A/N: Dear Readers, I apologize for the wait on this chapter! It may seem a little small, but that's because I broke it down into two chapters, so this is Chapter Twenty Four and the next one will be Chapter Twenty Four Point Five. I know you all love this story, but I hit writer's block with the filler, but I think it cleared up pretty nicely, so without further adu, here's Chapter 24 of Everybody Out of the Water. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Four
That's Blood...
He watched as she stared, intently, at the floor in front of her.
"You know what? I've always thought red was your color. Like that red dress you wore at Cuddy's Las Vegas themed benefit dinner," House grinned, secretly trying to compliment her.
She heard nothing but a low and deafening mumble coming from somewhere next to her, as if she were underwater.
"Well, Cameron, I forfeit; the janitors have spoken! You've won the wet T-shirt contest!"
A tinge of worry hit him when she still didn't respond.
She heard another incoherent grumble that sounded a lot like someone calling out for her, but she found herself almost not wanting to look at anything but her shoes. Another few seconds flashed and something was being waved in front of the tile. She was pretty sure it was a hand, human too, but she didn't want to pay attention to anything but the floor. Her mind was arguing with itself over what they were going to do. They were stranded, in the middle of an abandoned city, with nowhere to go and without a way to get back home.
House waved his hand in front of her face, desperately trying to draw her attention back to his world and out of her desolated one.
The bits and pieces of a misunderstood word were thrown at her; the same one, repetitiously repeated, over and over again. She studied the tile under her foot, until her eyes doubled it, and tried to figure out what the word could be. As she mentally ran through numerous possibilities, she noticed the word started to become clearer.
"…am..on."
"Cam..r..n?"
"Cameron!" House called, shaking her by the shoulder.
She inhaled sharply, surprised by the forceful movement, and shook her head, taking in her surroundings.
"What?"
He squinted at her. "Smokin' the reefer again?"
"No," she said, knitting her brows together. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Just making sure you weren't dosing and holding out on me. You know, share and share alike, and all crap about karma and the golden rule."
She dug into her bag and retrieved the Naproxen cylinder, popping it open and dry swallowing a couple of pills.
"Hypocrite," he snipped at her as she dug into her back pack again.
She rolled her eyes and pulled out a bottle of water, swallowing half of the bottle. She recapped it and put it back, holding her head in her hands and rubbed her temples.
"Sorry, were you saying something before?"
"Right," he said, clearing his throat, "as I was saying, she grabbed her glass of wine and chucked it at me! And, we're not talking about a tiny girl who throws like a sissy… we're talking, like, a big, fat lesbian girl!"
"You probably deserved it," said Cameron, trying to listen in-between throbs that pulsated through her head.
"The witch nearly ruined my favorite Stones shirt!" he grumbled.
"That stinks…"
"I always hated her…"
"You hate everybody, House," Cameron reminded him.
He ignored her comment, still visualizing the memory, his anger building.
"You know what she used to do?"
"Nope."
"She used to do this scrunching thing with her nose when she got all ticked off at me…"
"Uh, huh," Cameron said robotically, now completely oblivious to the fact that she was answering him.
"She had an uncanny resemblance to a platypus, with her lips all stuck out, and the nose scrunching…"
"Neat."
He was about to continue, when her reply struck him. "Neat? No, there's nothing neat about a woman who can manipulate your best friend and ruin Poker Night."
"Yup."
He turned his head sideways, picking up on her lack of attention to the conversation. He grabbed the ball and ran with it.
"But, after I told her that Wilson was gay, she ripped off my clothes and tried to rape me."
"No kidding," she said. His change of words, but not tone, did nothing to bring her out of her trance.
"Yeah. She was all over me, but I told her that I was too madly in love with you to be with her."
Cameron stared into space. "Amazing."
He grinned. "And then she backed off after I told her my plan on marrying you, screwing you, and then adopting some starving, third world rug rats from Guatala-who the heck cares."
"Humph."
"So, let's get to it!"
"Yeah, it's…" Cameron shook her head, noticing she agreed to something, but she had no idea what. "Wait! What?"
He gazed smugly at her. "You just offered to show me some moves you learned from Carmen Electra's Strippercise videos to prove to me just how well they do, in fact, work.
She looked at him in disbelief. "What?! I'm not stripping for you, House!"
"But, Cameron!" he pouted. "Think of all the sad, lonely convicts in this place that haven't seen, so much as, a Victoria Secret Ad in fifty years. If you won't do it for me, at least give a little butt smack for them."
She glanced around the room, only to blush as a large group of coverall-clad inmates stared at her, grinning lustfully.
She glared angrily back at him and snapped at him in a low voice through gritted teeth. "House! I'm not taking my clothes off for you or anyone else!"
He stuck out his lower lip and batted his eyelashes at her. "Just show a little bra strap…" he pleaded.
"No!"
"You won't now, but we both know you would've gladly given me a private show a couple years ago," he winked.
Cameron's mouth bobbed open like a fish, searching for something to say, but was unable to speak the words.
He saved her from having to and continued. "You don't know, for sure, that you did or didn't, say anything about shaking it for me and that probably has something to do with the fact that you haven't been listening to a word I've said for the past fifteen minutes."
She sighed. "Did you actually say anything worth listening to?"
He snorted.
"You should know by now, that everything I say is worth listening to! Sucks for you that you missed the good part." He looked around the room. The men were all still watching her, waiting to see if she'd go through with it. Something inside of him stirred. It was an emotional cocktail of anger and jealousy. He frowned at the feeling. The last time he felt this way was when he was with Stacy. But this was different. It was a lot stronger.
"Sorry, guys, she said no. Show's over! No conjugal visits for you! She's mine and if she takes it off for anybody, it'll be me!" he growled at them, adding in his bit of his trademark cynicism and inappropriate sexual comments. The truth of the situation was undeniable, though. He was protecting her, fighting off anyone else who wanted her.
The group all groaned and shuffled apart from each other, continuing their previous tasks of cleaning the station in disappointment.
He stood to his feet and grabbed Cameron by the arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"What about our stuff?" she asked, reluctantly standing up and pointing to the stack of luggage.
He looked down at it. "Leave it for now, we'll be back."
"But they could steal our supplies!"
He smirked. "We're in a building full of cops, and most of them are men. I'm pretty sure your feminie hygiene products are in no danger."
She looked questioningly at him. "Where are we going?"
"Officer Halitosis, over there, insists that there's some offices set up down by the marina. Evidently, we find the casino boats; we find the feds," he said, walking out the door with her. "I haven't figured out if there's something to that, or if it's merely a coincidence."
Five miles is a lot to cover in hundred degree weather for two people, but it's bound to be a lot more stressful to an old man with a limp. They staggered down the middle of the street to avoid glass that would periodically fall from the higher levels of damaged skyscrapers. Civilian cars lined the side of the streets with windows busted out of them, matching them to the same ill-fated buildings they walked by.
Most of the damage and theft occurred right before Marshall Law was called on the city of New Orleans and a curfew was set. Cameron looked at her watch.
4:12 p.m.
She looked over at House, who was panting pretty heavily and sweating profusely.
"You know, this looks nothing like it did in the brochure and I don't remember asking for the sauna. I'm suing our travel agent."
"If I knew where the Four Seasons was down here, we could get a room there. I'd totally be wading in the pool right now, she said, wistfully, thinking of the cool water hitting her body.
House groaned. "Stop torturing me, evil woman!"
She was too tired to laugh, so she resorted to smiling in between harsh, shallow breaths.
They could see the marina from where they were, and it was close. Cameron seemed to be dragging, while oddly enough, House was in the lead, no doubt managing from popping pain pills.
"Can…we…stop…or slow…down…again?" she panted.
"What? No, we can't got to…make good time, whiner!" he teased, speeding up.
As they kept walking, Cameron started to feel her side cramping up. It was probably from the exercise. She walked a lot on her treadmill, but this was considered extremely strenuous for one day. She held her side and kept walking, trying to catch up with House. He noticed her turtle-racing speed and chided her about it.
"Wow, Cameron, you're a weakling! The cripple beat you!"
"House," she said, out of breath.
"I think you should race me when we get back. I could make a killing off of you. No one will suspect it, and why would they? Not many people can loose to a guy with one leg."
"You have two legs. One's just retarded, like you," she snapped.
"Ah, so you are PMSing!," he smirked. He slowed down a little for her, but they kept the pace steady.
Walking a bit farther, they came across the main street along the shore. They walked past the aquarium, they saw a mess tent, with people handing out food for volunteers.
"Food!" House exclaimed, so enthused that Cameron was sure he was about to start jumping up and down.
"Okay, let's go," she said, following him.
They were making headway until Cameron felt a strange popping sensation in her leg. Well, that's strange, she thought. Assuming it would go away, she kept walking. Soon, the popping spread all the way down to her knee. It quickly became too painful for her to walk. She gritted her teeth to get past the pain, but it hurt just the same.
"House," she said, this time it came out as a whimper.
"Come on, Cameron, we're almost the-," he stopped mid-sentence when he caught a glimpse of her.
She was deathly pale, starting to sway a little bit, looking like she could pass out at any second. He hurried behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to help her walk without loosing the function of his own legs.
Great, he thought. A cripple leading the crippled.
As they staggered down the sidewalk towards the concession tent, another tent came into sight, yielding a large white circle with a giant red cross inside of it. It looked like they stole it from the set of MASH.
A medic tent! he thought anxiously, thankful it wasn't far. When they came within yelling distance, House screamed at the top of his lungs for help, grabbing the attention of several paramedics that stood around. He watched as the men in dark blue ran down the sidewalk towards them, the buffest guy took Cameron into his arms. She looked like a young child draped over his arms.
"Do you need a wheelchair, sir?" one of them asked.
"No. Listen," he said, stopping him from walking to talk to him. "My name's Greg House. I m a-"
The young EMT s eyes widened in surprise. "Diagnostician from Jersey. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. House! I went to one of your lectures on the-"
House waved his hand in front of the guy. "I'm awesome, I know. You can bow down and worship me later; I don't care about that right now. That woman, up there, that the Hulk is carrying," he said, pointing to the man running Cameron to the tent, "her name's Allison Cameron. Something wrong; check her right leg and her right flank. She's asthmatic and severely hydrated. Start her on a saline drip and pain killers."
The paramedic nodded. "Yes sir, Dr. House."
He grabbed him by the arm and pulled his face close. "She's a doctor too, so don't explain to her what you're doing unless she asks. We make the worst patients."
The guy nodded again and they walked up to the medical tent where they were checking Cameron's vitals and strapping her in for a ride in the ambulance parked next to it.
"Where's your headquarters set up at?" House asked him.
"The ship sir," he said, pointing to the dock which usually houses the casino boats and cruise ships. House nodded and climbed into the front seat of the ambulance, watching the interaction between Cameron and the body-builder paramedic in the back.
"Ever been in an ambulance before?" he asked, trying to keep her awake.
She nodded and smiled sadly. "Yeah, a few times. Some on this side, some on yours."
He pulled out a syringe and an IV kit, cleaning off her hand before piercing her skin. "Don't look," he said, warning her from the sight below her line of vision.
House coughed, glaring at the medic he talked to before to signal to the muscular one. The medic grabbed a clipboard and wrote out a note to him, holding it up for the other to see.
Don't baby her, she's a doctor!
He read the note and nodded, smiling down at Cameron.
She looked questioningly at the medic and then down to her hand. Blood poured from her hand and onto her dark navy blue tank top.
"Huh," she said in surprise, "look at that. I'm bleeding."
The medic chuckled. "Nice to meet you, Bleeding. I'm Gary."
House rolled his eyes and sighed.
She smiled at his corny joke, knowing he was only trying to take her mind off of everything else. "Cameron."
"Cameron. That's a beautiful name," he said, grinning. House glared at the medic who was so obviously flirting with her. "Did you know that you're also anemic?"
"Am I?" she asked, looking again. "Decreased red cell count? I didn't know that."
He smiled at her. "Yeah. So, what brings you to New Orleans?"
"I came here to help people," she said, laughing at the irony of the situation, in which her right side quickly punished her for, causing her to wince in pain. Thinking and talking, which were previously two simple motor skills, became harder to do, and more tiring than they were worth. She looked at the medic with helpless eyes. "Gary, can you do something for me?"
He nodded. "Well, I'll certainly try."
She smiled at his kindness. "Tell Hou…tell Greg that I'm sorry…"
House caught his first name being used and turned his head over his shoulder to listen to their conversation. The medic looked up at him and gave him a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if to say "I don't know what she talking about", and turned back to Cameron's pleading green eyes.
He shook his head. "Sorry for what, ma'am?"
"For lea…leaving…him," she stammered, immediately starting to gasp for air.
House's eyes narrowed at Cameron's words. Leaving me? She's breaking up with me? We're not even together… What the-?
His thoughts were interrupted as Cameron's heart rate and BP monitor sounded off. He gripped his cane tightly and climbed into the back of the ambulance, turning to the medic.
"She's going into respiratory arrest!" Gary shouted.
House froze in shock, while they tried to stabilize Cameron. After a moment, her lungs inflated again and her breathing returned, her mouth open, struggling to breathe in deeper. He felt so helpless, sitting there, while they worked on her. Shouts of pushing epinephrine and oxygen were muffled to him. The young EMT fumbled to grab a needle and pushed it through her IV.
House grabbed an oxygen mask next to him and held it to Cameron's face. She desperately reached to grab anything she could get her hands on, but the only thing within her grasp was House's wrist, the one holding her mask in place. He draped his other arm across the stretcher and let it lay against her waist, offered it to her to cling onto. She accepted it and began to cling strongly onto him for dear life.
He gulped harshly at the look in her eyes as they cried out to him for help. She was terrified. He'd die before admitting it to anyone else, but he was just as frightened as she was.
What do you do when the help become the helpless?
Should I go on and post Chapter Twenty Four Point Five? Let me know, please review! Thanks! P.S. Since this is, technically, only half of a chapter, Hugh's still in the bathtub.