Disclaimer: Still own nothing.
A/N: Thank you for the incredible response last time! I am thrilled by all of you that are intrigued by the mystery. I am sorry last chapter was unsatisfyingly short; this chapter is a lot longer. This chapter might clear up some things for you...at the very least, you should have an idea of how this story is written. Melissa, iby.
She had to find a pen. Blue, black, red – she'd even take one of those gold gel pens that no one could ever see. She had to write it down. She had to remember. She yanked open all the drawers and rustled through them; why could she never find a pen when she needed one? All those times she'd had a pen in her pocket and not needed it, and now that she desperately needed one, she couldn't find one. How was this possible? Where had she put them all?
"I need a damn pen!" she yelled out in frustration. Why the hell did this have to be so difficult?
She couldn't forget this…she had to remember…she had waited too long for this moment to happen to just forget it…
What was I looking for again?
She frowned at the drawer she had just yanked open. It was full of loose notebook paper. She shuffled through it; there were also a few ballpoint pens. Nothing about the drawer seemed extraordinary; she wondered why she had opened it. She shrugged and then closed the drawer again.
She realized there was a piece of paper in her hand. She raised her hand and looked at it. House wanted her to meet him at his office tomorrow at noon. She was grateful that he had signed the note, but wished he had included a reason why he wanted her there. With a sigh, she tacked the note onto her bathroom mirror so she would see it the next morning, and then went off to bed.
Cameron entered the familiar office. Through the glass wall, she could see House's current fellows seated in the diagnostics room while House stood at the whiteboard. By the way they were gesturing wildly with their arms, she supposed they were conducting a differential. She considered interrupting or trying to catch House's attention, but decided she could wait for him to finish. It wasn't quite noon yet.
He slammed his hands down on the table; she recognized the tell-tale signs of a House rant. It pained her that she could remember her years in diagnostics with him, but could no longer retain new memories for more than minutes. Her memory seemed to have ended with –
Don't think about it! Cameron warned herself. She had spent quite enough time dwelling on what she could no longer remember, but she was beginning to think no amount of time would improve her memory. She was resigned to being perpetually trapped in the present.
"Hey, Cameron."
She looked up at the sound of Thirteen's voice and smiled slightly at her in return. The brunette and her colleagues were leaving the diagnostic room, but at a pace that made Cameron suspect they were actually being given a lunch break today, as opposed to being forced to run a complicated diagnostic test during the lunch hour. She noticed that House hung back in the other room, waiting for her to join him. She waited until the fellows had left his office before entering the diagnostic room.
"I see you found my note," he greeted her.
She nodded. "I taped it onto my mirror so I wouldn't forget." She took a seat and looked up expectantly at him. "Why did you want me to come here?" she asked.
"Daddy needs a favor."
She didn't smile. "No, really."
He rolled his eyes. "All right, fine, don't help an old man out. We can talk about more girly things, like our feelings. Today I'm feeling--"
"—bitter and alone," she finished for him, "like every other day."
"And even more so now that my best friend is dead and you don't remember how he died."
She felt her insides clench with guilt. She had seen the picture of Wilson in the morgue and knew he was dead, but she didn't know she had been there to see it happen. She squirmed in discomfort; she had seen someone die? Was that how she had lost her memory?
"So no one knows what happened?" she asked, disappointed.
"You're the only witness, and your memory is worse than my demented grandmother's was. We've talked about this before, Cameron. I don't want to go through it again."
She felt a twinge of annoyance and a yearning to understand, but she could see his frustration and didn't want to press the matter. "What's the real reason you called me here?" she asked.
"I was trying to think of things I haven't asked you yet. But it's not like you'll remember if I've already asked you anyway, so I guess it'll be new for you." He leaned forward. "Why were you with Wilson the night he died?"
She frowned. "I don't--"
"Oh, yes, you do," he told her. "This happened before he died, I know you remember what happened."
She sighed and closed her eyes. "Oh…yes," she said as the memory came into view. "He wanted to take me home and I said yes because I could see that he was upset about something."
House raised an eyebrow. "Did he pour his heart out over dinner and tell you what was wrong?"
She rolled her eyes. "We didn't go out to dinner, we just went back to my apartment—
"I see how it is!" he interjected. "You only help out the young, sexy ones. I should sue for discrimination!"
"And yes, he did tell me that he'd had a rough day," she continued, ignoring House. "I think he lost a patient…female, advanced lung cancer. He said her chances had been slim for a long time, but the husband still took it hard when she died."
"So he was sad a patient kicked it?" House was skeptical.
Cameron shook her head. "He was more upset by the husband's reaction. He said the husband was veryupset."
House's eyes narrowed. "Upset enough to do something stupid?"
"Like what, kill himself?" Cameron asked. "Kill Wilson? House, even if the patient were really upset, Wilson felt terrible about the wife's death. I'm sure that the husband would not have blamed him."
"Well, you'll excuse me if I don't trust your word on that one, Dory."
She ignored the jibe. "House, I don't—Where are you going?"
House had limped towards the door and was already starting down the hall before she caught up with him. "Where are you going?" she asked again. "House, where - ?" She noticed where the direction they were walking in. "Why are we going to Wilson's office?" she asked.
"I'm going to find out who the husband is," he told her. "Try not to forget that."
The door had been left unlocked. House opened it slowly and then motioned for Cameron to follow him. "Stand over there and be useless," he instructed. "I'm going to go through the files."
She frowned. "How will you know which one it is?"
He turned around, holding a file in his left hand. "Lucky guess." She opened her mouth to protest, but he added, "This is the one that he left open on his desk." He opened it. "Wife's name is Maggie, died of cancer, blah, blah, some boring medical stuff, oh, lookie here! The husband's name is Terrence. Let's pay dear Terry a phone call and offer our condolences!"
"House, no! I don't think that's a good idea--"
He pressed a finger to his lips as he held the receiver to his ear. He listened for a moment, and then his face broke out into a grin. "Yes, Terry, hello! I just heard about your wife's death and I'm calling to--" He suddenly broke off and his eyes widened in shock. He listened intently for a few moments, mumbled an indistinct comment about how he thought the person on the other end of the line could easily be mistaken for a man, and then hung up.
"What happened?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Some cop chick answered. Turns out Terrence bit the dust, same as his wife."
She raised her eyebrows. "Did they say why?"
"Nope," he said, putting the file back on the desk. "Come on, we're going on a field trip. We'll just have pay our respects in person."
A/N: Are you beginning to see the connections? I hope so! Please review and tell me what you thought! The next chapter will hopefully be up soon.
