Post by Keridwen on Jul 4, 2006 3:18:01 GMT 10
My first House fic!!
Chapter 1: Agendas
The rain hammered down, washing the city in a coat of moisture . People hurried down streets, coats pulled tight around their bodies, hats down, casting shadows over their eyes and protecting their faces from the worst of the rain. They moved meticulously, like they needed to be somewhere, like they had some higher purpose to attend to. Which, of course, they did not. The likes of putting dinner on the table for your husband, or helping your son with his homework, or fixing your daughters bike was not really the stuff of legends. Still, the people scurried, oblivious to all but their own agendas and the rain that seemed to be angry, pursuing them relentlessly into their shelters.
There were two, however, who could add even the pelting rain to their list of indifferences. They sat at opposite ends of a glass table, flipping through charts and jotting things down. One of the two let his pen drop on the paper, and sighed heavily, looking up. His eyes were borderline bloodshot, and his blonde hair messed up where he had run his hand through it repeatedly. It had been a tough few days, their foe in the form of an illness evading them until it took the life of their patient. He opened his mouth, and addressed his colleague.
“Coffee?” He smiled quietly to himself, his eloquence always succeeded in amazing him.
Cameron looked up, also putting her pen down. “Yeah, why not?”
Chase nodded and turned to the sink.
“If he’s got any say in it,” Cameron continued, and gestured to the adjoining office, “we’ll be here all night.”
Chase followed her gaze to where House and Wilson sat, drinking what was certainly not coffee, and watching the small television.
“Apparently their apartment is getting fumigated,” Chase said, smile on his face as he turned back to the sink and switched on the kettle.
A knock on the glass door sent the two heads turning to place the origin of the noise. Chase frowned, wondering how the man had gotten access to the floor at this time of night, when the clinic was closed and none but the closest relatives of patients were allowed to stay. Then he spotted the pizzas in the man’s hand, and raised an eyebrow, suspecting the culprit. Chase moved to the door and opened it.
The rain-soaked man pulled the pizzas out of the thermo-bag, and said in a dull, tired voice;
“One large half-vegetarian, half-seafood, one large half-meatlovers, half-supreme.”
The delivery man rattled off a price, and Chase turned to House, who met his eyes through the glass, and shrugged, a look of feigned innocence on his face. Chase sighed, and flipped out his wallet, handing the man some notes and waving off the change. The fellow looked a bit strained, no doubt, Chase thought, he’d been picked apart by security. He took the pizzas back into the room and put them down on the table in front of Cameron, who shook her head in mock exasperation, having followed the look that passed between House and his employee. The aroma was appetizing, especially after hours without food, and she opened the box with relish. House pushed open the glass door connecting the two rooms and went over to the table, picking up the half-meatlovers, half-supreme pizza. Chase scowled at the offender, but was met with only a grin. House chucked the pizza onto his friend’s lap when he reached the office.
Wilson wrinkled his nose, his gourmet side offended.
“I can’t believe we’re eating this crap,” he complained.
“Oh come on!” House urged. “Its better than fish and chips, now, isn’t it?”
Wilson shrugged. In truth he didn’t really mind pizza, but felt it was someone’s place to whinge about something.
“I’ll bet Foreman wishes he hadn’t gone home sick now,” Chase said sarcastically, and Cameron grinned.
“Oh yes,” she said. “He’d sure love this, coffee, pizza and paperwork.”
Three quarters of an hour later, Cameron threw down her pen with an air of triumph.
“Done,” she informed her colleague, who scowled, and scribbled all the faster. A short time later, Chase had also finished. Cameron offered to take the appropriate information down to the morgue. Chase nodded, and she left the room, leaving him to file the rest of it. He finished, and sat on the chair, waiting for Cameron to return.
Chase’s head snapped up, however, when her voice reached his ears. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but did not need to when he saw her. A man accompanied her, gripping her forearm, pulling her along roughly. Chase stood up and hastened to the pair.
“What’s going on?” he asked, but stopped abruptly as he glimpsed the steel that the man was clutching and pushing into Cameron’s back.
“Woah,” he said, instinctively attempting to placate the man with the gun.
“Get in there,” the man said gruffly. He was tall, but only a little taller than Chase. His hair was jet black and unkempt. The man had dark circles around his eyes, and his movements were lethargic, he seemingly had not had much in the way of sleep.
Chase backed into the office, meeting Cameron’s eyes, and being surprised to find them devoid of fear. He frowned, and his eyes flew to House, who had stood up, stormy-faced, and was coming towards them. The man pushed Cameron away from him, and she kept her balance but moved as far as she could away from the man, coming to stand next to Chase. His eyes questioned her but she shook her head.
“Bit of a stormy night, isn’t it?” House asked, but there was no joviality in his tone. His eyes remained fixed on the man’s face, and he could see the gun out of the corner of his eye. Wilson was instantly alarmed, as you generally are when there is a gun pointed at the faces of people you know. He kept his mouth shut, however, not having any idea as to what to say to placate this man. Wilson was on edge for that very reason, regarding House, who was likely to say something inflammatory and get them all killed.
“Yeah,” the man replied coldly. “Real stormy.”
“Might I ask as to your business?” House asked blandly.
Both Wilson and Chase flinched at the sarcasm present in his voice, but the gunman seemed not to notice.
“Yeah, you might,” the man said.
House raised his eyebrows in question, gesturing for the man to continue.
“I got nothing against you people, okay?” the man began.
“Sure looks that way,” House retorted.
“House…” Wilson muttered. His friend ignored him.
The gunman ignored the remark, and Cameron studied him. If she was as angry as he obviously was, she would be incensed by the smart-assed comments, but this man seemed to let them slide off him. He was telling the truth, they were just a means to an end. The man continued in his narrative.
“I hid out in the bathroom on this floor because it was the least crowded one.”
The four assembled let him talk, it went through all of their minds that the longer he did so, the more chance they had of walking away unscathed.
“I saw the light on, I was about to come in and this one walked by. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.” He was babbling, Cameron thought. The man clearly wasn’t thinking straight. She studied him, taking in his disheveled appearance. Patients family, perhaps? Why hold a gun to a bunch of doctors’ heads?
“I want Dr. Cuddy. I want to speak to her.”
“She’s not here,” House said. Wilson’s eye flickered momentarily, knowing that what House said was a lie. He’d seen her in her office not half an hour before, even if she were gone, House was not to know that.
The man smiled. “I don’t believe you.”
House turned to Wilson. “Put that on the record, okay?” He turned back to the man. “What you believe is irrelevant.”
“Not to me.”
House narrowed his eyes slightly. “Indeed. But the person you are looking for is not here. Perhaps you should try to make contact tomorrow? I could even make you an appointment. I’ll leave a message on her machine, if you would like.”
Cameron winced as a flash of anger finally made it’s way to the man’s face.
“I know she is here, I know you’re lying! Call her, now!” He shouted the last two words, but House did not seem to notice. He shrugged.
“I can call. Can’t guarantee she’ll come flying down to the hospital in her nightgown and frantically pick up the phone though…”
The man had had enough. He lifted his gun, pointing it at Cameron’s head. She glared at him, seemingly unfazed. House watched her, committing her indifference to memory.
The man looked at House. “Now I’m sure a man of your obvious…. class,” he began, with an exquisitely timed pause, “would not want blood all over his carpet.”
“Blood is a real bitch to get out,” House agreed, but all heard the obvious strain in his voice. Possibilities were flying through his mind. To call Cuddy up here would be to put her in danger. This guy was obviously after her. But to not call her… well the alternative was unthinkable. He glared at the man, before reaching down to the telephone and dialing.
Wilson sighed in relief, the chronic danger of getting another person in here was better than the immediate danger of Cameron getting her brains blown out.
“No funny business,” the man warned House. “First sign you’re warning her and I’ll have this little bitch on the floor with not enough time to even scream.”
House wrinkled his nose.
“How distasteful. I thought a man of your obvious class would think of something better than that to say.”
“House?”
“Again, your psychic powers amaze me.”
The man frowned and pushed the speakerphone button.
“It’s called caller ID. What do you want?”
“I want you to come up here.”
“Oh? Well I want to go to France. Goodnight.”
“There is someone up here to see you,” House replied.
“Yeah. Sure. I’m tired and I’m going home. You should probably do the same.”
House looked to the man, who gestured for him to continue. It was imperative to the gunman that the woman on the other end had no idea of the nature of his visit.
“I really think you should come up here now,” House said. Maybe, he thought, if he sounded sincere that would be strange enough to put her on her guard. When she made to hang up, he stepped away from the phone and shrugged at the gunman, whose face went stormy.
“Dr. Cuddy,” he began.
“Who is this?”
Wilson closed his eyes as the man revealed himself and his intent, giving Cuddy five minutes to get up to the Diagnostics department. Any ‘funny business’, he said, would result in the morgue having a few extra charges for the night.
She joined them, a hard look in her eye, within the designated five minutes. She stopped at the door when she saw who it was.
“Oh God, Brian,” was all she said.
“Get in here,” he snarled at her, all his anger seeming to unleash at the sight of her.
“Renegade boyfriends again, Cuddy?” House snarked. She ignored him.
“You bitch,” Brian said quietly. His eyes went red and it seemed that she had opened floodgates. “You murdered my wife.”
“Jealous lovers tiff, perhaps?” House changed his guess, but no one was listening. “Though I did think murder was beyond you.”
“The decision was not mine alone, Brian, and it was for the best.”
“My wife’s murder was for the best?” Brian roared.
“She was brain damaged, she never would have been the same. That heart went to someone else who could use…”
Brian cut her off. The tears were running openly down his face.
“I don’t want you to die, Cuddy,” he said, trying to drag his raging emotions into line.
“Good,” she muttered.
“I want you to suffer as I have.”
He turned, and before anyone could do anything, a shot rang out. A surprised gasp ensued from Cameron’s mouth as she fell to the floor, clutching at her shoulder. An angry red patch immediately became apparent on her coat and Wilson, who was closest, knelt down and attempted to staunch the flow. Cameron’s teeth were gritted hard as the pain slammed into her, again and again. The agony was not aided by Wilson’s damned pressure, but she knew it had to be done. The man seemed shocked at what he had done, but rose to the situation and pointed it at Chase.
“On your knees, now!”
House shook his head violently at Chase, as Brian’s back was facing him. Chase caught the movement but did not acknowledge it, so Brian would not suspect anything.
“No,” he said, trying to remain calm. Brian stepped closer, and this one movement was all House needed. He had been inching closer and closer as the interchange was going on and now he was just close enough to….
There was an almighty crack as House put all his force behind his cane and slammed it into the offenders head. The gunman dropped like a rock, and Chase kicked the gun into the corner of the room. Cuddy scrambled for the phone and punched a hasty ‘911’ into the keypad.
“Police!” she barked into the phone.
House chanced a glace to where Cameron lay, trying to lifet her head of the ground, batting away the attentions of Wilson and Chase.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, but her mouth betrayed her as the sounds did not come out properly. Her head spun as she sat up, and the dizziness, combined with the shock of being shot and the blood loss she had suffered, caused her to black out, and she slumped back, finally compliant, onto the predicted bloodstained carpet.
Chapter 1: Agendas
The rain hammered down, washing the city in a coat of moisture . People hurried down streets, coats pulled tight around their bodies, hats down, casting shadows over their eyes and protecting their faces from the worst of the rain. They moved meticulously, like they needed to be somewhere, like they had some higher purpose to attend to. Which, of course, they did not. The likes of putting dinner on the table for your husband, or helping your son with his homework, or fixing your daughters bike was not really the stuff of legends. Still, the people scurried, oblivious to all but their own agendas and the rain that seemed to be angry, pursuing them relentlessly into their shelters.
There were two, however, who could add even the pelting rain to their list of indifferences. They sat at opposite ends of a glass table, flipping through charts and jotting things down. One of the two let his pen drop on the paper, and sighed heavily, looking up. His eyes were borderline bloodshot, and his blonde hair messed up where he had run his hand through it repeatedly. It had been a tough few days, their foe in the form of an illness evading them until it took the life of their patient. He opened his mouth, and addressed his colleague.
“Coffee?” He smiled quietly to himself, his eloquence always succeeded in amazing him.
Cameron looked up, also putting her pen down. “Yeah, why not?”
Chase nodded and turned to the sink.
“If he’s got any say in it,” Cameron continued, and gestured to the adjoining office, “we’ll be here all night.”
Chase followed her gaze to where House and Wilson sat, drinking what was certainly not coffee, and watching the small television.
“Apparently their apartment is getting fumigated,” Chase said, smile on his face as he turned back to the sink and switched on the kettle.
A knock on the glass door sent the two heads turning to place the origin of the noise. Chase frowned, wondering how the man had gotten access to the floor at this time of night, when the clinic was closed and none but the closest relatives of patients were allowed to stay. Then he spotted the pizzas in the man’s hand, and raised an eyebrow, suspecting the culprit. Chase moved to the door and opened it.
The rain-soaked man pulled the pizzas out of the thermo-bag, and said in a dull, tired voice;
“One large half-vegetarian, half-seafood, one large half-meatlovers, half-supreme.”
The delivery man rattled off a price, and Chase turned to House, who met his eyes through the glass, and shrugged, a look of feigned innocence on his face. Chase sighed, and flipped out his wallet, handing the man some notes and waving off the change. The fellow looked a bit strained, no doubt, Chase thought, he’d been picked apart by security. He took the pizzas back into the room and put them down on the table in front of Cameron, who shook her head in mock exasperation, having followed the look that passed between House and his employee. The aroma was appetizing, especially after hours without food, and she opened the box with relish. House pushed open the glass door connecting the two rooms and went over to the table, picking up the half-meatlovers, half-supreme pizza. Chase scowled at the offender, but was met with only a grin. House chucked the pizza onto his friend’s lap when he reached the office.
Wilson wrinkled his nose, his gourmet side offended.
“I can’t believe we’re eating this crap,” he complained.
“Oh come on!” House urged. “Its better than fish and chips, now, isn’t it?”
Wilson shrugged. In truth he didn’t really mind pizza, but felt it was someone’s place to whinge about something.
“I’ll bet Foreman wishes he hadn’t gone home sick now,” Chase said sarcastically, and Cameron grinned.
“Oh yes,” she said. “He’d sure love this, coffee, pizza and paperwork.”
Three quarters of an hour later, Cameron threw down her pen with an air of triumph.
“Done,” she informed her colleague, who scowled, and scribbled all the faster. A short time later, Chase had also finished. Cameron offered to take the appropriate information down to the morgue. Chase nodded, and she left the room, leaving him to file the rest of it. He finished, and sat on the chair, waiting for Cameron to return.
Chase’s head snapped up, however, when her voice reached his ears. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but did not need to when he saw her. A man accompanied her, gripping her forearm, pulling her along roughly. Chase stood up and hastened to the pair.
“What’s going on?” he asked, but stopped abruptly as he glimpsed the steel that the man was clutching and pushing into Cameron’s back.
“Woah,” he said, instinctively attempting to placate the man with the gun.
“Get in there,” the man said gruffly. He was tall, but only a little taller than Chase. His hair was jet black and unkempt. The man had dark circles around his eyes, and his movements were lethargic, he seemingly had not had much in the way of sleep.
Chase backed into the office, meeting Cameron’s eyes, and being surprised to find them devoid of fear. He frowned, and his eyes flew to House, who had stood up, stormy-faced, and was coming towards them. The man pushed Cameron away from him, and she kept her balance but moved as far as she could away from the man, coming to stand next to Chase. His eyes questioned her but she shook her head.
“Bit of a stormy night, isn’t it?” House asked, but there was no joviality in his tone. His eyes remained fixed on the man’s face, and he could see the gun out of the corner of his eye. Wilson was instantly alarmed, as you generally are when there is a gun pointed at the faces of people you know. He kept his mouth shut, however, not having any idea as to what to say to placate this man. Wilson was on edge for that very reason, regarding House, who was likely to say something inflammatory and get them all killed.
“Yeah,” the man replied coldly. “Real stormy.”
“Might I ask as to your business?” House asked blandly.
Both Wilson and Chase flinched at the sarcasm present in his voice, but the gunman seemed not to notice.
“Yeah, you might,” the man said.
House raised his eyebrows in question, gesturing for the man to continue.
“I got nothing against you people, okay?” the man began.
“Sure looks that way,” House retorted.
“House…” Wilson muttered. His friend ignored him.
The gunman ignored the remark, and Cameron studied him. If she was as angry as he obviously was, she would be incensed by the smart-assed comments, but this man seemed to let them slide off him. He was telling the truth, they were just a means to an end. The man continued in his narrative.
“I hid out in the bathroom on this floor because it was the least crowded one.”
The four assembled let him talk, it went through all of their minds that the longer he did so, the more chance they had of walking away unscathed.
“I saw the light on, I was about to come in and this one walked by. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.” He was babbling, Cameron thought. The man clearly wasn’t thinking straight. She studied him, taking in his disheveled appearance. Patients family, perhaps? Why hold a gun to a bunch of doctors’ heads?
“I want Dr. Cuddy. I want to speak to her.”
“She’s not here,” House said. Wilson’s eye flickered momentarily, knowing that what House said was a lie. He’d seen her in her office not half an hour before, even if she were gone, House was not to know that.
The man smiled. “I don’t believe you.”
House turned to Wilson. “Put that on the record, okay?” He turned back to the man. “What you believe is irrelevant.”
“Not to me.”
House narrowed his eyes slightly. “Indeed. But the person you are looking for is not here. Perhaps you should try to make contact tomorrow? I could even make you an appointment. I’ll leave a message on her machine, if you would like.”
Cameron winced as a flash of anger finally made it’s way to the man’s face.
“I know she is here, I know you’re lying! Call her, now!” He shouted the last two words, but House did not seem to notice. He shrugged.
“I can call. Can’t guarantee she’ll come flying down to the hospital in her nightgown and frantically pick up the phone though…”
The man had had enough. He lifted his gun, pointing it at Cameron’s head. She glared at him, seemingly unfazed. House watched her, committing her indifference to memory.
The man looked at House. “Now I’m sure a man of your obvious…. class,” he began, with an exquisitely timed pause, “would not want blood all over his carpet.”
“Blood is a real bitch to get out,” House agreed, but all heard the obvious strain in his voice. Possibilities were flying through his mind. To call Cuddy up here would be to put her in danger. This guy was obviously after her. But to not call her… well the alternative was unthinkable. He glared at the man, before reaching down to the telephone and dialing.
Wilson sighed in relief, the chronic danger of getting another person in here was better than the immediate danger of Cameron getting her brains blown out.
“No funny business,” the man warned House. “First sign you’re warning her and I’ll have this little bitch on the floor with not enough time to even scream.”
House wrinkled his nose.
“How distasteful. I thought a man of your obvious class would think of something better than that to say.”
“House?”
“Again, your psychic powers amaze me.”
The man frowned and pushed the speakerphone button.
“It’s called caller ID. What do you want?”
“I want you to come up here.”
“Oh? Well I want to go to France. Goodnight.”
“There is someone up here to see you,” House replied.
“Yeah. Sure. I’m tired and I’m going home. You should probably do the same.”
House looked to the man, who gestured for him to continue. It was imperative to the gunman that the woman on the other end had no idea of the nature of his visit.
“I really think you should come up here now,” House said. Maybe, he thought, if he sounded sincere that would be strange enough to put her on her guard. When she made to hang up, he stepped away from the phone and shrugged at the gunman, whose face went stormy.
“Dr. Cuddy,” he began.
“Who is this?”
Wilson closed his eyes as the man revealed himself and his intent, giving Cuddy five minutes to get up to the Diagnostics department. Any ‘funny business’, he said, would result in the morgue having a few extra charges for the night.
She joined them, a hard look in her eye, within the designated five minutes. She stopped at the door when she saw who it was.
“Oh God, Brian,” was all she said.
“Get in here,” he snarled at her, all his anger seeming to unleash at the sight of her.
“Renegade boyfriends again, Cuddy?” House snarked. She ignored him.
“You bitch,” Brian said quietly. His eyes went red and it seemed that she had opened floodgates. “You murdered my wife.”
“Jealous lovers tiff, perhaps?” House changed his guess, but no one was listening. “Though I did think murder was beyond you.”
“The decision was not mine alone, Brian, and it was for the best.”
“My wife’s murder was for the best?” Brian roared.
“She was brain damaged, she never would have been the same. That heart went to someone else who could use…”
Brian cut her off. The tears were running openly down his face.
“I don’t want you to die, Cuddy,” he said, trying to drag his raging emotions into line.
“Good,” she muttered.
“I want you to suffer as I have.”
He turned, and before anyone could do anything, a shot rang out. A surprised gasp ensued from Cameron’s mouth as she fell to the floor, clutching at her shoulder. An angry red patch immediately became apparent on her coat and Wilson, who was closest, knelt down and attempted to staunch the flow. Cameron’s teeth were gritted hard as the pain slammed into her, again and again. The agony was not aided by Wilson’s damned pressure, but she knew it had to be done. The man seemed shocked at what he had done, but rose to the situation and pointed it at Chase.
“On your knees, now!”
House shook his head violently at Chase, as Brian’s back was facing him. Chase caught the movement but did not acknowledge it, so Brian would not suspect anything.
“No,” he said, trying to remain calm. Brian stepped closer, and this one movement was all House needed. He had been inching closer and closer as the interchange was going on and now he was just close enough to….
There was an almighty crack as House put all his force behind his cane and slammed it into the offenders head. The gunman dropped like a rock, and Chase kicked the gun into the corner of the room. Cuddy scrambled for the phone and punched a hasty ‘911’ into the keypad.
“Police!” she barked into the phone.
House chanced a glace to where Cameron lay, trying to lifet her head of the ground, batting away the attentions of Wilson and Chase.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, but her mouth betrayed her as the sounds did not come out properly. Her head spun as she sat up, and the dizziness, combined with the shock of being shot and the blood loss she had suffered, caused her to black out, and she slumped back, finally compliant, onto the predicted bloodstained carpet.