(no subject)
Author: athousandsmiles
Title: Pearl's House 6/10
Rating: Now rated M to be safe
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
House and Cameron remained baffled about the whole situation, though life at PPTH returned to normal, at least on the surface. Whenever asked, Cameron answered only the barest of questions about what happened, choosing to hold the good memories dear because they felt sacred to her. And the bad parts were just too surreal to explain. House ignored all questions about it altogether, as if he could pretend it had never happen by ignoring it. Cameron carried on with work as if nothing had changed even though everything had changed.
House had been much more subdued in the weeks that followed. He took charge of differentials as usual and immersed himself in each new case, but his usual spark was missing, along with his quick humor. She was afraid he'd left them behind in the creepy old house and there'd be no way to retrieve them, and that, in turn, added to her sense of loss as well. She missed him, especially at night when every creak of floorboard and every shadow made her heart seize up with fear as if the ghosts had followed her home. It was irrational, she knew, but nothing about that night in Pearl's house was rational.
She began to wonder if each new patient was real or just another figment of her imagination, and it was as if she was waiting for someone to tell her she'd officially gone insane. And in the back of her mind, those two days with House were stuck on constant replay.
As the weeks went by, she could see by the haggard look of House that he was sleeping about as well as she was, which was not well at all. She knew he must be questioning everything, just as she was, and that it was likely driving him just as crazy as it was her. Though they never spoke of their experience even with each other, the bond between them was still there in his eyes. At times she'd catch him staring, and find herself unable to look away, remembering his touch, the way he made her feel safe, the comfort he offered her over those two days. But then he'd turn away and it was back to business as usual.
And then one day, when he was in a particularly foul mood, he snapped at them, smacking his cane into the bookshelves and demanding test results for their patient.
"They're not ready yet," Chase replied, stepping out of the line of House's cane.
"Well put a rush on them," House retorted. "I'm tired of waiting."
A cold shiver went right down her spine at those words. He gave off an almost imperceptible shudder as his gaze locked with hers, the shared memory hovering in the air between them, and then he shut himself in his office and she didn't see him for the rest of the day.
She left work, intending to go straight home and nuke leftover pasta in the microwave, but instead she turned her car in the other direction. Heading south towards a tide-battered old dock just off the highway, she drove as if on autopilot, heeding the siren call of a place she found both fascinating and frightening. When she arrived, House's car was there, just as it had been a few weeks before. She parked beside it and got out, finding him at the edge of the little pier, staring out across the water at Pearl's house. As before, he looked to her like a salty sailor from a time gone by, as weathered as the old house with the wind off the ocean blowing his pea coat open so that it flapped behind him, and the lines on his face telling stories of the sea.
He didn't say anything and neither did she as they stood side by side against the stiff ocean wind. Gulls swooped and cawed, and the waves displayed lacy white caps as they rolled toward shore. The little motorboat, still tied right where they'd found it, bobbed in the water like a child's bath toy. Across the inlet, the house seemed to have grown, jutting out from the brown earth like a living thing. It seemed to expand and contract as if taking a deep breath and the windows looked like eyes, keeping watch over those who kept watch over it. Trembling, Cameron reached out and took House's hand and he squeezed hers in return.
"How many times have you come back here?" she asked, keeping hold of his hand.
"Don't know. A few," he said, looking down at her for a moment before turning back to stare at the house. "You?"
"A few," she said. And it was true; she'd made several trips, strangely drawn to that spot as if she'd find answers there. She wasn't surprised he'd returned as well, only wished that they could've gone together. "What do you think it is?"
"I don't know," he answered, but she could tell his mind was busy trying to work it out.
They stood that way for what seemed like hours, not speaking, just holding hands and watching the old house. Even from that distance, the house terrified Cameron. But what scared her even more was the possibility... the sudden realization of what was going through House's mind.
"Please tell me you're not going back there," she said, though she already knew that he wanted to, and he would.
He just turned and looked down at her, silent, but in his eyes was the answer she didn't want, a stormy sea of blue waiting for the calm. He had to know, had to solve the mystery, even if it meant going back into that place, and she inwardly cursed his stubborn persistence.
"House, please don't," she pleaded. "I know you need answers, but... please don't go back there."
The only answer she got was the sound of the waves rolling in and slapping the rocky beach and the hull of the little motorboat.
"How about if I promise I won't go alone," he finally said, and she knew that was the best she could hope for at that point, though she wanted to cling to him again, if for no other reason then to keep him from returning to that terrible house.
They stood a few minutes longer and then he turned to her again and asked, "You hungry?" and she nodded, though she wasn't sure she could actually eat after learning of House's plans.
"Good. Follow me. I know a place."
He led her to a diner in Silver Pine Beach, not far from the hotel where they'd spent the night after being rescued from the island. The place was a quaint fifties style eatery, with red vinyl booths and little juke boxes on each table. House moved past many of the empty booths, and straight to one occupied by an elderly couple sitting together on one side.
Henry Matthews stood and shook House's hand, greeting him with a hearty, "Doctor House, good to see you again. And you brought Miss Cameron, I see. Good to see you again too, young lady. This is my wife, Estelle."
Estelle was petite beside Henry, with silvery hair cut close to her scalp, piercing green eyes and a wide, friendly smile. She nodded, making the little ball earrings she wore bounce merrily beside her cheeks, and said, "It's nice to meet you."
Cameron was so stunned, she couldn't even offer up a greeting at first. House nudged her into the booth and then slid in beside her, plucking a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and passing it to her.
"I'm sorry," she finally managed, bending the laminated menu nearly in half and then setting it down on the table before she crushed it completely. "It's nice to meet you, Estelle. Henry spoke so highly of you."
Estelle blushed sweetly, and lightly hit Henry on the arm with the back of her hand. "Oh I bet he did," she retorted with a wink. "Probably said all I do is nag him."
The waitress came over and they ordered drinks, though Cameron could hardly think because of all the questions buzzing around her brain. It was clear that House had been in touch with Henry; she just had no idea how many times, or why.
As if he could read her mind, he turned to her and said, "Henry's a retired history professor from Chandler University. And Estelle is a librarian here in town."
"That's right," Henry interjected, with obvious pride in his wife. "Though she was the head librarian at the university. That's where we met."
"That's nice," was all Cameron could get out. Looking down at her hands, she realized she was weaving a napkin through her fingers like a snake, and she had to wonder what it was about being in close proximity to Pearl's house, or anyone who reminded her of it, that turned her into a neurotic mess.
The waitress came back to take their order and she vaguely recalled pointing at something on the menu before stuffing it back behind the napkin dispenser. Beneath the table, her legs were bouncing with nervous energy that seemed to spread from her toes up to her stomach; she was sure she wouldn't be able to eat a thing no matter what she ordered. House placed his hand on her knee as if to settle her, and she placed her own on top of his just to feel contact with him, to keep him there beside her.
"Well, Estelle and I did a little research on your house," Henry said. "There's not much to tell you. Most records from the time it was built are gone. But, far as I can tell, it was built by Abel Cottin in the mid 1840's and stayed in the family name, until the town claimed it."
"The historical society once talked of renovating the place and making it into a museum," Estelle added, "but the old house seems to have a way of... repelling people."
Henry chuckled at that and said, "That's true. I went over there once to explore and I couldn't make myself go in. They say it's haunted. I didn't put much stock in talk like that before, but when I got close enough to it... " he trailed off with a visible shudder. "I don't know of anyone who's ever lasted more than a few minutes in the place."
Cameron felt as if the blood had drained from her body, and clutched House's hand more tightly. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he took a gulp of soda and set the glass back down with a thunk.
"Why so interested in the place?" Henry asked, and House's gaze darted away and then back again as he shrugged and answered, "I'm a curious man."
"Was there any record of Abel's wife?" Cameron asked, "Or of any children."
"The wife's name was Struana," Estelle answered. "I remember, because it's such an unusual name. And I believe they had two children, sons, but one died in infancy and the other left home as soon as he was of age. We've no record of any other descendants."
"No one named Pearl?" Cameron persisted, the feeling of House's gaze warming her cheeks.
"No, not that I recall. Why do you ask?"
"I... thought I heard that name when we were on the island," Cameron answered with a nonchalant shrug, though the questions in her head multiplied like bunnies.
When their food came, she picked at hers and made small talk, learning bits and pieces about Henry and Estelle and telling them bits about herself, while House ate quietly beside her.
Outside the diner, they said their goodbyes to Estelle and Henry. Cameron stood leaning against her car, arms crossed over her chest as she watched House watching them drive away. "Why didn't you tell me you were in touch with Henry? That you were trying to find out about Pearl's house?"
"Don't know," he said, looking down into her face. He reached up and brushed back a strand of hair from her cheek, though the evening breeze blew it right back again. His fingers lingered on her skin as he considered his words. "You were scared in that house. I guess I didn't want you to be afraid anymore."
Those words, and the tenderness with which he said them, made her tingle from head to toe. She moved into him, wrapping her arms around him, the nubby wool of his coat rough against her skin. "I wish it could always be like this," she said, as he pulled her tighter into his embrace.
"But it can't," he murmured to the top of her head. "You know it can't."
"Why not?" she demanded, raising her hands up to his face to cup his whiskered cheeks, holding him there so he couldn't look away.
"Because... it just can't."
"I won't accept that answer," she said, barely refraining from shaking him. "You care about me; I know you do."
"I can't be the man you need me to be," he answered, and the sadness in his eyes brought tears to her own.
"You already are, House. I never wanted you to be anything else."
"It's not going to work, Cameron. I'm sorry." He disentangled from her, and got into his car, waiting for her to get into hers and then following her out of town, back to Princeton.
continue
Title: Pearl's House 6/10
Rating: Now rated M to be safe
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
House and Cameron remained baffled about the whole situation, though life at PPTH returned to normal, at least on the surface. Whenever asked, Cameron answered only the barest of questions about what happened, choosing to hold the good memories dear because they felt sacred to her. And the bad parts were just too surreal to explain. House ignored all questions about it altogether, as if he could pretend it had never happen by ignoring it. Cameron carried on with work as if nothing had changed even though everything had changed.
House had been much more subdued in the weeks that followed. He took charge of differentials as usual and immersed himself in each new case, but his usual spark was missing, along with his quick humor. She was afraid he'd left them behind in the creepy old house and there'd be no way to retrieve them, and that, in turn, added to her sense of loss as well. She missed him, especially at night when every creak of floorboard and every shadow made her heart seize up with fear as if the ghosts had followed her home. It was irrational, she knew, but nothing about that night in Pearl's house was rational.
She began to wonder if each new patient was real or just another figment of her imagination, and it was as if she was waiting for someone to tell her she'd officially gone insane. And in the back of her mind, those two days with House were stuck on constant replay.
As the weeks went by, she could see by the haggard look of House that he was sleeping about as well as she was, which was not well at all. She knew he must be questioning everything, just as she was, and that it was likely driving him just as crazy as it was her. Though they never spoke of their experience even with each other, the bond between them was still there in his eyes. At times she'd catch him staring, and find herself unable to look away, remembering his touch, the way he made her feel safe, the comfort he offered her over those two days. But then he'd turn away and it was back to business as usual.
And then one day, when he was in a particularly foul mood, he snapped at them, smacking his cane into the bookshelves and demanding test results for their patient.
"They're not ready yet," Chase replied, stepping out of the line of House's cane.
"Well put a rush on them," House retorted. "I'm tired of waiting."
A cold shiver went right down her spine at those words. He gave off an almost imperceptible shudder as his gaze locked with hers, the shared memory hovering in the air between them, and then he shut himself in his office and she didn't see him for the rest of the day.
She left work, intending to go straight home and nuke leftover pasta in the microwave, but instead she turned her car in the other direction. Heading south towards a tide-battered old dock just off the highway, she drove as if on autopilot, heeding the siren call of a place she found both fascinating and frightening. When she arrived, House's car was there, just as it had been a few weeks before. She parked beside it and got out, finding him at the edge of the little pier, staring out across the water at Pearl's house. As before, he looked to her like a salty sailor from a time gone by, as weathered as the old house with the wind off the ocean blowing his pea coat open so that it flapped behind him, and the lines on his face telling stories of the sea.
He didn't say anything and neither did she as they stood side by side against the stiff ocean wind. Gulls swooped and cawed, and the waves displayed lacy white caps as they rolled toward shore. The little motorboat, still tied right where they'd found it, bobbed in the water like a child's bath toy. Across the inlet, the house seemed to have grown, jutting out from the brown earth like a living thing. It seemed to expand and contract as if taking a deep breath and the windows looked like eyes, keeping watch over those who kept watch over it. Trembling, Cameron reached out and took House's hand and he squeezed hers in return.
"How many times have you come back here?" she asked, keeping hold of his hand.
"Don't know. A few," he said, looking down at her for a moment before turning back to stare at the house. "You?"
"A few," she said. And it was true; she'd made several trips, strangely drawn to that spot as if she'd find answers there. She wasn't surprised he'd returned as well, only wished that they could've gone together. "What do you think it is?"
"I don't know," he answered, but she could tell his mind was busy trying to work it out.
They stood that way for what seemed like hours, not speaking, just holding hands and watching the old house. Even from that distance, the house terrified Cameron. But what scared her even more was the possibility... the sudden realization of what was going through House's mind.
"Please tell me you're not going back there," she said, though she already knew that he wanted to, and he would.
He just turned and looked down at her, silent, but in his eyes was the answer she didn't want, a stormy sea of blue waiting for the calm. He had to know, had to solve the mystery, even if it meant going back into that place, and she inwardly cursed his stubborn persistence.
"House, please don't," she pleaded. "I know you need answers, but... please don't go back there."
The only answer she got was the sound of the waves rolling in and slapping the rocky beach and the hull of the little motorboat.
"How about if I promise I won't go alone," he finally said, and she knew that was the best she could hope for at that point, though she wanted to cling to him again, if for no other reason then to keep him from returning to that terrible house.
They stood a few minutes longer and then he turned to her again and asked, "You hungry?" and she nodded, though she wasn't sure she could actually eat after learning of House's plans.
"Good. Follow me. I know a place."
He led her to a diner in Silver Pine Beach, not far from the hotel where they'd spent the night after being rescued from the island. The place was a quaint fifties style eatery, with red vinyl booths and little juke boxes on each table. House moved past many of the empty booths, and straight to one occupied by an elderly couple sitting together on one side.
Henry Matthews stood and shook House's hand, greeting him with a hearty, "Doctor House, good to see you again. And you brought Miss Cameron, I see. Good to see you again too, young lady. This is my wife, Estelle."
Estelle was petite beside Henry, with silvery hair cut close to her scalp, piercing green eyes and a wide, friendly smile. She nodded, making the little ball earrings she wore bounce merrily beside her cheeks, and said, "It's nice to meet you."
Cameron was so stunned, she couldn't even offer up a greeting at first. House nudged her into the booth and then slid in beside her, plucking a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and passing it to her.
"I'm sorry," she finally managed, bending the laminated menu nearly in half and then setting it down on the table before she crushed it completely. "It's nice to meet you, Estelle. Henry spoke so highly of you."
Estelle blushed sweetly, and lightly hit Henry on the arm with the back of her hand. "Oh I bet he did," she retorted with a wink. "Probably said all I do is nag him."
The waitress came over and they ordered drinks, though Cameron could hardly think because of all the questions buzzing around her brain. It was clear that House had been in touch with Henry; she just had no idea how many times, or why.
As if he could read her mind, he turned to her and said, "Henry's a retired history professor from Chandler University. And Estelle is a librarian here in town."
"That's right," Henry interjected, with obvious pride in his wife. "Though she was the head librarian at the university. That's where we met."
"That's nice," was all Cameron could get out. Looking down at her hands, she realized she was weaving a napkin through her fingers like a snake, and she had to wonder what it was about being in close proximity to Pearl's house, or anyone who reminded her of it, that turned her into a neurotic mess.
The waitress came back to take their order and she vaguely recalled pointing at something on the menu before stuffing it back behind the napkin dispenser. Beneath the table, her legs were bouncing with nervous energy that seemed to spread from her toes up to her stomach; she was sure she wouldn't be able to eat a thing no matter what she ordered. House placed his hand on her knee as if to settle her, and she placed her own on top of his just to feel contact with him, to keep him there beside her.
"Well, Estelle and I did a little research on your house," Henry said. "There's not much to tell you. Most records from the time it was built are gone. But, far as I can tell, it was built by Abel Cottin in the mid 1840's and stayed in the family name, until the town claimed it."
"The historical society once talked of renovating the place and making it into a museum," Estelle added, "but the old house seems to have a way of... repelling people."
Henry chuckled at that and said, "That's true. I went over there once to explore and I couldn't make myself go in. They say it's haunted. I didn't put much stock in talk like that before, but when I got close enough to it... " he trailed off with a visible shudder. "I don't know of anyone who's ever lasted more than a few minutes in the place."
Cameron felt as if the blood had drained from her body, and clutched House's hand more tightly. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he took a gulp of soda and set the glass back down with a thunk.
"Why so interested in the place?" Henry asked, and House's gaze darted away and then back again as he shrugged and answered, "I'm a curious man."
"Was there any record of Abel's wife?" Cameron asked, "Or of any children."
"The wife's name was Struana," Estelle answered. "I remember, because it's such an unusual name. And I believe they had two children, sons, but one died in infancy and the other left home as soon as he was of age. We've no record of any other descendants."
"No one named Pearl?" Cameron persisted, the feeling of House's gaze warming her cheeks.
"No, not that I recall. Why do you ask?"
"I... thought I heard that name when we were on the island," Cameron answered with a nonchalant shrug, though the questions in her head multiplied like bunnies.
When their food came, she picked at hers and made small talk, learning bits and pieces about Henry and Estelle and telling them bits about herself, while House ate quietly beside her.
Outside the diner, they said their goodbyes to Estelle and Henry. Cameron stood leaning against her car, arms crossed over her chest as she watched House watching them drive away. "Why didn't you tell me you were in touch with Henry? That you were trying to find out about Pearl's house?"
"Don't know," he said, looking down into her face. He reached up and brushed back a strand of hair from her cheek, though the evening breeze blew it right back again. His fingers lingered on her skin as he considered his words. "You were scared in that house. I guess I didn't want you to be afraid anymore."
Those words, and the tenderness with which he said them, made her tingle from head to toe. She moved into him, wrapping her arms around him, the nubby wool of his coat rough against her skin. "I wish it could always be like this," she said, as he pulled her tighter into his embrace.
"But it can't," he murmured to the top of her head. "You know it can't."
"Why not?" she demanded, raising her hands up to his face to cup his whiskered cheeks, holding him there so he couldn't look away.
"Because... it just can't."
"I won't accept that answer," she said, barely refraining from shaking him. "You care about me; I know you do."
"I can't be the man you need me to be," he answered, and the sadness in his eyes brought tears to her own.
"You already are, House. I never wanted you to be anything else."
"It's not going to work, Cameron. I'm sorry." He disentangled from her, and got into his car, waiting for her to get into hers and then following her out of town, back to Princeton.
continue