(no subject)
Title: Reality's Nightmare, Part 3/?
Author: Janelle (
blue_crystal_9)
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG 13, at least. Probably going to be a little higher in the next parts.
Summary: A man kidnaps Cameron in order to attract House's attention to his medical problems. Obviously, it works, and the team has only four days to solve the man's case or Cameron will be killed.
Spoilers: Paternity, Need to Know. Basically, I'd say anything from Season 1 and 2 is fair game.
Disclaimer: I don't own House, David Shore and FOX do. Please don't sue. There wouldn't be much point in doing it because I have no money. All I own is my cat, and you definitely wouldn't want her because she is the spawn of Satan.
Author's Notes: This part's two and a half pages longer than part 2...wow. Anywho, I'm probably going to have two, possibly three more parts. Then it's over. *sobs*
Beta: My beta was
kellyannie, who absolutely rocks. *hugs*
Feedback: Any feedback would be awesome.
Reality’s Nightmare: Part 3/?
The first thing that registered in Allison Cameron’s mind was pain. Deep, searing pain in the back of her head that seemed to continuously linger there, and sharp, needle-like pains circulating through her arms and legs. She quickly realized that her hands and feet were tied up, cutting off the circulation there. She continued to keep her eyes closed, not wanting to see the horror that awaited her. Desperately, she hoped that this was just some horrible nightmare and that she’d wake up safe and warm in her bed. But Cameron knew that this was not the case. The painful tingling in her arms and legs and the pounding of her head proved otherwise.
Finally, she jerked her eyes open, wincing as the pain in her head throbbed ten times harder. She slowly took in her surroundings. The room was mostly dark, just barely lit by the blue-grey early morning light coming from the windows; she guessed it was about five o’clock in the morning. The room was just light enough for her to tell that she was lying on the floor of a living room, in the far left-hand corner. A few feet away from her was a door that led to the kitchen. In the middle of the room was a coffee table, surrounded by two leather couches, and a chair which was across from her. There was a bookcase diagonally from her, and the whole room was covered with wood paneling.
Her eyes zoomed in on the front door, which was between the bookcase and one of the couches. Straining against the rope binding her hands, she struggled to get loose. After a few minutes of that, she gave up. Her wrists burned and stung from her efforts.
‘Where the hell am I?’ she wondered to herself. She tried once more to free herself from the ropes, but they were tied too tightly. She winced as she felt the bruises that were already starting to form on her wrists.
Suddenly, a lamp across from her flicked on. Cameron jumped in fright when she noticed that there was a man sitting in the chair across from her, staring at her. “Does your head hurt?” he asked, watching her reaction intently.
‘Oh God, not again,’ she thought. Her eyes widened in terror as a memory flashed through her mind.
A shower running...the shower curtain being roughly pulled across...rough hands burning flesh...a woman’s screams echoing loudly in her ears...
Hyperventilating, she desperately tried to bring air to her lungs, but nothing seemed to work. The gag certainly didn’t seem to help matters. Her eyes began to water, and her chest was hurting from the lack of oxygen to her lungs. Colors swam before her eyes as she became more disoriented. The room was becoming dimmer and dimmer by the second.
Suddenly, she felt a hand pulling the gag off her face. She gasped as air began to fill her lungs.
“You’re okay. You’re fine,” the man said roughly. He flicked on the overhead light, wincing as he did so. Cameron finally was able to completely see her captor.
He was about 6'2 with darkish blond hair and blue eyes. His eyes were almost as blue as House’s, except they had a much creepier look to them; a cold grayness. He looked about thirty-four, not much older than herself, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept for weeks, thanks to the bags under his eyes. His clothes were slightly looser than they should be; almost as though he had lost weight. The thing Cameron noticed most about the man was that he seemed to be very smug and self-assured.
Cameron trembled slightly, but refused to let him see how terrified she was. “Where am I?” Her voice cracked slightly, but she never removed her eyes from the man’s face.
“At my cabin in the middle of nowhere. Basically, what I’m saying is you have pretty much no hope of being found here,” he said as he massaged his wrist. His voice had just a hint of a Southern accent.
“Who are you?” she asked angrily.
“My name is Michael Weathers. Whether that’s my real name or not, that’s for me to know and you to find out. No need to tell me your name, though. I already know who you are, Allison Cameron.”
Cameron just glared at him and said, “If you’re going to rape me or kill me, or whatever you had in mind, just do it now and get it over with. No point in just standing there, staring at me.”
Mr. Weathers smirked, “Sorry, I can’t do that. Your fate completely rests on Dr. House’s shoulders at the moment, not mine.” Seeing her completely confused look, he said, “Your purpose of being here is to act as bait so that Dr. House will solve my case. He has ninety-six hours to figure out my illness or something very bad will happen to you.”
“House isn’t just going to let you keep me here as some sort of bribe. Besides, I was supposed to be at work three hours ago. He’s probably already called the police, and they will be catching you pretty soon. You’re plan wasn’t a very good one, Mr. Weathers.”
He smiled cruelly at her, “You can call me Michael, or Mike, whatever pleases you the most. Calling me Mr. Weathers makes me feel old. Besides, you’re going to be here longer than you think, Allison.”
She glared at him when he used her first name.“And why is that, Mike?”
“Because I told House if he called the police I’d kill you.”
“Y-You’ve already been t-talking to House?” she stuttered, shocked. She’d hoped that House or Foreman or someone would have called the police after she hadn’t shown up for work, and then the police would track her kidnapper on his cell phone when he contacted House. Then they’d come to her rescue and arrest him and everything could go back to normal. So much for that option.
“Yes, I had quite the delightful chat with him. He knows you’re here, and he also knows that he has four days to diagnose my illness or you will die.”
Over her shock, Cameron said wryly, “You do realize that there is a place called a clinic where you can just walk in and there will be at least five doctors available to treat your illness?”
“I tried to contact Dr. House several times using various methods of communication.”
Cameron cocked her head, “Really? What sort of methods did you use?”
“I went to four different doctors, and all of them incorrectly diagnosed me. Whatever medication they gave me had no effect upon my illness. The last doctor that attempted to treat me referred me to Dr. House. I sent in several letters basically begging him to take my case, and I was unanswered. Or rather, ignored. I also called in several times after my letters were unanswered, and tried to book an appointment. That attempt was also deflected, so I visited the hospital yesterday and spoke to Dr. House. He simply brushed me off rudely once again, so I decided that was the last straw.”
Cameron dimly remembered answering three letters a few weeks back signed by a Michael Weathers.“You wrote to him three times, right?”
He looked mildly surprised for a moment, but quickly covered it up. “Yes. How do you know that? I haven’t told you.”
“I was the one who answered your letters.”
“Oh, so you’re the one who turned me down. So, you have two jobs. A doctor and House’s personal secretary. How nice. The signature should have been a tip off...Your G’s are too girly.”
The last part of his sentence reminded Cameron of a conversation she’d had with House just after she’d started working for him.
“When did my signature get so girly?” House asked, looking at the letter in which Cameron had forged his signature.
“I can explain,” Cameron said nervously. She’d just wanted to get House to help the poor kid. He wouldn’t have even bothered with the case if she hadn’t brought it to his attention.
“See that G? See how it makes a big loop on top? It doesn’t even look like my handwriting. Think I have something? What’s the differential diagnosis for writing G’s like a junior high school girl?” he mocked.
She rolled her eyes.“It’s impossible to get to you through normal channels, they have called-”
House interrupted her.“Perseverance does not equal worthiness. Next time you want to get my attention wear something fun. Low-rider jeans are hot.”
She pushed the memory away and said stiffly, “I’m not House’s secretary. If I didn’t go through his mail it would be a huge pile that ate people up as they walked past it.”
“So, the only way to get through all those letters is to reject every person who asks for your help?” Michael Weathers asked bitterly.
Cameron glared at him, “Most of the letters we get from patients are quite simple to diagnose, and Dr. House doesn’t want to be bothered with easy cases. He likes puzzles. He rarely takes any of the patients that ask help through letters. He needs to see something odd about the case to be interested.”
“Well, I certainly caught his interest.” He smirked.
“Oh yeah, by kidnapping me. What a brilliant way to get his attention.” Cameron shot back. She wasn’t very afraid of this guy anymore. He seemed to have too much of an ego to provoke much harm.
He grinned cockily. “It is quite a brilliant plan, isn’t it?”
Cameron rolled her eyes. ‘What a conceited jackass,’ Cameron thought. “Well, what if he doesn’t figure it out? What would be the point of killing me then?”
“For now, it’s so that it’ll motivate him. If he knows one of his coworkers are in danger, especially his weaker, female, more attractive coworker, he’ll try harder to solve it. If he doesn’t solve it, and I have to kill you, it’ll be punishment for not taking my case in the beginning and for not figuring it out.”
Cameron shook her head. This man was sounding crazier and crazier by the second. “So killing me is for revenge? That’s sick.”
He shrugged. “At least it’ll get the job done. Hopefully. Let’s see how well Dr. House and his team will do with this case.”
Cameron shot Michael another glare. “Oh, he’ll figure it out.”
He looked at her creepily. “We’ll see in four days Allison.”
Cameron shivered slightly and turned her head so that she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. ‘This is just great.” She thought. ‘My life was already at an ultimate low and I thought it couldn’t get any worst and then I get kidnapped. Just wonderful. My life is a frigging soap opera.’
*********
95 hours, 45 minutes...
House paced in front of the white board, rubbing his brow. He’d just told Foreman and Chase the news. Foreman had become angry immediately, and Chase had gone quiet with shock.
“When I get my hands on that asshole I’m gonna kill him,” Foreman fumed angrily. He turned and glared at House. “How do we know if she’s safe? We can’t trust him because we don’t know if he’s lying or not.”
“As the great Jack Sparrow said, ‘A dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid.’ Now go and sit by Chase and help figure out what this guy has.”
Foreman just ignored House and said, “This isn’t just any normal case that interested you only because the person has some completely odd symptom. This maniac kidnapped Cameron to get your attention. If you had just looked at his case before, he probably wouldn’t have-”
“So basically, you think this is all my fault,” House interrupted, raising his right eyebrow at Foreman, who simply glowered at House and crossed his arms. “Because normally, when I refuse to take a patient, they get a little mad or they go and find another doctor to treat them. They don’t normally kidnap one of my employees. In fact, this is only the second...no, the third time this has happened to me,” House said sarcastically.
“Well, you certainly didn’t help matters,” Chase said petulantly. “We don’t know what this guy is doing to her. He could be torturing her, or raping her; or he may have already killed her. Or... he may chicken out in a few hours and let her go,” Chase said hurriedly when House and Foreman gave him a ‘Don’t even fucking go there’ look.
“This guy is putting Cameron’s life in danger. I just don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” Foreman said pointedly to House. “This guy obviously belongs in the psych ward. Who knows what he’s capable of?”
“OF COURSE I’M TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY!” House yelled, glowering at Foreman, and causing Chase to jump. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I wasn’t. If you think my judgment’s that badly compromised, you can leave.” Foreman just gave House a look, but stayed where he was. “Now, why don’t we do what it says on our business cards and start figuring out what this guy has? Then Cameron can be released from his clutches.” He threw the file on the table in front of Chase and said, “Now look through this and tell me what it says.”
Chase picked up the file and flipped through it. After a moment, he said, “On May first, Mr. Weathers went to the hospital complaining of pain and swelling in his wrists and ankles that had started five days before. He was given ibuprofen, and the pain and swelling went away. He came back on May thirteenth, again complaining of joint swelling and pain. He was given another dose of ibuprofen and sent home.
“On May twenty third, he was admitted to a different hospital complaining of daily spiking fevers of at least 103.6, chills, joint pain, fatigue and a sore throat. He was given antibiotics and aspirin and was then sent home. Then, on June third, he was admitted to another hospital complaining of the same symptoms. They diagnosed rheumatic fever. He was given prednisone and roficoxib and was discharged. On June eighteenth, he was once again admitted to a different hospital complaining of the same symptoms. They diagnosed rheumatoid arthritis, and he was given disease-modifying antirheumatic drugs, anti-inflammatories and analgesic. He was then discharged.”
House began to write down the symptoms as Chase continued to read out the file.
“On June thirtieth, he was admitted to another hospital with the same symptoms and his fever was up to 104.5. Dr. Alexander, the doctor who referred him here, diagnosed him with polymyositis and he was given corticosteroids. They had no effect, so he was given azathioprine and methotrexate in combination with the corticosteroids. And obviously, the medication had no effect once again.”
“Okay, so we’ve got joint swelling and pain, muscle pain, fever and chills that come and go, sore throat and fatigue, ” House said, examining the whiteboard. “Differential diagnosis people.”
“What about Influenza?” Foreman suggested.
“He would have to have a dry cough or a runny nose. He didn’t have those listed in the symptoms.”
“It says here that he had cold before the other symptoms started. It may have been early signs of Influenza,” Foreman said, indicating to the file.
“Hmm...maybe.”
“Cytomegalo virus is also a possibility,” Chase said as he chewed on a pen.
House nodded. “It fits the symptoms. Okay, Chase, test for Cytomegalo virus and Foreman, you test for Influenza. Let’s start with those. We might as well go with what we have for now.”
Both men stared at House. He blinked, “Are you going to just stand there and stare at me dumbly or are you going to go do your job?”
“We don’t have a patient to take blood from, so therefore we have no blood to test, hence our staring,” Foreman said irritably.
“Oh, yeah. Hold on a second.” They watched as House limped to his office. He came back a minute later with three vials of blood in his hand. He handed them to Chase. “There. Now off you go.”
Chase looked at the vials in his hand, “What’s this?”
“Blood. Is that not clear from the burgundy-red liquid in those vials?”
“Yeah, but whose blood is it?” Foreman prompted.
“The patient’s. Crazy guy’s. Or Michael Weather’s blood, whatever you what to call him.”
“How did you get this?” Chase asked incredulously.
“He left that along with his file and some other crap in my desk drawer.”
“Oh.” Chase shot Foreman an odd look as they exited the conference room to test the blood.
House turned back to the white board, and studied the symptoms, his brow frowning with worry.
*********
91 hours, 28 minutes...
A few hours later Chase and Foreman came into House’s office.
“Negative for both Cytomegalo virus and Influenza,” Foreman said gloomily.
House sighed unhappily. “Damn. Well, both of you keep thinking about what this guy could have, and I’ll go talk to Cuddy.”
“What for?” Chase asked.
“We need to transfer that other patient...what’s her name? Cammie? Carrie? Cathy? Anyway, we need to transfer the ‘seizure-and-cardiac-arrest girl’ to another hospital. Because, you know, she’s still sick.
Chase and Foreman looked at each other. Oh, yeah was clearly written across their faces; they’d forgotten about Karen in the shock about hearing that Cameron had been kidnapped.
House limped out of the office and nearly walked right into Wilson. Wilson grinned at him. “Wow House, here before ten. I think that’s a record for you.” He abruptly stopped grinning when he noticed House’s expression.“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
House sighed. Shit. He’d forgotten to tell Wilson about this unexpected chain of events. “Um...I’ve got to tell you something that may...surprise you quite a bit.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me you slept with Stacy again.”
“Uh no, it’s a bit worst than that.”
“Fuck, House. What the hell did you do that’s that bad?”
Wilson was not going to like this one bit.
*********
91 hours, 13 minutes...
Fifteen minutes later House barged into Cuddy’s office without knocking, Wilson in tow.
Cuddy rolled her eyes. “House, what do you what?”
“I need you to transfer seizure girl to Jefferson hospital.”
“Karen Mercer? Uh...why?”
“Because we have another case that needs our attention.”
“What case?”
“Well, basically, this crazy, desperate patient kidnapped Cameron so that I’d take his case. His case is more important since her life is in danger and all.”
“Sure it is.” Cuddy glared at him. “Go do your clinic duty House. Then go and work on Karen Mercer’s case and act like the good doctor that you supposedly are.”
He stared at her with his intense blue eyes, “I’m not kidding.”
“Go away.”
House looked Wilson for help. He sighed sadly. “He’s being serious.”
Cuddy looked at the two men uncertainly. “Prove it.”
“Okay.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Look at this.”
He held it out to her and she glared at him, but took it. “If this is porn House, I swear I’ll..” She trailed off when she looked at the picture of Cameron that was still on House’s display. Her eyes widened as she examined it. “House...What...is going on?” she asked slowly.
“To make a long story short, the angry, narcissistic guy I mentioned earlier named Michael Weathers kidnapped Cameron because he wanted me to take his case. We have no idea where he has her, and he only gave us four days to solve the case or he’ll kill her.”
“HOUSE!” she shrieked, and House winced. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS SOONER?!”
“Because we were too busy trying to figure out what this guy has so that we could get Cameron back. And you didn’t get in until a few minutes ago. And I was afraid you’d act like that and torch me with your angry fire breath.”
She put her head in her hand. “I knew something like this would happen someday, but I figured it would be you instead of Cameron that would be kidnapped.”
“That’s what I figured too,” Wilson muttered and House wacked him in his shin with his cane. Wilson yelped loudly and grabbed his leg.
“Suck it up,” House sneered and Wilson glowered darkly at him. Or attempted to. He only succeeded in giving him a mildly angry glance.
Cuddy ignored their childish behavior and asked urgently, “Have you called the police?”
“No.”
“Why not, you idiot?!”
“I may be many things, but an idiot, I certainly am not.” At Cuddy’s death glare, he said quietly, “Because he said he would kill her if I did.”
Cuddy looked at him, alarmed. “How would he know if you did?”
“I’d say the sirens and the flashing lights would be a big tip off.”
Cuddy shook her head. “God, what a mess.”
“You’re just worried about all the paperwork and legal matters this will create,” House said cuttingly.
Cuddy sighed. “I’ll transfer your other patient to Jefferson.” House wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of hurt in her eyes as she left her office.
After she left Wilson turned to House and said quietly, “What are you going to do if you can’t figure it out?”
“I don’t want to think about that.” Wilson watched as House limped away, his weight on his cane seeming heavier than usual.
*********
Author: Janelle (
blue_crystal_9)
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG 13, at least. Probably going to be a little higher in the next parts.
Summary: A man kidnaps Cameron in order to attract House's attention to his medical problems. Obviously, it works, and the team has only four days to solve the man's case or Cameron will be killed.
Spoilers: Paternity, Need to Know. Basically, I'd say anything from Season 1 and 2 is fair game.
Disclaimer: I don't own House, David Shore and FOX do. Please don't sue. There wouldn't be much point in doing it because I have no money. All I own is my cat, and you definitely wouldn't want her because she is the spawn of Satan.
Author's Notes: This part's two and a half pages longer than part 2...wow. Anywho, I'm probably going to have two, possibly three more parts. Then it's over. *sobs*
Beta: My beta was
kellyannie, who absolutely rocks. *hugs*
Feedback: Any feedback would be awesome.
Reality’s Nightmare: Part 3/?
The first thing that registered in Allison Cameron’s mind was pain. Deep, searing pain in the back of her head that seemed to continuously linger there, and sharp, needle-like pains circulating through her arms and legs. She quickly realized that her hands and feet were tied up, cutting off the circulation there. She continued to keep her eyes closed, not wanting to see the horror that awaited her. Desperately, she hoped that this was just some horrible nightmare and that she’d wake up safe and warm in her bed. But Cameron knew that this was not the case. The painful tingling in her arms and legs and the pounding of her head proved otherwise.
Finally, she jerked her eyes open, wincing as the pain in her head throbbed ten times harder. She slowly took in her surroundings. The room was mostly dark, just barely lit by the blue-grey early morning light coming from the windows; she guessed it was about five o’clock in the morning. The room was just light enough for her to tell that she was lying on the floor of a living room, in the far left-hand corner. A few feet away from her was a door that led to the kitchen. In the middle of the room was a coffee table, surrounded by two leather couches, and a chair which was across from her. There was a bookcase diagonally from her, and the whole room was covered with wood paneling.
Her eyes zoomed in on the front door, which was between the bookcase and one of the couches. Straining against the rope binding her hands, she struggled to get loose. After a few minutes of that, she gave up. Her wrists burned and stung from her efforts.
‘Where the hell am I?’ she wondered to herself. She tried once more to free herself from the ropes, but they were tied too tightly. She winced as she felt the bruises that were already starting to form on her wrists.
Suddenly, a lamp across from her flicked on. Cameron jumped in fright when she noticed that there was a man sitting in the chair across from her, staring at her. “Does your head hurt?” he asked, watching her reaction intently.
‘Oh God, not again,’ she thought. Her eyes widened in terror as a memory flashed through her mind.
A shower running...the shower curtain being roughly pulled across...rough hands burning flesh...a woman’s screams echoing loudly in her ears...
Hyperventilating, she desperately tried to bring air to her lungs, but nothing seemed to work. The gag certainly didn’t seem to help matters. Her eyes began to water, and her chest was hurting from the lack of oxygen to her lungs. Colors swam before her eyes as she became more disoriented. The room was becoming dimmer and dimmer by the second.
Suddenly, she felt a hand pulling the gag off her face. She gasped as air began to fill her lungs.
“You’re okay. You’re fine,” the man said roughly. He flicked on the overhead light, wincing as he did so. Cameron finally was able to completely see her captor.
He was about 6'2 with darkish blond hair and blue eyes. His eyes were almost as blue as House’s, except they had a much creepier look to them; a cold grayness. He looked about thirty-four, not much older than herself, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept for weeks, thanks to the bags under his eyes. His clothes were slightly looser than they should be; almost as though he had lost weight. The thing Cameron noticed most about the man was that he seemed to be very smug and self-assured.
Cameron trembled slightly, but refused to let him see how terrified she was. “Where am I?” Her voice cracked slightly, but she never removed her eyes from the man’s face.
“At my cabin in the middle of nowhere. Basically, what I’m saying is you have pretty much no hope of being found here,” he said as he massaged his wrist. His voice had just a hint of a Southern accent.
“Who are you?” she asked angrily.
“My name is Michael Weathers. Whether that’s my real name or not, that’s for me to know and you to find out. No need to tell me your name, though. I already know who you are, Allison Cameron.”
Cameron just glared at him and said, “If you’re going to rape me or kill me, or whatever you had in mind, just do it now and get it over with. No point in just standing there, staring at me.”
Mr. Weathers smirked, “Sorry, I can’t do that. Your fate completely rests on Dr. House’s shoulders at the moment, not mine.” Seeing her completely confused look, he said, “Your purpose of being here is to act as bait so that Dr. House will solve my case. He has ninety-six hours to figure out my illness or something very bad will happen to you.”
“House isn’t just going to let you keep me here as some sort of bribe. Besides, I was supposed to be at work three hours ago. He’s probably already called the police, and they will be catching you pretty soon. You’re plan wasn’t a very good one, Mr. Weathers.”
He smiled cruelly at her, “You can call me Michael, or Mike, whatever pleases you the most. Calling me Mr. Weathers makes me feel old. Besides, you’re going to be here longer than you think, Allison.”
She glared at him when he used her first name.“And why is that, Mike?”
“Because I told House if he called the police I’d kill you.”
“Y-You’ve already been t-talking to House?” she stuttered, shocked. She’d hoped that House or Foreman or someone would have called the police after she hadn’t shown up for work, and then the police would track her kidnapper on his cell phone when he contacted House. Then they’d come to her rescue and arrest him and everything could go back to normal. So much for that option.
“Yes, I had quite the delightful chat with him. He knows you’re here, and he also knows that he has four days to diagnose my illness or you will die.”
Over her shock, Cameron said wryly, “You do realize that there is a place called a clinic where you can just walk in and there will be at least five doctors available to treat your illness?”
“I tried to contact Dr. House several times using various methods of communication.”
Cameron cocked her head, “Really? What sort of methods did you use?”
“I went to four different doctors, and all of them incorrectly diagnosed me. Whatever medication they gave me had no effect upon my illness. The last doctor that attempted to treat me referred me to Dr. House. I sent in several letters basically begging him to take my case, and I was unanswered. Or rather, ignored. I also called in several times after my letters were unanswered, and tried to book an appointment. That attempt was also deflected, so I visited the hospital yesterday and spoke to Dr. House. He simply brushed me off rudely once again, so I decided that was the last straw.”
Cameron dimly remembered answering three letters a few weeks back signed by a Michael Weathers.“You wrote to him three times, right?”
He looked mildly surprised for a moment, but quickly covered it up. “Yes. How do you know that? I haven’t told you.”
“I was the one who answered your letters.”
“Oh, so you’re the one who turned me down. So, you have two jobs. A doctor and House’s personal secretary. How nice. The signature should have been a tip off...Your G’s are too girly.”
The last part of his sentence reminded Cameron of a conversation she’d had with House just after she’d started working for him.
“When did my signature get so girly?” House asked, looking at the letter in which Cameron had forged his signature.
“I can explain,” Cameron said nervously. She’d just wanted to get House to help the poor kid. He wouldn’t have even bothered with the case if she hadn’t brought it to his attention.
“See that G? See how it makes a big loop on top? It doesn’t even look like my handwriting. Think I have something? What’s the differential diagnosis for writing G’s like a junior high school girl?” he mocked.
She rolled her eyes.“It’s impossible to get to you through normal channels, they have called-”
House interrupted her.“Perseverance does not equal worthiness. Next time you want to get my attention wear something fun. Low-rider jeans are hot.”
She pushed the memory away and said stiffly, “I’m not House’s secretary. If I didn’t go through his mail it would be a huge pile that ate people up as they walked past it.”
“So, the only way to get through all those letters is to reject every person who asks for your help?” Michael Weathers asked bitterly.
Cameron glared at him, “Most of the letters we get from patients are quite simple to diagnose, and Dr. House doesn’t want to be bothered with easy cases. He likes puzzles. He rarely takes any of the patients that ask help through letters. He needs to see something odd about the case to be interested.”
“Well, I certainly caught his interest.” He smirked.
“Oh yeah, by kidnapping me. What a brilliant way to get his attention.” Cameron shot back. She wasn’t very afraid of this guy anymore. He seemed to have too much of an ego to provoke much harm.
He grinned cockily. “It is quite a brilliant plan, isn’t it?”
Cameron rolled her eyes. ‘What a conceited jackass,’ Cameron thought. “Well, what if he doesn’t figure it out? What would be the point of killing me then?”
“For now, it’s so that it’ll motivate him. If he knows one of his coworkers are in danger, especially his weaker, female, more attractive coworker, he’ll try harder to solve it. If he doesn’t solve it, and I have to kill you, it’ll be punishment for not taking my case in the beginning and for not figuring it out.”
Cameron shook her head. This man was sounding crazier and crazier by the second. “So killing me is for revenge? That’s sick.”
He shrugged. “At least it’ll get the job done. Hopefully. Let’s see how well Dr. House and his team will do with this case.”
Cameron shot Michael another glare. “Oh, he’ll figure it out.”
He looked at her creepily. “We’ll see in four days Allison.”
Cameron shivered slightly and turned her head so that she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. ‘This is just great.” She thought. ‘My life was already at an ultimate low and I thought it couldn’t get any worst and then I get kidnapped. Just wonderful. My life is a frigging soap opera.’
*********
95 hours, 45 minutes...
House paced in front of the white board, rubbing his brow. He’d just told Foreman and Chase the news. Foreman had become angry immediately, and Chase had gone quiet with shock.
“When I get my hands on that asshole I’m gonna kill him,” Foreman fumed angrily. He turned and glared at House. “How do we know if she’s safe? We can’t trust him because we don’t know if he’s lying or not.”
“As the great Jack Sparrow said, ‘A dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid.’ Now go and sit by Chase and help figure out what this guy has.”
Foreman just ignored House and said, “This isn’t just any normal case that interested you only because the person has some completely odd symptom. This maniac kidnapped Cameron to get your attention. If you had just looked at his case before, he probably wouldn’t have-”
“So basically, you think this is all my fault,” House interrupted, raising his right eyebrow at Foreman, who simply glowered at House and crossed his arms. “Because normally, when I refuse to take a patient, they get a little mad or they go and find another doctor to treat them. They don’t normally kidnap one of my employees. In fact, this is only the second...no, the third time this has happened to me,” House said sarcastically.
“Well, you certainly didn’t help matters,” Chase said petulantly. “We don’t know what this guy is doing to her. He could be torturing her, or raping her; or he may have already killed her. Or... he may chicken out in a few hours and let her go,” Chase said hurriedly when House and Foreman gave him a ‘Don’t even fucking go there’ look.
“This guy is putting Cameron’s life in danger. I just don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” Foreman said pointedly to House. “This guy obviously belongs in the psych ward. Who knows what he’s capable of?”
“OF COURSE I’M TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY!” House yelled, glowering at Foreman, and causing Chase to jump. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I wasn’t. If you think my judgment’s that badly compromised, you can leave.” Foreman just gave House a look, but stayed where he was. “Now, why don’t we do what it says on our business cards and start figuring out what this guy has? Then Cameron can be released from his clutches.” He threw the file on the table in front of Chase and said, “Now look through this and tell me what it says.”
Chase picked up the file and flipped through it. After a moment, he said, “On May first, Mr. Weathers went to the hospital complaining of pain and swelling in his wrists and ankles that had started five days before. He was given ibuprofen, and the pain and swelling went away. He came back on May thirteenth, again complaining of joint swelling and pain. He was given another dose of ibuprofen and sent home.
“On May twenty third, he was admitted to a different hospital complaining of daily spiking fevers of at least 103.6, chills, joint pain, fatigue and a sore throat. He was given antibiotics and aspirin and was then sent home. Then, on June third, he was admitted to another hospital complaining of the same symptoms. They diagnosed rheumatic fever. He was given prednisone and roficoxib and was discharged. On June eighteenth, he was once again admitted to a different hospital complaining of the same symptoms. They diagnosed rheumatoid arthritis, and he was given disease-modifying antirheumatic drugs, anti-inflammatories and analgesic. He was then discharged.”
House began to write down the symptoms as Chase continued to read out the file.
“On June thirtieth, he was admitted to another hospital with the same symptoms and his fever was up to 104.5. Dr. Alexander, the doctor who referred him here, diagnosed him with polymyositis and he was given corticosteroids. They had no effect, so he was given azathioprine and methotrexate in combination with the corticosteroids. And obviously, the medication had no effect once again.”
“Okay, so we’ve got joint swelling and pain, muscle pain, fever and chills that come and go, sore throat and fatigue, ” House said, examining the whiteboard. “Differential diagnosis people.”
“What about Influenza?” Foreman suggested.
“He would have to have a dry cough or a runny nose. He didn’t have those listed in the symptoms.”
“It says here that he had cold before the other symptoms started. It may have been early signs of Influenza,” Foreman said, indicating to the file.
“Hmm...maybe.”
“Cytomegalo virus is also a possibility,” Chase said as he chewed on a pen.
House nodded. “It fits the symptoms. Okay, Chase, test for Cytomegalo virus and Foreman, you test for Influenza. Let’s start with those. We might as well go with what we have for now.”
Both men stared at House. He blinked, “Are you going to just stand there and stare at me dumbly or are you going to go do your job?”
“We don’t have a patient to take blood from, so therefore we have no blood to test, hence our staring,” Foreman said irritably.
“Oh, yeah. Hold on a second.” They watched as House limped to his office. He came back a minute later with three vials of blood in his hand. He handed them to Chase. “There. Now off you go.”
Chase looked at the vials in his hand, “What’s this?”
“Blood. Is that not clear from the burgundy-red liquid in those vials?”
“Yeah, but whose blood is it?” Foreman prompted.
“The patient’s. Crazy guy’s. Or Michael Weather’s blood, whatever you what to call him.”
“How did you get this?” Chase asked incredulously.
“He left that along with his file and some other crap in my desk drawer.”
“Oh.” Chase shot Foreman an odd look as they exited the conference room to test the blood.
House turned back to the white board, and studied the symptoms, his brow frowning with worry.
*********
91 hours, 28 minutes...
A few hours later Chase and Foreman came into House’s office.
“Negative for both Cytomegalo virus and Influenza,” Foreman said gloomily.
House sighed unhappily. “Damn. Well, both of you keep thinking about what this guy could have, and I’ll go talk to Cuddy.”
“What for?” Chase asked.
“We need to transfer that other patient...what’s her name? Cammie? Carrie? Cathy? Anyway, we need to transfer the ‘seizure-and-cardiac-arrest girl’ to another hospital. Because, you know, she’s still sick.
Chase and Foreman looked at each other. Oh, yeah was clearly written across their faces; they’d forgotten about Karen in the shock about hearing that Cameron had been kidnapped.
House limped out of the office and nearly walked right into Wilson. Wilson grinned at him. “Wow House, here before ten. I think that’s a record for you.” He abruptly stopped grinning when he noticed House’s expression.“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
House sighed. Shit. He’d forgotten to tell Wilson about this unexpected chain of events. “Um...I’ve got to tell you something that may...surprise you quite a bit.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me you slept with Stacy again.”
“Uh no, it’s a bit worst than that.”
“Fuck, House. What the hell did you do that’s that bad?”
Wilson was not going to like this one bit.
*********
91 hours, 13 minutes...
Fifteen minutes later House barged into Cuddy’s office without knocking, Wilson in tow.
Cuddy rolled her eyes. “House, what do you what?”
“I need you to transfer seizure girl to Jefferson hospital.”
“Karen Mercer? Uh...why?”
“Because we have another case that needs our attention.”
“What case?”
“Well, basically, this crazy, desperate patient kidnapped Cameron so that I’d take his case. His case is more important since her life is in danger and all.”
“Sure it is.” Cuddy glared at him. “Go do your clinic duty House. Then go and work on Karen Mercer’s case and act like the good doctor that you supposedly are.”
He stared at her with his intense blue eyes, “I’m not kidding.”
“Go away.”
House looked Wilson for help. He sighed sadly. “He’s being serious.”
Cuddy looked at the two men uncertainly. “Prove it.”
“Okay.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Look at this.”
He held it out to her and she glared at him, but took it. “If this is porn House, I swear I’ll..” She trailed off when she looked at the picture of Cameron that was still on House’s display. Her eyes widened as she examined it. “House...What...is going on?” she asked slowly.
“To make a long story short, the angry, narcissistic guy I mentioned earlier named Michael Weathers kidnapped Cameron because he wanted me to take his case. We have no idea where he has her, and he only gave us four days to solve the case or he’ll kill her.”
“HOUSE!” she shrieked, and House winced. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS SOONER?!”
“Because we were too busy trying to figure out what this guy has so that we could get Cameron back. And you didn’t get in until a few minutes ago. And I was afraid you’d act like that and torch me with your angry fire breath.”
She put her head in her hand. “I knew something like this would happen someday, but I figured it would be you instead of Cameron that would be kidnapped.”
“That’s what I figured too,” Wilson muttered and House wacked him in his shin with his cane. Wilson yelped loudly and grabbed his leg.
“Suck it up,” House sneered and Wilson glowered darkly at him. Or attempted to. He only succeeded in giving him a mildly angry glance.
Cuddy ignored their childish behavior and asked urgently, “Have you called the police?”
“No.”
“Why not, you idiot?!”
“I may be many things, but an idiot, I certainly am not.” At Cuddy’s death glare, he said quietly, “Because he said he would kill her if I did.”
Cuddy looked at him, alarmed. “How would he know if you did?”
“I’d say the sirens and the flashing lights would be a big tip off.”
Cuddy shook her head. “God, what a mess.”
“You’re just worried about all the paperwork and legal matters this will create,” House said cuttingly.
Cuddy sighed. “I’ll transfer your other patient to Jefferson.” House wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of hurt in her eyes as she left her office.
After she left Wilson turned to House and said quietly, “What are you going to do if you can’t figure it out?”
“I don’t want to think about that.” Wilson watched as House limped away, his weight on his cane seeming heavier than usual.
*********