This is my first House fanfiction, and feedback would be greatly appreciated. It's an idea that came to me randomly during the day, and please persevere to the end of this chapter (there's a twist there) and tell me if it's worth continuing.
I realise there is rather too much dialogue in this chapter but it's just while the story's getting going, k?
Disclaimer: Anyone/thing you might recognise is not mine. Unfortunately.
Note: This is my first time using Any errors with paragraphing, bolds, italics and underlines will be sorted out ASAP. Please just... put up with it until then.
Chapter 1
Just so you know, a week or so before this story began, Cameron's apartment was destroyed inexplicably. She is now staying in a hotel.
"Differential diagnosis, people!" said House, as he finished writing the symptoms with a flourish and chucked the pen over his shoulder. He scanned the room quickly, before asking; "Where's Cameron?"
"Here," the young immunologist said from the doorway.
"You're late," House told her pointedly.
"I know," she replied, and sat down, looking at the board. "We should do an MRI and if that's inconclusive, a lumbar puncture."
"You're right," House said distractedly, before saying curiously, "you're never late." He shook his head. "Chase, Foreman, go do the MRI." The two male doctors left, and House addressed Cameron, "What's wrong?"
"Traffic," Cameron said, heading to the sink.
"Right," said House, "except for the bit where there isn't any traffic today, you answered back to me (which you're usually too weak to do)... and it looks as if you just won the crying championships for Princeton."
"My sister, Ellie, died last night," she told him quietly, "and her teenage daughter is coming to live with me. I can't afford to keep her in the hotel, Chase and Foreman both have one bedroom apartments... and she looks so much like her mum..." she paused, before brightening. "You have a two-bedroom apartment!" she hinted hopefully.
"She can come stay with me!" he exclaimed, before adding sarcastically. "Wait! I've just remembered that I'm House, so why the hell do you expect me to take in some whiny thirteen-year-old?" "I could come too," she said, "and keep an eye on her."
"Oh, even better!"
"I'll do all your clinic hours and paperwork!" she told him. "Go on- it's only until I can find a new apartment that I can afford." "How long does the deal last?" he asked, wavering.
"Three months."
"Ten."
She laughed out loud. "Five."
"Nine."
Considering, she said slowly... "Seven months." She put up a hand to stop him replying. "She's not like an average whiny girl. She's almost fourteen. She plays the piano to almost grade 7, and she would give you a run for your money on snarkiness. She has her own views about things and does not own a single chick-flick or trashy teenage book."
"What are you, some kind of adoption agency? Seven months clinic duty and paperwork, and the two of you can stay for two months." Cameron smiled, and House added grumpily, still not quite believing what he had just done, "and it's only because you look so miserable."
--//++\--
House and Cameron had arranged that she should come round with the girl at about eight, and not to tell anyone in the hospital that they were living together.
("We are not living together," House had said scathingly, "merely... residing in adjoining rooms.")
And so, at half past seven, after making no effort whatsoever to prepare for the visitors, House sat down at his piano with a piece of Handel and let the time pass by. Predictably, at eight o clock on the dot, he heard a sharp rap on the door.
"Door's open," he called, turning his head to survey the sight.
The girl looked exactly her age, and was dressed casually in faded jeans, a white vest top and an open black shirt. She held a medium-sized holdall, a case that looked like it would carry a bass guitar and a smaller case, possibly holding a woodwind instrument, plus a tiny amp. She had Cameron's pale skin and wavy hair that fell to her shoulders, and striking eyes that seemed somehow familiar to him.
"I wouldn't go that far," she said to House.
He was momentarily shocked that she had correctly identified his piece but kept his hands moving.
"Arrival of the Queen of Sheba," she told a confused Cameron, as she put her bags down by the hall, before adding, to House, "but don't let me distract you from your B-flats."
House was impressed. It looked like the next month or so would be fun. He could already see her up for a plot or two against Cameron. He stood up, leaning on his cane, and limped over to her.
"You must be Dr. House," she said. "I'm Carly. Carly Cameron. I'm going to be your parasite for a while," she added, offering her hand, then withdrew it as he just looked at it.
"Drink?" he asked Cameron, heading over to the kitchen, and she nodded. Meanwhile, Carly walked over to the grand piano, admiring it and sat down.
"I'm not in the mood for Chopsticks," said House snarkily, but she just threw him a withering look that could match his own and began playing a movement from the Pathetique sonata impeccably, her own emotion put upon it.
And it clicked.
He knew who she really was.
And he turned to Cameron next to him, and said, "She's not your sister's daughter."
She didn't reply, so he told her quietly, "She's yours."
After a long pause, Cameron said, "It was the last night before Joe went into hospital. I didn't tell him..."
"Don't give me that crap," said House. "I'm not stupid; I can work out ages. You'd be almost 35" He paused and let out a deep breath. "You were sixteen, and angry. You headed out to the nearest bar, and everyone was too drunk to care how old you were really more. There was a guy there- an older guy- and you were flattered by the attention he was giving you. You didn't care that he was probably too drunk to know if you were a guy or a girl. And then you went back to his place and you lost your virginity to him. You knew you had to get home... you left quickly. But you paused at the door and you asked him his name. He said..."
They looked at each other, and whispered together, their looks confirming what they both already knew... "he said his name was Gregory."
Chopsticks is a well-known piano piece, known for being one which most beginners learn.
So here's the deal. I write the next chapter once I have two reviews, and not before. So go on. Tell me what you think.
