10. Murder
Genre: Crime/Tragedy
Rating: M for, duh, murder and character death and character abuse.
I've been around these vicious lies too
Too long to be neglecting the truth
I'm getting closer and I'm fully armed
People want to do important things in life. Things that have a meaning. Everyone always imagines themselves in the White House or Bill Gates' seat or in a hospital, treating others, giving them their lives back. Do they always have to be good, morally right things, though? They want them to be so that they'd have a reason to be proud of themselves even if what they've accomplished isn't what they truly wanted. She was lucky enough to realize this first and think of herself. All that mattered was that by taking matters into her own hands, she could alter the very foundations of someone else's life drastically before it was time to go, she could leave her mark on them to remind them of her with every day that would pass by, like the itch you can't scratch, the splinter you can't get out. A mark of pain? Possibly. Horror? It was more than probable. Salvation? Without a doubt. And that was what mattered.
She wasn't doing it for herself, she was doing it for Cameron. She could spend the next five to ten years helping people she didn't give a damn about and would never see again, diagnosing what any other doctor could diagnose instead, or she could help one of the few characters in the imaginary journal of her life she actually cared about by doing what only she could– was willing to do. There was nothing complicated about an equation such as this one. In the end, life is indeed all about setting your priorities, something she had always thought was just teacher talk.
I'm about to hunt you down through
The big black hole right behind you
And I'm about to cut your wings away
Trying to approach Cameron was like bungee jumping; the closer she got to the edge, the more her subconscious kept whispering in her ear: "You don't want this." She had been bound to stop walking at one point or another, but before she did, she could see there was another person about to jump; except she had no parachute, her face was tear-stained and her eyes blackened by despair. "You definitely don't want this," the voice kept saying. And she obeyed; she stepped down. Nevertheless, she couldn't help it but look back at the other person every now and then to see if she was still standing, going up, or going... down.
At first it was just what House liked to call "an unusually long period, or a suprising lack of period. Or womanhood itself." Then the slight disturbances in an otherwise perfectly stable environment materialized in the form of bruises on Cameron's wrists she could see when the doctor's sleeves betrayed her for a few tiny glimpses. Then Cameron started wearing scarfs, in the spring. Until one day she didn't come to the hospital as the head of the ER, all ready to fix up cracked skulls and fingers cut off; she arrived as a patient with two broken ribs.
'Cause I've been finding out
Where you've broken in
And I will take you out
When I close you in
Of course, Thirteen wasn't the only one who noticed. It was blatantly obvious to anyone who knew her, but most of those people had their own glasses full of shit enough to be able to make the decision not to watch a colleague deteriorate on a one way ticket to the depths of hell with their conscience as clear as crystal. House liked analyzing the situation, but that was it. Thirteen was partially grateful, though; what would they do, call the cops? A bunch of incompetent idiots who would lock Chase up for a few days, then let him leave, go off ranting about the injustice that's been done to him so he could finish what he'd started. No, this was her job; to do something meaningful for someone who meant something. No more, no less.
I'm about to do it your way
I will make your world unsafe
I never thought you'd get this far, sensei
She didn't want to jump off the cliff. She didn't want to get close to Cameron. She didn't want Cameron to get close to her. However, no person in her proximity was insane enough to even think of getting up there, which left her alone standing there as the only person who could at least throw Cameron a rope. Or rush heroically to catch her when she falls. Not that she would. Because she wouldn't.
You don't believe what all the signs say
I don't believe in judgment day
But you won't be leaving here unharmed
As she stepped over the threshold, she wondered how many laws she had already broken and how long her sentence would be. Stealing keys, breaking into someone's house at night under the false pretense of breaking into a completely different patient's house to look for potential sources of environmental infection, that was just the beginning.
I'm killing them all
I put my soul on the line
I purify sins
That I committed in life
She found his drunken ass passed out on the living room couch, the empty bottle still in his grip. He stank like a decaying corpse already.
Killing a killer. What a paradox! Chase was a murderer himself. He knew what it felt like. He had killed as well, two times, body and soul, and now she was there to make him pay, as much as she would pay herself. But in contrast with him, she was ready to face the consequences.
He didn't even feel the needle.
You can't feel the pain
I scream in vain
You sink away
To the bottom
With the syringe in the sewer, they wouldn't know. There were no fingerprints. There was no record of anyone taking a lethal dose of Pavulon from the hospital. The only keys beside Chase's were in Cameron's bag, but she had been bedridden at the time of death, wasn't she? And Thirteen? Thirteen had been with her boss and colleagues, doing what doctors do.
They'd find out once. And when they would, she'd be there. This way, at least, with Chase out of the picture, maybe Cameron's cliff wouldn't seem so high.
"Have you heard the news yet? Chase is dead." An obligatory honorific pause. "You were gone for a long time," House said, looking at his subordinate with worry and suspicion, nothing like his usual attitude.
"Yeah. I was."
Their eyes locked.
Thirteen left the office.
So where will you go
When I will murder your soul?