So...I was bored. Felt like writing something dark-ish. Wonderousplaceforanecho helped me a lot with the end 'cause I only had the beginning and middle in my head. Sorry if I switched into 2nd person, present and didn't catch it. I tried to edit all the places I did. Anyway...Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of the characters. I don't own Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking. It belongs to SP. I do own Andre though!


Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking

I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed
(I could do most anything to you...)

Don't you breathe, Don't you breathe
(I could do most anything to you...)
Something happened that I never understood
(I could do most anything to you...)
You can't leave, You can't leave
(I could do most anything to you...)
Every second dripping off my fingertips
(I could do most anything to you...)
Wage of war, Wage of war
(I could do most anything to you...)
Another soldier says he's not afraid to die
(I could do most anything to you...)
I am scared, I'm so scared
(I could so most anything to you...)
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful
(I could do most anything to you...)
Doors slam shut, Doors slam shut
(I could do most anything to you...)
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away
(I could do most anything to you...)
Safe and sound, Safe and sound

The taste of adhesive was sickening but caused excess saliva to form which was helpful as Remy repeatedly ran her tongue against the tape across her lips to loosen it. The stinging then tingling numbness was barely acknowledged as she ripped the grey material from her lips and threw it to the ground. Her red-rimmed eyes were a struggle to keep open and her limbs felt heavy and disobedient. Her apartment spun in circles as she stumbled through the living room and into the kitchen, desperate to get to the medicine cabinet before she collapsed.

Her grey t-shirt and dark blue jeans were thoroughly soaked in blood, but it was impossible to tell who the crimson liquid belonged to. It could have been the young man lying on the floor in her living room or it could have been her own. The metallic stench filled her nostrils with each breath she took, making her lips curl in disgust. Every muscle in her body felt painfully tense and she gripped the counter with one hand to support herself as she threw open the medicine cabinet door. Medicine bottles clattered on the counter and floor as she pushed them out of the way. She needed to get the drug out of her system so she wouldn't sleep. She needed to be awake just long enough to remember where the hell her phone was.

Vision double, she felt around the top shelf until she finally managed to get her hands on the bottle of Ipecac. Letting out a huge breath, she didn't even stop to think about measurements. With trembling hands, she pressed down hard on the cap and twisted it away from the bottle. Her hazy mind somehow decided one swallow would be enough and once it was down, she simply let the bottle fall and spill the contents onto the floor.

Whether from a concussion or the Ipecac, bitter stomach acid began to rise in the back of her throat almost immediately. She remembered needed to get to the phone. No, she was going to vomit so she needed to get to the sink or trashcan. Unsure where she was even stumbling to in her kitchen, Remy lost her bearings. She tried to regain them again, desperate to focus. A chair got in her way and she tried to keep it upright but her knees buckled and she collapsed on top of it, knocking the chair on its side. The arm jammed hard into her stomach as they both hit the floor. Squeezing her eyes shut, she made a hissing noise and clutched the offending area of her abdomen.

The pain was intense and tears began to well up in her eyes. She was too out of it to care she was crying. Stomach lurching, bile rose up into her mouth. Using the chair to brace herself, she leaned forward and vomited what felt like a week's worth of meals and hopefully whatever drug was causing such a reaction onto the floor. Her stomach muscles clenched hard and her nose and throat burned mercilessly. It was too late. Darkness invaded and her eyelids crashed down as the drug-induced sleep consumed her.

"Andre, please hold still. You're almost done." Remy leaned forward and rested her head against her hand as she spoke into the microphone, watching the young man twist and turn in the MRI. She leaned back again in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, realizing all of the pictures were going to come out blurry and they were going to have to run the test all over again.

"He doesn't like the machine," Andre's mother spoke from the doorway. "He's claustrophobic." She bit down nervously on her pinky nail.

"If he doesn't hold still, we're going to have to redo the test." Remy rubbed her brow then hit the button for the microphone again. "Andre, you need to-"

"Let me out!" Andre screamed, thrashing against the restraints. "They're going to get me in here! They're going to get me! They're telling me they're coming! Let me out or I'll kill you for putting me in here! It's going to destroy my powers, you bitch! You're destroying my powers!"

"No one is coming to get you, Andre," his mother stepped forward and spoke into the microphone. She cleared her throat and drew her eyebrows together. "Did you really have to take him off all of his medicine?" She turned to stare at Remy, her gaze dark with worry.

"House needs to make sure he wasn't having a reaction to anything," Remy answered. She got to her feet and offered the woman a sad smile before going to help Foreman remove the man from the MRI machine.

The sound of ringing pulled Remy back into reality the next morning. Her eyes fluttered open but she quickly clamped them shut again as the sunlight beaming through the kitchen window nearly blinded her. The room reeked of vomit and her clothes smelled like blood, both scents making her stomach clench. She took a deep breath and puffed her cheeks then slowly let out the air and tried to gather her thoughts. The cold hardwood floor against her burning face eased some of the feverish discomfort she felt and she wanted to go back to sleep, despite that her entire body felt like it had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler.

The ringing continued and she clamped her hands over her ears and grimaced, curling up in a ball before realizing it wasn't going to stop. Someone was calling her on her phone. The phone she had been looking for before she passed out. Brief, fuzzy memories tortured her mind. With a moan, the young doctor managed to push herself onto her quivering hands and knees. Standing felt impossible. An adrenaline rush was the only thing that got her out of the kitchen and helped her into the living room where the shrill noise was coming from.

Her hand brushed a knife on the floor and she went rigid. It was the same knife she had stabbed someone with. The same knife that had nearly killed her. Tears blurring her vision, she crawled inch by inch to the couch where her jacket was carelessly thrown. She dug through the pocket before pulling out the cell. House, it read. He was calling because she was late for work. Flipping it open, she turned around so she could slouch against the front of the couch.

"Late ni-"

"House," she choked, cutting off whatever sarcastic comment he had in mind. Across from her was Andre unconscious on the floor. Blood soaked his shirt around his abdomen and his chest rose and fell at an unsteady rate. "I need an ambulance," she pleaded weakly.

That would be the last time she forgot to put an umbrella in her car when the weather called for rain. Parking spots were taken all the way up the block and Remy ended up running to her apartment, managing to make it inside without getting completely soaked. She fumbled with her keys, cursing as they nearly slipped through her fingers. Jamming them in the door, she gave them a hard twist then shoved the door open and stepped inside. Don't Worry, Be Happy was blasting from her radio. Before she knew what happened, a bat came in contact with the side of her head and she crumpled to the ground.

-----

Consciousness was slowly regained as Remy found her face being pressed against the end table next to her chair. The lamp light flickered as it was knocked back against the wall. The cold, hard wood and warm pool of blood against her face sent shivers up her spine. In an attempt to move, she found her wrists were bound tightly behind her by a rope made of some itchy material like twine. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice came out distant and slurred. She couldn't see the person who had done this to her, but they were holding her down. "You bastard," she seethed icily, trying to ignore the sharp pain that suddenly felt like it was ripping through her skull.

"You refused to see things through my eyes," the male voice answered calmly. "You put me in that machine to try to crush all of my hopes and dreams. You're going to let them come after me. What choice do I have?"

"Andre?" Terror was about to leave her paralyzed, but she quickly pushed it back. "You were sick, Andre. It was an MRI!"

Andre yanked her upright and threw her onto the couch like she was a rag doll. He gripped the left sleeve of his red sweatshirt and tugged it up past his elbow then balled his hand into a fist. "You're such a liar!" he hissed, narrowing his eyes. "You're all such liars! You say you're doctors, but I know who you are. You're from the outside. You're on their side."

Her breaths came in short gasps and she struggled to get to her feet but a rush of dizziness kept her down. "Andre, listen to me," she tried to reason, feeling like it was the only option she had. Her jacket had somehow made it off of her and she glanced toward the pocket. If there was a way to reach inside and dial nine-one-one, they might have been able to trace the call and send help. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop lying!" He followed her gaze to her jacket and grabbed it then tossed it to the other end of the couch.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Remy insisted, trying to bite back tears of pure horror. Her pulse was hammering and she could nearly hear her own heart beating. "I'm a doctor. I was helping you." She considered kicking him but his legs were closed and he could easily tackle her if she missed.

Andre grabbed her by her shoulders, pressing her back against the cushions. "You're such a hypocrite," he accused. "A liar. What an oxymoron you are, with emphasis on the moron. A doctor? You were trying to make me better, just like all the other doctors, weren't you? You claim you can protect everyone and help them, but in reality, you can't protect anyone! You all just want to kill me. You want to take away my powers. This is why I can't claim I'm some glorified savior, like you doctors do. You're all liars and I hate liars. Some people have called me the most atrocious, sadistic, malevolent person alive. But you know what they can't call me? A liar. There is no hypocritical meaning in what I say or do. If I tell you I'm going to kill you, you'll be dead within the next ten minutes."

Remy's cheeks were turning red with rage and tears stung her eyes. How this guy ever made it out of the psych-ward and into the care of his mother, she'd never be able to guess. She thought about yelling at him that he had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn't seem like the best approach. "I'm not a liar," she spoke with as much confidence as she could muster, trying to think slowly and not mispronounce anything. "I'm not on their side. I don't know who you're even talking about."

Andre studied her for a moment. "They ruled the world once, but you already know that because you're one of them. Before religion, before society and civilization. The killers, the rapists and monsters. Before humanity forgot it was an animal, they were the kings that sat on those primal thrones. They were Fenris and Jormungadr. The Grendel and the Grey Man and the Big Bad Wolf. They were the reason you never forgot to fear the dark. And you're one of them."

A few tears managed to escape her eyes, much to her dismay. They slid down her cheeks and gathered at her chin as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. His mother had said it was impossible to contradict whatever the voices told him. She opened her mouth, fully expecting words to jump right out, but the tip of her tongue (the springboard from which words tended to early leap from) was empty. "Andre, I-"

"I captured you," he whispered, pushing her harder against the back of the couch. "You're mine now. If I don't kill you, you could help me." He paused and leaned forward. "Isn't that romantic? You turning from their side to mine?" He stuck out his tongue and licked one of the tears off her cheek.

All rationality was thrown out the window. The feeling of his thick saliva on her face made her gag. "Get the hell away from me!" She spat at his face then attempted to twist against his grip. Her breaths burst in and out and sweat began to trickle down her face. "I hate you!" She kicked her feet, trying to cause pause to any part of his body she could reach. "You're sick, you bastard!"

"Why do you hate me?" He placed a knee on her lap to restrict movement more. "Is it because you find my actions appalling because you're still on their side? Or because you know you could be the same as me?" He touched his hand lightly to her hair, twisting a lock around her finger.

Remy jerked her head in the opposite direction of his hand, not caring if her hair got pulled. "I could never be like you," she barked. Holding her breath, she struggled to get her hands free. "Let me go!"

Remy passed out sometime between hanging up the phone with House and the ambulance getting to her house. When she woke up, her cold floor had been replaced by a warm bed. She thought she was dead for a moment. Letting her head tilt back, she silently thanked a god she didn't even belief in for just ending it all.

"Remy, can you hear me?" Cameron finished tending to the younger doctor's head and rested a warm hand against her cheek. "Open your eyes," she commanded in a soothing tone, gently patting Remy's face.

Remy slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the light shining above her head. She was met with a blurry figure hovering above her. It took a moment for her to stop seeing double and realize it was Cameron. "I'm not dead," she breathed in a hoarse voice, cringing as her throat tickled from being so dry.

"You're in the ER." Cameron stared at her with a concerned gaze. "You have a minor concussion and we're not sure what kind of drugs you swallowed. Do you feel dizzy?"

Dizzy was an understatement. "No," Remy lied, slowly sitting up. Her face contorted in pain and she held her hand to her head, leaning forward slightly. "Fuck," she hissed, gritting her teeth as she tried to hold back a gasp.

"You should try not to move," Cameron warned her, placing a hand on her back. "Here, lay back down." She moved her hands to the younger doctor's shoulders to ease her back against the bed but Remy shrugged her away.

"Don't you have other patients?" Taking a few shuddering gasps, she gripped the blanket on the bed until her knuckles turned white. She refused to look up at Cameron, not wanting to be seen like this. Pressing her palms to her eyes, she tried to ignore how badly her head was aching. Sitting up made her stomach drop and she slowly eased herself down on her side, not having the strength to fight Cameron off as she helped.

"Try to rest," Cameron told her, stroking the younger doctor's forearm. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Good, we're almost to the pleading stage," he stated, tightening his grip on her more. "I was getting so tired of waiting." He pulled his fingers from her hair and studied her then twisted his face in disgust. He tilted his head to the side as tears continued to escape down her face, despite her desperate attempts to keep them at bay. "I heard the other doctors talking about you during my stay in your prison. They said you were strong and it almost revolts me to see you cry. Your lack of strength changes my mind about wanting you on my side. I can't have weaklings. Then again, I can't kill you the way I want to watch you die either if you're bawling. Are you quite finished? I'd like to kill you quickly so you're still warm while I do naughty things to your corpse."

"You have no morals!" Her voice came out high pitched and her eyes widened. Chest heaving with each breath, she glanced around frantically for a method of escape. "I'm not one of them!"

"You know, morality is subjective to your people," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "From where I stand, I have every right to do something like this to the enemy. It's funny how we see things so differently." He let out a laugh loud enough for both of them because Remy was anything but amused.

"You're a fucking lunatic," Remy shouted at him, twisting harder against his grip. She thrashed against him, trying to catch him off guard long enough to knock him over. "Get the hell off of me! Get off! You bastard!"

Andre glanced over into the mirror and admired his short cropped, black hair. His piercing blue eyes stared back at his milky-white, handsome face. "You," he stated to himself then paused and cleared his throat. "You," he repeated in a strengthened tone, "You are beautiful. You are intelligent. Today, you will succeed." With a sigh, he glanced at Remy's reflection through the mirror. "So much for the motivational therapy, you doctors gave me. I'm suing."

The tossing and turning was beginning to make all of her energy dissipate. Panting, she sunk back against the couch and closed her eyes. "You are a waste of breath."

"You wish I was dead," he replied calmly, not at all bothered by the insult. "You would though, wouldn't you? Death is your answer. Something doesn't go the way you want it; death!" He twisted her to the side and looked at the scars on her wrists. "I saw them there when you're sleeve got caught on my hospital bed." He chuckled. "Pathetic."

Remy bit down on her tongue hard enough that she tasted blood. "I'm not the pathetic one."

He raised his hand and slapped her hard enough across the face to make her head jerk to the side. "Watch your mouth, Girl," he warned her. "You can't leave and I can do almost anything to you." His lips twisted into a smirk and he winked at her.

"You're not very good at what you do," Remy said, trying a different tactic. "Do you think my apartment is messy? I was thinking about getting it cleaned."

Andre stared at her. "I don't give a damn about your apartment or if it's clean," he spat, rolling his eyes.

"I was thinking about getting a vase of flowers too," she added, dismissing him with a nod of her head. Glancing around, she squinted and lifted her chin. "Maybe some daisies would brighten the place up. I'm a big fan of lilies too though." Her gaze settled on him briefly then flicked away as if he wasn't worthy of her time.

"Shut up," Andre spat, getting pissed off. He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. "You're going to die."

"Uh huh." She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips together as if to say, 'so?' Biting down even harder on her tongue, Remy resisted the urge to tell him she wasn't afraid of him. Truthfully, she was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life. She needed to find the medium between strong and being an idiot though. Being an idiot and being scared would both increase his power over her. "Would you kill me now?" she asked after a long moment of silence. "Because I'd really like to get it over with." Getting away didn't seem very likely and she was already dying.

"As a matter of fact, I'm very tempted to." He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to her feet then pushed her down so she was sitting on her coffee table. He gripped her by the front of her shirt with one hand and shoved his other hand into his pocket. "I'll make things a little easier for you," he said, pulling out two pills. "You're going to need to swallow these."

"I'm not taking those. Just kill me." Remy clamped her mouth shut and shrunk away as he advanced on her with the drugs. The constant moving of her wrists was beginning to loosen the rope. Ignoring the intense burning of her skin being rubbed raw, she twisted them around faster in attempt to get them free.

"You'll do whatever I want!" In one harsh movement, he shoved her on her back against the table and straddled her, digging a knee into her stomach. She refused to open her mouth and he pinched her nose shut, knowing she'd either breathe or pass out.

Panic caused sharp pains to tear through her chest. Oxygen became even more of a necessity and her chest heaved, her body begging her to take a breath. Relaxing seemed futile no matter how hard she tried. She tried to remind herself she was a doctor and was trained to remain calm, but nothing she thought mattered. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she tried to take in air without him noticing.

He noticed. He jammed the pills against the side of her mouth and managed to squeeze them between her teeth and the inside of her cheek. Clamping his hand over her mouth to keep her from spitting them out, he dug through his pocket with his free hand. He finally pulled out a nearly empty roll of duct-tape and ripped the last piece off and replaced his hand with it.

It was hard to focus on the pills or tape when her hands were becoming easier and easier to move. The rope finally broke loose and she froze for a moment, breathing heavily through her nose. One wrong move and she was screwed. She needed to think. There wasn't time to think. Anxiety threatened to take over again as he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket.

"Maybe I should let you make a choice," he said calmly, twirling the knife around in his fingers before flicking it open. "I could cut you here," he said, turning the knife against the middle of his rib cage. "Or maybe here." He pointed it at his bellybutton.

Pulling her hands out from behind her back, she gave the knife a hard shove and drove it straight into his abdomen. He moaned and she shoved him off then attempted to get up. The coffee table came to and end and she crashed to the floor then scrambled to her feet and collapsed dizzily back to the ground.

The ER had been replaced with a regular hospital room and a needle was being stuck in Remy's arm when she opened her eyes. Expecting to see some random doctor, she gave Cameron an incredulous stare.

"I was worried," Cameron stated, biting her lower lip. "Someone took over my shift in the ER for me. How are you feeling?"

It was hard for Remy to notice the pinch of the IV needle when Cameron taped it to her arm while her head ached and her stomach was rolling. The mixture of the concussion and the drugs still left in her system was taking a toll on her body. "I need to sit up," she whispered, her limbs feeling like jell-o. "Right now." Her eyes fluttered closed as Cameron pushed the button on the remote and the back of the bed lifted. The movement was too much and Remy slapped a hand over her mouth, suppressing a gag.

Cameron grabbed the basin from the table and held it under the younger doctor's chin. "Here, Rem," she said softly, sitting on the bed beside her.

"Leave," Remy pleaded with her before moving her hand and dry heaving once. She immediately regretted the Ipecac. It didn't ward off the drug symptoms. It just left her stomach empty. She lurched forward and retched more, following the gagging with a guttural moan.

"I am so sorry this happened," Cameron whispered, ignoring Remy's request for her to leave. When Remy took the empty basin and tossed it on the table, Cameron carefully slid her arm around Remy to support her, encouraging her to lean against her.

Feeling detached and in intense pain, Remy found herself crumbling into the other doctor's embrace. Her head lulled against Cameron's shoulder. She felt too weak to let her pride chase Cameron away. Cameron's arms slid around her and Remy found herself drifting into a tense, restless sleep.

-----

"So, they're allowing you visitors now?" Remy asked in a scathing tone, standing rigid in the doorway of one of the rooms in psych. She stared at Andre, playing out violent and humiliating fantasies in her head and feeling safe now that she saw him bound up in a straitjacket with no means of escape. "I came to tell you something."

"Yeah?" Andre questioned, licking his lips. "You've decided to join me?"

Her nostrils flared and her gaze was enough to burn two holes straight through his forehead. The dark circles under her eyes and the way the corners of her lips twitched as she stared at him made her look rather eerie. She took a few steps into the room and stopped in front of the bed, kneeling down to his level. "I lied to you," she stated with a bitter smirk. "I am one of them. There's even more of us working here, but it'd be no fun to tell you who they are." She paused and stood up straight, clenching her fists. "Enjoy your stay."