(no subject)
Author: athousandsmiles
Title: Pearl's House 3/10
Rating: PG-13
Genre: angst, romance, au, supernatural
Summary: Cameron tried to shake off the feeling of being watched and made quick work of searching the place for anything unusual. Problem was, everything there was unusual.
A/N: Written for the weekly challenge at hughvillefics for the prompt New Year's Eve. Unbeta'd
previous chapter
They walked resolutely back to shore, but there was still no cell phone service and still no boat. Undeterred, they followed the shoreline, hoping to find some sign of life. Hours passed, and the murky skies told of a coming storm. Cameron didn't care; she'd brave a blizzard before going back in that house. They circled it, keeping their distance and yet it felt as if it was following them. Cameron still couldn't shake the oppressive feeling of the place.
They were hungry and thirsty and cold and each had to take a turn answering the call of nature right there in the middle of... well, nature, and things were beginning to feel a bit hopeless when they saw a small fishing trawler just off shore. Shouting and waving, they managed to get the attention of the man on board, who dropped anchor and rowed a lifeboat ashore to fetch them.
Tall and slim, he looked to be peeking ahead to his 70's, with a silvery beard that was neatly trimmed and set off his dark skin, and he carried the aura of a man familiar with the sea. In his eyes was a sparkle of humor and kindness and wisdom. Cameron had never been so happy to see another human being in her life, and barely refrained from hugging him.
"What on earth are you folks doing way out here?" he asked.
"We were just... exploring," House said, giving Cameron a look, "and our boat got away from us."
They climbed in and the man shoved off from shore and began rowing them back to his boat. "Well it's a good thing I came out then. No one but me much comes out this way. And there's a storm brewin'. My wife Estelle was nagging at me to stay in, but.. " he trailed off and chuckled. "Well, I can't help myself. Got a little Captain Ahab in my blood. Name's Henry Matthews, by the way."
"I'm Allison Cameron," Cameron said, with an attempt at a smile, as she kept her eyes on the house in the distance and it watched back.
"House," House said, rubbing at his scruff as if it itched him. "You do know Captain Ahab is a fictional character, right?"
Henry laughed, a hearty chuckle that came from deep within, and said, "I do indeed, sir. I do, indeed. My point was, I don't like to miss a day of being out on the water, trying to catch me a big fish."
"Ah," House replied simply. "That makes more sense."
Cameron gave him a withering glare, and they spent the rest of the trip in silence.
Moments later they climbed aboard Henry's fishing boat and he secured the life raft. "Welcome to the Jolly Jane," he said. "She ain't pretty, but she's solid. I'll have you back on dry land in no time."
The hull was bright blue, with two red stripes; a small wooden pilothouse protruded from the deck and the whole thing smelled of fish. Latched to the side of the pilothouse was an old bike with a wire basket on the front. It was a strange thing to have on a boat, and Cameron eyed it curiously for a moment.
Henry caught her staring as he moved to take the wheel and start the engine. "Gas got too expensive, and it was either the truck or the boat. I gave up the truck and took up bike riding. Keeps me in shape too," he said with a wink. "I ride it to the dock and back. Usually have to stop off at the Market to get something for Estelle. That woman's always wantin' something."
Though he complained about Estelle, there was an affection in his voice that Cameron found endearing. She had no doubt that he secretly enjoyed running errands for his wife. "I'm sure she appreciates it," she offered, adding a small smile when he laughed in response.
A gentle rain had begun to fall, and the water rose and fell in choppy waves. Cameron stood facing the island, concerned that Henry had forgotten to lift anchor because the house never grew any smaller. She was convinced that the upstairs bedroom windows had turned into a pair of malevolent eyes, challenging her from afar. House stood beside her looking at it too, but after a moment he turned his back to the island, reaching for her arm and turning her away as well. Neither said a word until they finally docked in the sleepy inlet of Silver Pine Beach, the lights of town blinking a welcome in the gray afternoon sky.
"I've got to batten down this thing before the storm hits. But the hotel is 'bout a mile or so down that way," Henry said, pointing west. "You folks have a good evening now."
"Are you sure we can't help?" Cameron offered, ignoring House's scowl of disapproval.
"Nah. You all go on and get inside before it gets ugly out here. I'll be fine."
"Could we offer you something for your help, at least. We'd still be stuck out there if you hadn't come by."
"No ma'am, it was my pleasure," he said, tipping his hat.
Cameron thanked him and then they left him to his work, walking in the direction of a bright yellow hotel sign as if it were the star of David leading them to the manger. Everything they passed, save the Market, was closed for the winter, like many Jersey shore tourist towns. They stopped in briefly to grab some snack food and water and then hurried on their way.
"How far away do you think your car is?" Cameron wondered as they walked.
"Hard to say," House replied simply. He opened the bottle of water he was carrying, swigged half of it and then passed it to her.
She took his brief answer as a sign that he didn't want to talk, and so she left him alone and drank down the rest of the water, only just realizing that she hadn't had anything to drink for more than a day.
He leaned more heavily than usual on his cane, and she worried about his pain and the effects of their adventure on his leg.
The storm unleashed its full fury just moments after they arrived at the hotel. A hard wind blew the rain sideways and threatened to snap off the sign that had led them there. Inside, the lobby was bustling for a shore town in the off season; they learned that several nearby towns were being evacuated due to the storm. The harried lady behind the desk gave them a key for the last available room and they were on their way, Cameron looking forward to a warm shower and a soft bed and shelter that was free from unwanted guests.
House was quiet and humorless, almost disturbingly so. In their room, he flopped on the bed and popped a Vicodin and then pulled out his cell phone to check for service. He looked beyond tired, as if he had aged twenty years in the past twenty-four hours. It felt to Cameron as if the foreboding spirit of the house had stayed with them, an uninvited guest.
Grabbing her duffle bag from the corner of the bed, House dug in and pulled out the bags from the Market, ripping them open and dumping out the contents. He pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants that had the words Silver PIne Beach running down one leg. Tossing them to her, he nodded toward the bathroom and said, "You go first. I'll call Wilson."
She was surprised to learn he'd bought clothes for her; she hadn't even thought of it herself and didn't remember him getting anything more than junk food, so intent she'd been on keeping an eye on the skies outside. Touched, she blinked and smiled her thanks, heading for a nice hot shower.
When she emerged, House looked worse than before, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.
"House, what's wrong?" she asked, easing down beside him.
"Leg hurts," he said, and she knew immediately that it was only part of the story. Before she could question him further, he grabbed his things and limped into the bathroom, closing the door between them.
While she waited, Cameron folded her clothes neatly and placed them in her bag. The storm outside intensified, rain slapping against the window and thunder crashing like giant cymbals in the sky. She lit the lamp beside the bed and checked her cell phone for messages.
Moments later House came out again, dressed in sweats like the ones he'd bought for her, and a t-shirt with a print of a giant pine cone on it. His hair was damp and sticking up all over, and though he looked completely beat, he also looked pretty damn fine and her heart fluttered in her chest with love for this complex man who both flustered and fascinated her.
"What did Wilson say?" she asked, patting the bed beside her.
"Said he can't drive out here in this," he muttered, waving toward the monsoon outside their window. "He'll try tomorrow."
"How's Pearl?"
His head snapped around to look at her and he narrowed his eyes. "What do you remember about Pearl?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I only saw her for like five seconds. You took her history. What do you remember?"
Shrugging, she said, "Pearl Cottin, eighty-seven years old, medium height with a slight build. She showed signs of weakness, trouble breathing, heart palpitations and ascending paralysis."
"She have any family?"
"No, I don't think so. She didn't list any next of kin or emergency contacts. Why? What's going on?"
Rubbing his face, he leaned back against the pillows and replied, "Wilson said we didn't have a patient named Pearl. That our last patient was the seventeen year old kid with Stendhal Syndrome."
"But... but that's impossible," Cameron cried. "I saw her. You saw her. We didn't just make her up. We ran tests on her and everything. What about Chase and Foreman? You left them in charge of her care. They must know."
"They told Wilson that you and I just walked out together and that they had no idea where we went."
"That's impossible," she repeated. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know. Maybe we're being punked."
She had no response to that. She had no response to anything. The whole thing was so strange and ridiculous. She'd admitted a sweet little old lady and took her history. She hadn't imagined any of it; she was as certain of that as she was that two plus two equalled four.
"We'll figure it out," House said, reaching over with his hand and pushing her jaw shut. "Right now let's just try and get some sleep."
He stood and yanked back the blankets, crawling beneath them and stretching out his arm in invitation. Curling up against him felt natural, she realized, as if they were long accustomed to sharing a bed. She snuggled into his side, her palm resting against his chest, comfortable and warm for the first time since they left his car at the old dock the day before. But still, sleep did not come for a very long time as her mind, and his, she was sure, tried to unravel the mystery of Pearl.
continue
Title: Pearl's House 3/10
Rating: PG-13
Genre: angst, romance, au, supernatural
Summary: Cameron tried to shake off the feeling of being watched and made quick work of searching the place for anything unusual. Problem was, everything there was unusual.
A/N: Written for the weekly challenge at hughvillefics for the prompt New Year's Eve. Unbeta'd
previous chapter
They walked resolutely back to shore, but there was still no cell phone service and still no boat. Undeterred, they followed the shoreline, hoping to find some sign of life. Hours passed, and the murky skies told of a coming storm. Cameron didn't care; she'd brave a blizzard before going back in that house. They circled it, keeping their distance and yet it felt as if it was following them. Cameron still couldn't shake the oppressive feeling of the place.
They were hungry and thirsty and cold and each had to take a turn answering the call of nature right there in the middle of... well, nature, and things were beginning to feel a bit hopeless when they saw a small fishing trawler just off shore. Shouting and waving, they managed to get the attention of the man on board, who dropped anchor and rowed a lifeboat ashore to fetch them.
Tall and slim, he looked to be peeking ahead to his 70's, with a silvery beard that was neatly trimmed and set off his dark skin, and he carried the aura of a man familiar with the sea. In his eyes was a sparkle of humor and kindness and wisdom. Cameron had never been so happy to see another human being in her life, and barely refrained from hugging him.
"What on earth are you folks doing way out here?" he asked.
"We were just... exploring," House said, giving Cameron a look, "and our boat got away from us."
They climbed in and the man shoved off from shore and began rowing them back to his boat. "Well it's a good thing I came out then. No one but me much comes out this way. And there's a storm brewin'. My wife Estelle was nagging at me to stay in, but.. " he trailed off and chuckled. "Well, I can't help myself. Got a little Captain Ahab in my blood. Name's Henry Matthews, by the way."
"I'm Allison Cameron," Cameron said, with an attempt at a smile, as she kept her eyes on the house in the distance and it watched back.
"House," House said, rubbing at his scruff as if it itched him. "You do know Captain Ahab is a fictional character, right?"
Henry laughed, a hearty chuckle that came from deep within, and said, "I do indeed, sir. I do, indeed. My point was, I don't like to miss a day of being out on the water, trying to catch me a big fish."
"Ah," House replied simply. "That makes more sense."
Cameron gave him a withering glare, and they spent the rest of the trip in silence.
Moments later they climbed aboard Henry's fishing boat and he secured the life raft. "Welcome to the Jolly Jane," he said. "She ain't pretty, but she's solid. I'll have you back on dry land in no time."
The hull was bright blue, with two red stripes; a small wooden pilothouse protruded from the deck and the whole thing smelled of fish. Latched to the side of the pilothouse was an old bike with a wire basket on the front. It was a strange thing to have on a boat, and Cameron eyed it curiously for a moment.
Henry caught her staring as he moved to take the wheel and start the engine. "Gas got too expensive, and it was either the truck or the boat. I gave up the truck and took up bike riding. Keeps me in shape too," he said with a wink. "I ride it to the dock and back. Usually have to stop off at the Market to get something for Estelle. That woman's always wantin' something."
Though he complained about Estelle, there was an affection in his voice that Cameron found endearing. She had no doubt that he secretly enjoyed running errands for his wife. "I'm sure she appreciates it," she offered, adding a small smile when he laughed in response.
A gentle rain had begun to fall, and the water rose and fell in choppy waves. Cameron stood facing the island, concerned that Henry had forgotten to lift anchor because the house never grew any smaller. She was convinced that the upstairs bedroom windows had turned into a pair of malevolent eyes, challenging her from afar. House stood beside her looking at it too, but after a moment he turned his back to the island, reaching for her arm and turning her away as well. Neither said a word until they finally docked in the sleepy inlet of Silver Pine Beach, the lights of town blinking a welcome in the gray afternoon sky.
"I've got to batten down this thing before the storm hits. But the hotel is 'bout a mile or so down that way," Henry said, pointing west. "You folks have a good evening now."
"Are you sure we can't help?" Cameron offered, ignoring House's scowl of disapproval.
"Nah. You all go on and get inside before it gets ugly out here. I'll be fine."
"Could we offer you something for your help, at least. We'd still be stuck out there if you hadn't come by."
"No ma'am, it was my pleasure," he said, tipping his hat.
Cameron thanked him and then they left him to his work, walking in the direction of a bright yellow hotel sign as if it were the star of David leading them to the manger. Everything they passed, save the Market, was closed for the winter, like many Jersey shore tourist towns. They stopped in briefly to grab some snack food and water and then hurried on their way.
"How far away do you think your car is?" Cameron wondered as they walked.
"Hard to say," House replied simply. He opened the bottle of water he was carrying, swigged half of it and then passed it to her.
She took his brief answer as a sign that he didn't want to talk, and so she left him alone and drank down the rest of the water, only just realizing that she hadn't had anything to drink for more than a day.
He leaned more heavily than usual on his cane, and she worried about his pain and the effects of their adventure on his leg.
The storm unleashed its full fury just moments after they arrived at the hotel. A hard wind blew the rain sideways and threatened to snap off the sign that had led them there. Inside, the lobby was bustling for a shore town in the off season; they learned that several nearby towns were being evacuated due to the storm. The harried lady behind the desk gave them a key for the last available room and they were on their way, Cameron looking forward to a warm shower and a soft bed and shelter that was free from unwanted guests.
House was quiet and humorless, almost disturbingly so. In their room, he flopped on the bed and popped a Vicodin and then pulled out his cell phone to check for service. He looked beyond tired, as if he had aged twenty years in the past twenty-four hours. It felt to Cameron as if the foreboding spirit of the house had stayed with them, an uninvited guest.
Grabbing her duffle bag from the corner of the bed, House dug in and pulled out the bags from the Market, ripping them open and dumping out the contents. He pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants that had the words Silver PIne Beach running down one leg. Tossing them to her, he nodded toward the bathroom and said, "You go first. I'll call Wilson."
She was surprised to learn he'd bought clothes for her; she hadn't even thought of it herself and didn't remember him getting anything more than junk food, so intent she'd been on keeping an eye on the skies outside. Touched, she blinked and smiled her thanks, heading for a nice hot shower.
When she emerged, House looked worse than before, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.
"House, what's wrong?" she asked, easing down beside him.
"Leg hurts," he said, and she knew immediately that it was only part of the story. Before she could question him further, he grabbed his things and limped into the bathroom, closing the door between them.
While she waited, Cameron folded her clothes neatly and placed them in her bag. The storm outside intensified, rain slapping against the window and thunder crashing like giant cymbals in the sky. She lit the lamp beside the bed and checked her cell phone for messages.
Moments later House came out again, dressed in sweats like the ones he'd bought for her, and a t-shirt with a print of a giant pine cone on it. His hair was damp and sticking up all over, and though he looked completely beat, he also looked pretty damn fine and her heart fluttered in her chest with love for this complex man who both flustered and fascinated her.
"What did Wilson say?" she asked, patting the bed beside her.
"Said he can't drive out here in this," he muttered, waving toward the monsoon outside their window. "He'll try tomorrow."
"How's Pearl?"
His head snapped around to look at her and he narrowed his eyes. "What do you remember about Pearl?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I only saw her for like five seconds. You took her history. What do you remember?"
Shrugging, she said, "Pearl Cottin, eighty-seven years old, medium height with a slight build. She showed signs of weakness, trouble breathing, heart palpitations and ascending paralysis."
"She have any family?"
"No, I don't think so. She didn't list any next of kin or emergency contacts. Why? What's going on?"
Rubbing his face, he leaned back against the pillows and replied, "Wilson said we didn't have a patient named Pearl. That our last patient was the seventeen year old kid with Stendhal Syndrome."
"But... but that's impossible," Cameron cried. "I saw her. You saw her. We didn't just make her up. We ran tests on her and everything. What about Chase and Foreman? You left them in charge of her care. They must know."
"They told Wilson that you and I just walked out together and that they had no idea where we went."
"That's impossible," she repeated. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know. Maybe we're being punked."
She had no response to that. She had no response to anything. The whole thing was so strange and ridiculous. She'd admitted a sweet little old lady and took her history. She hadn't imagined any of it; she was as certain of that as she was that two plus two equalled four.
"We'll figure it out," House said, reaching over with his hand and pushing her jaw shut. "Right now let's just try and get some sleep."
He stood and yanked back the blankets, crawling beneath them and stretching out his arm in invitation. Curling up against him felt natural, she realized, as if they were long accustomed to sharing a bed. She snuggled into his side, her palm resting against his chest, comfortable and warm for the first time since they left his car at the old dock the day before. But still, sleep did not come for a very long time as her mind, and his, she was sure, tried to unravel the mystery of Pearl.
continue