Live and Let Die
By Rhi
Chapter One – Downward Spiral
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Well, finally I'm happy enough with this story and where I'm going with it to start posting it. There's going to be some medical stuff in this fic, which I have researched in as much depth as I have access to through the internet and my anatomy and physiology text books, but may still be incorrect or in the wrong context. If any medical mistakes are glaringly obvious, please let me know and I will fix them…after all I'm studying to be a physiotherapist, not a doctor!
That's it from me, I hope you guys enjoy my story.
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He now knew what it was like to experience an F5-rated tornado ripping through a town, leaving nothing in its wake but a trail of devastation and rubble. Except this tornado hadn't torn through his town, it had ripped apart his life.
He wouldn't admit it to anyone, he even went so far as to claim that he thought it was a good change, but the recent occurrences had taken Dr. Gregory House by surprise, and he was left feeling rather unsure about it all. And one of the things that irked House the most was feeling unsure about something.
The words Cameron had said to him as she left echoed in his mind. I expect you to do what you always do. I expect you to make a joke and go on. I expect you to be just fine. He could still feel the ghost of her touch on his left arm. I'll miss you.
She had got most of it right. He would do what he always did. He would make it all into a big joke and go on as if nothing happened. But he would pretend to be fine. He would continue to pretend until he managed to convince himself that he actually was fine.
House strummed the guitar absent-mindedly, fingers forming an easy, flowing melody. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. He felt himself relaxing and the tension slowly began to leave his body. Music had always had that effect on him.
Truthfully, he didn't know why he bought the guitar, he suspected that somehow in a Vicodin and scotch-induced haze he felt like proving Wilson wrong and prove that he wasn't afraid of change. But he wasn't just afraid of change; he detested it and avoided it as much as possible.
The phone rang and House ignored it, plucking at the guitar strings harder in an effort to drown out the harsh ringing of the phone. The answer phone clicked on and his brief message played.
"If I wanted to talk to you, I would have answered the damn phone." He had recorded that message as soon as he had got home. He knew that the only person likely to be calling was Wilson, and he really didn't feel like talking to him right now.
"House, I know you're there." Wilson's voice filled the room. "Come on, pick up…" he paused, waiting to see if House would pick up. "Okay, fine, don't pick up, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I heard about Cameron quitting. Come on House, just pick up the phone. I hate talking to your machine." Wilson paused again. "You know, you've really screwed up this time, House. You'd better start thinking of how you're going to fix this." Another pause, followed by a sigh. "I'll talk to you later."
A quiet click signalled that the oncologist had hung up and an ominous silence filled the room. It was only then that House realised that at some stage during the message he had stopped playing the guitar and he gave it a loud strum to break the silence in the room before leaning it carefully up against the wall. He looked over to the table where a glass of scotch and his bottle of Vicodin sat waiting for him. He picked up the bottle of pills and shook it, the rattling sound having a similar effect on him as Pavlov's bell had on his dogs.
Deciding that tonight he just wanted to quiet his always-busy mind, and forget his miserable existence, House shook out two of the white pills - as opposed to his usual single pill dose - something he knew he shouldn't really be doing, and downed them both with a gulp of scotch, knowing full well that he shouldn't be taking the medicine with alcohol. But that had never stopped him in the past, so why should it stop him now?
House downed the rest of the scotch, limped over to the couch and lay down on it, resting his head on the padded armrest. He thumbed on the TV and flicked through the channels until he found something remotely interesting to watch, then relaxed into the comfortable couch and waited for sleep to take him.
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Cameron tiptoed around Chase's dark apartment, collecting various items of clothing that had been hastily discarded on the way to the bedroom merely an hour ago. She traced the trail of clothes back to the lounge, putting each piece on as she retrieved it, trying to be as quiet as possible so she didn't wake Chase, who was sleeping soundly in the bedroom.
After the events of the day, Cameron had felt the craving for mindless sex to numb her body and her emotions. She had Chase had finished off the most part of a 12 pack of beer between them and then fallen into bed with each other for some drunken sex that wasn't designed for intimacy, only the convenience of mutual pleasuring and making you forget about your crappy life for just a few minutes.
Chase had fallen asleep minutes after, but Cameron had laid awake thinking, even though that's the last thing she had wanted to do. Her mind just wouldn't let her rest. The overwhelming feelings of guilt, despair and hopelessness sobered her up much quicker than she would have liked and she felt like all of a sudden the room was closing in on her. In his slumber, Chase had slung an arm across her stomach and it had suddenly felt like it weighed a tonne, pinning her down. That was when she decided that she really didn't want to be there, and quietly slid out of the bed.
After she had dressed and called a taxi in a hushed tone – the operator was obviously used to whispered calls in the middle of the night and didn't say anything about the clandestine nature of the call – Cameron scribbled a quick note to Chase and waited outside in the chilled night air for the taxi. She just wanted to get home to her own apartment, where she could be by herself and decide what she was going to do next.
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Monday arrived and House limped into Princeton Plainsboro Hospital at nine forty-five. Much of his weekend was spent forgotten in a Vicodin and scotch-induced stupor, alternating watching TV with playing guitar or piano and avoiding phone calls from Wilson, who had eventually given up on trying to reach him.
House had almost reached the open metal doors which represented the safety of the elevator and the successful avoidance of Cuddy, when he heard the said dean of medicine's voice calling his name from across the foyer.
House cringed inwardly and pulled a cheeky 'oops' face for the benefit of those in the elevator. "I've been naughty." He explained. "She wants to give me a good spanking." He winked and slapped his good leg for effect before turning and limping towards Cuddy, who did not look happy.
"My office. Now." She said, pointing towards her office and waiting for him to enter before following him in.
Once in the office, Cuddy took a seat in her chair behind her desk, while House remained standing in front of the desk in attempt to retain a sense of authority, but Cuddy glared at him and told him to sit, the tone of her voice indicating that there was no room for compromise.
Surprisingly, House pulled up a chair without argument and sat staring expectantly at Cuddy, who sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
"House, I don't know where to begin." She said, exasperation clearly present in her voice and demeanour. "You've screwed up badly this time. I don't even know where to begin fixing it. You're lucky Cameron still has her two weeks notice to work, so that should give you enough time to hire three new doctors."
House began to say something, but Cuddy held up her hand. "Don't interrupt. I know you hate interviewing, but if you don't hire someone, I will. Get Wilson and Cameron to help you if you want to. Now go, and remember that you have clinic duty this afternoon. If I don't see you there by twelve-thirty I will hunt you down personally."
House got up without a word and walked towards the door and Cuddy couldn't help thinking how un-House-like it was to walk away without saying a word, when he opened the door and said in a loud voice, "No, I will not let you touch me there, no matter how much of a raise you want to give me!" before walking once again in the direction of the elevators, smirking slightly because he had got in the last word.
Cuddy just sighed again and rested her head in her hands. She had said numerous times that he was her best doctor, and she would do, and had done, almost anything to keep him working there, but sometimes she wondered why she did it. Sometimes she wondered if he was just a lost cause and all she was doing was getting caught up in his trail of devastation and it was only a matter of time before he spiralled down out of control, bringing down those around him into his life of misery.
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House managed to reach the elevators without any more hold ups and rode up to the floor where the Diagnostics Department was. He limped down the familiar hallway to the glass-walled office. He wasn't surprised to see Cameron sitting there, working on a pile of charts, as she still had her two weeks notice to work. He made a mental note to hire someone with good administration skills so that he wouldn't have to take up doing paperwork again.
Cameron looked up as House pushed through the door and made his way over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of coffee in his favourite red mug. He took a sip of the brew and grimaced.
"I hope whatever flunkies I hire can make better coffee than this." He snarked before pushing through the glass door to his office, leaving a very confused Dr. Cameron behind.
Frowning, Cameron took a sip of her own coffee and concluded that it tasted just fine. And House had never complained before, in fact he usually seemed to like her coffee, although he hadn't said it in so many words. This led Cameron to one conclusion. Deciding to bite the bullet, she got up and entered House's office, trying to put on a confident demeanour that she didn't really feel.
House was sitting in his chair, his Chuck Taylor-clad feet propped up on the corner of his desk as he searched through the songlist on his iPod. He looked up as Cameron walked in and was about to make a sarcastic comment about her apologising for her bad coffee when she spoke.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked straight up, before she lost her nerve.
House leaned back in his chair and eyed the younger doctor. "Why would I be mad at you, Dr. Cameron?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Cameron paused, gauging the tension in the room before replying. "I'm leaving because I feel that I've learned all I can from this job."
One side of House's mouth quirked up into a wry half smile. "Everybody lies, Dr. Cameron. Even someone so seemingly innocent as yourself."
Cameron hesitated a second before taking a deep breath and prepared to tell him what she really felt. "You're right, I did lie. I'm leaving because I don't think I want to work with you anymore. You've changed, House, and I don't think I like this new person you've become. Ever since the saga with Tritter, you've thought that you've had everyone wrapped around your little finger. More than what you used to anyway. There was the rehab, and then the whole cancer thing! And that's just the beginning. Just because you've got friends who would do anything for you, doesn't mean that you have to abuse them and their trust. I used to respect you, House…" Cameron paused, her eyes meeting House's mesmerising blue ones for what seemed like an eternity. "But now I'm not so sure if I do." She whispered, holding his gaze for a moment longer before turning and walking back into the conference room, leaving both doctors stunned, hardly believing that she had just said all that.
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Reviews are a writer's best tool. If you liked it (or even if you didn't like it) I'd love to know what you thought.
Next chapter will be up within a week. I would love to post more often than that, but unfortunately my uni timetable and workload doesn't allow for much writing time.
Rhi