Disclaimer: Yeah, I think we all know the drill by now.
A/N: One last thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride. And remember, there's always time to review if you haven't yet…
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At midnight exactly, the alarms sounded. The monitors in William Oswin's room all sprang to life, shrieking to summon help for the dying man. Doctors and nurses raced towards the sound, applying all their long-practiced skills to their attempts at resuscitation. It was a chaotic dance, but everyone knew the steps, and not a beat was missed.
The only faintly jarring note was the confusion everyone felt. They all knew this man wasn't a real patient. There'd been nothing seriously wrong with him. So why did they find themselves now fighting for his life? As all their efforts inexplicably failed, and the dance slowly resolved itself into a time of death, they all found time to wonder what could possibly have happened.
The only two people who might have been able to answer their questions stayed apart, standing in the shadows of a doorway down the hall, watching quietly as the group began to disperse, and Oswin became merely another corpse.
"Are they really gone?" Cameron finally asked.
They'd both been checking up and down the hall for some time now, looking for any sign of the two who had ushered Oswin into death. House could only shrug. "Looks like it. Or maybe they're just too busy to come back right now."
She couldn't quite suppress a shudder. "This is a nightmare, right?"
"You're hurting my feelings. I thought I starred in your dreams, not your nightmares."
This usually would have earned him an eye roll, if not an annoyed comment, but right now Cameron just laughed shakily. "All right, it's a nightmare with one or two good things left in it."
She watched a nurse pull the sheet up over Oswin's face, and was surprised to realize that there was no terror in his last expression, only blankness. She was more surprised to hear herself breathe a faint sigh of relief. Then she bit her lip, ashamed of the thought.
As usual, House seemed to read her mind. "I think just this once, it's okay to be a little glad that we lost a patient. I won't tell anyone."
He wasn't being nearly as snide as usual, and Cameron looked up at him doubtfully. "Are you the same person who annoyed everyone by insisting on treating a death row inmate, because every patient deserves the same care?"
"I mostly only annoyed you. Well, maybe Cuddy, too." Then his face softened, and he looked tired and pale. "We were in a whole different ballgame this time."
Cameron's hand hovered over his arm, her fingers not quite touching the fabric of his jacket. "I know. But I hate sports metaphors," she said quietly.
House stayed very still for a long moment, ignoring the pain that was now resurfacing from the pool of Vicodin-laced Scotch, vengeful over its near-drowning. So much of his life was tied up in these walls, it seemed as though everything that had ever happened to him had happened here. This was where he'd driven himself to work until he was near collapse, where he'd hidden from patients and lost himself in soap operas. He'd crossed swords with Cuddy, mooched countless lunches from Wilson, harassed nurses and his own staff until they were ready to scream or cry, saved lives and made enemies.
And he'd lost his leg here. Pushed Stacy away here.
Was this going to become another loss that would forever divide his life into before and after?
Then he remembered the sound of two quick knocks on a window, at exactly the right moment, and shook his head. As much as he didn't care what people thought of him, he knew he couldn't stand to be looked at the way Chase had looked when he talked about Oswin. And how would Wilson look at him, or Cuddy? Even the ever-pragmatic Foreman?
He sighed and looked down at Cameron, standing just as still as he was. She'd claimed once to hate him, but he knew he'd never yet seen real hate in those clear, blue-green eyes. He wasn't going to be the one to put it there. Whatever he'd lost, he hadn't yet lost whatever passed for his soul.
"Come on. You wanted to help? You can help me find Wilson and annoy him until we get my Scotch back. We've earned a drink."
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The next morning dawned grey and chilly, a steady drizzle soaking the ground and turning everything dark. Cameron arrived early, even by her standards, and turned on the lights of the conference room to find that Chase had arrived even earlier. More accurately, she guessed he'd never left, since his clothes were those he'd worn yesterday. He squinted at the lights, but only looked resigned.
She murmured a greeting, then brewed coffee in silence and handed him a cup. He gave an equally quiet thanks, and sipped absently.
Foreman entered a minute or two later, looking subdued and nearly as tired as Chase. Joining Cameron at the coffee maker, he murmured a few questions at her, which she could only answer in the negative. No, she hadn't yet seen House, nor had she seen Cuddy this morning.
But House appeared almost before she finished speaking, and even Chase looked up in faint surprise at seeing him so early. Like Cameron, he'd gone home and showered and changed, but hadn't quite managed to sleep. He took his mug from Cameron automatically, feeling his body wake up a little at the warmth and the familiar smell.
But it was still a tired, silent group that Cuddy found when she appeared a few minutes later. Even House was just sitting, neither playing video games nor tossing his oversized tennis ball around the room. Cuddy seemed less than energetic herself, but as usual, she still managed to look professional and together, no matter how much she felt the opposite.
She cleared her throat nervously, and knew she'd just blown her image of calm. "Good morning, everyone. I just wanted to thank you all. I know you all put in late hours and a great deal of effort on this last case, and I appreciate it. And I'd also like to apologize for—for any extra stress that this case may have put you under."
She couldn't get any closer to explaining than that, couldn't look anyone in the eye. "You can all take today off if you'd like. There aren't any urgent cases, and the clinic is covered well enough."
This didn't provoke quite the thanks and relief she'd hoped for, though Foreman smiled and nodded his head gratefully, and Cameron murmured a thank you. Cuddy shot quick, worried glances at both Chase and House before continuing. "I do have one piece of good news, though. Oswin's executors left word that his will provided for a twenty million dollar bequest to the hospital. It… may be dirty money, in a way, but at least we can put it to good use."
She told herself again that she should be happier about the money, but she knew it had come at too high a cost. "I've been thinking of suggesting to the board that the money should go to the NICU," she added, looking at Chase.
For a moment, Cuddy was sure that Chase was going to object, but then he nodded slowly. "They certainly can put it to good use," he said, sitting up a little straighter.
"I'll recommend that, then." She allowed herself one quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you all again. And please, go home and get some rest." Her smile was tense but genuine as she looked at each of them in turn before leaving the room.
A concerned Foreman offered Chase a ride home, which was accepted, though Chase added that he wanted to stop by the NICU on the way and give them the probable good news before they heard any garbled versions of it through the rumor mill.
No sooner had they left than Wilson appeared. "Hey, I hear you guys are getting sprung early today."
Cameron, gathering up her things, drew breath to reply, but House beat her to it. "You're just in time. You can give me a ride home, and replace that bottle of Scotch on the way.
"You want me to buy you a whole bottle? Yours was half empty!" Wilson objected.
House gave him a scolding look. "Half full, Wilson. I hope you're not such a pessimist with your patients." He hauled himself up from his chair and grabbed his backpack. "I still can't believe you dropped it in the first place."
"If it's any consolation, my office still reeks like a distillery. One of the janitors is working on that now so my patients won't think I'm a raving alcoholic, and soon it will reek of that lovely hospital disinfectant instead."
"Even better. You can't use your office, so you're free to drive me home."
"What about your bike?"
"At home. I took a cab today. It didn't seem fair to risk my fellow citizens' lives by driving while I was fuming about my lost Scotch."
Cameron couldn't help but laugh at this exchange, though she was amazed that she actually wanted to laugh. "I'll just leave you two to sort this out," she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder.
But House swung his cane out to stop her. "You owe Cameron a bottle, too. I promised her a drink and she never got one. Go on, give him those puppy-dog eyes," he added encouragingly to the immunologist.
"Oh, no, don't drag me into this." She held up her hands in surrender.
"House—" Wilson began, in his best exasperated tone.
"I'll buy you breakfast," House cut in, stunning the oncologist into silence.
He turned to the equally surprised Cameron. "You, too. But you have to hurry, this is a limited time offer."
Wilson had already had breakfast, but he wasn't about to mention that. "I'll go grab my keys and meet you out front," he said, turning and hurrying from the room.
Cameron looked at House curiously, but said only, "Thank you."
He put on his usual annoyed look at being thanked and waved a hand dismissively. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't."
One corner of her mouth was quirked in a smile that she was trying to hide, and House glared at her. "Don't look smug, either. I haven't suddenly turned optimistic. I've got a free pass from Cuddy for the day, I can probably guilt her into some hours off clinic duty, and I'll only be reminded about that lost hundred million four-fifths as often. That's reason enough to be in a good mood."
Cameron nodded. "Of course." But she was still looking at him, expecting him to say more.
"And… today I remembered that things can always get worse, so buy your friends breakfast while you can." House shifted uncomfortably, wondering what she was going to make of being called a friend, but it was too late now.
She gave up hiding her smile and let it light up her face. "Then we'd better get going, before Wilson thinks you've changed your mind."
"Oh, he doesn't give up on me that easily. He knows I take a while to come around."
Cameron just laughed, and held open the door for him as he left. Then she reached back and turned off the lights, letting the quiet shadows claim the empty room.
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Ah, Faustus,
Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
And then thou must be damn'd perpetually!
Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come;
Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again and makePerpetual day; or let this hour be but
A year, a month, a week, a natural day,
That Faustus may repent and save his soul!
O lente, lente, curite noctis equi. (Run softly, softly, horses of the night)
The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,
The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd.