Author: Milady Dragon
Disclaimer: same as before
Author's note: Okay, I know I've been posting these quickly, but I'm afraid that's about to change. I had the first three chapters pretty much done, and now I'm back to plodding along in my normal way. Hopefully this chapter might put a few minds at ease…You can all say I've been bad now...heehee!
Chapter Three
House entered his apartment, not even bothering to remove his jacket. It just didn't matter to him any more.
Sergeant O'Connor had driven him back, after promising that his motorcycle would be well looked after. He'd nodded absently, still lost in the horror that was Allison Cameron's dead body lying in that cold, lonely morgue.
Why her? That lone thought swirled in his brain like a dervish. Allison had been an amazing young woman, and he'd been one of the few that she'd trusted with her closest secret – that she wasn't human, but Homo Superior, the next stage in evolution, with powers and responsibilities that 99 9/10 of the people on this planet didn't have a clue even existed. She'd been to other worlds, seen wonders…hell, she'd performed wonders, all in the name of protecting the Earth from anyone who'd chosen to damage it.
And he'd never told her how much he'd admired her for it.
Sure, it had taken him a while to understand just what motivated her into putting her life in danger, especially since there was one thing she couldn't do: she couldn't kill, not even to save her own life. House had considered that a true weakness in her, but eventually he came to know that that was what made her – and the other Tomorrow People – so special: their willingness to do whatever it took, even if it meant they were choosing certain death because of this inability to protect themselves in the ultimate way. Allison had actually saved his life; that should have brought them closer, but instead it seemed to push her away, and House knew it was because she didn't want to see him in danger anymore, not because of what she was.
It was funny, how comfortable he was now, thinking of her as Allison.
He stumbled over to the drinks shelf, pouring himself an unhealthy amount of scotch. All House wanted to do was get completely sloshed, and try to forget what he'd seen in that morgue. It was probably the only way he'd get any sleep that night…
He was tipping back the glass when he noticed the phone on the floor. Absently, House recalled dropping it there, when Cuddy had finally been able to tell him what had happened. He shrugged, not really caring if it stayed there; he wasn't about to return any of the three messages that were flashing on his machine. He didn't intend on even listening to them.
It just didn't matter.
He collapsed on the couch, accidentally spilling a bit of his drink on his pants. He considered the waste of alcohol, glanced at the nearly full bottle on the shelf, and dismissed it. The scotch burned his throat pleasantly, and it comforted him a bit.
House wanted to be angry – at himself for feeling this way, and at Allison Cameron for dying. While she hadn't shared a lot of what went on in those times she'd been summoned away, he'd seen some of the marks left by her life. Yes, she'd only made herself available to her fellow Tomorrow People only when they absolutely needed her, but when those times came it usually involved something potentially deadly. He could still see her that time she'd shown up as a patient in their own clinic, claiming that she'd been mugged. Of course, House had known differently. He'd never been able to wheedle it out of her, despite his best efforts. It had taken him calling Tim, and the supercomputer had given him some of the details.
He once again stared at the phone. Did the other Tomorrow People know? How could they? And if they somehow were aware of what had happened…they'd be here, wouldn't that? At least John would…Allison and John had been very close, in a way that had made House jealous. There hadn't been anything romantic in it; it had been a sort of trust that was so totally complete it practically shown in her to the point that House could always tell when the two of them were speaking telepathically.
House sighed. He had to believe that they didn't know about Allison. Levering himself off the couch, he made his shambling way over to the handset lying on the floor. It took him a couple of half-hearted tries to pick it up, and he was hitting speed-dial almost before he was aware of doing it.
"Good evening, Greg," came the calm, warm voice of the Tomorrow People's artificial intelligence. "It has been a while since you last phoned. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
House opened his mouth to speak…and nothing came out. He couldn't formulate the words, not even to return Tim's greeting. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to hang up, get blinding drunk, and to hell with anything else.
They obviously didn't know.
There was a pause, then Tim spoke again, sounding worried. "Greg, are you there? I recognize your telephone number from my caller identification program. Is there something wrong? Are you ill?"
Was he ill? No, that wasn't the case at all. Well, maybe sick at heart…not that he ever wanted to admit that to anyone…
"Greg, I can hear your breathing. I shall send help at once." There was another pause. "I have contacted John, and he is jaunting to you immediately. I have attempted to reach Allison, however she is not answering. Therefore I must assume that this call is about her…"
Oh, yes. Tim understood immediately. House collapsed back onto the couch, letting the phone fall from his hand. He could hear Tim's voice, trying to be reassuring, echoing from the receiver.
"Dr. House?"
This voice was in the room with him. House glanced up; John stood there, his usually stern face looking worried. He didn't pretend that the concern was for himself.
The leader of the Tomorrow People sat beside House on the sofa, picking up the phone to move it out of the way. He was a handsome man, with silvering hair and intense eyes. He was perhaps fifty, or a little older, but there was something in his manner that made him appear to be far, far wiser than his years.
He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "Have you been drinking?" he demanded, his entire demeanor changing from worry to disapproval.
That condescending tone brought House out of the numb state he'd fallen into. He resisted the urge to hit the smug bastard. "Oh, I forgot…you high-and-mighty Homo Superior aren't prone to normal people's bad habits," he snapped.
John sat back a bit, as if unsure just what House was going to do. "I'll contact you when I know something," he said into the phone. He broke the connection, placing the receiver onto the coffee table. "What is it? It's about Allison, isn't it? Neither Tim nor I have been able to reach her. Has she been hurt?"
"You could say that." John's attitude had knocked House's tongue loose, and he explained to the Tomorrow Person what had happened. His voice broke a couple of times, but other than that he was very proud of himself for getting the entire thing out.
It all boiled down to one thing: Allison Cameron was dead, and House knew life would never be the same…for himself and for anyone else she'd known.
And this man sitting next to him would be just as devastated.
But John wasn't reacting the way House had believed he would. His eyes had gone wide with shock, but that didn't stay. There was only one word for what House was seeing.
Denial.
John was in denial that Allison was gone.
He was shaking his head, as House wound down. He could understand: he'd felt the same way until he'd seen it for himself. He stifled the shudder that threatened to accompany that mental picture.
"It's true," he said, trying to convince the man. "I saw…her."
John's eyes narrowed. "You saw Allison's body?" His voice was whip-sharp.
House didn't appreciate that tone. "Lying in the morgue, just as real as you please," he snapped in return. Out of spite he went on to catalogue the injuries that had led to her death, in terribly gruesome detail.
If he thought it would shock John into accepting it, he was seriously mistaken. His face did go a bit pale, but that was the only reaction House got. "It's not possible." He got up and began to pace.
"I thought that, too. Until I saw her there…" House's sudden burst of spite abruptly ended, leaving him drained and actually feeling a bit sorry for the other man.
"You don't understand." John stopped pacing, turning to stare directly at House. "Allison can't be dead, because I would know."
House's eyes narrowed at that pronouncement. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Dr. House…Greg…" It sounded odd for John to address him by his first name. "When a Tomorrow Person dies, every other TP knows it. We…feel it, the last echo of thought as the mind fades." He looked haunted, and House had to wonder just how many times he'd experienced it himself.
"And…you didn't feel anything like that from…Cameron?" Calling her Allison to another person just didn't feel right.
"Nothing. In point of fact, until Tim got your call, neither one of us had any idea anything was wrong. We'd not heard from Allison since yesterday."
John would have felt her die. That thought ran like a rat around his brain. Now House had something else he had to reconcile…seeing Allison's body, but knowing that the one person she'd cared for more than anyone would have known if she'd been killed.
"What do you sense now?"
John sat back down, his brows drawing down. His eyes unfocussed. "I can't sense her at all. It's as if she's being blocked somehow." He looked back at House. "But she's not dead."
House went from despair to actual joy in the course of a heartbeat. He found himself quite unable to breathe. While he and John didn't get along all that well – most of their dust-ups had been about Allison, in fact – he knew he could trust the other man's abilities. And if he said that Allison wasn't dead…
"Okay, I'm willing to accept what you say," House said slowly.
"I hear a 'but' in that sentence."
Irritation set back in. There was just something about the elder Tomorrow Person that just pushed House's buttons. "If Cameron is still alive, then whose body is that in the morgue?"