013 [audio

[worksmart]

[Filtered to Police, Hospital, Friends || hackable;]

Something in Eden Mac Cionaoith's body came after me, but it's not her. I know whatever it is can't keep doing this, but if you're trying to stop it, bear in mind it's holding a sick kid hostage in there. And be careful.

[/end filter]So I can't get out of the damn room, and nobody else can get

Comments

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

"I called Maintenance half an hour ago." She doesn't budge. She isn't taking orders; even if Angela had asked nicely-- a probable impossibility, as Cameron is beginning to suspect vicious bitch is her default setting-- she isn't going to play fetch.

Although she won't even begin to comment on how childish that was, her tone makes it obvious that she heard each word. Cameron is getting quite sick of Chase's insistence that she's only interested in House. Bad enough that he thinks it; apparently it's the first thing he tells people about her. Tacit compliments to her face, dangerously pleasant evenings in together-- but apparently insulting her is a pillow-talk pastime. Trusting him in any capacity had been a mistake.

As much as she tries to convince herself that it isn't entirely his fault-- that the time, the experience she has on him would grant some comprehension of the ways in which she's moved on-- she's angry, and this is fuel on the fire. Perhaps because there was a measure of truth to it. Or had been. But she's known

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

There isn't much she can say to the first point, so she lets it pass. She's damn sure someone would hear the alarm-- she's heard them before, through open doors or closed, with no issue; why she can't hear Chase calling is a mystery. But it's a valid dig. Though it's also not her fault that the door's shut.

As far as Cameron's concerned, Angela's reaction disproves any claims anyone could make about the casual nature of their relationship. It's a bitter thought. Also the pot calling the kettle black, because Cameron is every bit as angry. And as such, every bit as involved

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

There's a little sigh in return, and she lets her hand drop. For a second she stands, teeth gritted, the equivalent of stomping the brakes and crawling towards a light that's red anyway while the asshole behinds you leans on her horn. It makes her feel a little better. But not much, with Angela inches away. She turns sharply, slips past the other woman.

"Go ahead." She doesn't want to stand in the way, after all. She certainly doesn't want to be in the room with the both of them-- right now she doesn't want to be alone with either of them. Chase gets some slack for the near-death experience, but as soon has he's hale and healthy she intends to stop talking to him outside of professional necessity.

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[worksmart]

Meanwhile, back in the oasis, Chase looks up as his door mysteriously creaks forward an inch, then stops. He waits, eyeing the narrow triangle of open air, frustratingly angled in the wrong direction for him to be able to see through and out to the corridor beyond.

"Hello?" he asks, cautiously, waiting for the penny to drop - or whoever might be on the other side to leap through and yell 'surprise'. Something worth the tension.

But, no dice. He can hear the usual noises from outside, the shuffling feet and low level murmur of hospital bustle, nothing more. Did Angela just give up and go home? Did Cameron? Short of a crutch, he reaches for the IV stand and pulls himself onto one foot, testing the other gingerly before trying to set it down.

Wearing a green hospital gown, barelegged, pale, sweaty and hopping, it's probably for the best no one has made it in to see his attempt to get to the door. A brief attempt, as it turns out; he gets all of two feet towards freedom before coming up against an invisible wall

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[worksmart]

No, but he has slumped back onto the bed, more tired than he'd like to be by that short lived excursion. So it's solitary confinement day in the city. Just a pity it couldn't have tried this one just twenty four hours earlier and he might not be in this position at all. He shoves the medical journal and its half completed crossword off the pillows, trying to get comfortable in spite of what tubes and monitors are still hooked up.

If he can't get out and nothing can get in maybe the sleep he gets will be restful this time. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about black irises and blood on the scuffed polish of the exam room floor.

Or the first time he remembers watching the world narrow into black, when he woke up with his mum sitting vigil by the bed. If fear gets chased away, so should hope. He can't rest easy with either one.

And he's so tired.

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

Being underestimated, being dismissed as weak and insignificant, might be Cameron's biggest pet peeve. Watching Angela throw her weight against the door, to no avail, is gratifying. Enough to keep her frustration at not being able to get into the room at bay.

At least Chase isn't dying-- and now, knowing that the door can be opened, at least she can make sure someone checks on him.

"Wait until midnight." It's all the advice she can muster. Odd occurrences are nearly always curses, and curses invariably end. Usually it's just a matter of hours.

"I have to find someone to cover," she murmurs. Not speaking to Angela, really. Thinking aloud. It's an excuse to get out of here, which is a definite plus.

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

"Do you have a better idea?" More weary than snappish. Too tired of this to do anything more, and slightly irked by the other woman's worries. Another assumption that Cameron's lying, or just neurosis?

Maybe it's just that Cameron has a better idea of his condition-- she's seen him already, if not today. And more than that, she saw him at his worst, barely hanging on to his life. Compared to that, he's in great shape now, thirsty and cranky and pale as he is.

And it's hard to be eager to share his room with her present company. Given the telephone stunt earlier, she wouldn't be surprised if Angela climbed into his lap to make her twitch. The worst part is that it would work.

"I'll send someone to look in on him, they'll be able to give you an update on his condition." Back to brisk and businesslike. That's the closest she'll come to taking pity. And with that she's off, to arrange for someone who can walk into the room to see to the patient.

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[worksmart]

Cameron, and Chase, both at least have the experience to know that the alarm any traumatic event would trigger would carry far outside his room. Hopefully this information is conveyed by the staff nurse who does eventually check on Chase, one thankfully unswayed by any antipodean charms. He has several visitors over the next few hours. Some brief, some House, and one bearing drinks. By the time midnight comes he's awake again, quite solidly, and staring balefully at the blackness outside the window.

A network check seems to suggest that Eden has been found and controlled, although not how or by who, or with any useful information as to her condition. She could be in a room down the hall right now; he doesn't know if he'd find that a comfort or not.

Either way, the full day's rest has taken its toll on his bodyclock. He's going to be awake until dawn if he's lucky, and the time now - a glance to the wall clock confirms - is only 11:59pm.

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

Cameron should have gone home hours ago; she knows, but somehow she's not ready to. Nervous energy is easier to expend lending a hand than pacing back and forth in her apartment