Another House fanfic
Title:IT ISN'T EASY GETTING CLEAN
Author:hilandmum
Rating:PG
Pairings:House and Cameron friendship
Summary:Written before House's bogus rehab, this tells what might have happened if he'd really gone through with it
Part 1.
House had been at White Birches, a rehab center, for five days. He was getting used to the restrictive regime. Didn't like it one bit, but he was getting used to it. The unappetizing but nutritious meals. The PT to strengthen the remaining muscles in his right leg. The sessions with the psychologist. The evenings of 'leisure' with the other 'inmates'.
They were giving him non-narcotic painkillers for his leg that barely took the edge off the pain, and meds to reduce the nausea from detoxing, not to mention the non-addictive sleeping pills so he could sleep without his Vicodin. He joked that he was taking more pills now than ever, but it wasn't a joking matter.
He eased his restless mind by psychoanalyzing his psychologist, by diagnosing everyone around him, patients and staff alike, and by honing his poker skills against anyone who'd play with him.
Tonight he was playing cards with three pigeons. Of course, his pile of peanuts was much bigger than theirs.
Suddenly, some of the other patients sitting in the too-bright recreation room let out wolf whistles, while one particularly obnoxious jerk called out "Hope you're here to see me gorgeous!"
House didn't even look up from his hand, not until Fawcett, one of the attendents said "House, you have a visitor."
He knew it could be only one of two people, well maybe three if you counted Chase, since who knew what proclivities the other patients had.
Part 2.
House finally looked towards the doorway. He knew she was beautiful. Isn't that why he hired her? But it still often caught him unawares when he looked at her.
"Guess I'll fold" he said, laying down his cards, filling his pockets with his winnings, and standing with the help of his cane. As he limped towards Cameron, he watched her eyes surveying the room and then him with her usual concern.
"You can use the library" Fawcett suggested. No one used it much.
House led Cameron down the hallway. Once they'd entered the bookshelf-lined room he motioned for her to sit in one of the leather armchairs. He sat in another facing her, tapping his cane nervously.
"Why are you here?" he asked, no demanded.
"No one would tell me how you were doing" she replied.
"Because they haven't bothered to find out."
"Neither Cuddy nor Wilson have been here?" she asked incredulously.
"Why are you so surprised?" He shook his head. "And they haven't called either."
"The staff won't let anyone talk to the patients, but surely Wilson called and asked about you. They would have told him even if they wouldn't tell me." But she could see he didn't believe that. "So, how bad is it?" She examined him with her green eyes. His thin face more gaunt than usual, the blue orbs sunk more deeply with dark semicircles underneath. His beard thicker, showing much more gray.
"Bad." He stared at her, trying to memorize the planes and features of her lovely face. He cleared his throat. "Do we have a patient?"
She shook her head. "We had one, but it was pericarditis. It was one of the first things we each thought of and the tests quickly confirmed it. The patient was discharged yesterday." She chuckled. "It was actually a boring case. You would have hated it." She took a breath and let it out. "You know that Chase, Foreman and I have been loyal to you."
"You, I don't doubt. Foreman? As long as he works for me. But Chase?"
"Yes, Chase. Even after you refused to admit he got a diagnosis right and punched him." She stood up and walked around the room, looking at the books on the shelves, but finally came back to her seat. She held up the paper bag she'd been carrying with her. "I brought you something. Maybe it'll help occupy your mind." She handed it to him.
He took out a book of Sudoku puzzles and smiled slightly, then looked at her. "Cameron, why do you care?"
She looked back, holding his gaze. "You still don't know why. Everyone else knows how I feel. Even Tritter called me on it. I denied it of course." She smirked. "But I don't think I fooled him."
"Even now?" he asked. "Look at me, Allison. What do you see?"
"I see a man who finally accepted that he had a problem, a man who's willing to face his demons, no matter how unpleasant the process." She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, expecting him to flinch but he didn't. "I like the beard. It suits you."
"They won't let us have anything sharp, not even an electric razor, and I certainly don't trust their barber" he explained.
"But they let you keep your shoes" she observed.
"Guess they're not worried about shoelace hangings." Then he shook his head. "I'm not sure I'm gonna make it."
"You will" she said with confidence. "I have to go, but I'll try to be back in a couple of weeks. Is there anything else I can bring you?"
"A six-pack would be nice" he quipped.
She rolled her eyes. Then, encouraged that he hadn't flinched at her touch before, she put a hand on his shoulder. "House you can do this."
He watched her leave. He debated about going back to the recreation room. He knew he'd get a lot of ribbing but only because everyone else was jealous. He smiled for the first time in a few weeks and headed back.
Part. 3
Days turned into weeks and soon House had been at White Birches for one month. He still didn't like it. In some ways it was getting worse. For one thing, no one would play poker with him. As patients left after their two- and three-month stays, they made sure that any new arrivals knew about the tall man with the limp.
His sense of taste was improving but all that did was confirm how tasteless the food was.
The first time the laundry starched his shirts, he threw such a fit that it was the last time. He still had to put up with the fact that they ironed them. As soon as he got his laundry back, instead of hanging the shirts, he balled them up and shoved them into a drawer so that when he took them out to wear, they had their usual comfortable wrinkles. And he did wear them. Despite the over-warm rooms, he was often cold.
Cameron had not returned. OK, she'd said she'd 'try' to come in a 'couple' of weeks. Open to interpretation. But it amazed him how disappointed he was when she never reappeared. Finally, he convinced himself he hadn't needed anyone before and he still didn't. She could stay away.
During his second month things didn't get any better either. The routine was boring. The people were boring. Most of all the food was boring. He made a list in his head of all the foods he would eat when he got back home.
He also had counted the tiles in his ceiling. Ninety-six. Of course the room was eight by twelve and they were one-by-one tiles, but he had to count them. Anything to help bring order to the chaos that was his mind.
One day, the psychologist thanked him for helping her resolve her conflicting emotions about her husband's obsession with sports. Thanked HIM! It was one of the few times he smiled.
He tried to play the piano in the seldom used parlor, but it drew a crowd. He really didn't like to play for other people, or at least not for an audience that was not of his choosing.
He'd finished the Sudoku in the book that Cameron gave him, even the easy ones at the beginning of the book. No more puzzles to solve.
His nausea had pretty much disappeared, so they'd taken him off the nausea meds. But because he'd thrown himself into the exercises for his leg, he developed joint pains so now he was on Celebrex. He felt like he was 87 instead of 47, what with all the pills they were giving him. And he still had trouble sleeping. And the leg pain seemed worse than ever.
Finally the day came, the day of his discharge. He wasn't sure he welcomed it. Yes, he wanted to get out of the place. But what did he have to go back to? Maybe a medical puzzle every week or so to flex his mind around. But no more friendship with Wilson, and no more banter with Cuddy. She'd probably have him working in the clinic forty hours a week for a while. And who knew whether his three Fellows still had any respect left for him.
He gathered his few belongings in his gym bag. At the last minute, he threw in the Sudoku book even though all the puzzles were done, and it wasn't like he could do them again.
Briggs, one of the attendents, knocked on his door. "I've called a taxi for you."
He looked around to make sure he had everything, then followed Briggs out to the Portico to wait for his transportation home.
Part 4.
It was a crisp and cold end-of-February day. Mounds of snow from a storm a few days before decorated the lawn. House pulled the zipper of his leather jacket up but still shivered as he waited for the taxi with Briggs.
A two-year-old silver Camry pulled up. Cameron's car. She got out of the driver's side and came around the car to where they were standing.
"I didn't expect you to be ready and waiting" she said.
He wouldn't look at her. "We're waiting for a taxi."
"House, I came out here to take you home" she said.
"Yet somehow you couldn't find your way here anytime during the last seven weeks." His face was expressionless as he turned his icy blue stare on her.
"Wait, didn't you get my messages?" she asked. The pitch of her voice was rising. "I left three. We had an epidemic at the hospital. We've been quarantined. I was sick myself for almost a week along with more than half of the other doctors."
He didn't say anything.
"C'mon, I'll take you home" she said, opening the passenger side door. But he didn't move.
She took her defiant pose, arms crossed in front of her, tapping her gloves against her arm. "House, don't be a stubborn jerk, get in the car" she demanded.
"If someone who looked like that asked me to get in their car, I'd get" Briggs said.
"Nobody asked you" House snapped at him.
But Cameron had had enough. She pulled his bag off of his shoulder and
grabbed his cane, tossing both into the back of the car. "Now, House!"
He closed his eyes and sighed. She really wasn't going to give up. He
got into the car, adjusting the seat so that it was as far back as it would go. "Happy now?" he asked.
She smirked, closed his door, and got in on her side.
Besides a squabble about the music on the CD player, the ride to House's apartment was silent. Cameron insisted on carrying his bag and following him inside.
The apartment was musty. "Can I open a window?" she asked.
"It's cold outside" he said, as he flopped down on the couch. "So besides the alleged epidemic what's the latest gossip at dear old PPTH?" he asked, not that he cared.
She was still so annoyed with his behavior that she didn't hesitate in breaking some news that he needed to hear before he returned to work. "Chase applied for a full-time opening in NICU."
"So? They'd be idiots not to take him."
"They weren't idiots. He got the job, starts next month. House, I'll help you find a replacement."
He just nodded. She knew his leg pain was distracting him from really thinking about the changes that would mean. She knelt down in front of him and began to message his leg through his jeans. Not doing a bad job of it either. House began to think about how much better it would feel to have her hands touch his skin, but quickly pulled away from that image.
Abruptly, he got up, practically knocking her over. "Gotta pee" he announced, limping into the bathroom and purposely not closing the door, a smirk appearing on his face.
Cameron stood up and called "Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?" She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Ugh!!"
It was almost empty, but everything left in it was moldy and smelly.
She found a plastic garbage bag and tossed the old take-out containers
in and spilled out the milk. Then she opened a cabinet but all she found was an almost empty box of cereal, a half-full jar of peanut butter, and two cans of soup.
"I can heat up some soup. Or, better yet, I'll go get you some groceries" she called and turned to find him right behind her.
"Cameron, I'm not an invalid. I can get my own damn groceries!"
He reached around her and picked up the phone. He punched in a speed-dial number, then, let out a stream of impeccable Mandarin. At one point, he turned to her. "You like General Tso's Chicken, don't you?"
"Uh, yes."
He said another sentence or two featuring the sounds 'tsos' and 'gai', then hit the off button. She followed him back to the living room where he sat back down on the couch, patted the seat next to him to indicate that's where she should sit, and picked up the TV remote. Better get started on watching everything that he'd Tivoed, a whole two months worth.
After a few minutes he said "Of course, I don't have cash on me. You'll have to get it."
He could see her frown out of the corner of his eye that never left the TV screen. "Better get used to it. One of the perks of replacing Wilson as my bestest buddy."
He could tell when that sank in because her mouth formed an 'o' which then became a smile. He smiled too. Allison Cameron might be an even better best buddy than James Wilson ever was.
"Dr. House" she said. "I guess that means that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"I just knew you were going to say that."
They were still laughing when the Chinese delivery guy knocked on the door.
The end or maybe the beginning
Author:hilandmum
Rating:PG
Pairings:House and Cameron friendship
Summary:Written before House's bogus rehab, this tells what might have happened if he'd really gone through with it
Part 1.
House had been at White Birches, a rehab center, for five days. He was getting used to the restrictive regime. Didn't like it one bit, but he was getting used to it. The unappetizing but nutritious meals. The PT to strengthen the remaining muscles in his right leg. The sessions with the psychologist. The evenings of 'leisure' with the other 'inmates'.
They were giving him non-narcotic painkillers for his leg that barely took the edge off the pain, and meds to reduce the nausea from detoxing, not to mention the non-addictive sleeping pills so he could sleep without his Vicodin. He joked that he was taking more pills now than ever, but it wasn't a joking matter.
He eased his restless mind by psychoanalyzing his psychologist, by diagnosing everyone around him, patients and staff alike, and by honing his poker skills against anyone who'd play with him.
Tonight he was playing cards with three pigeons. Of course, his pile of peanuts was much bigger than theirs.
Suddenly, some of the other patients sitting in the too-bright recreation room let out wolf whistles, while one particularly obnoxious jerk called out "Hope you're here to see me gorgeous!"
House didn't even look up from his hand, not until Fawcett, one of the attendents said "House, you have a visitor."
He knew it could be only one of two people, well maybe three if you counted Chase, since who knew what proclivities the other patients had.
Part 2.
House finally looked towards the doorway. He knew she was beautiful. Isn't that why he hired her? But it still often caught him unawares when he looked at her.
"Guess I'll fold" he said, laying down his cards, filling his pockets with his winnings, and standing with the help of his cane. As he limped towards Cameron, he watched her eyes surveying the room and then him with her usual concern.
"You can use the library" Fawcett suggested. No one used it much.
House led Cameron down the hallway. Once they'd entered the bookshelf-lined room he motioned for her to sit in one of the leather armchairs. He sat in another facing her, tapping his cane nervously.
"Why are you here?" he asked, no demanded.
"No one would tell me how you were doing" she replied.
"Because they haven't bothered to find out."
"Neither Cuddy nor Wilson have been here?" she asked incredulously.
"Why are you so surprised?" He shook his head. "And they haven't called either."
"The staff won't let anyone talk to the patients, but surely Wilson called and asked about you. They would have told him even if they wouldn't tell me." But she could see he didn't believe that. "So, how bad is it?" She examined him with her green eyes. His thin face more gaunt than usual, the blue orbs sunk more deeply with dark semicircles underneath. His beard thicker, showing much more gray.
"Bad." He stared at her, trying to memorize the planes and features of her lovely face. He cleared his throat. "Do we have a patient?"
She shook her head. "We had one, but it was pericarditis. It was one of the first things we each thought of and the tests quickly confirmed it. The patient was discharged yesterday." She chuckled. "It was actually a boring case. You would have hated it." She took a breath and let it out. "You know that Chase, Foreman and I have been loyal to you."
"You, I don't doubt. Foreman? As long as he works for me. But Chase?"
"Yes, Chase. Even after you refused to admit he got a diagnosis right and punched him." She stood up and walked around the room, looking at the books on the shelves, but finally came back to her seat. She held up the paper bag she'd been carrying with her. "I brought you something. Maybe it'll help occupy your mind." She handed it to him.
He took out a book of Sudoku puzzles and smiled slightly, then looked at her. "Cameron, why do you care?"
She looked back, holding his gaze. "You still don't know why. Everyone else knows how I feel. Even Tritter called me on it. I denied it of course." She smirked. "But I don't think I fooled him."
"Even now?" he asked. "Look at me, Allison. What do you see?"
"I see a man who finally accepted that he had a problem, a man who's willing to face his demons, no matter how unpleasant the process." She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, expecting him to flinch but he didn't. "I like the beard. It suits you."
"They won't let us have anything sharp, not even an electric razor, and I certainly don't trust their barber" he explained.
"But they let you keep your shoes" she observed.
"Guess they're not worried about shoelace hangings." Then he shook his head. "I'm not sure I'm gonna make it."
"You will" she said with confidence. "I have to go, but I'll try to be back in a couple of weeks. Is there anything else I can bring you?"
"A six-pack would be nice" he quipped.
She rolled her eyes. Then, encouraged that he hadn't flinched at her touch before, she put a hand on his shoulder. "House you can do this."
He watched her leave. He debated about going back to the recreation room. He knew he'd get a lot of ribbing but only because everyone else was jealous. He smiled for the first time in a few weeks and headed back.
Part. 3
Days turned into weeks and soon House had been at White Birches for one month. He still didn't like it. In some ways it was getting worse. For one thing, no one would play poker with him. As patients left after their two- and three-month stays, they made sure that any new arrivals knew about the tall man with the limp.
His sense of taste was improving but all that did was confirm how tasteless the food was.
The first time the laundry starched his shirts, he threw such a fit that it was the last time. He still had to put up with the fact that they ironed them. As soon as he got his laundry back, instead of hanging the shirts, he balled them up and shoved them into a drawer so that when he took them out to wear, they had their usual comfortable wrinkles. And he did wear them. Despite the over-warm rooms, he was often cold.
Cameron had not returned. OK, she'd said she'd 'try' to come in a 'couple' of weeks. Open to interpretation. But it amazed him how disappointed he was when she never reappeared. Finally, he convinced himself he hadn't needed anyone before and he still didn't. She could stay away.
During his second month things didn't get any better either. The routine was boring. The people were boring. Most of all the food was boring. He made a list in his head of all the foods he would eat when he got back home.
He also had counted the tiles in his ceiling. Ninety-six. Of course the room was eight by twelve and they were one-by-one tiles, but he had to count them. Anything to help bring order to the chaos that was his mind.
One day, the psychologist thanked him for helping her resolve her conflicting emotions about her husband's obsession with sports. Thanked HIM! It was one of the few times he smiled.
He tried to play the piano in the seldom used parlor, but it drew a crowd. He really didn't like to play for other people, or at least not for an audience that was not of his choosing.
He'd finished the Sudoku in the book that Cameron gave him, even the easy ones at the beginning of the book. No more puzzles to solve.
His nausea had pretty much disappeared, so they'd taken him off the nausea meds. But because he'd thrown himself into the exercises for his leg, he developed joint pains so now he was on Celebrex. He felt like he was 87 instead of 47, what with all the pills they were giving him. And he still had trouble sleeping. And the leg pain seemed worse than ever.
Finally the day came, the day of his discharge. He wasn't sure he welcomed it. Yes, he wanted to get out of the place. But what did he have to go back to? Maybe a medical puzzle every week or so to flex his mind around. But no more friendship with Wilson, and no more banter with Cuddy. She'd probably have him working in the clinic forty hours a week for a while. And who knew whether his three Fellows still had any respect left for him.
He gathered his few belongings in his gym bag. At the last minute, he threw in the Sudoku book even though all the puzzles were done, and it wasn't like he could do them again.
Briggs, one of the attendents, knocked on his door. "I've called a taxi for you."
He looked around to make sure he had everything, then followed Briggs out to the Portico to wait for his transportation home.
Part 4.
It was a crisp and cold end-of-February day. Mounds of snow from a storm a few days before decorated the lawn. House pulled the zipper of his leather jacket up but still shivered as he waited for the taxi with Briggs.
A two-year-old silver Camry pulled up. Cameron's car. She got out of the driver's side and came around the car to where they were standing.
"I didn't expect you to be ready and waiting" she said.
He wouldn't look at her. "We're waiting for a taxi."
"House, I came out here to take you home" she said.
"Yet somehow you couldn't find your way here anytime during the last seven weeks." His face was expressionless as he turned his icy blue stare on her.
"Wait, didn't you get my messages?" she asked. The pitch of her voice was rising. "I left three. We had an epidemic at the hospital. We've been quarantined. I was sick myself for almost a week along with more than half of the other doctors."
He didn't say anything.
"C'mon, I'll take you home" she said, opening the passenger side door. But he didn't move.
She took her defiant pose, arms crossed in front of her, tapping her gloves against her arm. "House, don't be a stubborn jerk, get in the car" she demanded.
"If someone who looked like that asked me to get in their car, I'd get" Briggs said.
"Nobody asked you" House snapped at him.
But Cameron had had enough. She pulled his bag off of his shoulder and
grabbed his cane, tossing both into the back of the car. "Now, House!"
He closed his eyes and sighed. She really wasn't going to give up. He
got into the car, adjusting the seat so that it was as far back as it would go. "Happy now?" he asked.
She smirked, closed his door, and got in on her side.
Besides a squabble about the music on the CD player, the ride to House's apartment was silent. Cameron insisted on carrying his bag and following him inside.
The apartment was musty. "Can I open a window?" she asked.
"It's cold outside" he said, as he flopped down on the couch. "So besides the alleged epidemic what's the latest gossip at dear old PPTH?" he asked, not that he cared.
She was still so annoyed with his behavior that she didn't hesitate in breaking some news that he needed to hear before he returned to work. "Chase applied for a full-time opening in NICU."
"So? They'd be idiots not to take him."
"They weren't idiots. He got the job, starts next month. House, I'll help you find a replacement."
He just nodded. She knew his leg pain was distracting him from really thinking about the changes that would mean. She knelt down in front of him and began to message his leg through his jeans. Not doing a bad job of it either. House began to think about how much better it would feel to have her hands touch his skin, but quickly pulled away from that image.
Abruptly, he got up, practically knocking her over. "Gotta pee" he announced, limping into the bathroom and purposely not closing the door, a smirk appearing on his face.
Cameron stood up and called "Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?" She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Ugh!!"
It was almost empty, but everything left in it was moldy and smelly.
She found a plastic garbage bag and tossed the old take-out containers
in and spilled out the milk. Then she opened a cabinet but all she found was an almost empty box of cereal, a half-full jar of peanut butter, and two cans of soup.
"I can heat up some soup. Or, better yet, I'll go get you some groceries" she called and turned to find him right behind her.
"Cameron, I'm not an invalid. I can get my own damn groceries!"
He reached around her and picked up the phone. He punched in a speed-dial number, then, let out a stream of impeccable Mandarin. At one point, he turned to her. "You like General Tso's Chicken, don't you?"
"Uh, yes."
He said another sentence or two featuring the sounds 'tsos' and 'gai', then hit the off button. She followed him back to the living room where he sat back down on the couch, patted the seat next to him to indicate that's where she should sit, and picked up the TV remote. Better get started on watching everything that he'd Tivoed, a whole two months worth.
After a few minutes he said "Of course, I don't have cash on me. You'll have to get it."
He could see her frown out of the corner of his eye that never left the TV screen. "Better get used to it. One of the perks of replacing Wilson as my bestest buddy."
He could tell when that sank in because her mouth formed an 'o' which then became a smile. He smiled too. Allison Cameron might be an even better best buddy than James Wilson ever was.
"Dr. House" she said. "I guess that means that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"I just knew you were going to say that."
They were still laughing when the Chinese delivery guy knocked on the door.
The end or maybe the beginning