks you're hiding something. He told Wilson."
My stomach tightens, but I keep my face neutral. "Everyone hides something. That's House's philosophy."
"True." She pauses. "My something isn't much of a secret. I was married. He died. Cancer."
The shift is sudden, vulnerable. She's offering information, testing if I'll reciprocate.
"I'm sorry."
"I was twenty-four. He was twenty-nine. We knew from the beginning he was terminal, but I thought love would be enough." She laughs, bitter and sad. "It wasn't. He died anyway. That's when I became an immunologist. Thought if I understood the immune system better, I could help others. Maybe save someone else's spouse."
"That's a good reason to choose this field."
"Is it? Or am I just trying to fix broken things because I couldn't fix him?" She looks directly at me. "House says I'm attracted to damaged people. That I pick projects instead of partners."
She's testing whether I'm another project.
"Are you?" I ask.
"I don't know. Maybe." She takes a breath. "What about you? What are you hiding?"
Careful. Give truth, but not all of it.
"Father was a renowned surgeon in Australia. Brilliant, famous, and a functional alcoholic who thought I was a disappointment." All true for Chase. "We weren't close. He wanted me to be like him—surgical prodigy, medical celebrity. I wanted anything else."
"So you went to seminary?"
"For two years. Thought maybe I'd find purpose in religion." I smile slightly. "Found out I'm better at medicine than prayer. Left, finished medical school, came to America for a fresh start."
"Running from him?"
"Running from expectations. There's a difference."
She nods slowly. "You don't seem broken. Most people with stories like that are... damaged. You're just..."
"Functional?"
"Competent. Warm. Self-aware." She looks confused, like I'm not fitting the pattern she expected. "It's different."
"Is different bad?"
"No. Just unexpected." She finishes her coffee. "I'm usually attracted to people who need fixing. House, for example. Brilliant but self-destructive. The kind of person you want to save."
"I don't need saving."
"I'm starting to realize that." She stands, gathers her cup. "This was good. We should do it again sometime."
"I'd like that."
"Yeah." She smiles—genuine, warm, a little uncertain. "Me too."
She leaves. I sit for another moment, processing the conversation.
She's reconsidering her patterns. Seeing me as someone competent rather than someone broken. That's progress.
But also complexity. If she's drawn to damage and I'm not damaged enough, where does that leave us?
I finish my coffee and head back to my car. The afternoon sun is bright, almost blinding. The world feels lighter somehow.
Small steps. That's all relationships are. Small steps forward.
That evening, back in my apartment, I update the notebook.
Cameron Coffee Meeting:
Topics discussed:
Maternity case (my risk-taking, immune system mentioned)Her husband's death, becoming immunologistMy father, seminary, reasons for leaving AustraliaHer pattern of being attracted to damaged peopleRecognition that I don't fit that pattern
Observations:
She's genuinely interested, not just professionallyTesting whether I'm another "project" to fixConfused by my competence + warmth combinationMentioned House thinks I'm hiding something (via Wilson)
Cover story check:
Immune system explanation delivered naturallyPersonal history shared (edited but truthful)No red flags raised
Relationship status:
Foundation building successfullyInterest confirmed on both sidesNot dating yet, but moving that directionShe needs time to process that I'm different from her usual type
Risk assessment: MODERATE Cameron knows House is suspicious, but she doesn't share his paranoia. Her interest is genuine, based on actual connection. This is healthier than canon timeline. Worth pursuing carefully.
I close the notebook and lean back. The apartment is quiet except for distant traffic noise.
Two weeks since the first case. Cameron's interested. House is suspicious. The team is functional.
Can I keep this going?
Tomorrow brings new challenges. But tonight, I had coffee with a woman who might actually see me as a person, not a puzzle.
That's worth something.
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