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As soon as he possibly can, that is, after Cole is fired and the others are rushing to say their goodbyes, congratulate him for making it this long, Kutner leaves the lecture hall. He’s been raised right by two mothers to know that in some situations, if you didn’t have anything nice to say to someone, you shouldn’t say anything at all. And he didn’t have anything nice to say to Cole, or to anyone else, nor did he want to be seen or perceived or approached. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to exist at all, in this moment.
But he also didn’t want to go home yet, to falling asleep on his coach while mindlessly watching TV, to then wake up and go to work and go to a room of people who all would look at him like “Look at that guy! His friend betrayed him! I bet it’s not even the first time that happened!”. Or worse, they’d tell him that what Cole did was terrible and he wasn’t a good friend and Kutner was better off without him, all with a look of pity in their eyes, and he was pretty sure that would make him want to throw up.
So here he was, on the rooftop of the hospital, his hands resting over the railings, staring into the night. He didn’t want to think, to feel, to speak. Everything had been too much the moment Cole had said his name, the way everyone had looked at him, House’s voice…he had wanted to tear away at his skin, at the pit in his chest. He had been so sure the whole time… god, he really was an idiot —
“Hey.”
He heard a voice behind, and didn’t turn to look. He already knew it was Amber. If this was any other situation, he would have been kinda flattered that she seemingly searched through the whole hospital to find him here, but he wasn’t in the mood now. Amber always had an agenda (and it was always really obvious). Although, that was kinda comforting(sometimes, it was nice knowing what things really meant). But he didn’t acknowledge her, hoping that she’d get the hint and go away.
“How are you doing?” Amber was next to him, her elbows gracefully propped up on the railings. Her voice was sweet, but biting, simultaneously. Like the cold of spring.
He didn’t answer her, but he doubted that she cared about how he was feeling anyway. And even if he did try to answer, he wouldn’t know what to say. He looked at her face, and saw that she was neither smiling nor frowning. Then he glanced back up at the sky for a second, at the stars he couldn’t see.
“So?” She tilted her head, looking at him.
“Why are you here?” He bit back, sounding more morose than he’d intended to. He narrowed his eyes at her. She, in turn, gave him a quizzical look.
“Why are you?”
“I’m guessing you’re not gonna answer my questions.”
“Only if you answer mine first.” Then she smiled. It could have been mistaken for something honest. Something knowing. His breath caught in his throat.
“I’m here because…” he said, gripping the railings tightly. He supposed he ought to try going for honesty. “… Cole,” who I thought was a friend, “valued this job, that stupid challenge, more than our friendship. And now everyone knows that I’m a liability. And that I was a gullible idiot. Happy?” He finishes, a bit snappish. And he is indeed an idiot. Because he shouldn’t feel this hurt.
Amber seems deep in thought. A bit surprised. “Self pity isn’t like you.” She then says, in a serene tone.
“Thanks.” Kutner huffs, rolling his eyes.
“I came here to tell you that Cole shouldn’t have done what he did.” She adds, sounding serious. But there’s no pity in her words, and he likes that. By now, she’s left her position, a bit farther from Kutner. He turns, now leaning on the balustrade, gazing at her.
“Yeah right. I thought you’d be jumping with joy, now that Cole is gone and the chief of medicine wants me fired as well.”
“I saw you leaving, upset, without even telling your friend goodbye. I wanted to see how you were feeling. Honest.” She states, her arms crossed. “Other people’s suffering doesn’t make me happy."
“That’s news to me.” He smiles bitterly. “So, the real reason you’re here. Spill.” He doesn’t want to believe that Amber actually cares about him. Maybe she does. He doesn’t want her to, right now. He doesn’t want to make any more friends.
“Isn’t it enough that I wanted to check up on you?” Amber frowns. “What else do you want?”
“I want you to go away.” Kutner says, petulantly. He doesn’t care if he sounds childish right now. “I don’t like you.”
She laughs, and it could be mistaken for something soft. And incredulous. “You’re a bad liar, you know that?” She goes near him, their eyes locking. It could be romantic, were it any other night. With her boots, she’s ever so slightly taller than him, he notes.
“I’m not.”
“You know that I can see the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice, right?” She smirks. Her words are sharp, but not cutting. “You like me.” She points at him, playfully.
“I already said, I don’t like you.” He wants to look away. He doesn’t.
“Fine.” She sighs. “I don’t like you either.” She says, and he half-wants to believe it. “I think you’re an idiot.”
“And I think you’re kind of evil.” He doesn’t, actually, and he doesn’t know why he says it. Feels like the right and wrong thing to say.
“But you’re useful. Now that House knows Cuddy wants you gone, and Cole put you on the block, he’s not gonna fire you. He has enough reasons to keep you.” She explains. “I’m manipulative, a bitch, I play the game. But I’m a good doctor. And you know that.” She gazes at him.
“And you seem like the type of guy who cares about patients. I do too.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t deny it. Looks curiously at her. He figures that Amber cares. Nobody who didn’t care would fight so hard. Metaphorically set herself on fire for a room that wasn’t even looking. He knows a bit about that.
“I deserve to win,” it sounds as much of an assurance to herself as she tries to make it sound like a certainty. Fake it ‘till you make it, “and if we work together, we could both win.” She holds out her hand, and she does sound earnest, to give her credit.
He thinks about it. Thinks about Amber, her blue eyes and the swish of her blonde hair and the way she does whatever it takes for the case, for the patient. He thinks about the job. He thinks about Thirteen, who’s still ever so mysterious and Taub who doesn’t seem too thrilled to be here, who doesn’t seem to like him all that much yet. He wonders if they even like him. He’s pretty certain Foreman doesn’t. Time doesn’t stand still, and the world ever turns.
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” He answers. “May the best player win.” He whispers at her, cheekily. She frowns, and it’s her turn to pout, to act childishly. You can’t always get what you want, he thinks.
“Fine. Suit yourself.” She rolls her eyes, and walks away.
Then she stops. “And don’t jump off the roof.” She turns to look at him, smirking. “Or do, I could use less competition.” He thinks she looks beautiful in the moonlight, a real babe.
And then she leaves.
And he grins.