Unmistaken

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Chapter I: Time Enough to Worry

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Noon was finally upon them, and for most of the Princeton Plains-boro Teaching Hospital staff, this meant lunch break, and a time of peace from often irate, hypochondriac patients. Abandoning the need to remove their hospital attire, much of the staff simply flocked to the cafeteria this time of day, or left for a brief respite to their respective homes. Presently, most all of the staff could be found sitting in one place or another in the crowded chamber. Although this made most admittedly claustrophobic, it did not prevent the same scenario from replaying itself day by day.

"You're worried about him?" Foreman asked incredulously as he and Cameron inched their way through a mess of white lab coats towards an unoccupied table in the corner near the east exit.

"And you're not?" she replied snappishly, struggling to stay at his side as they made their way through the congregation of staff members.

He shrugged noncommittally. "Why should I be?"

"Because," she protested, "this is the third time he hasn't shown up for work this week."

"Not my business," he replied tiredly, dropping into the chair with his cold cut almost thankfully once they reached their chosen table.

"But-but he's your colleague—"

"He's a weasel and a snitch," he cut across her with a slight frown creasing his features as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"He's still your colleague," she repeated flatly. "I'm going to check on him."

"He lives a fair distance away," he muttered almost thoughtfully, "House won't be too happy when you don't get back in time."

A ghost of a smile passed over her features, "House won't do anything about it," she replied confidently.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, "why do you say that?"

"Cuddy has him on clinic duty all afternoon. He won't have the time, or the opportunity to hassle me about Chase."

"You could get into trouble with the board, you realize?" he inquired of her sighing, as though not sure she understood what she was intending.

"I'm worried about Chase," her tone was soft. "Things have been hard for him ever since he and House got through their peer review."

"Worry about that on your own time then," he proposed, knowing she would not just drop the 'worried about Chase' thing flat out. "Then you won't risk getting in trouble with Cuddy."

"A person is more important than a job."

"He wouldn't see it that way. If this situation were reversed, he'd throw you to the dogs in a second if it meant job security," he pointed out lightly, referring back to his treasonous actions when Vogler had first come to call upon PPTH.

"Well I'm not him, am I?" She asked defiantly.

With that said, she drew herself up to her full height, pulled her lab coat around herself more tightly, as though she were cold, and skirted the table.

At her response, he shook his head slowly, watching as the tail of her lab coat disappeared out the door and into the permeating midday sunlight. He took another bite from his sandwich.

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She shook her head lightly, clearing her mind of the conversation she and Foreman had held prior. At the time, she had been adamant about checking on Chase. Although she knew Foreman's points about him were well input, it did not change the fact that he was, regardless of what he had done in the past, still their colleague. And she was still a slightly-too-naïve doctor who chose to always see the best in people. Those two factors, alongside the fact that he would not answer his phone when she had called prior to the chat between Foreman and herself, were indeed the sole reasons why she stood where she did presently: In front of his apartment door.

As she stood, her hand raised and poised to knock on his door, she had to stop and wonder, though. Did she really want to do this? Of course she was worried about him; she wouldn't have come if she weren't. But what if nothing were truly wrong? For all she knew, he could be sitting, quite contently and perfectly fine, on his couch, just flipping through the channels. Maybe nothing was wrong and he just wanted to avoid work to avoid House. If that were the case, she most certainly couldn't blame him.

But, what if…? There was a chance that nothing was wrong. However, there was also the possibility that something was. The fact that he hadn't answered his cell phone when she called made her lean towards the worse of the two choices.

"Besides," Cameron concluded to herself, shaking her head slightly. "It's still worth checking out. Even if nothing's wrong, I'll be wasting a trip out here if I do nothing."

Having made up her mind she tapped lightly on his apartment door, waiting for him to let her in. When no such response came, she knocked again, this time more loudly. Still there came no answer. And as she tried a third time, the worry swelling within her reached a crescendo; lingering as painfully as the echo of her hollow knock reverberating down the deserted hallway she stood in.

"Chase—Are you there?" Her voice echoed, just as her in-vain knocks had, down the deserted corridor. Not quite deterred, and staving off—rather unsuccessfully—the worry lancing away at her, she called out again; the echoes of another knock dancing mournfully after her faltering voice.

"Chase—Chase—It's me, Cameron. Please open up."

As silence became the only reply to her calls, her hand, now with its palm resting against the cool wooden structure for much needed support, slipped down to linger on the cool metal knob. Almost reflexively her fingers curled themselves around the object.

As she stood there, worry lacing its way through her mind, hand resting aimlessly on his doorknob, a thought hit her. She knew she shouldn't, really. It was a huge risk on her part, that she should be willing to so mindlessly put his privacy on the line. But, she was worried about him. Wasn't that just the justification she needed? And besides, if he wasn't home, or was but didn't want company, wouldn't he have sense enough to lock the door? If it was, she had nothing to worry about; if it wasn't, well if it came to that she'd work something out.

After all, you couldn't work around Gregory House for so long and not have some of his attitude rub off on you.

Slightly hesitant, she began to turn the doorknob. Expecting it to stop mid-turn, she was surprised to find it turn full-circle as the catch gave way and the door slipped from the frame few millimeters. For a moment she stood bewildered, not having expected the door to be open. Then, to appease her worry, she carefully pushed the door open wide enough to peer inside.

From the small opening she had given herself, she couldn't really see much. The interior of his apartment was dim with nothing except the wane hallway light filtering into the room.

Not being able to see far inside, she threw caution to the winds, and pushed the door completely open, slipping quietly into the room. Closing the door behind her once more, she inched across the room slowly, her eyes scanning over the area as they adjusted to the feeble lighting. The room—the living room, she assumed—was scarcely lit, it's only source of ill-begotten light filtering in from between the gaps in his still-drawn curtains and casting oblong shadows over the furniture and splaying an ill array over the off-white walls.

"Hello?" she called out pensively, half expecting an answer. "Chase?"

This was weird. Disconcertingly weird. His door had been unlocked, meaning that he must surely be home, and yet, the lights were out, the curtains drawn and no one was responding when she called out. What on earth was going on? And what in the world was that bitterly poignant, musky aroma hanging in the air?

As she turned her gaze towards the farthest end of the room, looking off towards the right, she noticed a small patch of rectangular light, resembling the outline of a doorframe, leaking through the otherwise dark interior. Curious as to why the light should be on in that room, yet no where else in the house, she made her way slowly across the threshold and towards the open-standing door frame.

As she crossed the living room, the sweet musky scent hanging in the air grew increasingly potent to the point where it began to burn her sinuses. She coughed dryly and stopped just short of the open frame. Gazing into the small room she could make out the outline of a dishwasher and sink.

'Must be the kitchen,' she concluded to herself as she began to turn, not having found anything of importance. As she did so, she noticed the rough silhouette of something off to the corner and promptly turned back to the room for inspection.

Glancing in the direction of the figure, it took her a moment to register just what exactly she was seeing. Suddenly, it all made sense—why he had been avoiding work; why he hadn't answered his phone; even the musty smell burning her sinuses.

Her throat constricted painfully as she tried to stumble over the word wanting to spring from her lips, and whether she had gotten the word out she couldn't know; it was impossible to hear with the beating of her heart roaring in her ears and deafening her senses. After a moment she managed to find her voice and the words she had been struggling to utter sprang from her lips.

"Oh my God—Chase!"

Author's Ramblings: This is my first attempt at a House M.D. fanfiction. Please be honest in your reviews and please tell me if you think they're in character or not. I really want to keep them in character as much as possible so all criticism is happily accepted. Be sure to tell me if I should continue too. Thanks.