A Figment of His Imagination (10)
Title: Good Intentions
Fandom: House m.d.
Summary: This mutated story was inspired by the one scene I got to see of 4x13, so it's kind of spoilery for that particular episode. And yes, now I've seen the rest of the season as well. So spoilery up to Wilson's Heart now.
Rating: What about Teen for this one?
Disclaimer: Written out of fan-appreciation I do neither own House m.d. nor any other characters that appear on that show, I just borrowed them to play around with, so don't sue, please? Oh, and I kind of snatched parts of the dialogue between House and Amber from the bus scene in Wilson's Heart...
previous chapters:
1. * 2. * 3. * 4. * 5. * 6. * 7. * 8. * 9.
It is Thursday. She’s pulled another one of those exhausting double shifts and managed to survive. It’s been raining all day. She’s walking down the corridor, walking down the corridor rather briskly. Her hair’s wet and her clothes are feeling uncomfortably clammy. She quickly steps inside her apartment, closes the door, leans against it. She exhales slowly, closing her eyes. This is her safe place, home. No need to be perfect and infallible anymore. What a remarkable relief!
She kicks off her shoes, takes off her jacket and puts it on the hanger next to the door. Just as usual, she takes out her cellular and switches it from mute to normal. It’s all part of a daily routine she has already repeated countless time. But this is sort of unexpected. She frowns. Two missed calls, the display proclaims proudly. Normally nobody calls her during the day. Her family and friends all know her working hours. She looks at the number. The call was made from somewhere in Princeton. The number, however, doesn’t look familiar, so she decides to check her voice mail.
“You have two missed calls. The first one on 3:42 p.m.” First she can only hear the sound of soft breathing over the line, but before she can start worrying that she’s getting phone calls from some pervert, a shrill female voice dissolves the mystery in a very obtrusive way. “Time for your medicine, sunshine!” the woman croons enthusiastically. A muttered “shit” in a male voice that sounds decidedly familiar follows. After that the line goes dead. Cameron smiles amusedly. “Next call. 4:15 p.m.,” the voice mail informs her. So about half an hour later
The second call is slightly less entertaining, though. It’s just House saying ‘hello’, but there’s something in the tone of his voice that makes her call him back immediately. He sounds lonely and as if he desperately needs someone to talk to. The beginning of a guilty conscience starts stirring. She’s left him there alone. She didn’t check up on him today. She’s dialling his number before she even has the time to remind herself that she’s supposed to be angry at him. It’s an impulsive decision, so she doesn’t bother checking the time. At least not until the phone has already started ringing. It’s 11 p.m. Hopefully he’s not asleep yet.
He isn’t. “Hey,” the nervous smile is audible in her voice.
“Hey,” he answers. She can’t tell whether he’s happy to hear her or not, but knowing him, that’s exactly the desired effect.
“How are you?” she asks, switching on the light in her living room. The soft carpet is feeling rather nice underneath her feet. She lets herself fall back on the sofa with a sigh.
He hesitates. “Bored.”
“No soaps on?”
He sighs. “There’s only so much TV I can take without going crazy…” No sarcasm, no biting remarks about the TV programme. Now she’s even more concerned.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”
“No, I’m okay, really. Everything’s fine.”
“Alright, I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.” He doesn’t protest.
She drives through the heavy rain for a second time today, cursing underneath her breath. But she’s cursing because she’s forced to drive slower thanks to the downpour, not because she has to expose herself to the bad weather for a second time in order to see House. Then, finally arrived at the parking lot, she sprints up to the front door of the hospital, not caring whether she gets drenched in mere seconds or not. She leaves water droplets in her wake as she crosses the foyer with a few energetic strides.
Seconds later she’s standing inside his room, ever so slightly out of breath and looking like a drained cat. He looks up from some glossy magazine he’s reading. It’s Cosmo, she notices by and by.
“Wow, you were awfully fast! Didn’t feel like fifteen minutes. Actually more like ten.” He looks at his wristwatch, sitting on the bedside table next to him. “Yup, more or less exactly ten minutes.”
She doesn’t let his sarcasm get to her. What she notices though, is that he’s been keeping track of the time and that rather accurately.
“Is it raining outside?” He wrinkles his nose in disapproval as he takes in her drenched clothes and her wet hair.
“No, I was heading for the win of this year’s Miss Wet T-Shirt when you called.” She’s not able to bite back on a sarcastic comment this time. He’s been too good a teacher.
“And you wait to do that until I’m hospitalized! That’s rather cruel, don’t you think?”
“Ha, ha! Funny!” She shoots him a dirty look. He smiles triumphantly.
“Look, I’m going to head down to the change room for a second. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Sure, it’s not like I can’t keep myself entertained.” He pointedly reaches for the Cosmo again, faking indifference. She knows it’s fake, because of the phone call from before. The despair in his voice she’s heard back then, that was very real. She keeps looking over her shoulder while she’s walking away from him. The scene looks deceptively normal. House reading, looking mildly disinterested in the women’s magazine in his hands.
A few minutes later she’s back, wearing her usual work clothes, her hair still damp, but as dry as she can get it with a towel.
“So to what do I owe the honour of your visit?” he asks brashly, folding his arms over his chest. The tubes, now gone, he’s finally able to do that. A small triumph.
“I was concerned.” She admits truthfully. Saying that, Cameron realizes she really means it. She was…is concerned, more concerned than she should be. After all she has sworn herself not to cave in so easily this time, but he needs her now. This is the lowest she has ever seen him. He’s alone, no friends. Just him and his guilty conscience, assuming that has one, locked up together in a room.
“Concerned?” He seems surprised.
“Yes, concerned,” she confirms, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. From the corner of her eyes she notices his reading glasses lying on top of a medical journal on his bedside table.
“Cuddy?” she just asks.
“Yeah, awfully nice of her to drop by when there was nobody else around to come and visit, don’t you think? She’s even fluffed my pillow for me.” He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively.
The off-handed comment about “nobody else visiting” didn’t escape her notice. “I’m sorry,” Cameron says in all sincerity.
“About what?”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t come to see you today. I should have.”
“I don’t see a reason why you should have bothered…”
She interrupts him. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“That’s really nice of you. But I’ve got my TV and this nice little fellow here to keep me company,” he waves his play station at her. “Everything’s fine. Situation under control. Peachy even.”
She looks at him and frowns. He’s not sure what that is supposed to mean, but he’s doubtlessly going to find out in a couple of seconds. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the first time. I don’t want you to have to go through this alone.”
“I’m fine,” he reassures her, starting to sound a little repetitious.
“Okay,” she sighs. Of course he wouldn’t admit there was something wrong. What was she thinking? But having been exposed to his personality for four years, she's even developed a strategy to deal with that. “So if you’re fine, you surely won’t mind me keeping you company for a while, huh? I didn’t drive through this rain for nothing!”
“So what did you have in mind?”
“I hear Dancing With The Stars is on tonight. We could scavenge the snack machine on the second floor and talk about those desperate-to-be-on-TV contestants. You in?”
He takes awhile before he agrees begrudgingly. He’s already less reluctant when she asks him what she’s supposed to get him from the vending machine and moments later even bordering on enthusiastic, reciting a rather long list off chocolate bars off the top of his head. The grateful look he throws her when she returns, her arms laden with sweets, is hard to mistake, as is his sadistic delight in making sarcastic comments about the contestants of the show. It turns out to be a rather pleasant evening. Perhaps the most pleasant they’ve ever had together.
That’s why she sighs regretfully when she looks at her watch and notices it is time to leave. She tells him.
“Already?”
“Yeah.” She makes a face. “I have to work tomorrow. A pity, though. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” he admits almost shyly.
She smiles at him. “That’s good. That was what I’ve been aiming at all along.”
“Well, mission achieved then. Off you go, before that Nazi-nurse with those upper arms the size of a trunk starts feeding you pills as well. Doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, that one. ”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She yawns and rubs her eyes.
“And Cameron…”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. See you tomorrow.”
tbc
Fandom: House m.d.
Summary: This mutated story was inspired by the one scene I got to see of 4x13, so it's kind of spoilery for that particular episode. And yes, now I've seen the rest of the season as well. So spoilery up to Wilson's Heart now.
Rating: What about Teen for this one?
Disclaimer: Written out of fan-appreciation I do neither own House m.d. nor any other characters that appear on that show, I just borrowed them to play around with, so don't sue, please? Oh, and I kind of snatched parts of the dialogue between House and Amber from the bus scene in Wilson's Heart...
previous chapters:
1. * 2. * 3. * 4. * 5. * 6. * 7. * 8. * 9.
It is Thursday. She’s pulled another one of those exhausting double shifts and managed to survive. It’s been raining all day. She’s walking down the corridor, walking down the corridor rather briskly. Her hair’s wet and her clothes are feeling uncomfortably clammy. She quickly steps inside her apartment, closes the door, leans against it. She exhales slowly, closing her eyes. This is her safe place, home. No need to be perfect and infallible anymore. What a remarkable relief!
She kicks off her shoes, takes off her jacket and puts it on the hanger next to the door. Just as usual, she takes out her cellular and switches it from mute to normal. It’s all part of a daily routine she has already repeated countless time. But this is sort of unexpected. She frowns. Two missed calls, the display proclaims proudly. Normally nobody calls her during the day. Her family and friends all know her working hours. She looks at the number. The call was made from somewhere in Princeton. The number, however, doesn’t look familiar, so she decides to check her voice mail.
“You have two missed calls. The first one on 3:42 p.m.” First she can only hear the sound of soft breathing over the line, but before she can start worrying that she’s getting phone calls from some pervert, a shrill female voice dissolves the mystery in a very obtrusive way. “Time for your medicine, sunshine!” the woman croons enthusiastically. A muttered “shit” in a male voice that sounds decidedly familiar follows. After that the line goes dead. Cameron smiles amusedly. “Next call. 4:15 p.m.,” the voice mail informs her. So about half an hour later
The second call is slightly less entertaining, though. It’s just House saying ‘hello’, but there’s something in the tone of his voice that makes her call him back immediately. He sounds lonely and as if he desperately needs someone to talk to. The beginning of a guilty conscience starts stirring. She’s left him there alone. She didn’t check up on him today. She’s dialling his number before she even has the time to remind herself that she’s supposed to be angry at him. It’s an impulsive decision, so she doesn’t bother checking the time. At least not until the phone has already started ringing. It’s 11 p.m. Hopefully he’s not asleep yet.
He isn’t. “Hey,” the nervous smile is audible in her voice.
“Hey,” he answers. She can’t tell whether he’s happy to hear her or not, but knowing him, that’s exactly the desired effect.
“How are you?” she asks, switching on the light in her living room. The soft carpet is feeling rather nice underneath her feet. She lets herself fall back on the sofa with a sigh.
He hesitates. “Bored.”
“No soaps on?”
He sighs. “There’s only so much TV I can take without going crazy…” No sarcasm, no biting remarks about the TV programme. Now she’s even more concerned.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”
“No, I’m okay, really. Everything’s fine.”
“Alright, I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.” He doesn’t protest.
She drives through the heavy rain for a second time today, cursing underneath her breath. But she’s cursing because she’s forced to drive slower thanks to the downpour, not because she has to expose herself to the bad weather for a second time in order to see House. Then, finally arrived at the parking lot, she sprints up to the front door of the hospital, not caring whether she gets drenched in mere seconds or not. She leaves water droplets in her wake as she crosses the foyer with a few energetic strides.
Seconds later she’s standing inside his room, ever so slightly out of breath and looking like a drained cat. He looks up from some glossy magazine he’s reading. It’s Cosmo, she notices by and by.
“Wow, you were awfully fast! Didn’t feel like fifteen minutes. Actually more like ten.” He looks at his wristwatch, sitting on the bedside table next to him. “Yup, more or less exactly ten minutes.”
She doesn’t let his sarcasm get to her. What she notices though, is that he’s been keeping track of the time and that rather accurately.
“Is it raining outside?” He wrinkles his nose in disapproval as he takes in her drenched clothes and her wet hair.
“No, I was heading for the win of this year’s Miss Wet T-Shirt when you called.” She’s not able to bite back on a sarcastic comment this time. He’s been too good a teacher.
“And you wait to do that until I’m hospitalized! That’s rather cruel, don’t you think?”
“Ha, ha! Funny!” She shoots him a dirty look. He smiles triumphantly.
“Look, I’m going to head down to the change room for a second. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Sure, it’s not like I can’t keep myself entertained.” He pointedly reaches for the Cosmo again, faking indifference. She knows it’s fake, because of the phone call from before. The despair in his voice she’s heard back then, that was very real. She keeps looking over her shoulder while she’s walking away from him. The scene looks deceptively normal. House reading, looking mildly disinterested in the women’s magazine in his hands.
A few minutes later she’s back, wearing her usual work clothes, her hair still damp, but as dry as she can get it with a towel.
“So to what do I owe the honour of your visit?” he asks brashly, folding his arms over his chest. The tubes, now gone, he’s finally able to do that. A small triumph.
“I was concerned.” She admits truthfully. Saying that, Cameron realizes she really means it. She was…is concerned, more concerned than she should be. After all she has sworn herself not to cave in so easily this time, but he needs her now. This is the lowest she has ever seen him. He’s alone, no friends. Just him and his guilty conscience, assuming that has one, locked up together in a room.
“Concerned?” He seems surprised.
“Yes, concerned,” she confirms, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. From the corner of her eyes she notices his reading glasses lying on top of a medical journal on his bedside table.
“Cuddy?” she just asks.
“Yeah, awfully nice of her to drop by when there was nobody else around to come and visit, don’t you think? She’s even fluffed my pillow for me.” He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively.
The off-handed comment about “nobody else visiting” didn’t escape her notice. “I’m sorry,” Cameron says in all sincerity.
“About what?”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t come to see you today. I should have.”
“I don’t see a reason why you should have bothered…”
She interrupts him. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“That’s really nice of you. But I’ve got my TV and this nice little fellow here to keep me company,” he waves his play station at her. “Everything’s fine. Situation under control. Peachy even.”
She looks at him and frowns. He’s not sure what that is supposed to mean, but he’s doubtlessly going to find out in a couple of seconds. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the first time. I don’t want you to have to go through this alone.”
“I’m fine,” he reassures her, starting to sound a little repetitious.
“Okay,” she sighs. Of course he wouldn’t admit there was something wrong. What was she thinking? But having been exposed to his personality for four years, she's even developed a strategy to deal with that. “So if you’re fine, you surely won’t mind me keeping you company for a while, huh? I didn’t drive through this rain for nothing!”
“So what did you have in mind?”
“I hear Dancing With The Stars is on tonight. We could scavenge the snack machine on the second floor and talk about those desperate-to-be-on-TV contestants. You in?”
He takes awhile before he agrees begrudgingly. He’s already less reluctant when she asks him what she’s supposed to get him from the vending machine and moments later even bordering on enthusiastic, reciting a rather long list off chocolate bars off the top of his head. The grateful look he throws her when she returns, her arms laden with sweets, is hard to mistake, as is his sadistic delight in making sarcastic comments about the contestants of the show. It turns out to be a rather pleasant evening. Perhaps the most pleasant they’ve ever had together.
That’s why she sighs regretfully when she looks at her watch and notices it is time to leave. She tells him.
“Already?”
“Yeah.” She makes a face. “I have to work tomorrow. A pity, though. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” he admits almost shyly.
She smiles at him. “That’s good. That was what I’ve been aiming at all along.”
“Well, mission achieved then. Off you go, before that Nazi-nurse with those upper arms the size of a trunk starts feeding you pills as well. Doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, that one. ”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She yawns and rubs her eyes.
“And Cameron…”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. See you tomorrow.”
tbc