Title: An Unforgiving Past- Chapter 2: Semantics
Author: peace_and_war
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: M-MA… fluctuates, mainly for themes and language.
Word Count: 1700 ish.
Disclaimer: I don’t own House. If I did, I would have more that 83 cents in my savings account. Not joking. I also do not own the rights to Gary Jules- Mad World.
Summary: One night, one fight for life, and another encounter.
Thankyou to my lovely beta amypinkpoison, who read this and gave me general fixups and some great line changes, all of which I included, so I think she deserves some credit.
Love you Amy!
Chapter 2- Semantics
“Piss off.”
As she was aimlessly pushing her salad around her plate, a shadow edged into her eye line as she was staring at the floor.
“Nice to see you too Cameron.”
She rolled her eyes and looked up to find the source of the voice. She knew it was House, before she even looked up, but she needed the validation of actually seeing him.
“Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”
“Nope.”
He sat down across from her without waiting for the invitation he knew wouldn’t come.
“Well I don't want to be bothered, thanks.”
He stared at her, ignoring the sharp warning to leave her alone.
“I heard about what happened in the ER before.”
She was quick to step up though, shooting a withering glance his way and not hesitating in replying in a somewhat challenging tone.
“I heard about what happened in here before. Care to share?”
“Nope. But your story, much more interesting.”
He didn’t blink, refusing to let this one go.
“Interesting, no. Painful yes. I don't want to talk about it.”
“You don't just get strangled without a reason.”
She pushed the salad away from herself, knowing he wasn’t going to back down but not willing to give him what he wanted. She had to hold back a smirk as he visibly tensed when she leaned toward him.
'The reason is... none of your business.'
She stood up, but before walking off and leaving him without the answers he came for, she glanced back over her shoulder, “You can have the salad if you want it.”
He watched her walk out of the cafeteria. The salad was sitting in front of him, he grimaced, he wasn’t really a salad person.
There had to be a reason for the ER incident today, so if one person wasn't willing to talk, he had to get it out of the other.
“Hello apparently-dying patient.”
He walked into the room to find his latest patient, Tusker, shackled to the bed.
“Who the fuck are you?”
And this patient didn’t seem overly pleased to be there.
“The doctor that has been assigned to your case until either you die, or we figure out what's wrong with you. Personally, I'd prefer to just let you die. Granted, there’s more paperwork, but then I don't get the horrible feeling in my stomach that I've once again saved a life. They kinda outweigh each other. What do you think?”
“Screw you.”
This guy really wasn’t in the mood for games…but that just made House want to toy with him more.
“No, thanks. I prefer it when the ladies do that.”
Tusker was starting to get irritable, the red colour rising in his cheeks. Not that he could do much, being chained to the bed and all.
“Why don't you go jump of a fucking cliff?”
House pointed to his leg in mock self-pity.
“Can't get a good enough run up.”
Tusker simply glared at him.
“Why did you try to strangle Dr. Cameron before?”
House just needed to know. This was one of the pieces of his Cameron Jigsaw that he couldn’t let go. There had to be a reason and he had to know what it was. If Cameron herself wouldn’t tell him, then this was one person he’d make sure he got it out of. After all, Tusker was tied to the bed. He couldn’t walk away like Cameron could.
Tusker’s face darkened as he heard her name. He turned his head, grinding his words out between his teeth, pure contempt conveyed clearly in his tone.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Can't. You see, she can't talk right now. Y'know how it is, she needs to talk to Workers Comp, the psychiatrist and our boss. And when you have to talk to our boss, that’s serious. She’s like a praying mantis. Cameron might never leave her office, and if we never see her again then we’ll never find out then, will we?”
Tusker ignored House’s snark, only one thing registering in his mind.
“She's gonna try to get more fucking compensation outta me?! She’s out of her fucking mind.”
“What do you mean ‘more’ compensation?”
“She’s the one who got me fucking locked up and sued me a hundred thousand for special compensatory damages.”
House considered the man’s words for a moment, the puzzle of Allison Cameron becoming even more difficult to decipher. Without another word, he turned around and headed toward the door, ignoring the questions Tucker was yelling to him.
“Dr. Cameron, I know you don't want to be here, but you need to talk this out. A patient that tried to kill you seventeen years ago turned up here today on your shift. Doesn't that bring up any memories?”
“Of course it does, and I don't want to talk about them. That’s in the past and I just want to forget about it.”
The psychiatrist sighed softly, used to the denial phase with all the patients she saw on a regular basis.
“Well, you can't go back to work until I've cleared you to go back. You’ve got to stop fighting me. I’m not the enemy, I’m here to help you.”
Cameron hesitated, choosing a spot on the floor to steady an intense gaze on. Picking at one of her nails, a distraction technique that always resurfaced when she was nervous or uncomfortable, she closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them again, she sighed and eventually found her words.
“Fine. Seventeen years ago I…dated Jeremy Tusker. He wanted sex, I didn't. He beat me up, stabbed me and left me to die. Obviously, I’m here today, so he didn’t succeed. But he was close. I was revived by the paramedics and spent three months in hospital because the knife had shredded my left kidney. I needed a transplant, amongst other things.”
The memories were difficult, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat as she subconsciously touched her side where there was still a scar to constantly remind her of the ordeal. The psychiatrist stayed quiet, nodding her encouragement and not wanting to interrupt Cameron’s recall.
“When I was well enough, my parents insisted we prosecute, even though all I wanted to do was forget he even existed. He got twenty-five years without parole, but I guess he got out at some point. I don’t know, I put him out of my mind, tried to get on with my life, and suddenly he showed up here today vomiting blood. I’m a doctor; I couldn’t exactly refuse to treat him. I tried to get one of the other doctors to see to him, cause as little disruption as possible. Just because he’s a criminal, we still have to treat him. But we’re short staffed, and I had no choice but to go in there. He recognised me, the person who’d put him in jail all those years ago, and tried to kill me again…”
“That’s really good progress Allison.”
“Yeah..” Cameron didn’t meet the psychiatrist’s eyes. “May I go now?”
The psychiatrist nodded. At least they’d got somewhere.
“As long as you come back on Friday for another session.”
Cameron didn’t seem to really register what she was agreeing to as she nodded. She was numb from all the memories that were flooding her.
All she wanted to do was go home. Go home and forget the day, possibly with the bottles of wine in her fridge. Break her ban on alcohol, and travel down that well-worn road of happiness, euphoria…leading to withdrawal and hysteria. That didn’t scare her anymore.
After sitting in her car for a few moments, trying to get her head together and collect her thoughts, she fumbled with the keys and finally switched on the ignition. As she did so, Gary Jules’ voice began to pour out around her, and for a moment she closed her eyes, letting it wash over her.
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places
Worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going no where
Going no where
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression
No expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
“Got that right, Gary.”
She muttered under her breath as she opened her eyes and sighed, pulling out of the parking space and glancing at the retreating body of the hospital in her rear-view mirror.
No tomorrow
No tomorrow
And I find I kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very
Mad world
Mad world
Just as her thoughts were beginning to soothe, the words of the song lulling her somewhat, whilst at the same time stirring feelings she’d long since buried, a car cut in front of her and jerked her out of her reverie.
“Fucking asshole!”
She screamed, slamming on the horn and hitting the steering wheel in frustration, taking it out on no one in particular.
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
And I feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen
Sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me
No one knew me
“No one cared enough to know me.”
The tears were starting to well up in her eyes as she fought them back, the words that were filtering through the speakers hitting harder than she could handle right now.
Hello teacher
Tell me what’s my lesson
Look right through me
Look right through me
And I find I kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very
Mad world
Mad world
Enlarging your world
Mad world
The tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t turn off the radio, she was paralysed with the emotions, and by the truths that were hitting too close too home, and all she wanted was for all of this too end, all of the seventeen years of pain, all of the memories, and for him to just get out of her life. She’d be damned if he ruined her life again.
.