Title: The Walls Have Ears and So Do Coma Patients
Author: tiflissa
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Love Hurts
Pairing: House/Cameron
Summary: Really, does he think I'll answer him? Nah. He knows better. He just likes listening to the sound of his own voice.
A/N: bites nails Okay. I'll make this relatively short. This is the first fic I've EVER posted on this site, although it was previously posted on LiveJournal's housecameron site a while ago. It's just a short little one-shot (for now). Please let me know what you think. I must warn you, though; flames will not be paid any attention. I had lots of fun writing this, so I'll shut up and let you read it!
When you've been in a coma for five years, there's not much to divert your attention. In fact, the only excitement I have anymore is when that doctor and his friend come and use me as their lunch tray. Okay, so that's only one of them. Dr. House, I think he's called. Strange guy. Don't know how his friend puts up with him. He's a bit…abrasive. That's putting it mildly.
What can I say? I'm a nice guy.
To be honest, I enjoy their company. Most of my days are spent in a dull fashion. Not being able to get around – or even wake up – really puts a crimp in a person's plans. Don't ask how I got like this. I don't even have the answer to that question.
Back to the point.
The point is, I can mark the day when Dr. House's demeanor began to change. For the better or not, I don't know him well enough to judge. Yet, a series of important – I assume – events happened to take place in my room.
To this day, they don't realize that I heard every single word.
The door opened slowly, squeaking slightly on its hinges. Footsteps and cane-steps came closer, and I knew who this was. I have no idea what possessed him to begin hiding in here of all places. Oh, that's what he was doing, all right. Hiding. I know this because of one time that he got caught in here by his boss. Feisty woman with fierce footsteps.
Those high-heels must kill her at the end of the day. I don't know how women do it.
I digress.
Dr. House let out a quick, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. "Well, it's just you and me, Gary."
Yup, I thought sardonically. Really, does he think I'll answer him? Nah. He knows better. He just likes listening to the sound of his own voice.
Besides, even if I were awake to answer him, I don't answer to 'Gary'. My name is Thomas. I have no idea why insists on calling me Gary. Though, I heard a mention of something called 'SpongeBob' when his friend asked him about it. No idea.
Next, there was the tell-tale crinkling of a potato chip bag, and a loud crunching noise immediately afterwards. The bed rails gave a small shudder as he hoisted his legs up to use it as a footrest.
The door swung open again, and soon after, another voice I recognized. "Are you planning on hiding out in here all day? Cuddy's going to skin you alive."
"Ha. She'll have to catch me first."
"I hate to break it to you, House, but you have a limp. I think she'll catch up to you pretty quickly."
"Not if I use my superpowers."
"Would those be the same superpowers that morph you into an ass at the slightest provocation? And sometimes without any provocation at all?"
"Shh. I'm trying to keep it a secret."
Dr. Wilson snorted. "Don't worry, Clark Kent, I think your secret's out already."
"Comparing me to Superman? Why Jimmy, I had no idea you felt that way."
Wilson sighed, tiring of his friend's games. Dragging a metal chair across the floor, he took a seat on the other side of my bed. "How was the date?"
There was a deadly silence. Even in my comatose state, I could feel the tension. For my part, I was in a state of disbelief. This man had managed to get a date? Unbelievable.
A muted growl came from House's direction. "Don't you have cancer patients to annoy?"
"Fine. I'll ask Cameron. She'll probably give me more information that you will anyway."
It sounded like Wilson stood as if to leave, but a couple of fervent swear words from House – which I won't repeat - made him sit down again.
"That well, huh?"
"She wants to fix me."
Was she insane to take on that kind of project? Whoever she was.
"Did she tell you that?"
"No. I told her that."
A heavy sigh from Wilson, quickly followed by a groan. "You're an idiot."
"Why? It's the truth."
"No, that's your perception of the truth, which – brace yourself – could be wrong. You could be wrong."
"Oh, come on, Wilson! She married a guy with cancer! Why do you think she's a doctor? Why do you think she connects with every patient she sees? Why do you think she married that guy? And why do you think she wanted a date with me? It certainly wasn't for my amazing people skills. She wants to fix people. She needs me, she doesn't want me."
Wilson was silent for a moment. Finally, he stood and footsteps made their way to the door. Just before he left, he spoke to his friend. "You have this delusion that people couldn't possibly like you for who you are. Have you considered the possibility that Cameron honestly likes you? You're the one who chooses to have only one friend. That's not the world's judgement. You've judged yourself."
The silence that followed Wilson's comment and exit was deafening before House said a quiet, "yeah. I know."
Over the next few weeks, things settled into their usual routine once again. The only thing that really changed was the TV program House watched during lunch. Curse the man for getting me addicted to General Hospital.
He and Wilson exchanged the usual comments about Dr. Cuddy's 'funbags' – one guess what that refers to – and the L-word. No idea what that was either, but judging from the tone of their conversations, something I could see House watching. Not literally, but you know what I mean.
One day, an unexpected presence graced my room during lunch. The elusive Cameron – who, as it turns out, is another Doctor. You'd think I'd have seen that one coming, but no. Comas evidently steal brain cells, making you dumber. But maybe I was this dumb to begin with, hard to say.
I digress again.
Actually, she didn't 'grace' my room so much as barged in. She was angry at House and not afraid to let everyone in a twelve-mile radius know it.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
I think House may have dropped his sandwich in surprise, judging by the sounds. "I might be able to answer that if I knew what you think I was thinking." Pause. "Or is that the other way around?"
She ignored him. "Why would you order an unnecessary test that painful on a four-year-old?"
"Why would you marry a dying guy and try to date a gimp?"
The silence that followed this was fraught with anger and fury. I heard her measured steps as she approached him, deadly calm, and braced myself for the explosion.
Much to my surprise, however, the explosion never came. "Why do you keep bringing that up, House?" she asked, low tone the only thing to give away how furious she still was. "You're still trying to figure me out by throwing cruel things like that out there and watching my reaction. You're too emotionally ass-backwards to realize that just because someone has compassion doesn't mean they're weak. Or to realize that despite everything, I loved my husband, not because of everything. Despite it. Don't ever bring him up again unless you can be civil about it."
She whirled to leave when House's voice stopped her. "You never answered the second part of my question." He tapped his cane on the floor in a staccato rhythm, that being the only thing to give away how uncomfortable he was. Apparently, he hadn't been able to predict that reaction from her.
Idiot.
"Even if I answered it truthfully, you'd find a way to turn it around so that you don't have to accept the answer I give. So, I'm going to save you some time and not answer at all. That way, you can make all the assumptions you want without the truth standing in your way."
House didn't stop her leaving this time. Instead, he turned a bit and sighed heavily. "Well, Gary, I really put my foot in it this time, didn't I."
Ya think?
Personally, I'm rooting for Dr. Cameron. She's got moxy, and I think she could take him.
My room was suspiciously lonely for the next month or so. Then, out of the blue, Dr. Cameron came in. After a sigh, she began to pace. After several minutes passed, it was starting to drive me nuts. But it wasn't like I could sit up and tell her to find somewhere else to pace. Thankfully, she soon stopped. A metallic clang alerted me to the fact that she'd picked up my chart.
"Thomas O'Connor. Well, Thomas, I bet you've heard a lot of interesting conversations, knowing House and Wilson."
Yes, and now I'm mentally scarred for life, thankyouverymuch. You deserve a raise for putting up with them, Doc.
I'm sure she would have said more if House himself hadn't made an entrance. "Step away from the coma guy and put your hands where I can see them." There was a pause. "Actually, put your hands – "
"What do you want, House?" she asked, mercifully cutting him off.
"I want you to stop trying to steal all my friends."
I could almost hear her eyebrows raise. "All your friends?"
"Wilson's always liked you better, you've got Steve wrapped around your little finger, and now you're trying to steal Gary."
Who the hell was Steve? And stop calling me Gary.
Dr. Cameron must have read my mind, because the next words out of her mouth were, "Gary? The chart says his name is Thomas."
"Nickname. Besides, he likes Gary better."
Do not.
"Right." There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of footsteps before the distinct sound of kissing.
This is my room. Get your own.
Finally, finally, they parted and House chuckled.
"What?" Dr. Cameron asked, breathing still a bit labored.
"If this guy ever wakes up, we're going to have to give him a memory wipe. He's heard too much."
Please do.
END
A/N: Okay, see that purple-ish looking button down there? On the left? Yeah, that one. If you click it, you make my day! grin