A/N: My first House, M.D fiction! Enjoy it! Kudos goes to fellow author 'Camlem', who made me realize that I should post this! Thanks, again!
Disclaimer; First time I've done one of these, but House, M.D does not belong to me.
Chapter .One. - Interaction Satisfaction
Rayne wanted to meet at least one person who actually liked hospital food. She wasn't saying that the food was 100% disgusting, she did love the lime green jell-o, but the chicken tasted like styrofoam—definitely not like the advertised 'Southern Chicken. That was cause enough to become concerned, if not complain. Not unless Southern Chicken did, indeed, taste like styrofoam. Rayne had her doubts.
Tying back her raven black hair, Rayne leaned over in her hospital bed and took another wiff of the food that was laying on the tray. It still smelled like styrofoam. Annoyed she picked up the plastic fork and poked at the chicken shaped mush. Rayne knew that if she didn't eat they'd keep her in the hospital longer, most likely blame it on her clinical depression. She rolled her blue eyes in their sockets and shoveled a large portion of the chicken into her mouth. She hated when people blamed her often pessimistic and apathetic attitude on her depression. She was like that even before she was diagnosed. Oh well, what could she do? That being a rhetorical question.
Chasing down the chicken with a bit of water, Rayne reclined back in her bed—looking over at the annoying IV line that was connected to her left arm. The stickies on her chest were also annoying. So what if she had had another seizure, to her that was the norm. She had learned to deal with it, but she guessed collasping in the street was a different story. Collasping in the street without your medical bracelet. Whatever, she hated the thing anyway. Rayne never liked the idea of having her heart on her sleeve, in this case her weakness. Back to the annoying IV in her arm, it hurt every time she moved it and she moved it a lot. Artists often did.
Rayne sat back up in her bed, beginning to tackle the rest of her dinner as she looked out her bedside window. Around this time was when she would start getting ready for work. Her body twitched at that moment, telling her that she should be getting out of bed and into the shower, get dressed and head on the bus. A routine she had been used to for a very long time. Working the night shift was like a God send to Rayne, if she was awake for the entire night—why not take a night job? However, being admitted into a hospital, and the doctors knowing you have chronic insomnia, meant you had to sleep. You better sleep and you better eat, or else you'd never get out of the hospital.
"How's dinner tonight, Rayne?"
Rayne swallowed a mouthful of bland mashed potatoes and gave the nurse a fake smile. "Inglorious." She mumbled, sipping her water and watching the nurse come to her bedside. This one particular nurse, Orwell, was always the one who came in to give Rayne her healthy dose of sleeping juice through her IV. What Rayne didn't have the heart to tell this female nurse was that it never worked. Actually, she didn't want to tell. She'd rather be up all night. The interesting things always seemed to happen at night.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear your dinner is such." Nurse Orwell sighed, as if she had heard about the hospital food well enough throughout her day. "You plan on finishing or would you rather head to bed now?"
"The night is still young." Rayne said, matter-o-factly. "I'd rather try to finish this meal while I'm at it."
The nurse fixed her brunette hair into a ponytail and checked a small watch that was hidden inside her smock pocket. She gave Rayne a bland look and finally nodded her head in defeat. "Alright, I'll come back in an hour or so, then it's sleepy time."
"Wonderful, do I get a bedtime story as well?" Rayne smiled to show that it was a genuine joke. She and Nurse Orwell had seen so much of each other in the past couple of days that you would think the humour would be understood.
But when Orwell shook her head and left the room, Rayne knew the two weren't on the same page. She didn't even know why she tried on making friends with people. She was never any good at it. But normal people had friends, so Rayne had to try. She waited until Orwell had completely vanished from sight, before she leaned over, dragged the garbage bin next to her bed, and released the contents in her stomach.
That southern chicken sure as hell was something else.
*
*
To Allison Cameron, late nights at the Plainsboro Hospital were an everyday thing. She had since lost count of the sleepless nights she had at the hospital and she wasn't planning on keeping count again any time soon. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a sigh. It was when her stomach grumbled that she remembered that she hadn't even ate dinner. She paused for a moment, looking at the mountain of paper work in front of her, and decided that a trip to the vending machine was called for.
The only thing Allison really hated about staying at the hospital so late was the lack of movement. Everything was eerily quiet and a bit more morbid than things were in the day time. Not to mention that the cafeteria was closed at this time of night. Well, not really closed but the quality of the food wasn't as good this time. It usually consisted of the stuff that had been sitting out all morning and afternoon, the left overs of the hospital line. As Allison stood in front of the vending machine, searching for something to eat, she plunged her hands into her lab coat—fishing out the bit of spare change she had. Anything to not break a bill.
"Yet another late night visit to the God known as the vending machine..."
The all too familiar Aussie accent caused Cameron to smile as she pushed a few quarters into the machine. "A God we all can worship." She answered, looking up to see Chase—who was also looking at another vending machine, jingling a handful of change in his hand.
"I was planning on the chocolate bar, I need the pick me up." Chase mumbled, more to himself than to Cameron and pushed his selection on the vending machine.
"Good choice, but the real question is—the milk chocolate or the peanut butter infused chocolate cup?" Cameron couldn't make the decision. While it was true that she could buy both she didn't want to be hyped up on the chocolately confection all night. She looked over to Chase, pushing back her auburn hair from her face, as he reached down to get his choice of sugar.
"That should never be a question." Chase smiled, holding up his selection. "It's all about the peanut butter cup." He waited as Cameron picked the same and the two began the short walk back to House's office. At least tonight was going to be a quiet night, usually it was them, Foreman and House in the office. But both of them had left early and Chase was actually looking forward to spending some time with Cameron alone.
"I can't wait to finish up the paper work. I'm about ready to collapse." Cameron sighed and bit into her peanut butter cup, giving the thumbs up to Chase about his decision in candy.
"You? I think I fell asleep a couple of times already."
"Was that before or after you decided to disappear?"
"Both."
The two shared a small laugh, Chase opening the door to the office and motioning for Cameron to walk in. She did so, giving him a small salute, and the two got back to their paper work. It was when Cameron reached to grab the second of her chocolate cup that she noticed it was already gone. She looked over to Chase who was already holding up another cup and she smiled as he broke it in half and gave her the bigger piece.
"Definitely going to be up all night."
A/N: Yay or Nay? R&R?
