Flare
Chapter I:
Rated: NC-17
Author's Note: This is a Huddy. I know I have another Huddy going on already but this idea popped into my head and I have to start it. It will be angsty and long, and some of you might even call it a rip-off of other fics but so what? This is my take on a classic story line. If you don't like it, don't read it.
Cuddy emerged from the lake water, confused and distraught. She pulled herself onto the bank and lay there trying to catch her breath. It was supposed to be a nice camping trip, it was supposed to be a safe private plane, it all went wrong. In her hand she held tightly onto her camping pack, which was also now soaking wet. She coughed and violently expelled water from her lungs. A moment later she forced herself to sit up, only to see House emerge from the water.
He spotted her and started to weakly swim her way. They were in the middle of nowhere, the pilot hadn't even said what state they were over before they started to go down. Now the plane was almost completely submerged. Obviously the pilot hadn't survived or else she would have seen him splashing around in the water too. When House finally got onto the bank next to her, she saw that he had a large first aid kit in his hand, and nothing else.
"Not what..." He paused to cough as he collapsed next to her, "what I call a smooth landing."
"Shove it House." Cuddy groaned and pulled herself farther away from the water. House had a gash on the side of his head which would probably need stitches, and the last thing she wanted to do now was stitch him up. Her whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. She had survived a plane crash, now she would have to survive in the middle of nowhere with House.
It had all started as a stupid bet that she couldn't go a week without technology and structure and he couldn't go a week without his team or Wilson. It looked like now they both were going to have to go longer than that. Other than the lake, they were surrounded by trees and had been headed to a national park in the midwest to have a nice, almost modern, camping trip. This was really going to be roughing it now.
"At least I got my vicodin." He said, holding up a bottle wrapped in a plastic bag that had been removed from his wet sock. She wiped her eyes with her hands and then glared at him. She didn't care that he had his damn vicodin. What did she have? A pack of soaking wet clothes, some meager rations, and a tent. Attached to that was one sleeping bag and a pillow that, once dried, would become useless because it would start to grow mold.
"And you're going to need it when I punch you in the side of the head." Cuddy snapped at him. When they both found more strength inside of them, they crawled more towards the trees and off of the sandy beach. It didn't look like there was anyone around at all. No signs of buildings or power lines or anything. There were no trails, no footprints, nothing. Cuddy was beginning to doubt that even the sound of the plane crashing had grabbed anyone's attention.
House came closer to her and looked her in the eyes. She wondered what he was trying to do and pulled away from him quickly. She had bashed her head on the way down and she was pretty sure two of her fingers were broken but other than that she would be fine. All that needed to be done was to crack open that first aid kit and make a splint for her hand.
"I'm fine House, it's just a small bump." She said putting her none broken hand to the lump that was forming near the top of her forehead. "You, on the other hand, need stitches."
"Your fingers are broken." House said, motioning to her right hand. If anything she should have been glad that it was her right hand, as she was left handed. They throbbed gently at that point but she was sure that the rush of escaping a plane crash alive was keeping the pain at bay. Give it a few hours and she would be in immense pain.
"Well lets open that kit and fix each other, shall we?" Cuddy asked, motioning to the first aid box. House looked at her for a moment before opening the waterproof kit. Inside there were tons of things, things that they would actually need in case of an emergency and for that Cuddy was glad. There were even three epi-pens inside not that she was allergic to anything that she knew of.
Silently, House went to setting and splinting Cuddy's middle and ring finger on her right hand. She was sure that she would have screamed a lot more from the pain if she wasn't so damn shaken by the event. Her eyes didn't even follow his hands, they were too busy watching the plane continue it's descent to the bottom of the lake. The next thing she was aware of was House holding out a pill and bottle of water to her. She blinked a few times and took them without a word, downing one with the other.
"Your turn." She said, grabbing the kit. She started to rifle through it but all she could find was a common sewing kit and needle. It would have to do because dissolvable stitches were now a thing of the past for them. Even with one injured hand she was able to thread the needle, she couldn't have told him how though.
"You can't be serious." He said as she approached him with the needle.
"I am. Do you want to bleed to death?"
"Bleed to death, or live in the middle of nowhere with you? That's a toughy..." House quipped. She rolled her eyes and pulled him close. Daylight was fading and she was going to have to do this before they were lost in complete darkness.
It took ten stitches to close the wound, and a lot of cursing from House, but once it was over he popped a vicodin and shut up about the pain. This amazed her because she had broken fingers, but she figured that he realized she was going to be in more pain than he was so he wasn't complaining. At least he was trying to be nice. As the sun light began to run out, House pulled himself up and headed towards the underbrush.
"Where are you going?" Cuddy asked, getting up to follow him.
"Fire wood. There are waterproof matches in the first aid kit." He said simply. At least he was thinking rationally, her only plan was to curl up and cry herself to sleep. It was not summer outside, it was autumn but they had checked out weather in the midwest and found it would be nice for camping. This, however, was not the midwest and it was starting to get cold. The sleeping bag in her pack would not be dry until tomorrow, they were going to need a fire.
"You think you could fork over a vicodin?" She asked as she approached him, picking up small branches as she did. The pill he had given her was tylenol, not vicodin. Yeah it would help with the swelling and keep the blood flowing but there was little it was going to do for the pain.
"You'll be fine." House said to her, limping back to the clearing with armfuls of dead wood. Cuddy wanted to scream at him, but at that point she could not find the energy no matter how hard she tried.
"Do you even know how to build a fire?" She asked, sounding pissed off. If he heard that tone in her voice he chose to ignore it. He looked at her and started to build a small pile of twigs in an orderly fashion. Maybe he actually did know what he was doing. She sat down next to him, cross legged, and watched him. It took about four matches, but soon there was a small fire going in front of them.
"Can I provide or what?"
"Shut up." Cuddy replied, her whole body still shivering. The light in the sky was almost completely gone by then. A chilly wind blew and she wrapped her arms around her body, pulling her knees up to her chest. Then she remembered. The sleeping bag had been brand new, never opened, because she had bought it specifically for this trip. If the plastic around it was air tight then maybe there was a chance that they would have some sort of protection for the upcoming night. "The sleeping bag."
"Is wet. The plane is...now you finish the sentence. This is fun!" House said sarcastically.
"No, you idiot, it's still in it's original wrapping. It should be fine." Cuddy snapped at him. She pulled the camping pack close to the budding fire as House added more wood. It was getting easier and easier to see by the flames, and warmer and warmer the bigger it got. The mess kit attached to the side of her pack clanged loudly as she set it down and pulled the sleeping bag from the top where it was strapped down. The plastic was still there, it had beads of water on it, which was a good sign. That probably meant that the water hadn't gotten in.
With a bit of effort, and no help from House, she got the bag open to find that her theory was correct. The sleeping bag was bone dry. At that point she could have cried with relief, the smallest comforts they could have at that point would make things seem so much brighter. The next step would be to strip out of her wet clothes. She didn't want to make the only dry thing they had wet, but she didn't need any lewd comments from House.
"You might want to get out of those clothes before getting all tucked in." House said, poking at the now huge fire. She looked at him across from it and finally convinced herself to strip down to her underwear. For one, he had seen her in less before, and two it was dark, she was cold, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
"If you say anything..."
"Don't mind me. I've seen it all before." House said, "Do we have any marshmallows?"
"Does it look like we have any?" Cuddy asked pulling off her sweater which would surely shrink as it dried. She laid it out on the grass followed by her turtleneck and then her jeans. "Where are you going to sleep? I can unzip this thing completely and we can both huddle under it."
"The fire will keep me warm enough. Besides I need to stay awake...bears." House said, but that sounded like a lie. She was pretty sure that he was going to stay awake to watch over her while she slept. The last thing she wanted to do was call him on that fact, and if she said anything about not being worried about bears at that point he would probably give her a lecture that she didn't want to hear at that point.
"Well wake me up if you need anything." Cuddy said, snaking her way down into the sleeping bag.
"Sleep tight." House said, and she smiled because at least he didn't say anything about letting the bed bugs bite. Things would look better in the morning, she hoped. With sunlight they could probably send up smoke signals and everything would be corrected in a day or two. She would soon come to find out that it was very wishful thinking.