Author's Note: Much, MUCH longer chapter (well, for me at least), please enjoy...but still read slow, all right? I need time to work on the next chaper, and some other stories, and, oh yeah, homework and other such needless distractions...
Disclaimer: The characters and events portrayed on the television show House, MD do not belong to me; I'm just borrowing them. So please don't sue me. Thank you.
game (n)-a particular manner or style of playing a game
Detective Tritter made numerous visits to PPTH throughout the next two months, all the while collecting evidence and noting any changes in demeanor or attitude. Cuddy was upset for awhile, but managed to remain calm. House seemed indifferent, noting that Chase had made more work for him, by forcing him to start interviewing for someone to fill the now-vacant position. Cameron seemed on the edge of a nervous breakdown, remaining silent unless she was spoken to directly. And I...well, I felt guilty. I knew Cameron probably wouldn't tell Tritter what she knew, what she had done, but I was always aware of my knowledge, every time I lied to Tritter or some other officer, every time I was questioned and fabricated an answer, even when I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep. But I kept lying. I kept Tritter in the dark about the Nervous Game. I kept covering for my colleague (my friend). At least, until early March.
It was the second week of March, a month that had a reputation for coming "in like a lion," which it most certainly had. Besides the continuing police investigation into Chase's death, the rumors that began to fly around the hospital, and trying to solve the strangest medical mysteries no one else could (short one doctor, mind you), we had a blizzard in later February, followed by more flurries and sub-zero temperatures throughout the first week of March, and the snow remained until the first Monday of the month, March 5.
However, the month most certainly did not go "out like a lamb."
It was noon on March 5, and I was making my way down to the cafeteria for lunch. Cameron had disappeared earlier, as had become her custom within the last month, and House was off watching soap operas with Wilson, so I was on my own. I rode the elevator down to the lobby, then made for the cafeteria, buying myself a tray of food and settling at a table.
"Mind if I join you?"
I looked up and watched Tritter sit down opposite me, without waiting for a response. He had a bag of chips with him and ripped the bag open, gnawing at a potato chip. I picked at my lunch, swallowed the food in my mouth, then asked, "Can I help you?" I eyed him warily, wishing he would leave and let me eat in peace.
"Well...would you mind coming down to the station for a little while today?"
"Why?"
"Just some more questions...a few loose ends to tie up."
"So...you're close to arresting someone?"
Tritter half-smiled. "I'm not at liberty to say, Dr. Foreman."
"Oh." I looked down at the table and sat silently a moment. "Why can't you just interview me here?"
"I'd be more comfortable at the station. I think you would be, too...you may also be able to speak more freely there."
I considered what he'd said, and eventually nodded. "All right, I'll come."
Tritter allowed me to finish my lunch while he munched on his chips, making small talk about everything and anything, as long as it wasn't related to the investigation. When I was finished, I ran upstairs to tell House I had to go, and to gather my things, then climbed into my own car and followed Tritter to the police station.
I had expected getting hauled in for questioning. In fact, I was surprised it had taken the detective this long to bring me in. I could tell he thought I was a prime suspect, or someone who could lead him to the actual murderer, or at the very least, help him decipher the truth behind Chase's death. I mused this over as I awaited Tritter outside the station. When he met me, I let him lead the way inside, and into the interrogation room.
I shrugged off my coat and threw it over the back of the only chair in the room, a cold metal seat, with a matching metal table set in the middle of the room. Tritter had dropped his jacket at a desk outside I could only assume was his, and now shut the door behind himself and leaned against the wall. I set my bag on the floor beside my chair and waited for the interview to begin.
Tritter stood silently a few moments, then said, "Take me through Friday night and Saturday again."
I sighed. He meant those two fateful days back in January. "We've been over this already..."
"I know, I know," he replied, nodding understandingly and almost apologetically. "But I'd like to hear it again."
"Cameron and Chase had been getting a lot closer over the past week," I began in a bored tone. "They left the hospital together that night. I went home. On Saturday, well, I had some work to finish, went out for a walk for a bit, watched TV...that's about it." I sat back in the chair. "I don't know what Cameron and Chase did."
"Did you speak to either of them that weekend?"
I shook my head. Lying was becoming second nature to me. "Nope. They did their own thing, I did mine. We never spoke."
"I see." Tritter nodded, beginning to pace the room. "Well, someone at your apartment spoke to Dr. Cameron a little before midnight Saturday night, and into early Sunday morning."
Oh shit. I clutched the arm of the chair and forced myself to shake my head. "Impossible." My voice cracked.
Tritter mused this over. "Apparently not. You spoke for nearly ten minutes." He knocked on the two-way glass, and the door opened a crack. Another detective passed Tritter a piece of paper, then closed the door again. Tritter examined the paper a moment, then slapped it down in front of me, pointing to a line of writing on the printout. "See? Right there. 'Incoming call from number 555-0875; duration 8 minutes, 37 seconds.'" He left the paper for me to stare blankly at and paced away. "If memory serves, 555-0875 is Dr. Cameron's cell phone number, is it not?"
I shrugged and muttered, "Could be."
He smirked at me. "It is, Dr. Foreman. Now, that only leaves one more question unanswered: what did she have to tell you that was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"
I continued to avert my eyes from his judgmental gaze. It was the moment of truth, to reveal the truth or risk jail time for accessory to a crime. I forced myself to look at Tritter, who was leaning against the wall once again, studying me, a tiny smile of grim satisfaction on his lips already. He had me, and he knew it.
I sighed, trying to buy time, and refolded my legs underneath me, sitting forward and clasping my hands together in front of me. I pursed my lips, still undecided.
"Well?" Tritter was getting impatient, and desperately trying not to let it show. But it was obvious how excited he was; he wanted blood, and could already taste it.
"I talked to her." There, I'd said it.
Tritter gave a full grin and pushed off the wall. He perched himself on the edge of the table and said, "Now we're getting somewhere...what did she tell you, Dr. Foreman?" He waited. And waited. And waited. Moments ticked by, and still I remained silent. "Dr. Foreman, must I remind you that you can be charged with obstruction of justice if you don't tell me everything you know?" I sat, still as stone and staring down at the cool metal top of the table, and Tritter leaned into me. "I know you've been withholding information. That can mean serious jail time, not to mention the end of your medical career." I looked up and met his eyes, and the glint I saw there told me that his statement was no warning; it was a threat.
"Do you have a few hours to waste?" I asked finally, smiling wryly.
Tritter nodded slowly. "If you have the information I need, of course."
I sighed again. "It began that week," I started. "That Monday. Cameron was acting strangely, and she came to us..."
"Who's us?"
"Chase and I," I replied, then continued, "Cameron came to Chase and I with a sort of proposition. She wanted us to play this game with her."
"And the name of this game?"
"The Nervous Game."
I explained everything. I explained the rules, guidelines, and goals of the Game. I went through every prank played, every comment made, every flirtatious pass attempted. I explained what had happened to me, what I knew of what had gone on between Cameron and Chase, and finally, the call that Saturday night. The shrill ring of the phone in the still, dark night. The caller's frantic pleas for help, indecipherable babbling, and sobbing. How I finally asked who the hell was calling me...and it was Cameron. How she had talked through her tears, and managed to tell me that Chase was dead, an accidental death caused by something she had done to him. Finally getting Cameron to hang up anf get home, and meeting her at her apartment. Trying to make her call the police, and her multiple refusals, and promises to do it the following day. The arguments I'd made to get her to come to her senses, none of which had worked, because she still hadn't called the police. How close to a mental breakdown she was, vanishing in the middle of the day, bursting into hysterics at the mere mention of Chase, barely able to do her job, but still running herself into the ground in an attempt to forget what she'd done.
The entire story, start to finish, took about two hours to tell. When I was done, it was a little after two in the afternoon, and Tritter thanked me for my help, telling me I was free to go. I felt a little less guilty about hiding what I'd known from the police, but that was replaced with a fresh sense of guilt, at practically ratting out Cameron. When I arrived back at the hospital, I resigned myself to the fact that I had to tell her what I'd said. Walking towards the entrance, I ran into her as she left the hospital.
"Foreman!" she yelped, startled out of her daze. "Where've you been?"
"I should ask you the same thing," I replied. "You just disappeared this morning..."
"I know." She sighed. "I needed to...think some things over." She forced a half-smile, but tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I was on the roof, and I realized just how easy it would be to take one little step...one little step could end it all."
My eyes widened. "Cameron, no...you can't kill yourself. You'll get through this..." I argued weakly.
Cameron gave a humorless laugh. "I killed someone, Foreman...you don't just 'get over' that."
I hung my head and murmured, "I guess not."
"I make everyone around me miserable," Cameron continued. "There's no use for me in this world...I might as well leave it, right?"
I laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't say that," I commanded quietly. "You have so much to give this world...don't leave just yet." She stared at me a moment, and didn't reply. I dropped my hand and shoved it into my pocket as a brisk wind blew over us. "Where are you off to?"
"Tritter called me," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Wants to talk to me. Actually, I'd better get going..." She gave me another weak smile and began to walk away. "Wish me luck."
"Cameron, wait," I called, and she turned back, expectant. We held each others' eyes a long moment, and I finally whispered, "Good luck."
She nodded and turned around, walking for her car. I watched her climb in and drive off, then finally entered the building. Somehow I knew it was the beginning of the end.
Excerpt from the Transcripts of the First Interrogation of Dr. Allison Cameron
Questioning Officer: Det. Michael Tritter
Det. M. Tritter: Why did you call Dr. Foreman on Saturday night?
Dr. A. Cameron: I didn't. Who told you that?
MT: (rustling of papers) Well, actually...the phone company did.
AC: (silence)
MT: Dr. Cameron?
AC: Yes?
MT: Is that not your cell phone number written there? Right there, on that line? "Incoming call from number 555-0875; duration 8 minutes, 37 seconds."
AC: Yes, that's my cell phone number...
MT: And this number at the top? That's Dr. Foreman's house number, correct?
AC: (pause) I think so.
MT: And the call was made at 11:56 PM on Saturday, January 27, 2007. You spoke to Dr. Foreman for, what...over eight minutes?
AC: I don't remember calling him.
MT: Oh, you don't...?
AC: No.
MT: You forget speaking to your coworker at midnight for almost ten minutes?
AC: It was late...maybe I was drunk. I don't know.
MT: So now you don't remember if your were drunk or not?
AC: I...
MT: Yes?
AC: (silence)
MT: All right, let's move on...that Friday. Did you leave the hospital with Dr. Chase?
AC: Yes. I gave him a ride home.
MT: And then?
AC: I dropped him off at home, Det. Tritter. That's what "giving someone a ride" means.
MT: I would not recommend playing games with me, Dr. Cameron...but you like games, don't you?
AC: Excuse me?
MT: The Nervous Game. Ever heard of it?
AC: No.
MT: So you didn't introduce Drs. Chase and Foreman to it?
AC: How could I if I've never heard of it?
MT: Funny...because Dr. Foreman remembers playing. He remembers that you were winning.
AC: Hmm...strange.
MT: I'll say. Dr. Cameron, you do realize that you can be sentenced to jail time for interfering with a criminal investigation?
AC: And you're reminding me of this why...?
MT: Because I think you know something you're not telling me.
AC: Really? Wow, so now you're a psychic detective?
MT: Tell me about your relationship with Dr. Chase.
AC: I...worked with him.
MT: That all?
AC: Mostly.
MT: (pause) I'm listening.
AC: I...slept with him. About a year ago.
MT: That all?
AC: (silence)
MT: According to Dr. Foreman, you two were getting pretty cozy recently. Care to explain?
AC: I don't see how this is relevant...
MT: Why don't you let me be the judge of that?
AC: (sigh) That Friday...I spent that night at his apartment. The night before, he'd been at mine.
MT: So you two had a sexual relationship?
AC: Not at first...that's just what it became.
MT: Did you love him?
AC: What?
MT: Did you love Dr. Chase?
AC: (silence)
MT: This isn't a very difficult question, Dr. Cameron. Did you love the guy, or was he just your boy toy?
AC: I...
MT: (silence)
AC: ...don't know.
MT: You don't know?
AC: Maybe.
MT: Maybe what?
AC: (silence)
MT: Dr. Cameron...were you falling in love with Dr. Chase, or were you just screwing with him?
AC: At first...it was just for fun. (sob) It wasn't supposed to turn out this way!
MT: What wasn't? What happened, Dr. Cameron?
AC: (pause) I did.
MT: You what?
AC: I fell in love with him.
Little did any of us know, while this was going on, Det. Tritter was also working on getting a search warrant for Cameron's apartment. A few days later, he got it. They took most of her things out of the apartment in evidence bags, her diary among them. It would eventually become the most damning piece of evidence against her.
Tritter questioned me again, and House, Cuddy, and Wilson, as well as a few various nurses, anyone who had ever come into contact with Cameron. The cops even dropped in on some of our old patients, collecting more and more evidence against Cameron. It seemed like everyone in the judicial system was chomping at the bit, just waiting for the day when they could get her trial, which they eventually did, only after her third interrogation with Tritter in late March.
Excerpt from the Transcripts of the Third Interrogation of Dr. Allison Cameron
Questioning Officer: Det. Michael Tritter
Det. M. Tritter: Fancy meeting you here again.
Dr. A. Cameron: And I thought I was done with you.
MT: (laugh) Not that easily.
AC: So, what useless information do you want to know about me today?
MT: The events of Saturday the 27.
AC: Haven't we gone over this?
MT: And over it and over it, yes. But please, bear with me...
AC: Well, I drove home from Chase's in the morning, and then picked him up at about three in the afternoon.
MT: And where did you go?
AC: The forest a little while from Princeton. Probably about a twenty minute drive, or so. I took Chase to my favorite spot, near the edge of this lake, and we stayed for a few hours.
MT: And then?
AC: I left.
MT: You left him there? Alone?
AC: (pause) Yes. Around eight that night.
MT: Were you aware Dr. Chase had nyctohylophobia?
AC: Yes.
MT: He had a fear of the forest at night, and you left him there alone?
AC: Yes, okay! Yes.
MT: Why?
AC: Why what?
MT: Why did you do it?
AC: (silence)
MT: We've come this far, Dr. Cameron...
AC: It was for the Game.
MT: The Game?
AC: The Nervous Game.
MT: Ah, yes...the game you've never even heard of.
AC: I lied then. I'm telling the truth now.
MT: And why should I believe you?
AC: Believe me or not, it's your choice.
MT: I suppose it is. And I'd like to believe you. But...why would you do this, if you were falling in love with him? If you knew he had this fear? If you wanted to be with him?
AC: (sob) I honestly don't know...
MT: But you did leave him there?
AC: Yes. I did.
MT: And you were aware of his phobia?
AC: Yes.
MT: Thank you, Dr. Cameron. That will be sufficient.
After that final interview, the district attorney decided to seek murder two charges against Cameron. He wanted to get her for murder in the second degree, instead of the lesser charge of voluntary manslaughter, saying she took a risk with Chase's life, despite her knowledge of his fears, and the senseless prank resulted in Chase's death.
I remember the day Cameron was told all this like it was yesterday. It was early April, a beautiful spring day, and we were seated in the diagnostics office, taking a much-needed break. She seemed to be in higher spirits than she had been the last few months, and had thankfully stopped her talk of suicide. Instead, we were talking about the weather, and TV shows, and movies, and I actually had her laughing. And that's when Tritter walked in.
"Dr. Cameron, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me," he'd stated, an officer at his side.
I remember rising protectively, and demanding, "What's this all about?" Cameron rose, too, slowly getting to her feet and blinking confusedly at Tritter.
"This is between Dr. Cameron and the judicial system of New Jersey," Tritter informed me, beckoning for Cameron to come to him and repeating, "You'll have to come with me."
Cameron took a hesitant step forward. "Why?"
Tritter sighed. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I can let you walk out of here without the cuffs, or I can slap them on you now..."
"Handcuffs?" Cameron echoed, a fear that hadn't been in her eyes for so long once again present. "What...?"
"Allison Cameron, you are under arrest for the murder of Robert Chase." Tritter nodded to the officer with him, who swiftly grabbed Cameron's shoulder and spun her around, taking her wrists and handcuffing them tightly behind her back. Cameron made a small noise of protest as Tritter began reciting her Miranda Rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at government expense." He paused. "Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"
Tears welled in Cameron's eyes as she gave a weak nod. House was now out of his chair and across the room, watching silently as the events unfolded, and I dropped my eyes from Cameron's face. The look she wore was heartbreaking, and she looked pitifully small and vulnerable. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back with the handcuffs, and her lab coat hung huge and limp on her shoulders. She'd lost weight in the last few months, from stress and just a plain refuse to eat, and as the officer shoved her out of the office before him, I feared he'd break her fragile frame. House and I followed the trio down the hall to the elevators, where Tritter leaned over and pressed the button, awaiting the lift to come. The officer's hand never left Cameron's upper arm, a tight, viselike grip, and the show attracted quite a few stares. The elevator doors finally opened, and Cameron, Tritter, and the police officer climbed on. House remained motionless, and I ran for the stairs, reaching the lobby as the elevator did. I watched them walk through the heart of PPTH, like a hunter parading their prize catch around town. Cuddy appeared from her office and met them at the door, giving Cameron a sad smile and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Cameron barely glanced at her as she was led out the doors of the hospital and angled into the back of a squad car. The nurses and doctors in the area, as well as curious patients, gathered at the doors to watch them take Cameron away, but I turned around and trudged slowly back up the stairs.
I couldn't bear to see it. I had known it was coming, maybe even prepared myself for the day when Tritter would appear, cuffs in hand, but now that it had actually happened, I felt an immense sadness. I collapsed in the stairwell and cried, mourning the loss of Chase and, yes, Cameron. I mourned the downfall of my friends, the senseless death of Chase, and the sure end to Cameron's life, if she were found guilty and sent to jail for God knew how long. I wept for a long time, listening as a light rain began to fall, grieving and mourning and crying, until I felt that I was completely dry and could not shed another tear.
And then I cried a little more.