PROLOGUE
DAY EIGHT
It was raining.
Funny thing, rain. It seemed to so perfectly mirror her demeanor.
The rain dribbled down the hood she was wearing and down onto her black shirt, which was mostly covered by another darker hooded jacket. She glanced down at the ground, at the soggy, loose piece of land, then back up again, tears clouding her vison. From the corner of her eye, she saw the remaining members of the team, her eyes lingering on the man that was limping, who was gripping the cane tightly with each painful step. She looked back down to the ground, at the tombstone.
Alison Cameron was in a graveyard.
a DEAD.END.MOON production
the OTHER imposter
SEVEN DAYS
DAY ONE
Seven days earlier.
Morning,
Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
The door swung open, pushed by Gregory House's cane, and into his office he walked. He glanced at the adjoining room, which was empty. He shook his head and pulled his chair out from under his desk.
"Where the hell are they?" he muttered, shrugging his backpack off his shoulder. He sat and opened the case files that was on his desk. He read the note that Cuddy had slipped in the file, and casually brushed the note into the trash can.
"Boring." he said, shutting the case file and turning to his computer.
He wiggled the mouse.
Nothing.
Glancing down at the computer tower, he discovered someone had turned off his computer off. He pushed the power button and waited. The screen lit up.
For once, it wasn't just Foreman who was late, it was his whole team. Maybe they'd decided to try one big threesome. Why hadn't he been invited?
He pullout out his iPod from his bag, plugged it ear phones into it, and stuck them in his ears. He scrolled his playlist, named "Songs for the Bored Doctor", found a song - "Overture," by The Who, from their album, Tommy - and started to press play. Just as the song started, the doors in the differential room swung open and Chase walked it, wearing his white jacket, with blood smeared on it.
"House!" he called. He walked into House's office, breathing hard. House pulled the earphones out of his ears.
"Where the hell were you?" he asked, swiveling his chair toward him. "And why do you breathe like you just ran four miles?"
"We've got a new patient." Chase said, still catching his breath.
"What'd he do? Cough blood on you?" House replied, smirking and leaning back it his chair. He sighed dramatically and put his feet up on his desk. "Alright, gimme the case file." He held his hand out.
Chase shook his head. "No case file."
"Then what the hell you need me for?" House asked, lowering his hand.
"He's asking for you."
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"You didn't answer my question." House said, hobbling to the elevator, with Chase trailing him.
"Why I was late?"
House nodded.
"Cameron, Foreman, and I were downstairs, in the ER, treating a guy that had just come in an ambulance. We treated him, and he had some internal bleeding, just a little bit, though, so we-"
"Dammit, Chase. What happened?" House interrupted.
"He was in a car accident, on his motorcycle." Chase said. House flinched at the words "accident" and "motorcycle."
I need to drive slower tonight.
"...he's stable now." Chase finished.
They stopped at the elevator, Chase jabbed the "down" button, and the doors automatically opened, with Wilson coming out at a fast pace. He collided with House.
"God!" Wilson groaned.
"Damn it, Jim!" House yelled harshly. "If I didn't already feel like shit, I do now."
"I was just coming to, uh, see you, House." Wilson said, looking down and stepping back into the elevator.
House pushed past him roughly, favoring his damaged leg, and leaned against the back on the elevator.
"Um, sorry, Gregg." Wilson muttered.
"Yeah, you and everybody else." House replied.
Wilson looked to Chase, who shrugged, and mouthed bad night.
The doors opened and House limped out, followed by Wilson and Chase. He suddenly stopped, with Wilson and Chase almost colliding with him again.
"Why the hell are we in the lobby?" House asked.
"No room upstairs." Chase said.
"Why?"
"A breakout of E-coli and a bad strain of the flu. Not much room left, so we rented him a room in the clinic and moved the heart monitors and EKG machines down to room 2." Chase explained.
House hobbled into clinic, ducking to see into the clinic room in vain, because the shades drawn.
"Who is he, House?" Wilson asked.
House stopped, straightened up, and glared down at Wilson. "Do I look like a psychic to you, James?"
He turned back toward the room, as the shades shuddered, then were drawn back by a young looking nurse. He froze, a chill going up his spine.
"Do you know him, House?"
"Page the goddamned team, we have a case." House said, gripping his cane tightly. He fumbled in his pocket for his vicoden.
"Son of a bitch..."
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Noon
Doctor Gregory House, M.D.'s office
Department of Diagnostic Medicine
"His name's Abu-Asom al-Zarqawi." House said. "We affectionately called him 'Triple A.'"
"al-Zarqawi?" Cameron said. "He's not related to Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, is he?"
"How would I know?" House grumbled. "Anyway-"
"How do you know him?" Foreman asked.
"I'm having trouble believing you know a terrorist, House." Chase piped in. "I mean, you're not the nicest person and all-"
"High school." House interrupted.
"He's your age?" Cameron asked. They, the team, had met in House's office after he had scampered away from Abu-Asom's room.
"Don't get any funny ideas, Cameron." House said smugly, making one of his signature faces at Cameron. He thumped his cane on the floor repeatedly.
"You went to school with him? An Iraqi guy?" Foreman asked.
"I never knew he was Iraqi. But he is." House replied, glancing at the coffee pot, which was half empty already. "He was Islamic or Muslamic or something like that." He frowned and grabbed his cane. "The hell is this? Twenty Questions?" He stood and walked through the door into the adjoining office and to the counter. The team followed him in.
"I take it you had a falling-out of some kind with him, eh?" Chase asked.
"I guess 'falling-out' is your new British lingo for 'dropping off the face of the planet.'" House replied sarcastically, pouring a cup of coffee.
"I'm Australian." Chase muttered.
"He vanished right after we graduated from high school." House continued. "I did some digging after our first high school senior reunion, when he didn't show, and discovered that he had bought a ticket to Iraq."
"You think he's a terrorist." Cameron stated.
"Is that question?"
"Well, I-"
"He arrived in Iraq and dropped off the face of the Earth. He's a ghost." House turned to Cameron. "Is that a good enough answer for you?"
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"You think Abu-Asom's a terrorist." Cuddy said, giving House a look.
"We think." House said, popping a vicoden pill into his mouth.
"We? Who's we?" Cuddy asked. "Your multiple personalities?"
As if to annoy Cuddy, House dramatically faked a twitch that rippled through his entire body. He couldn't resist a smile. "My team, Cuddy." House said, smirking. "Are you brains draining into your breasts?" He glances down at her low-cut blouse. "I suppose I should be talking to them now, huh?" He lowered his head closer to her chest, over her desk. "So what to ya'll think?"
Cuddy groaned and said, "Don't start this shit. I'll call up somebody and get this straightened out."
House stood up straight. "Who?"
"NCIS."
"Who?"
"NCIS, you know."
"Who? Like CSI? You know, that's a great show. They had one episode last night were this stripper got raped..."
"I'm sure you paid attention to that episode." Cuddy said sarcastically. "No, NCIS stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service. It take it you didn't get the memo."
"This has nothing to do with the Navy!" House exclaimed.
"They investigate terroristic plots and conspiracies." Cuddy replied. "They're not super uptight, nor do they answer to many people. Much like you, House. Listen, you have clinic duty. Go sulk. This is not your case. Not your territory."
House frowned.
"Go!'
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House, Cameron, and Wilson stood in front of the window looking into clinic room 2, where, it seemed, Abu-Asom al-Zarqawi was sleeping comfortably. The nurse that was tending to him silently slipped out of the room and walked towards House.
"How is he?" House asked, stopping her.
"Sleeping comfortably." the nurse replied. She had a subtle Middle Eastern accent.
"How long?"
"Three hours now."
"Good." House rolled his shoulders and limped past the nurse into the room. He stopped at the foot of the bed and yelled something in Arabic.
Abu-Asom jerked up quickly, eyes wide, then fell back, grinning. "Doctor House." he said in his heavy Middle Eastern accent. "I thought I saw you earlier. Now I'm sure I have." He smiled.
Cameron felt a shiver go up her spine. There was something wrong with him, she knew it. He had relaxed when he saw House, like he was now glad that he was at the right hospital. It was maniacal.
"What happened?" House asked, motioning to the several stitches and bandages on his right side. The smile obviously hadn't effected House like it had Cameron. House already seemed maniacal.
"A car trying to stop hit me while I was on my friend's motorcycle. The damn thing totaled it. But I thank Allah I was not seriously injured." Abu-Asom grinned and added, "It is good to be back in America and seeing you again, Gregg."
House nodded and limped to the right side of the bed.
"What happened to your leg?" Abu-Asom asked, following House with his gaze.
"I had an infarction." House said quickly and in a low voice. He was checking the monitors. "They're giving you morphine?"
"I'm having chronic pain." Abu-Asom said quietly.
House squinted quickly, then nodded and left the room, looping his arm around Cameron's and pulled her out. The nurse followed them out. He limped to the elevator, still holding onto Cameron.
"What are you-" Cameron asked.
House stopped, let go of Cameron, then faced her. "Don't do that again."
"What?"
"Don't freeze up like you did in there."
"I never-"
"Shut up and listen! I brought you down there to watch him for me. To see what he was doing. Like you once did with me, you know? Next time... next time, don't freeze up, okay." His voice softened. "Sign of weakness."
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Afternoon
Washington, DC
NCIS Headquarters
"I don't know, Kate. It looks so lopsided." Special Agent Tony DiNozzo said, as he gazed into the mirror he was holding.
"Tony, your sideburns are fine." Special Agent Kate Todd replied, sighing. "The new hairdresser did not screw up your hair. She used to cut Clinton's and President Bush's hair!"
DiNozzo looked up. "Really?"
"Nah." Kate replied, grinning.
He grunted and raked his fingers through his hair. Kate grabbed the mirror from DiNozzo's hand and said smugly, "Maybe one of your ears are lower than the other."
"No." DiNozzo said. He grabbed the mirror back and looked into it. "Really? You think?"
At that moment Special Agent, and team leader, Leroy Jethro Gibbs walked into their office space, carrying his daily cup of coffee.
"Really Kate, the new hairdresser is, like, fifty times my age! Her hand could've twitched and - BUZZZZ! Off goes Little Tony's right sideburn!" DiNozzo said.
"Stop playing with that mirror, DiNozzo, and get your gear." Gibbs said, clipping his gun and gun holster to his belt and getting his badge from a drawer in his desk. He glanced at the second computer monitor, which was scanning through all the faces of known terrorists, trying to match the face of a terrorist who had recently escaped from NCIS HQ.
"Murder, Boss?" DiNozzo asked.
Gibbs shook his head. "Suspicious Iraqi at a hospital in Jersey."
"Gotcha." DiNozzo replied, grabbing his weapon.
"Where in Jersey?" Kate asked.
"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."
"Lovely! I once had a girlfriend from New Jersey." DiNozzo said, grabbing his pack and sliding it onto his shoulder. "She was hot as hell, but she gave head in such a weird way-"
Gibbs slapped him on the back of his head and walked to the elevator doors. As Kate passed DiNozzo, he said, "She bit a lot."
Kate cringed as they squeezed through the closing elevator doors.
Gibbs suspiciously eyed DiNozzo's new haircut and said," Are your sideburns crooked?"
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Evening
PPTH
Cuddy's Office
House sat behind her desk waiting for Cuddy to return. He put his cane on her desk , followed by his feet., which were unusually clad in genuine Converse sneakers.
Cuddy stopped at the door, sighing as she saw House grinning smugly at her. She opened the door and entered.
"Good lunch?" House asked.
"You're about to be seeing it if you don't get out of my chair." she said, grabbed his cane and tossing it onto the couch next to her desk. House stood up slowly and hobbled to the couch to grab his cane.
"You must've had a bad lunch that put you in this muggy mood." he said, pouting.
"What do you want?"
"That new nurse. Whom she be?" House said.
"Oh. That's all?" Cuddy asked, expecting more. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. She's weird is all."
"Fine." She looked through the several files on her desk and fished on out, and opened it. "Here we go. Her name's Annie Carson." Cuddy said. "She's lived in the US half her life."
"Before that..." House prompted.
"Before that, we don't know where she was."
He fidgeted on the couch and said, "She could be helping him." He stood and limped to the doors.
"Wait, House!" Cuddy said, standing.
House stopped and turned to her. "He's a threat to this hospital, Cuddy! He yelled.
"Since when the hell did you care?" Cuddy replied.
"Because you've always wanted me too!" House said.
"The NCIS director said not to talk to Abu-Asom." Cuddy said softly.
"What?" House asked incredulously. "What kind of shit is that?!"
House slung open the door and hobbled out.
Wilson was waiting for him in the lobby.
"What'd she say?" he asked, following House to the elevator.
"A crock of -"
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tbc