"Santa's Helper" House-fic inspired by Joy To The World
Title: Santa's Helper
Fandom: House MD
Characters: Cam-centric, references to H/W friendship.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 620
Notes: Missing scene for "Joy To the World." Written to resolve an unacceptable plot point. Dedicated to daasgrrl, who offered a plausible way out. Thanks to daasgrrl and hllangel for awesome beta notes.
Cameron told herself she wasn’t a stalker.
She stopped by the office every morning to make sure House’s penchant for chaos didn’t overwhelm the department now that no one on the team seemed to care enough to keep things tidy.
A bit of straightening here, some filing there. No one would ever know that she was still taking care of House, because he really couldn’t take care of himself, and if it gave her a chance to monitor his correspondence, whose business was it, anyway?
This morning, she’d found some unsigned charts , on which she forged House’s signature, taking care not to make the “girly” G, and a bill from House’s favorite escort service. It seemed large; a notation about “special services,” whatever that meant.
She checked to make sure all his Vicodin bottles were full, including the one in the lupus book, writing an extra script when absolutely necessary. There’d been a time when she dreamed of helping him live with fewer drugs. Those days were gone.
Cameron had seen what happened when House was deprived of his supply in the name of helping him. All she or anyone could do now was hold his hand on the way to the grave. She rarely cried about it anymore.
All was in order and she was on her way to the ER, with about ten minutes to grab some coffee, when she noticed the package on the table in the meeting room. She picked it up. Clearly a book, a heavy one, wrapped in green paper. Good, thick paper, not just something from CVS either. A package wrapped with care, in hopes that…who knew what to hope when it came to House? Last year he’d pitted the new fellows against each other in his “secret Santa” game, but she hadn’t heard about anything like that happening this year.
The package had a card in an envelope, tucked, not sealed.
House, reminded me of you.
She recognized the handwriting. The only person who thought he cared about House more than she did, and the one who still had the option of attempting to show it without being held up to ridicule.
Cameron had figured out a few things over the years. She and Wilson were almost in the same boat. Wilson loved House and House wasn’t having any. On the other hand, House had room in his life for one friend. Wilson had that position locked down. That would have bothered her, if she was still obsessed.
Now, it was both hurt and comfort that Wilson was still constrained by the same barriers House threw up between himself and the world. House. What kind of way was that to address a card to someone you loved?
House kept his usual erratic hours, but expected his team to show up on time. She should put the card back and get out. She should not go to House’s desk and get the Wite-Out he occasionally used to paint his nails. Having gotten it, she should definitely not use it to eradicate the offensive word blowing until the liquid had dried and replacing it with Greg. She did it anyway. Wilson’s scrawl was easy enough to replicate. Cameron convinced herself that House would be so taken with Wilson’s use of the word, it would help open him up, just a little. House had loved Stacy. Maybe he could love Wilson.
Kutner gave her an odd look in the hall outside House’s office, but then again almost everything about Kutner was a little odd, which must be why House had hired him.
She smiled and waved as she made her way to the ER, knowing that once again, she had done the right thing.
Fandom: House MD
Characters: Cam-centric, references to H/W friendship.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 620
Notes: Missing scene for "Joy To the World." Written to resolve an unacceptable plot point. Dedicated to daasgrrl, who offered a plausible way out. Thanks to daasgrrl and hllangel for awesome beta notes.
Cameron told herself she wasn’t a stalker.
She stopped by the office every morning to make sure House’s penchant for chaos didn’t overwhelm the department now that no one on the team seemed to care enough to keep things tidy.
A bit of straightening here, some filing there. No one would ever know that she was still taking care of House, because he really couldn’t take care of himself, and if it gave her a chance to monitor his correspondence, whose business was it, anyway?
This morning, she’d found some unsigned charts , on which she forged House’s signature, taking care not to make the “girly” G, and a bill from House’s favorite escort service. It seemed large; a notation about “special services,” whatever that meant.
She checked to make sure all his Vicodin bottles were full, including the one in the lupus book, writing an extra script when absolutely necessary. There’d been a time when she dreamed of helping him live with fewer drugs. Those days were gone.
Cameron had seen what happened when House was deprived of his supply in the name of helping him. All she or anyone could do now was hold his hand on the way to the grave. She rarely cried about it anymore.
All was in order and she was on her way to the ER, with about ten minutes to grab some coffee, when she noticed the package on the table in the meeting room. She picked it up. Clearly a book, a heavy one, wrapped in green paper. Good, thick paper, not just something from CVS either. A package wrapped with care, in hopes that…who knew what to hope when it came to House? Last year he’d pitted the new fellows against each other in his “secret Santa” game, but she hadn’t heard about anything like that happening this year.
The package had a card in an envelope, tucked, not sealed.
House, reminded me of you.
She recognized the handwriting. The only person who thought he cared about House more than she did, and the one who still had the option of attempting to show it without being held up to ridicule.
Cameron had figured out a few things over the years. She and Wilson were almost in the same boat. Wilson loved House and House wasn’t having any. On the other hand, House had room in his life for one friend. Wilson had that position locked down. That would have bothered her, if she was still obsessed.
Now, it was both hurt and comfort that Wilson was still constrained by the same barriers House threw up between himself and the world. House. What kind of way was that to address a card to someone you loved?
House kept his usual erratic hours, but expected his team to show up on time. She should put the card back and get out. She should not go to House’s desk and get the Wite-Out he occasionally used to paint his nails. Having gotten it, she should definitely not use it to eradicate the offensive word blowing until the liquid had dried and replacing it with Greg. She did it anyway. Wilson’s scrawl was easy enough to replicate. Cameron convinced herself that House would be so taken with Wilson’s use of the word, it would help open him up, just a little. House had loved Stacy. Maybe he could love Wilson.
Kutner gave her an odd look in the hall outside House’s office, but then again almost everything about Kutner was a little odd, which must be why House had hired him.
She smiled and waved as she made her way to the ER, knowing that once again, she had done the right thing.