A/N: I am sorry, I know most of you will not care to read this, and I am sure less of you will know the series Northern Exposure, which is my all-time favourite TV show. The idea popped out of my head last night: the two doctors, Joel Fleischman and Gregory House are, with the exception of a few details, very very similar to each other! What a hoot! I have been writing all sorts of angsty stuff lately, and I feel I am becoming angsty myself. So I decided I would try my hand at something more humorous. I will try to make this enjoyable for even those who have never seen any of NX; apart from that, there will be a point to be said at the end, if you bear with me. As always, I look forward to reviews! Thanks so much for reading!
He remembered with consternation which soon gave way to careless serenity that he had forgotten to call Cuddy regarding that important issue she had mentioned when he barged in on her in the middle of a rather intimate examination. She would be furious, as usual, that he neglected her, as usual, but he couldn't care less now, in a moment of unmistakable, intoxicated abandon. The morphine he had shot into his vein was keeping him at a gleeful distance from the pain and the reality that he had been loathing for almost six years now. He could not get used to what he had become, no matter how much time passed, no matter how many times he came face to face with the saying: time heals all wounds. Not his wounds, of that he was sure. Not the gigantic scab he had on his thigh, not the mental breakdown he felt he was getting closer to every day of his life. Nor the fact that not one woman he felt attracted to was able to tolerate him for longer than a year.
All this was slowly becoming less and less relevant, as he slipped into giddy unconsciousness on his couch, morphine gradually crawling through his vein into his blood into his cells into his brain making him completely oblivious to everything else his thoughts made into past tense or never to come true his senses muffled and made acute at the same time colours twirling in his head like rainblows of feeling and bliss and tingling sensation
wind was blowing withered leaves to his forehead, and he felt wet grains of soil under his cheek
he opened his eyes
he saw huge pine trees, gigantic mountains in the background, and the air was so fresh it actually hurt his lungs
Propping himself on his left hand, he sat up, and looked around.
On his left, there was a tiny wooden cottage, with porch and all, trash bin in front, a shy racoon from nowhere just sniffing into the air, and then eyeing House curiously. House blinked, and then blinked once more. On his right he saw the aforesaid mountains. (Mountains!) Endless rows of deep-green pines. Maple trees. He realized he was sitting on a lush carpet of maple leaves, colours dark-red and brown and yellow and ochre and orange and some other colours he would not been able to name, had he been asked to describe them. He looked at his clothes; he was wearing the same grey jeans and the red T-shirt and his black jacket he hastily put on in the morning, so now he felt positively awkward. If this was a dream, he would not be smelling the crispy morning air that almost crushed his lungs, and his palm would not sense the cool wetness of the dewy leaves, and his ear would not be able to take in the rustling of the trees and grass and bushes and what the hell not, that surrounded him.
-Hey. Who are you?
He turned his head to see a young, rather short, cute-looking man with dishevelled hair stand on the porch of that awfully sweet cottage. (Sweet? CUTE! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!)
-I'm not replying. This can only be a bloody joke –House mumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead with his right thumb.
-I agree, it must be a joke, a… a stranger sleeping outside my house in a suit aaand jeans and saying he will not introduce himself.
Inwardly laughing at his funny stuttering, House glared at the guy, who now took a few steps down the stairs and then towards him. He was looking at him with one large frown that occupied most of his face. Other than that, he was in jogging pants and a T-shirt. And he was barefoot. And House was getting more and more annoyed.
-No, seriously, who are you? I I I mean I have to know who's trespassing on my property.
House stared at him, and wondered if he should ignore the jerk, or humour him. Maybe he's dangerous. A psychopath. He could be anything! This whole thing could be just anything!
-Excuse me… -said the jerk, coming a little more closer still, and stooping to be able to look him straight in the eye. –Have you been drinking? Are you perhaps ill or something?
-Ill my ass –House retorted, loud and indignant, so that the jerk took a few steps back. –I'm a doctor, you idiot.
-A doctor in… what exactly? –the guy asked, his brows almost reaching his mouth, or so it seemed to House.
-I'm the head of the diagnostics department at a New Jersey teaching hospital, but I think you here would have no notion whatsoever of what that could mean –he replied, lifting his hand to sweep off a fly from his chin.
The jerk blinked in astonishment and opened his mouth to utter something, most probably something stupid, when there was a rustle behind the cottage, and just when House was getting ready to stand up and face the unknown enemy, he noticed a happy-looking fellow, a… boy almost, in leather jacket and jeans, with rumpled black hair, emerge from the forest.
-Good morning Joel –he said, lifting his hand to the jerk, who merely nodded. The way of greeting reminded House of something, but he was not sure where he could place it. He was not sure he was able to place just any of it. What in the name of the non-existant heavens was happening?
The new addition to the scene just stood there with puckered lips and a totally idiotic expression on his face. House rolled his eyes in what was slowly shifting into despair: is this a village of the imbecile?
-Did he come here with the tourists from Anchorage? –the second stranger asked the first, who looked at him but just for a split second, then quickly returned to House like he was scared House would do something unexpected.
-I don't know, Ed, I woke up, got out and here he was. I'm trying to establish some kind of a a a means of communication, but so far he… -he leant closer to the guy named Ed and House had to crane his neck and strain his ears to hear the rest - …he has been showing signs of mental weakness, so I'm not sure it's safe tal…
-Oh, Christ! –House yelled, and stood up. Both men started and the older one took on a defensive pose, his hands in front, like some stupid boxer. –I I I I am nnnnnot ill, you morons! –he bellowed, imitating the stutter of the guy who now showed vague signs of acknowledgement. -I am not drunk, I am not ill, I am perfectly able to describe myself and my surroundings. Except that this place is not where I am supposed to be right now –he said, his arm sweeping over the whole scenery in exasperation.
-Where are you supposed to be right now? –Joel asked cautiously, scratching his chest, then slapping himself to kill a mosquito.
-Where I am supposed to live my life: New Jersey, USA, Plainsboro Hospital.
The two guys looked at each other, then the younger of the two opened his eyes wider in astonished curiosity.
-Oh man! I know they have been doing experiments with teleportation and stuff, but I had no idea they were so advanced in the project! –he put forward so eagerly that House almost chuckled.
-C'mon Ed, you can't believe that! –Joel looked at Ed with an expression that House percepted as surprisingly familiar. –This has been in the forefront of scientific discussions over quite some time now, but even the most current theories claim that the transport of persons or inanimate objects across space by advanced technological means is as of yet not possible. It is science-fiction, Ed.
-I love science-fiction –blurted Ed with a huge grin forming on his lips. He gazed at House, then went closer to him, and stared into his face, all the time grinning. House looked back at him with genuine distaste, and he wondered how long it would take the guy to actually poke him on the arm.
-I am not an experiment, you jerks –House claimed in a savage tone. He was getting slightly impatient with the two totally incompetent human beings, as well as the whole situation. He would have liked to be alone and take some time to ponder his mental as well as emotional state. He knew morphine could induce euphoria and blurred vision, but he was not sure that such a realistic hallucination was possible to achieve by a mere shot.
-I need to talk to the head of this… this place –he waved his arm in disgust.
-You mean Maurice! –Joel asked perplexed.
-Whoever. Is he the mayor?
-Not really –Joel said, scratching his head. –He owns half this town and the local paper and radio station.
-Oh great. Another stupid millionaire –House rolled his eyes. –Can I just talk to someone who is slightly more apt and lucid?
-You have no idea how often I ask myself that question –Joel said, letting out a half-relieved giggle. The two men looked at each other scrutinizingly, and Ed viewed them with a wide grin. House checked the guy's eyes for possible traces of mental illnesses, but he seemed to be sane. Naturally, for him, a doctor with a vast medical experience, who had been the eyewitness to more bizarre cases and had treated more loonies than anyone could imagine, that was no guarantee.
-For starters, I would like to know where I am, in what year, and who are you two guys –House spoke with a sigh.
-Ed Chigliak –said the guy with the grin that seemed to be irretrievably carved on his face. He shook House's hand with no fear, and House was so taken aback that he forgot to say anything snappy.
-Joel Fleischman, MD –said the other one, slowly approaching House. The latter eyed him incredulously, but seeing he was good if he behaved like an average person, he put out his hand and took Joel's. –I come from New York, I have lived here for almost… god knows how long. Forever –he added with a look that said he was not at all happy with the circumstances.
-Lived where? –House raised his eyebrows.
-Huh? –Joel said.
-What is this place? –House exclaimed impatiently.
-Cicely –Ed blurted. –Alaska.
-What?
-Alaska –Joel repeated, and his eyes started to relinquish some of the nervous wrinkles. He was smiling in a way that House would have liked to have analyzed: was he mocking him? Was he miscrediting his every word?
-What's the year?
-2006 –replied Ed. –September 13, wednesday.
He searched House's face with genuine concern and a curiosity even greater than House's. The latter took in all the information, and decided that he was in the midst of a universal conspiracy; who was behind this unthinkable prank? What have they given him to experience all this with such clarity and detail? He glanced at his watch, which showed half past 3. He knew he had taken the morphine at two o'clock in the afternoon. His fingers wanted to instinctively tighten their grip on his cane and then
He realized there was no cane.
WHAT!
He looked around the place he had woken up on, the spot of grass and leaves and tiny twigs and if he squinted his eyes, moving bugs and worms and all the creepy crawlies he was not used to. There was no cane in sight. It was then he felt... something strange. He felt no pain in his right leg. He stared at his thigh, then carefully touched the place where he knew the scar was, and he expected to collapse with pain. Instead, his skin did not react in any way to his own touch. Like there was nothing there.
-Are you okay, Mr... ?- Joel asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
-House.
He looked up, licked his lip, put the whole of his body weight on his right leg, and stood there for one whole minute. Then he started walking in uncertain circles, then up and down, then lifting his knees, and even jumping up once.
-I... have no... idea... what's going on –House said, out of breath after the unexpected exercise. –But... it's all... nice –he said, at ease, glancing at Joel, then at Ed, whose grin had become, if possible, even wider. –Oh, please wipe than smirk off your face, you look like the Cheshire cat –he said, imitating Ed's grin. To his surprise, Ed not only didn't show any signs of being hurt, but he also kept grinning. House let out a resigned sigh, then stretched his arms and asked. –Is there any place I could grab a bite? I'm positively ravenous.
(tbc)