fic commentary: Looking In
Aug. 20th, 2007 05:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Cross-posted to
ficcommentary
I know that I wrote a commentary on "Yours, mine and his" as requested but do you think I can find it? So, in the meantime, I've got them for "Looking in" and "Coming Back" and I'll get the other done asap.
The original story is here.
This is the original introduction etc, as they tend to say as much about me as the fic...
Right, it's finally done, the last sequins are stuck on and it's ready to go. Actually, as costumes go, it's more the equivalent of throwing a sheet over your head and calling yourself a ghost, but hey - it's my costume and I'll wear what I want :P Well, it is. It still reads like me, even if it's not the kind of subject matter I'd usually tackle. I'm going to do better this year, I promise :)
Much kudos to
karaokegal for throwing the best Come As You Aren't party in LJ-land.
Title: Looking In
Pairing: House/Cameron. Sort of. *grin*
Rating: gen
Word Count: 2,400 ~4,000 with commentary
Summary: Cameron sees House differently. And takes her chance.
Why it’s a costume: It's House/Cameron. It's hard to write what you don't believe in... Only, of course, it's not House/Cameron, which is kind of the point.
Thanks to
perspi as ever - the original draft was a ficlet for her, and it grew into this. Please note that it's un-beta-ed, so if you spot a typo, let me know! You know, Perspi seems to have all my Housefic ideas... ;)
Looking In
So saying, from the pavement he half rose,
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm,
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes
As in a picture.
Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur Alfred Lord Tennyson
The poetry/quotation habit was one I picked up from too much Dorothy L Sayers reading, and isn't one I intend to give up any time soon. They're incredibly useful for setting the right tone for a fic.
It had been an easier than usual case, so House had yelled and ranted more than usual as a consequence. Cameron knew it was bad when Chase conned her into taking back the latest round of test results. Her colleague had unwavering instincts when it came to judging House's moods, as she realized on entering his office.
"That them?" House asked, glaring at her.
"Yes." She swallowed. This was bored, in pain House; she hated this House. Not like angry, sarcastic House; she...well...found him easier to handle. "You were right."
House's snark is different depending on where it's coming from. In my head, the 'bored, in pain House' is more spiteful than the one who's trying to figure out answers and is getting annoyed that he can't.
"And you've just come to bask in the glow of my satisfaction." Feet propped up on his desk, his right hand was almost absently massaging his thigh.
Clue number one. I was really trying to build things up rather than say them all at once.
"I-" she began, feeling her words burn to ashes in the fire of his stare.
I'm still proud of that image. He's also not about to let her finish any kind of sentence.
"Do you have a treatment?"
"Chase is starting-"
"And yet you're here." He pushed harder at his leg, digging his knuckles in deep.
So far, so normal. I was trying to slow-build to the amount of pain he's in, rather than have Cameron figure it out all at once.
"I thought you'd want to know," she said, taking half a step forwards.
"Well, now I know." She dropped the file on his desk and he stared at it. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
Her temper flared at his contemptuous tone. "You're supposed to be a doctor and read it." She turned on her heel and left the office without looking back.
I like Cameron when she fights back, and it's usually calling House on being a good doctor. She's got quite a temper when prodded, which gave me a nice conclusion to the scene.
******************************
One day, she’d learn to look at the caller ID before she picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Doctor Cameron?”
“Yes?” Her eyes were still fixed on the computer, distracted by the possibility of a referral.
“Doctor House hasn’t arrived for his clinic duty.”
“Oh?” Finally dragging her attention away from the screen, she heard the expectant silence. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, but we really do need someone down here.” Judging by the background noise, Cameron didn’t doubt it.
“Alright. I’ll be there.”
I kind of wonder who covers all the clinic hours that House doesn't do, and figured this was the most likely explanation.
Downstairs, Brenda handed her a file without returning her smile.
“Doctor House should be here,” the nurse said.
“Don’t I know it.” Cameron glanced at the file and called the first patient. She spent an hour or so with colds, sprains and cuts, and she was showing her latest patient out when she noticed that the door to exam room 3 was closed and the blinds shut.
Slow build again – I'm telling the reader all this, so it must be significant…
She handed the chart over and started to ask,
“Brenda, who’s-”
“Sorry, hang on. Carly!”
Okay, not the subtlest cut ever, but it works, I think.
Brenda called to another nurse over, turning away. Cameron gave up and decided she’d earnt a five minute reprieve. Still curious, she went and put her ear to the door of exam room 3. It was silent inside and, not quite knowing why, she turned the handle without a sound and opened the door a crack.
The room was dimly lit, with the blinds pulled across both windows. House was sitting on the edge of the exam couch with his back to her, rocking back and forth over his leg. Apart from the whispering of the couch cushions as he moved, there was no sound. After a moment of indecision, Cameron pushed the door fully open and slipped inside. House looked round as the door clicked shut behind her. His face was a mask of agony and white as a sheet.
I'm still not 100% happy with that last sentence (cliché-ville) but I wanted to set the atmosphere quickly. The silence was very important, at first. She has to choose to go in, before he can yell at her.
“Go away.” His voice was rough and weak.
“You’re in pain.”
“Now you notice? Damn, I thought the cane was a dead giveaway.”
“It’s worse.” She came to stand beside him, keeping her distance as from a half-tame animal.
This to me is typical House/Cameron interaction. She talks, he snarks, she ignores him and gets to the point. The animal image was an important one for getting the mood across. I'd never tried to write anything with real tension in, and had no idea how or if it was going to work. But I knew the look I wanted on House's face – in agony, angry and wary, but unable to refuse the help he knows he needs.
Very carefully, she reached out and put a hand on his leg, between his clenched fists. He shifted a little, but didn’t brush her off. Ever so gently, she pressed her palm into his leg, moving it in tiny circles. After a moment, one of his fists unclenched and he sat up a little. Encouraged, Cameron moved to stand in front of him, putting her other hand on his leg as well. As she moved with greater confidence, he put both hands behind him, leaning on them and tipping his head back.
House knows exactly what he's doing. I don't think he intends what happens in a minute, but he's milking this for all its worth with no intention of giving anything back. She chooses to do this, even knowing what he's like. That's important, somehow, for the tone. It's not that there's no connection at all between them – she interests him, he likes pushing her buttons – but it's not what she thinks. I quite like her self-deception.
The friction from his jeans was burning her palms as she increased the pressure and speed, still careful to keep the motion under control and trying to judge what was helping the most. House’s eyes were closed, the dark circles underneath them standing out against his pale skin. They seemed to merge into the line of stubble, which she’d already noticed was thicker than usual. As she watched, paying attention to his face rather than the leg under her hands, she saw the tightness around his eyes begin to ease and the thin line of his lips relax. His mouth opened a little as he began to breathe more deeply.
I think of myself as primarily a visual writer – I always think I sound clunky when I'm trying to write inside someone's head, but this kind of thing, the little details of what she's seeing – I really like and know what I'm doing with. Because his face is so expressive and at the moment, he's not got the energy to hide how much pain he's in.
She could feel the trembling under her hands and concentrated on pressing away the worst of the shaking. Through the thick denim, she couldn’t really make out the detail of his damaged thigh, only a depression where muscle should have been. She tried not focus her attention on that, feeling her face reddening and shoulders trembling as her own muscles began to ache. She concentrated on the in and out, in and out of their breathing, in time with the up and down of her hands on his leg.
It's hard work, that kind of thing! Plus it racks up the tension a notch or two.
The immediacy of his need seemed to have passed and she watched as his expression moved from relief to rest. The angles and lines of his face seemed to smooth out and he leant further back onto his hands, shoulders lifting and head dropping forwards again. Cameron shifted, becoming aware of House’s knee pressing uncomfortably into her midriff. She made her strokes longer, pushing further up towards his torso then down again almost to his knee. He sighed, just a little, and so she repeated the movement, up and down, pressing her thumbs into his knee at the end.
She doesn't stop, and this is the crossover point. This is where, to my mind, she should stop if she's got any sense. Because I wanted to get across that she's now doing it for herself, as much as for him. She's uncomfortable, but she keeps going.
Whether it was this that acted as the trigger, or just a random twitch, she didn’t know, but suddenly House’s right elbow gave way and he slipped forwards off the couch. The force pushed Cameron backwards, slamming her into the cupboards so that she lost her own balance, falling to her knees on the floor. Momentarily dazed, she felt her hair slipping from its clip, the loose strands tickling the back of her neck. Trying to steady herself, she looked up into House’s sardonic smile as he stood over her.
The blocking of this gave me absolute fits. Put too much in and you can't find the action for the words. Put too little in, and no-one knows what's going on. I tried to keep it as simple as possible, blank and plain for the first part, so that the little detail of her hair stands out. Because it's the details that get to people and make the story come alive.
“Nice work,” he said, assessing their relative positions. He’d retrieved his cane and was looming over her, a speculative expression on his face. “You know, while you’re down there…”
I'd been waiting to use that line. Forever. Just…so wonderfully inappropriate and therefore so utterly House.
She turned away from him, putting a hand on the cupboard to help her stand up. House made no attempt to give her more room. Instead, he leant his weight onto his cane and put a hand under her elbow to help her up. She could feel the warmth of him through her blouse and lab coat. She glanced upwards and, just for a moment, their eyes met. There was a flash of – what? Gratitude? Embarrassment? She was aware that he was still breathing hard, still in time with her.
It's always a fleeting moment with House. Trying to catch those tiny flickers in HL's eyes is really hard. I didn't want to imply that the whole thing meant nothing to him, but he's just not interested the way she is. The breathing in time was an afterthought, but keeps some of the tension that was broken. Through the whole thing, I was trying to walk the tightrope between keeping the connection between them and keeping House in character.
“Should be more careful,” he said, pulling the loosed clip from her hair and handing it to her. “Accidents happen.”
“Things also happen on purpose, you know.” She put a hand on the arm that was still clasping her elbow. “Do you-”
She closed her eyes in frustration as the pager at her hip began to beep. House released her, taking a step back and raising his eyebrows.
Bleepers are the most useful plot device ever invented. Bleepers, mobiles, comms. All very handy for cutting conversations short and therefore implying rather than having to spell things out.
“Don’t you think you should get that?”
Cursing under her breath, she pulled the pager from her belt.
“It’s Chase,” she said, grimacing. “I’d better go.”
He nodded. “Then I’d better finish up the hours, I guess. Cuddy’s going to find me eventually anyway.” Limping across to the door, he opened it, then looked back at her expectantly. “Hadn’t you better get going?”
Class dismissed. I wanted it to be blunt and plain, no games, no quips. He's now just trying to get rid of her and he's not messing around.
******************************************************
Once she, Chase and Foreman had got the patient stabilized (again), Cameron headed back up to Diagnostics. It was seven-fifteen and many of the offices she passed were empty, lit only by the glow from the corridors. She’d noticed that each doctor at PPTH found their own way of dealing with the glass walls. Some kept the blinds closed all the time. Some fought bitterly over the few offices that had wooden doors. Some just lived with it, accepting that they had their uses as well as their disadvantages.
The original story started here. It's something that's always bugged me. I admit that my hospital experience is limited, but all that glass? Nice and helpful for filming, less so for working. And I quite liked the idea of department heads battling over 'enclosed' offices.
Cameron had always suspected that House liked the glass walls. He liked to have an audience for everything; she wondered if he’d be able to work without someone to show off to. Mostly, she suspected he just forgot about them, carrying on with whatever subject had taken his interest at the time, not caring who could hear him. Tonight, he’d also left his door open, so that his voice carried out into the corridor. She hadn’t expected him to still be there, especially not sounding so…playful.
Cameron understands House more than she thinks. He says once that he works well with an audience, and there's a strong element of showmanship in what he does.
The 'playful' I wasn't sure about, but I couldn't come with a better word for it. Something just…eases in House's face when he and Wilson are just sitting round chatting.
“You do so!”
She paused, clutching the file to her chest. The idea had been for her to go back and finish off the charting in peace, able to forget about what had happened earlier on. So much for that plan. The light was off in the conference room, and it looked like only a lamp was on House’s office, but she could hear two voices joined in laughter.
I wanted House and Wilson to be having a normal, gossipy conversation, as friends do. The S1 corridor talks where they just…talk…are so brilliant. Just talking, not snarking, although with a fair amount of teasing. It just works so well.
“I don’t!”
“Oh come on. Debbie’s looked like the cat that got the cream for the past two days. In fact-”
“You are not going to finish that sentence.”
Wilson. Of course.
Which really says it all in three words. I wanted something that got Cameron's feelings across quickly so that it didn't interrupt the conversation too much.
“Spoilsport.”
Cameron heard a dull thud and guessed it was House’s cane hitting the floor. She took half a step forward, enough to peer round the side of the glass and just about see into the office. House was behind his desk, Wilson sprawled in the visitor’s seat across from him. There was a lab coat on the floor, and they were throwing the soft ball back and forth as they talked. She realized the thud must have been the ball hitting something.
On reflection, that last sentence really isn't necessary – everything's there already.
“I don’t know why you assume I must have a date.”
“Because you’ll be single again soon, and you want the satisfaction of a little pre-divorce action before it’s final. Julie had it, so why shouldn’t you?”
Cameron blushed as Wilson swore fluently at House, who laughed. It was a mellow sound, so relaxed and happy. She’d never seen him smile like that before, so unlike the knowing, sly grin he’d given her in the exam room. Its warmth seemed to be spreading across her own face.
Again, on reflection, I'm not so sure about the Wilson swearing bit. It feels too forced now, a bit fake. But am pleased with the description of House's smile, the one we see so rarely that it's striking. The last sentence is a bit of a mixed metaphor, but it makes sense so I left it in.
Wilson finished swearing and started to sputter.
“There is no date!” he said, throwing the ball with vicious force. House caught it deftly, juggling it between his hands as he looked across his desk. He was wearing his best 'oh, really?' expression as Wilson continued to protest. “We were going to do beer and sports, if you remember.”
One of the things I find tricky about House and Wilson is that so much is in what they don't say. It's in the looks, the expressions between the two of them. So although it makes perfect sense on screen for Wilson to reply to a silent glance, I had to work-round a bit to get it onto the page.
“Actually, I remember that you agreed to let me watch the L-word if I let you watch One Million Years BC.”
“It’s still a deal.”
“Fine. But if you run out on me on Saturday night-”
“I’m not going to.” Wilson spread his hands. “There is no date!”
“Okay. I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. Cameron doesn’t.”
And there we are, because House knows everything. I admit to being shameless about using this kind of device – either the comment to someone who didn't know they could be seen or a voice interrupting a scene from someone that the reader didn't know was there. I like surprises.
She blushed harder as House looked past Wilson, directly at her. Wilson twisted in his chair, his own face reddening. Swallowing hard, Cameron came into the office, still hugging the chart which was now her shield and excuse.
That kind of body language just struck me as very Cameron – as I said before, I like the visuals, the images, more than the internal dialogue. I'm more comfortable with it.
“I came to finish this off,” she said, not sure who she was apologizing to.
“Then go finish.” House’s expression was perfectly blank. “I’m not doing it for you.”
“No. I’m doing it for you.” If the words resonated with House the way they did with her, he showed no sign of it. She retreated out to her desk, feeling the eyes of both men on her. After a moment of muffled conversation, Wilson scooped up his lab coat and headed out of the door. Then House’s light went off and he came through, bag in hand.
She's trying to fight back, but it's really not working because House doesn't want to play.
“The guy still getting better?”
“He wasn’t but he is now.”
“Interesting.” House took his coat from the rack, looking at her curiously.
“What? According to you, I’m only interested in dying people anyway, so Chase is looking after him. And I do your charts because someone has to. It’s Foreman’s turn next week.”
She's still trying. Although I like it when the Fellows match wits with House, he runs rings round them most of the time and I wanted to get that sense here. This isn't an equal relationship, and she's never going to beat him at his own game. So her come back is fine, but not when you're up against someone like House.
“Not that, although it was damaged people, not dying ones, just so we’re clear.” He tilted his head. “You didn’t try to tell me his name.”
She looked back down at the chart, apparently uninterested. “Would there have been any point?” she asked.
“Never, but it doesn’t normally stop you. Interesting,” he said again, coming over to her desk as he shrugged into his jacket. “Losing your touch?”
Anomalies bug House. I also had trouble finding an excuse for them to talk to each other here, without them actually talking about what happened in the exam room. This seemed to work.
She lifted her head as he loomed over her, meeting his gaze, wondering if the double entendre was intentional. But House never did anything accidentally. What was she supposed to say? The conversation she’d interrupted had felt so personal, so intimate, even more so than her massaging away his pain. The comfortable atmosphere had surprised her and attracted her. Earlier today, she’d felt she knew exactly what House was thinking, what he was feeling. Now, he seemed far away, looking at her from a distance she could never cover. She wasn’t going to make the mistake of trying to cross it.
All that in a single look… I couldn't help but feel I was pushing my luck with all the internal description, but it was necessary to make the gulf clear.
Before she could speak, a flicker of movement caught her eye, and she was grateful for the glass walls.
“Your ride’s here,” she said. House turned and returned Wilson’s nod before looking back at Cameron.
“Actually, I’m his ride. Shouldn’t drink when you’re on painkillers, and shouldn’t drink and drive. Match made in AA. See you Monday.”
She nodded, unable to look away as the two men made their way down the corridor, Wilson adjusting his strides to House’s limp, worse than usual, but better than first thing this morning. They disappeared behind the wall, Wilson giving her a final smile as he stepped out of sight.
Because he's a nice guy at heart, and just as embarrassed as her.
When she heard the elevator doors shut, Cameron got up and closed all the blinds of the conference room, telling herself that she wanted some privacy as she finished off. Shaking herself a little, she turned her attention back to the chart, trying to shrug off the image of House and Wilson sitting together in his office, an image that would stay with her longer than his face as she touched him. It hadn’t mattered that they were still in the hospital, behind glass walls that turned private space into a goldfish bowl. The office had suddenly looked and felt like home.
Ah yes, the big ending. I couldn't leave it with Cameron, because that really wasn't the point of the story. The point was Cameron watching House and Wilson from the outside. So I had to end with House and Wilson, not her.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
I know that I wrote a commentary on "Yours, mine and his" as requested but do you think I can find it? So, in the meantime, I've got them for "Looking in" and "Coming Back" and I'll get the other done asap.
The original story is here.
This is the original introduction etc, as they tend to say as much about me as the fic...
Right, it's finally done, the last sequins are stuck on and it's ready to go. Actually, as costumes go, it's more the equivalent of throwing a sheet over your head and calling yourself a ghost, but hey - it's my costume and I'll wear what I want :P Well, it is. It still reads like me, even if it's not the kind of subject matter I'd usually tackle. I'm going to do better this year, I promise :)
Much kudos to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Title: Looking In
Pairing: House/Cameron. Sort of. *grin*
Rating: gen
Word Count: 2,400 ~4,000 with commentary
Summary: Cameron sees House differently. And takes her chance.
Why it’s a costume: It's House/Cameron. It's hard to write what you don't believe in... Only, of course, it's not House/Cameron, which is kind of the point.
Thanks to
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Looking In
So saying, from the pavement he half rose,
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm,
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes
As in a picture.
Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur Alfred Lord Tennyson
The poetry/quotation habit was one I picked up from too much Dorothy L Sayers reading, and isn't one I intend to give up any time soon. They're incredibly useful for setting the right tone for a fic.
It had been an easier than usual case, so House had yelled and ranted more than usual as a consequence. Cameron knew it was bad when Chase conned her into taking back the latest round of test results. Her colleague had unwavering instincts when it came to judging House's moods, as she realized on entering his office.
"That them?" House asked, glaring at her.
"Yes." She swallowed. This was bored, in pain House; she hated this House. Not like angry, sarcastic House; she...well...found him easier to handle. "You were right."
House's snark is different depending on where it's coming from. In my head, the 'bored, in pain House' is more spiteful than the one who's trying to figure out answers and is getting annoyed that he can't.
"And you've just come to bask in the glow of my satisfaction." Feet propped up on his desk, his right hand was almost absently massaging his thigh.
Clue number one. I was really trying to build things up rather than say them all at once.
"I-" she began, feeling her words burn to ashes in the fire of his stare.
I'm still proud of that image. He's also not about to let her finish any kind of sentence.
"Do you have a treatment?"
"Chase is starting-"
"And yet you're here." He pushed harder at his leg, digging his knuckles in deep.
So far, so normal. I was trying to slow-build to the amount of pain he's in, rather than have Cameron figure it out all at once.
"I thought you'd want to know," she said, taking half a step forwards.
"Well, now I know." She dropped the file on his desk and he stared at it. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
Her temper flared at his contemptuous tone. "You're supposed to be a doctor and read it." She turned on her heel and left the office without looking back.
I like Cameron when she fights back, and it's usually calling House on being a good doctor. She's got quite a temper when prodded, which gave me a nice conclusion to the scene.
******************************
One day, she’d learn to look at the caller ID before she picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Doctor Cameron?”
“Yes?” Her eyes were still fixed on the computer, distracted by the possibility of a referral.
“Doctor House hasn’t arrived for his clinic duty.”
“Oh?” Finally dragging her attention away from the screen, she heard the expectant silence. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, but we really do need someone down here.” Judging by the background noise, Cameron didn’t doubt it.
“Alright. I’ll be there.”
I kind of wonder who covers all the clinic hours that House doesn't do, and figured this was the most likely explanation.
Downstairs, Brenda handed her a file without returning her smile.
“Doctor House should be here,” the nurse said.
“Don’t I know it.” Cameron glanced at the file and called the first patient. She spent an hour or so with colds, sprains and cuts, and she was showing her latest patient out when she noticed that the door to exam room 3 was closed and the blinds shut.
Slow build again – I'm telling the reader all this, so it must be significant…
She handed the chart over and started to ask,
“Brenda, who’s-”
“Sorry, hang on. Carly!”
Okay, not the subtlest cut ever, but it works, I think.
Brenda called to another nurse over, turning away. Cameron gave up and decided she’d earnt a five minute reprieve. Still curious, she went and put her ear to the door of exam room 3. It was silent inside and, not quite knowing why, she turned the handle without a sound and opened the door a crack.
The room was dimly lit, with the blinds pulled across both windows. House was sitting on the edge of the exam couch with his back to her, rocking back and forth over his leg. Apart from the whispering of the couch cushions as he moved, there was no sound. After a moment of indecision, Cameron pushed the door fully open and slipped inside. House looked round as the door clicked shut behind her. His face was a mask of agony and white as a sheet.
I'm still not 100% happy with that last sentence (cliché-ville) but I wanted to set the atmosphere quickly. The silence was very important, at first. She has to choose to go in, before he can yell at her.
“Go away.” His voice was rough and weak.
“You’re in pain.”
“Now you notice? Damn, I thought the cane was a dead giveaway.”
“It’s worse.” She came to stand beside him, keeping her distance as from a half-tame animal.
This to me is typical House/Cameron interaction. She talks, he snarks, she ignores him and gets to the point. The animal image was an important one for getting the mood across. I'd never tried to write anything with real tension in, and had no idea how or if it was going to work. But I knew the look I wanted on House's face – in agony, angry and wary, but unable to refuse the help he knows he needs.
Very carefully, she reached out and put a hand on his leg, between his clenched fists. He shifted a little, but didn’t brush her off. Ever so gently, she pressed her palm into his leg, moving it in tiny circles. After a moment, one of his fists unclenched and he sat up a little. Encouraged, Cameron moved to stand in front of him, putting her other hand on his leg as well. As she moved with greater confidence, he put both hands behind him, leaning on them and tipping his head back.
House knows exactly what he's doing. I don't think he intends what happens in a minute, but he's milking this for all its worth with no intention of giving anything back. She chooses to do this, even knowing what he's like. That's important, somehow, for the tone. It's not that there's no connection at all between them – she interests him, he likes pushing her buttons – but it's not what she thinks. I quite like her self-deception.
The friction from his jeans was burning her palms as she increased the pressure and speed, still careful to keep the motion under control and trying to judge what was helping the most. House’s eyes were closed, the dark circles underneath them standing out against his pale skin. They seemed to merge into the line of stubble, which she’d already noticed was thicker than usual. As she watched, paying attention to his face rather than the leg under her hands, she saw the tightness around his eyes begin to ease and the thin line of his lips relax. His mouth opened a little as he began to breathe more deeply.
I think of myself as primarily a visual writer – I always think I sound clunky when I'm trying to write inside someone's head, but this kind of thing, the little details of what she's seeing – I really like and know what I'm doing with. Because his face is so expressive and at the moment, he's not got the energy to hide how much pain he's in.
She could feel the trembling under her hands and concentrated on pressing away the worst of the shaking. Through the thick denim, she couldn’t really make out the detail of his damaged thigh, only a depression where muscle should have been. She tried not focus her attention on that, feeling her face reddening and shoulders trembling as her own muscles began to ache. She concentrated on the in and out, in and out of their breathing, in time with the up and down of her hands on his leg.
It's hard work, that kind of thing! Plus it racks up the tension a notch or two.
The immediacy of his need seemed to have passed and she watched as his expression moved from relief to rest. The angles and lines of his face seemed to smooth out and he leant further back onto his hands, shoulders lifting and head dropping forwards again. Cameron shifted, becoming aware of House’s knee pressing uncomfortably into her midriff. She made her strokes longer, pushing further up towards his torso then down again almost to his knee. He sighed, just a little, and so she repeated the movement, up and down, pressing her thumbs into his knee at the end.
She doesn't stop, and this is the crossover point. This is where, to my mind, she should stop if she's got any sense. Because I wanted to get across that she's now doing it for herself, as much as for him. She's uncomfortable, but she keeps going.
Whether it was this that acted as the trigger, or just a random twitch, she didn’t know, but suddenly House’s right elbow gave way and he slipped forwards off the couch. The force pushed Cameron backwards, slamming her into the cupboards so that she lost her own balance, falling to her knees on the floor. Momentarily dazed, she felt her hair slipping from its clip, the loose strands tickling the back of her neck. Trying to steady herself, she looked up into House’s sardonic smile as he stood over her.
The blocking of this gave me absolute fits. Put too much in and you can't find the action for the words. Put too little in, and no-one knows what's going on. I tried to keep it as simple as possible, blank and plain for the first part, so that the little detail of her hair stands out. Because it's the details that get to people and make the story come alive.
“Nice work,” he said, assessing their relative positions. He’d retrieved his cane and was looming over her, a speculative expression on his face. “You know, while you’re down there…”
I'd been waiting to use that line. Forever. Just…so wonderfully inappropriate and therefore so utterly House.
She turned away from him, putting a hand on the cupboard to help her stand up. House made no attempt to give her more room. Instead, he leant his weight onto his cane and put a hand under her elbow to help her up. She could feel the warmth of him through her blouse and lab coat. She glanced upwards and, just for a moment, their eyes met. There was a flash of – what? Gratitude? Embarrassment? She was aware that he was still breathing hard, still in time with her.
It's always a fleeting moment with House. Trying to catch those tiny flickers in HL's eyes is really hard. I didn't want to imply that the whole thing meant nothing to him, but he's just not interested the way she is. The breathing in time was an afterthought, but keeps some of the tension that was broken. Through the whole thing, I was trying to walk the tightrope between keeping the connection between them and keeping House in character.
“Should be more careful,” he said, pulling the loosed clip from her hair and handing it to her. “Accidents happen.”
“Things also happen on purpose, you know.” She put a hand on the arm that was still clasping her elbow. “Do you-”
She closed her eyes in frustration as the pager at her hip began to beep. House released her, taking a step back and raising his eyebrows.
Bleepers are the most useful plot device ever invented. Bleepers, mobiles, comms. All very handy for cutting conversations short and therefore implying rather than having to spell things out.
“Don’t you think you should get that?”
Cursing under her breath, she pulled the pager from her belt.
“It’s Chase,” she said, grimacing. “I’d better go.”
He nodded. “Then I’d better finish up the hours, I guess. Cuddy’s going to find me eventually anyway.” Limping across to the door, he opened it, then looked back at her expectantly. “Hadn’t you better get going?”
Class dismissed. I wanted it to be blunt and plain, no games, no quips. He's now just trying to get rid of her and he's not messing around.
******************************************************
Once she, Chase and Foreman had got the patient stabilized (again), Cameron headed back up to Diagnostics. It was seven-fifteen and many of the offices she passed were empty, lit only by the glow from the corridors. She’d noticed that each doctor at PPTH found their own way of dealing with the glass walls. Some kept the blinds closed all the time. Some fought bitterly over the few offices that had wooden doors. Some just lived with it, accepting that they had their uses as well as their disadvantages.
The original story started here. It's something that's always bugged me. I admit that my hospital experience is limited, but all that glass? Nice and helpful for filming, less so for working. And I quite liked the idea of department heads battling over 'enclosed' offices.
Cameron had always suspected that House liked the glass walls. He liked to have an audience for everything; she wondered if he’d be able to work without someone to show off to. Mostly, she suspected he just forgot about them, carrying on with whatever subject had taken his interest at the time, not caring who could hear him. Tonight, he’d also left his door open, so that his voice carried out into the corridor. She hadn’t expected him to still be there, especially not sounding so…playful.
Cameron understands House more than she thinks. He says once that he works well with an audience, and there's a strong element of showmanship in what he does.
The 'playful' I wasn't sure about, but I couldn't come with a better word for it. Something just…eases in House's face when he and Wilson are just sitting round chatting.
“You do so!”
She paused, clutching the file to her chest. The idea had been for her to go back and finish off the charting in peace, able to forget about what had happened earlier on. So much for that plan. The light was off in the conference room, and it looked like only a lamp was on House’s office, but she could hear two voices joined in laughter.
I wanted House and Wilson to be having a normal, gossipy conversation, as friends do. The S1 corridor talks where they just…talk…are so brilliant. Just talking, not snarking, although with a fair amount of teasing. It just works so well.
“I don’t!”
“Oh come on. Debbie’s looked like the cat that got the cream for the past two days. In fact-”
“You are not going to finish that sentence.”
Wilson. Of course.
Which really says it all in three words. I wanted something that got Cameron's feelings across quickly so that it didn't interrupt the conversation too much.
“Spoilsport.”
Cameron heard a dull thud and guessed it was House’s cane hitting the floor. She took half a step forward, enough to peer round the side of the glass and just about see into the office. House was behind his desk, Wilson sprawled in the visitor’s seat across from him. There was a lab coat on the floor, and they were throwing the soft ball back and forth as they talked. She realized the thud must have been the ball hitting something.
On reflection, that last sentence really isn't necessary – everything's there already.
“I don’t know why you assume I must have a date.”
“Because you’ll be single again soon, and you want the satisfaction of a little pre-divorce action before it’s final. Julie had it, so why shouldn’t you?”
Cameron blushed as Wilson swore fluently at House, who laughed. It was a mellow sound, so relaxed and happy. She’d never seen him smile like that before, so unlike the knowing, sly grin he’d given her in the exam room. Its warmth seemed to be spreading across her own face.
Again, on reflection, I'm not so sure about the Wilson swearing bit. It feels too forced now, a bit fake. But am pleased with the description of House's smile, the one we see so rarely that it's striking. The last sentence is a bit of a mixed metaphor, but it makes sense so I left it in.
Wilson finished swearing and started to sputter.
“There is no date!” he said, throwing the ball with vicious force. House caught it deftly, juggling it between his hands as he looked across his desk. He was wearing his best 'oh, really?' expression as Wilson continued to protest. “We were going to do beer and sports, if you remember.”
One of the things I find tricky about House and Wilson is that so much is in what they don't say. It's in the looks, the expressions between the two of them. So although it makes perfect sense on screen for Wilson to reply to a silent glance, I had to work-round a bit to get it onto the page.
“Actually, I remember that you agreed to let me watch the L-word if I let you watch One Million Years BC.”
“It’s still a deal.”
“Fine. But if you run out on me on Saturday night-”
“I’m not going to.” Wilson spread his hands. “There is no date!”
“Okay. I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. Cameron doesn’t.”
And there we are, because House knows everything. I admit to being shameless about using this kind of device – either the comment to someone who didn't know they could be seen or a voice interrupting a scene from someone that the reader didn't know was there. I like surprises.
She blushed harder as House looked past Wilson, directly at her. Wilson twisted in his chair, his own face reddening. Swallowing hard, Cameron came into the office, still hugging the chart which was now her shield and excuse.
That kind of body language just struck me as very Cameron – as I said before, I like the visuals, the images, more than the internal dialogue. I'm more comfortable with it.
“I came to finish this off,” she said, not sure who she was apologizing to.
“Then go finish.” House’s expression was perfectly blank. “I’m not doing it for you.”
“No. I’m doing it for you.” If the words resonated with House the way they did with her, he showed no sign of it. She retreated out to her desk, feeling the eyes of both men on her. After a moment of muffled conversation, Wilson scooped up his lab coat and headed out of the door. Then House’s light went off and he came through, bag in hand.
She's trying to fight back, but it's really not working because House doesn't want to play.
“The guy still getting better?”
“He wasn’t but he is now.”
“Interesting.” House took his coat from the rack, looking at her curiously.
“What? According to you, I’m only interested in dying people anyway, so Chase is looking after him. And I do your charts because someone has to. It’s Foreman’s turn next week.”
She's still trying. Although I like it when the Fellows match wits with House, he runs rings round them most of the time and I wanted to get that sense here. This isn't an equal relationship, and she's never going to beat him at his own game. So her come back is fine, but not when you're up against someone like House.
“Not that, although it was damaged people, not dying ones, just so we’re clear.” He tilted his head. “You didn’t try to tell me his name.”
She looked back down at the chart, apparently uninterested. “Would there have been any point?” she asked.
“Never, but it doesn’t normally stop you. Interesting,” he said again, coming over to her desk as he shrugged into his jacket. “Losing your touch?”
Anomalies bug House. I also had trouble finding an excuse for them to talk to each other here, without them actually talking about what happened in the exam room. This seemed to work.
She lifted her head as he loomed over her, meeting his gaze, wondering if the double entendre was intentional. But House never did anything accidentally. What was she supposed to say? The conversation she’d interrupted had felt so personal, so intimate, even more so than her massaging away his pain. The comfortable atmosphere had surprised her and attracted her. Earlier today, she’d felt she knew exactly what House was thinking, what he was feeling. Now, he seemed far away, looking at her from a distance she could never cover. She wasn’t going to make the mistake of trying to cross it.
All that in a single look… I couldn't help but feel I was pushing my luck with all the internal description, but it was necessary to make the gulf clear.
Before she could speak, a flicker of movement caught her eye, and she was grateful for the glass walls.
“Your ride’s here,” she said. House turned and returned Wilson’s nod before looking back at Cameron.
“Actually, I’m his ride. Shouldn’t drink when you’re on painkillers, and shouldn’t drink and drive. Match made in AA. See you Monday.”
She nodded, unable to look away as the two men made their way down the corridor, Wilson adjusting his strides to House’s limp, worse than usual, but better than first thing this morning. They disappeared behind the wall, Wilson giving her a final smile as he stepped out of sight.
Because he's a nice guy at heart, and just as embarrassed as her.
When she heard the elevator doors shut, Cameron got up and closed all the blinds of the conference room, telling herself that she wanted some privacy as she finished off. Shaking herself a little, she turned her attention back to the chart, trying to shrug off the image of House and Wilson sitting together in his office, an image that would stay with her longer than his face as she touched him. It hadn’t mattered that they were still in the hospital, behind glass walls that turned private space into a goldfish bowl. The office had suddenly looked and felt like home.
Ah yes, the big ending. I couldn't leave it with Cameron, because that really wasn't the point of the story. The point was Cameron watching House and Wilson from the outside. So I had to end with House and Wilson, not her.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-09-06 08:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-09-08 06:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-02 10:22 pm (UTC)It's lovely and well-written and does justice to both of the characters!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-03 06:16 am (UTC)So glad you enjoyed, and thank you for the lovely comment!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-02 10:22 pm (UTC)It's lovely and well-written and does justice to both of the characters!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-03 06:16 am (UTC)So glad you enjoyed, and thank you for the lovely comment!