Okay, so this is my first ever fanfic story. It's basically an idea that's been rattling around in my head for a while now, and I thought I'd better hurry up and put it to paper or it's going to drive me mad! So here's the first chapter – Enjoy! And Review!
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own House *wipes away a tear*, but I wish I did.
Gregory House stared out of the window of the black BMW speeding gracefully down the highway, watching the trees gradually grow thinner as they began to enter the small civilisation that was New Jersey Airport. How he detested airports. He detested his new patient even more for sending him there. Eric Foreman sat in the Driver's seat, manoeuvring the close, winding roads towards the terminal, all the while firing suggestions back at Cameron and Chase in the back seat. House wanted to smash his palm against the window. He had been stuck in this car for almost half an hour with his team, forced to listen to their completely off the mark suggestions about why their patient was not getting any better.
"I told you, it's Cancer!" Chase practically shouted, as Cameron explained again about how the patients muscle tissue continued to spasm despite repeated treatments to stop it.
"For God's sake, It's not Cancer." House fired back, sighing as he realised his argument was pointless. Cancer was the whole reason they were here, travelling to the patients home to see what other diseases the guy could have that would show the same symptoms as he was. Chase had been adamant it was Cancer from the beginning, and had almost resorted to throwing a tantrum when he realised House was nowhere near starting chemotherapy on the patient.
"But Cancer explains everything! The muscle spasms, the..." House tuned out as Chase began to list the huge array of symptoms their patient was exhibiting. Yes, Cancer fitted the bill perfectly. But something inside House knew that wasn't it. It was too simple. Foreman began to take place in the argument, trying to convince Chase that the patient's symptoms were also symptoms of a rare neurotic disease.
"Why couldn't you guys pass the time playing 'I spy'?" House asked, as he leaned further into the door of the car, letting the childish bickering fade into senseless background noise. Usually he loved arguments like this, an example to show his team how predictably textbook they were in all of their diagnoses. But not in a space as confined as this. If he eventually grew tired of the debate, he couldn't simply walk out of his office and into a corridor free of diagnosticians. He would still be stuck in this car, counting the seconds until Foreman parked it in the terminal. Which, he now noticed, was only a few roundabouts away. He stared out of the window at a plane in the distance, its large white nose dipping lower and lower in the sky until it was almost touching the tarmac. He wondered briefly where the flight had come from before realising the car was slowing and pulling into the terminal. House grabbed his cane leaning against his seat, and gradually pushed himself out of the low seat. He looked over to his team, who were at the back of the car delegating luggage. Chase pulled out a medium-sized leather suitcase and looked at House. Now that they were out of the car, House could be as big of an ass as he wanted and get away with it. He looked at Chase, and pulled his "I'm a cripple" face. Chase sighed and turned back to the others.
As Chase and Foreman argued about who had to carry his luggage, House began to wander casually through the large glass doors into a giant foyer with tens of different check-in counters. He heard three people enter just behind him, and turned to see his team walking up to him, Cameron rolling his suitcase along behind her. House almost could have smiled. Of course she would have been the one to break up the fight between the men by solving the problem herself. She reminded him of someone else. Someone else he had to stop himself from thinking about, especially at airports.
"We're with American Airlines" She said, pointing towards the largest counter in the centre of the foyer. House grabbed his passport out of his pocket and limped towards the counter, pulling the tickets out of Foreman's hand as he passed. The sooner he was on the plane the better, away from the tedious formalities of check-in gates and airport security.
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Melissa Nicholls sat quietly on her swivel chair in the main boardroom at LAX airport. Tapping her pen against her notes, she gazed out of the large window facing the tarmac. A plane was taking off, undoubtedly going somewhere new and exotic. Melissa hadn't taken a holiday in over five years. Strangely, the thought was almost comforting to her.
She looked back at the projected screen, and began nodding – as were the rest of her colleagues. There was a large pie chart indicating specialised hangar prices for their most lucrative clients. British Airways, Air France, Spain Air. She felt a sharp pang of homesickness as she read her own country's airway written in bold capitals – QANTAS. She hadn't been home in over seven years. This thought, however, was far from comforting.
A few people around her began to clap, and the speaker started closing his presentation. As everyone began to pack up and file out of the boardroom, Melissa looked back out at the tarmac. More planes landing, others taking off. She noticed a QANTAS flight landing. Probably from Sydney. Melissa quickly turned away from the window, closed her laptop, and walked out of the boardroom. She had to stop herself from thinking about Sydney. And the people she'd met there.
Like it? Not like it? Let me know! Maybe as an incentive I might send a sneak peek of the next chapter to the first reviewer. Or first five reviewers. But that just sounds greedy. Anyway, just review!