Silver Butterflies - Chapter 1
Title: Silver Butterflies
Rating: Ma
Disclaimer: Own little Jessica Tooley and big, ‘ole Burke.
Summary: Dr. House doesn’t believe in coincidences. So he knew there was something more to it when a missing child he'd read about not ten minutes earlier is sitting on his exam table.
1. Jessica.
Dr. Gregory House didn’t believe in coincidences.
Well in reality, he didn’t believe in a lot of things, irony, God, fate, love, family, hell - not even this hospital. But that’s not the point.
The point is that earlier that morning, Chase had left his newspaper behind in the office. A simple mistake, and House being the consistently-bored-out-of-his-mind man that he is, picked it up. Another simple mistake apparently.
Page 3 held a full-page spread on little Jessica Tooley, aged 4 ½, ripped away from her parents loving caress. And this blonde haired, blue-eyed child sitting in his exam room looked suspiciously like that hideously large, pixilated picture.
Coincidence?
“Hi there, kiddo. My name is Uncle Greg, what seems to be the problem?”
Watery blue eyes gazed up at him, desperate for someone to understand the danger of the burly, tank of a man looming behind her.
“My kid’s hurt her leg.”
“Your kid?” House asked, brow furrowing in mock thought. “Why don’t you hitch up your skirt a little, Sarah, so we can take a look at that leg of yours?”
“M-my name is J-Jessica.”
“Course it is.”
Lifting the dirty hem of her floral dress, she allowed House to peer down at the bloody wound on her upper thigh. Frowning, he pulled on his rubber gloves, and reached for a set of tweezers.
“Mr - sorry, didn’t get that name.”
“Burke, Dan Burke.”
“And I’m Dr. House, nice tattoo by the way,” He gestured to the thorny rose that clawed up his arm, “By the way, loved the James Bond reference, Burke, Dan Burke. Pretty suave, my guess is you prefer shaken to stirred to, huh?”
The man, bordering the 7 ft height limit, and being about as broad as he was tall, grunted a response.
“Do you know what’s great about being a doctor? You get to spend all those years at University studying genetics and the sort. Ghastly stuff really, but it really helps in a situation like this.” He nodded in Jessica’s direction, “Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale Caucasian, skinny little thing too.” He turned his attention back to Burke, “Bulky, tall, dark hair, dark eyes, South American descent. Tell me what doesn’t match.”
Burke was fuming, but House paid him no heed, instead he pulled the chunk of glass out of the little girls leg.
“It’s also noteworthy that I don’t think anyone would sleep with you even with a gun pointed to the back of their head.”
The little girl was whimpering now, and House wasn’t too stupid to know that said gun was currently pointed to the back of his head. “No, I won’t sleep with you, there’s a child present, and quite frankly you’re not my type.”
Burkes breath was heavy and rancid, but his voice was deep, and far too controlled.
“Get on the floor, put your hands behind your head and maybe I’ll spare you’re lousy life.”
Rating: Ma
Disclaimer: Own little Jessica Tooley and big, ‘ole Burke.
Summary: Dr. House doesn’t believe in coincidences. So he knew there was something more to it when a missing child he'd read about not ten minutes earlier is sitting on his exam table.
1. Jessica.
Dr. Gregory House didn’t believe in coincidences.
Well in reality, he didn’t believe in a lot of things, irony, God, fate, love, family, hell - not even this hospital. But that’s not the point.
The point is that earlier that morning, Chase had left his newspaper behind in the office. A simple mistake, and House being the consistently-bored-out-of-his-mind man that he is, picked it up. Another simple mistake apparently.
Page 3 held a full-page spread on little Jessica Tooley, aged 4 ½, ripped away from her parents loving caress. And this blonde haired, blue-eyed child sitting in his exam room looked suspiciously like that hideously large, pixilated picture.
Coincidence?
“Hi there, kiddo. My name is Uncle Greg, what seems to be the problem?”
Watery blue eyes gazed up at him, desperate for someone to understand the danger of the burly, tank of a man looming behind her.
“My kid’s hurt her leg.”
“Your kid?” House asked, brow furrowing in mock thought. “Why don’t you hitch up your skirt a little, Sarah, so we can take a look at that leg of yours?”
“M-my name is J-Jessica.”
“Course it is.”
Lifting the dirty hem of her floral dress, she allowed House to peer down at the bloody wound on her upper thigh. Frowning, he pulled on his rubber gloves, and reached for a set of tweezers.
“Mr - sorry, didn’t get that name.”
“Burke, Dan Burke.”
“And I’m Dr. House, nice tattoo by the way,” He gestured to the thorny rose that clawed up his arm, “By the way, loved the James Bond reference, Burke, Dan Burke. Pretty suave, my guess is you prefer shaken to stirred to, huh?”
The man, bordering the 7 ft height limit, and being about as broad as he was tall, grunted a response.
“Do you know what’s great about being a doctor? You get to spend all those years at University studying genetics and the sort. Ghastly stuff really, but it really helps in a situation like this.” He nodded in Jessica’s direction, “Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale Caucasian, skinny little thing too.” He turned his attention back to Burke, “Bulky, tall, dark hair, dark eyes, South American descent. Tell me what doesn’t match.”
Burke was fuming, but House paid him no heed, instead he pulled the chunk of glass out of the little girls leg.
“It’s also noteworthy that I don’t think anyone would sleep with you even with a gun pointed to the back of their head.”
The little girl was whimpering now, and House wasn’t too stupid to know that said gun was currently pointed to the back of his head. “No, I won’t sleep with you, there’s a child present, and quite frankly you’re not my type.”
Burkes breath was heavy and rancid, but his voice was deep, and far too controlled.
“Get on the floor, put your hands behind your head and maybe I’ll spare you’re lousy life.”