DISCLAIMER: I don't own House. But I do watch it religiously.
A.N. Thanks to:
Katie – I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. Believe me when I say that I have no idea what the medical stuff is about; I spent ages looking up stuff on the net and asking medically-knowledgeable friends of mine. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Mkyp – Here's the update! Enjoy, and thanks for the review!
Princessjasmine – All that praise! Thank you! I don't know what to say, so I'll just smile. Hope you like this extra-long chapter and thanks for reading/reviewing!
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Q is for Quarantine
Chapter Fourteen: Revelations Don't Come Easy
Just like House, thought Chase, opening the door and following the footsteps of the broken man…
Into an even more broken world.
"Cameron."
Her eyes flicked open, and she was motionless for a moment whilst she waited for her vision to clear. Blinking rapidly, she raised her head quickly, groaning as her neck clicked with the force of the sudden movement. She brushed the tousled hair off her shoulders to massage her neck.
"Eurghhhhh. Did someone page me?"
"Huh?"
Cameron stuck a hand out for the pager she had left of the bedside table. It needed to be close so that she could hear it when it bleeped; she was on call. After feeling around for the small object unsuccessfully for a few seconds, she turned her head left and found her hand hanging in mid-air. She could have sworn –
"Shit. How long was I out?"
Chase had to step back quickly as Cameron threw herself out of the hospital bed, wild-eyed and urgent.
"Not long."
Something had gone wrong – she could read it in his eyes. "What's happened? Why didn't you wake me before?"
Chase thought for a few moments, choosing carefully what he was about to say. "Walk with me," he told her evasively, turning and exiting before she could ask any more questions.
The immunologist practically flew out of the door after him, pulling her hair hastily out of the back of the lab-coat she had flung on. "Well?" she demanded, easily out-pacing his calm stride.
"It's House," he said impassively.
A frown creased Cameron's brow instantaneously. Chase didn't elaborate.
"What about House?" she asked in a low voice that dripped with impatience.
"Remember you said that Foreman took all the safety procedures when handling Cosgrove's blood?" Chase began neutrally.
Cameron nodded, fearing the worst. What else would House be so worried about? "What's happened to him – to Foreman? Is he ok?"
"No better than the other patients with the disease."
Cameron was momentarily shocked. "He's got the disease? But House didn't tell us… he must have known, James must have told him… But – how –?"
"My guess is as good as yours." Chase kept his eyes carefully shielded under locks of blonde hair so that she couldn't see the guilt that churned in them. Judging by her silence, Chase knew that Cameron was feeling just as remorseful for neglecting to spare a thought for their colleague as he was. But strangely, he was not inclined to share any thoughts or words of comfort with her at this moment in time. He bit his tongue.
The silence was short-lived, however, when Cameron – inevitably – realized that Chase was still holding back on the original subject. "What's wrong with House, then?" she asked him, keeping the apprehension in her voice down to a bare minimum. The other doctor opened his mouth to answer, but she stopped him. "It's got nothing to do with Foreman, does it?" she added flatly. Chase blew out a breath, the air hissing between his teeth, now choosing to avert his eyes completely from her direction. Something was going on between those two, Cameron deduced – but it could wait. For now.
"It's Stacy." The immunologist found herself stopping in the middle of the hallway. Chase threw a blank look over his shoulder at her.
She gulped. "Is she –"
"Dead." Chase inclined his head in a single nod. "That's why I starting with telling you about Foreman – we have no idea how she got the disease. She had no contact with the patients, so –"
"Where's House?"
Chase raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. Why?"
Cameron looked at him like he was mad. "We need to talk to him."
"I already have," Chase told her. He casually swept the hair out of his eyes, but kept them focussed on his feet. "I don't think he wants to face anyone right now."
Cameron set her jaw stubbornly and marched up to the intensivist so that she could stare him down. Whilst she glared, he merely continued looking away emotionlessly. "He needs someone to talk to," she said resolutely, referring to House. Chase's demeanour was pissing her off to no end; he acted like he didn't care about the fact that a) their colleague was probably dying of some unknown disease and b) that House had just lost someone that he loved. Would it kill him to show some compassion – especially now?
"He needs space," said Chase quietly, talking to the wall. "Give him time to absorb the news. He wants us on the case – we should just listen to him and get on with it."
Cameron fought the urge to growl. "He needs someone to talk to," she repeated, grinding out the words.
"And Foreman will die if we don't get working on the case," countered Chase.
Cameron sucked in a quick breath, barely containing her anger at Chase's refusal to help House. "I just want to make sure he's ok."
"He's fine."
"I'll be the judge of that." Cameron brushed past Chase brusquely as she carried on down the hall. She thought of all the places where House could be, and decided on checking in the hospital's morgue first. She found she had yet to absorb the fact that Stacy was dead… the word 'morgue' just seemed to be such a finite term for it. Unlike the ER, where patients could come in without a beating heart but be revived, the morgue was a place for the truly dead – the dead who would never come back, defibrillators or not.
"Hey – wait!" Chase caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. "Where are you going?"
"Where do you think?"
"But House said to stay and figure out the case!"
Cameron shrugged Chase's hand away and made to stride off again, only to have the other doctor catch hold of her arm, ceasing her from proceeding once more. Snatching her arm back furiously, she whirled to face him, unrelenting impatience and rage threatening to cause all her internal organs to implode. She was now standing inches away from him.
"Look, Cameron, I –"
She reached out swiftly and caught his jaw before he got any further. Holding his chin firmly in her hand, she pulled his face down so that they were eye-to-eye. Chase was startled to see so much roiling emotion sparking in her electric irises. He fought the impulse to blink or pull back, feeling a slightly mesmerising draw that bound him to keep from shattering the frail air between them.
"Trying to stop me will only delay working on the case more than necessary," she informed him, voice icy, but breath warm on his cheek. "Just let me go… House needs me," she added in a whisper, eyes softening immediately as she said their boss's name.
Chase jerked his chin out of her grip and stepped away from Cameron, breaking her hold – both physical and emotional – over him. He was unable to keep the disgust from his voice. "Alright, go to House. Just remember that Foreman needs you more. His life is in your hands, now."
Cameron remained stoic, though Chase's words resonated heavily in her ears. "I need to go."
Turning on her heel, she walked down the corridor. She breathed a sigh of relief when made it to the stairwell. But before she even descended three steps, Cameron caught Chase's disembodied call from down the hallway she had just left.
"Why?"
At first the question threw her. Then, as the disjointed images of an unresolved dream danced through her mind and unbidden feelings for two completely different people arose in her chest, Cameron found that she couldn't answer. Conflicting emotions and desires constricted her chest and polluted her thoughts. Shaking her head to clear her head of meaningless visions, she resumed moving down the stairs, the question hounding her every step of the way.
Up in the hallway, Chase already knew the answer to his question. Yet, he couldn't help lingering in the futile hope that maybe – just maybe – he would be proved wrong. But he was only left with the sound of her footsteps dissipating slowly into silence; and it was the still silence that became the confirmation to what he already knew was true.
"… Because you love him."
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It would have been too easy to go to the morgue and mourn, to release all his emotions in an hour or two of pointless tear-shedding. But House was never one to take the quick route out (unless it was to escape clinic duty), and was not about to start crying to relieve himself of fluid – that was what the men's room was for. He stepped out of his office, feeling strangely refreshed by his argument with Chase, then set about searching for another way to relieve some tension. House was on the prowl.
"Move," he said, shoving some random doctor out of the doorway and ambling through himself. "Out of the way," he sniffed, nearly upturning a nurse as she scurried by. "Cane coming through," he said snidely, booting a patient to one side of the hall. "Get your ass –"
"Do you really want to finish that sentence, House?"
"Sorry, my mistake: get your breasts out of the way so that I can pass," said House, bowing mockingly to Cuddy's cleavage. She stepped out of range quickly. House straightened and carried on walking.
"Where are you going?" Cuddy ran up after him.
"I don't know. Where are you going?"
Cuddy puffed, affronted. "I don't know either. I'm following you."
House sighed inwardly, the repetition making his head spin. "Work with me now, Cuddy; you have to tell me where you're heading so that I can go in the opposite direction."
"I wanted to talk to you," explained Cuddy gravely.
"Talk away. Just don't expect me to listen." House let himself into the men's room; time for some routine bladder-emptying. Plus, the hospital dean couldn't follow him in.
"I'm going to the bathroom. I'm not gonna fall in, you know," he said cautiously, eying her as she continued to tail him.
"I know… But what I want to talk to you about is important."
"I don't take that long to pee. Must be really important." He paused before adding, "Why the long face? What happened, someone died?"
Cuddy winced, turning around as House unzipped his pants. She said softly, "I'm sorry, Greg."
House pulled down his trousers. "For what, spying on me in the men's room? I know you've made a habit of it – there's no need to start apologising now."
Cuddy held in a groan at House's frequent brush-offs. "I know you're upset. I know what Stacy meant to you, to all of us."
House could feel the re-emerging tendrils of anger leech their ways to the surface of his hardened exterior. "Upset is a mild word, Cuddy." He hitched up his pants, collected his cane and washed his hands under the tap, the cool water doing nothing to quell his fiery thoughts.
"Hiding in the bathroom's not going to help you," Cuddy advised softly, turning around as she heard House ripping paper towels from the dispenser. "Come to my office. We can talk, get away from the case."
House raised an eyebrow. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Well, I thought – it might be, um, you know, awkward for you because –"
"This is still my case, Cuddy," House intoned seriously, tossing the used towels into the bin. "People die. I can't save everyone."
"Exactly. Which is why – maybe – you should leave the case to someone who's not – er – emotionally attached to the case in any way," Cuddy amended.
House's blue eyes blazed. "Stacy's dead. Ergo no emotional connections whatsoever. Not anymore."
Cuddy blew out a breath, sympathy radiating from her concerned features. House looked away, not wanting to see it. He didn't want her pity. So, not taking the alienating silence for granted, he glanced down at his watch and noted the time. With still three minutes to go, he leaned against the wall and poked the floor disinterestedly with his cane. How to get rid of Cuddy…?
"Do you want to see her, Greg?"
Her offer surprised then quickly repulsed him. "What, with her body mutilated and her organs displayed on the autopsy table? Heck yeah, if only I had my camera. Perfect Kodak moment – this way, I get to remember every bit of her."
Cuddy winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"
House was looking at his watch again. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" he interrupted rudely.
"I'm staying with you." Cuddy set her jaw defiantly and House saw that there was really no bargaining with her. "There's no telling what you're going to do next."
"I'm not about to commit suicide, you know."
A guilty smile appeared reluctantly on Cuddy's face. "Maybe, maybe not. To be honest, I'm more worried about what you're going to do to others."
House was looking at his watch again. Twenty seconds left… "So, you're on suicide slash murder watch," he clarified as airily as possible, which was hard since he felt the insistent pound of his heart as every second passed. Come on… Ten seconds…
Cuddy edged closer to him. "I don't want to see you do anything stupid," she whispered. He then levelled her gaze and she almost took an involuntary step back; fire danced eerily in his pupils and his mouth was curving into an inexplicably foul grin.
Five, four, three, two, one –
Cuddy jumped as Dr Walker entered the bathroom. He stopped short when he noticed that a female was in the room, and frowned when he saw House.
"Ah, I wasn't aware that I would have an audience when I came in here," Walker said as jovially as possible, glancing from the hospital dean to the inscensed diagnostician.
House smiled and stepped back from his position against the wall. Cuddy ushered herself out of the way quickly. "Nor was I, Matt," he said, words sounding loudly guttural.
"How did you know I was coming here?"
"You're predictable. Every day, three o'clock, you go to the bathroom." House gave Walker a moment to digest this. "Don't follow routine, Matt. It's dangerous." His eyes glinted.
Cuddy chose this moment to interject. "House. Come on, lets go." She laid a hand on his arm and tried leading him away, but he merely shook her off, keeping focussed entirely on Walker.
"Remember what you said about not wanting to see me do something stupid?" House reminded Cuddy as he lurched toward the CDC Director.
Cuddy gulped audibly and Walker shot her a worried look. "Yes," she answered warily.
"You might want to look away now."
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"Wilson!"
Chase skidded to a halt when he caught sight of the oncologist, who was tending to a patient in one of the many overcrowded wards, where a flurry of activity was going on. Doctors rushed about, nurses called out commands to underlings who obeyed fervently and the scene was just a basic mish-mash of drama, dying and disease. The guilt-tripped Australian resisted the urge to simply throw himself into the throng.
"You've got to come now," Chase said, forcibly dragging Wilson off his patient, instead. Wilson's eyes widened uncomprehendingly, noting the urgency in Chase's voice, and he flung the stethoscope back over his neck; the patient was stable for now, anyway.
"What is it?" Wilson followed the intensivist's careful tread through carts of medical supplies, beds and staff. "Is it Foreman? Is he infected?"
"Yes," said Chase, and Wilson fancied he heard some unrelenting emotion pent up behind the answer. "But this is not about Foreman. It's about House."
Wilson's head jerked up. "What? Is he infected too? What happened?"
Chase sighed. He hated being the bringer of bad news; it was always a minimally emotional matter to deliver the news of someone's death to their family, since he didn't know them. But dealing with colleagues and friends… "Stacy's dead." Chase forced his voice to be steady.
"…What?"
Chase nodded in verification of the fact. "It was sudden. Apparently, she caught the disease somehow, and the incubation period miraculously decreased in her case and now she's dead and House –"
Wilson groaned. "Does he know?"
"Of course."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. Cameron's gone to find him."
"And you don't approve?"
Chase was startled. "What makes you say that?"
Wilson gave a knowingly crooked grin. "When we find them, you can get her back. After all, that's what you got me for, right? To lend Greg some emotional support so it leaves Cameron free to go off with you?"
Chase quickly lifted his jaw before scurrying after Wilson down the hallway. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he didn't like the way Wilson had phrased his thoughts on the situation.
Besides, he only wanted Cameron to 'go off with him' to solve the case. It was all to resolve his guilt over ignoring Foreman for so long; solve the case, save everybody, get the quarantine lifted, get the hell away from all these people – those were his priorities.
He kept telling himself this as he filled Wilson in on the case so far.
"Well, we ruled out Ebola long ago and came to the conclusion that it was Marburg Fever, but now…"
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"You are not authorized to enter this area."
Cameron had argued with the guard for the past fifteen minutes. He was denying her entry to the morgue. It wasn't until she logically applied the fact that if she wasn't allowed to go in, then House wouldn't be given clearance either. Glaring once more at the guard, she shot him the bird and ran off to vent her frustration elsewhere.
The hospital was big. House could be anywhere. Chase was counting on her to come back to help him with the case. Foreman was dying…
Her absent-mindedness caused her to nearly trip over several medical supplies and sheets that were strewn across the floor. A nurse was stooped over, picking them up hastily, muttering angrily to herself.
"… No respect… thinks he can just bang his cane around and get everyone to move out of his way…"
So House had passed this way. Cameron felt her heart trill as she followed his supposed path down the hallway. He had to be close by somewhere.
"Nor was I, Matt."
The immunologist froze when she heard his voice (though faintly). Back-tracking several steps, she came to a stop outside the men's room, the little stick figure symbol seeming to ward her from entering the forbidden confines of the room. And House was obviously in there with Walker… another male, doing whatever males did in the privacy of the bathroom.
Cameron debated on whether to just burst in – or wait for House to finish – until she picked up on a distinctly feminine voice percolating through the door.
"House. Come on, lets go." Cuddy. What was the hospital dean doing in the men's room?
Well, thought Cameron feeling oddly resigned, if Cuddy can go into the men's restroom whenever she wants, then I can too.
And with that, she pushed open the door and let herself in.
"You might want to look away now."
It was House. And he didn't sound pleased.
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"… but Ebola is usually misdiagnosed for typhoid in the early stages, or even malaria. Could be one of those."
"Typhoid explains the fever, but not the bleeding fingers… and the incubation period varies with these patients – look at what happened to Stacy. But it also explains the rash and haemorrhaging…"
Wilson grabbed Chase's arm and steered him sharply to the left. The intensivist asked no questions but followed unconditionally. They picked their way over a nurse who had just straightened after picking up a pile of spare medical supplies and carried on down the hall.
"Do you think it could be BHF?" Chase muttered thoughtfully as he strode after Wilson. "Symptoms include headaches, blood spots and fever. Bleeding gums and epistaxis are also consistent with the description of BHF."
The oncologist frowned. "The onset of black typhus is slower than Ebola… but it could be the mystery disease. Unfortunately, it's also a level four in the biosafety chart – like Ebola. We're dealing with lethal stuff, here."
Chase made a 'Really!' face at the older doctor then shook his head. "Ok, so it could be BHF, and it could also be –"
"GREG!"
Wilson's arm shot out and caught Chase right in the chest, sending poof of air out of his mouth. Chase was momentarily thrown backward, and had just enough time to recover his breath before catching sight of Wilson darting into the men's room to his left.
"House, no!"
Chase ran into the bathroom. He blinked in surprise when he saw Cuddy and Cameron screaming themselves hoarse by the sinks. Then a white lab-coated body came flying his way and he sidestepped as neatly as possible to avoid a collision.
"House!" Cameron had caught hold of the diagnostician's arm in a desperate bid to stop him from advancing. He didn't even bother trying to shake her off; he extended the arm that held his cane and forcefully brought it down on Walker's decrepit body. The CDC doctor took three hits before rolling out of the way.
"Greg –" Wilson started in a soothing tone, only to catch Cameron as House threw her off his arm, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. House advanced on Walker again, who was now standing and holding his fists out defensively. They traded blows, landing House into a sink, narrowly missing smashing his head into the mirror. He did hit a tap, though. Clenching his jaw to keep from crying out, House staggered to his feet, just as Walker aimed a kick to his groin. This had him crying out.
Cuddy and Cameron gasped in unison and Wilson strode angrily up to Walker, murderous intent in his eyes, but Chase got there first. He hadn't identified what his body was doing until he felt his knuckles crack against the side of Walker's head. Walker reeled, caught off guard, then turned to face his second aggressor. Chase was so pumped with adrenaline that he didn't know whether to feel scared or not – a wanton thought of Cameron telling him he was a weakling waltzed into his buzzing brain, filling him with the sudden aggressive urge that dispelled all his and fuelled his muscles for an all-out brawl.
"Chase, don't –"
Cuddy didn't finish her sentence as Walker threw himself at Chase and he fell backwards into a cubicle, his head exploding in little sparkly white lights as it connected with the toilet. The Englishman grabbed the lapels of the Australian's lab coat roughly and hoisted him upright. Chase had enough brain cells to tell him to resist the other doctor's pull.
"I'm not fighting you," Walker said severely as Chase jerked out of his grip. "Your boss just –"
Chase barrelled his foot into Walker's abdomen before he could get any further. The other doctor was propelled away from the opening of the cubicle. Wilson immediately fell on him, grasping his arms firmly in case he tried to take another swing at anyone else.
"You idiots," Walker spat at Chase and Wilson. "I wasn't even attacking you! House just started beating me for no reason when I got in here!"
"You'd better calm yourself, Doctor Walker," Wilson murmured, slowly releasing him. Chase poised himself for another attack, but none came. He felt Cameron coming to stand closer to him, her face set defiantly, also ready for a fight if one came. Her presence was lost on him, however, when House finally limped into view, supporting himself heavily on his cane, demanding all the attention in the room.
He looked at Walker, and they sized each other up, breathing shallow and slight. The fragile atmosphere was shattered by House snapping out his hand and smashing it into Walker's jaw with full force. The Englishman yelped and fell backwards. But House had already turned, rendering him of no more importance, and left the room. Wilson cast one glance at Walker's gob-smacked (no pun intended) form, then fled the wrecked bathroom after his best friend.
Cuddy spluttered at the damage done to the room around them and glared at Walker accusingly. He seemed to shrink at the look in her eyes, and wilted further when he heard House's disembodied voice drift in from the hallway beyond.
"Just remember: all secrets come out eventually."
The comment was aimed at Walker, but Chase found himself meeting the eyes of Cameron by his side. They held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second before glancing away, flushing.
By way of silent agreement, both doctors left the broken scene together, quiet and thoughtful. They had some things to talk about, but now was not the time.
It really was as House had said, Chase thought pensively, permitting himself to sneak a peek at Cameron's tired – but nonetheless – attractive features, and allowing forbidden desires to arise within him secretly as a result.
All secrets come out eventually.
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A.N. I've been TERRIBLE at updating lately, and I'm sooo sorry! This chapter was about 4000 words, and I was going to separate it, but decided not to. And I couldn't get the ruler to work in the document area, so I used those dashes instead - sorry about that.
I'm really grateful to all my reviewers and readers – you guys ROCK.
Anyway, you know the drill… Review.
Daygoner