UNREAL
-You stupid jerk, you'd rather choke on your own tongue than submit yourself to a perfectly safe procedure!
House felt the rising edginess in him. The events of the past few hours (or was it days?) have pushed him out of balance; the lack of the usual pain in his leg, and his defencelessness toward his colleagues resulted in rapidly growing irritation.
-You saw for yourself in that film what this surgical instrument is capable of. I can promise you a one hundred percent recovery following the intervention, and it's still not enough for you?
He felt nauseous looking at Harpo. The miserable guy's tongue grew to be a lumpy, unwieldy ball inside his mouth, making his face look rather idiotic. Nevertheless the case promised to be of great interest, especially since nothing they had applied had helped any.
From the corner of his eye he saw Cameron, who most probably was raking her beautiful brain as to how the patient should be persuaded about the safetiness of the procedure. The forever helpful, officious Cameron. If she could, she would give her arm for a patient. Behind the veil of drugs House's eye kindled up at the sudden idea.
-How much would you ask in exchange for being a guinea-pig?
Flustered silence ensued, and he looked squarely at the young woman.
-Yes, the question was directed at you. I doubt Chase or Foreman would do me such a favour… Furthermore, if my hand should slip, you're the youngest, you have no family, we know nothing about you (apart from a dead husband). It would be no big deal.
Allison let her lips draw into a vague smile at the rough joke. His remarks were to her as raindrops to a duck; her defence mechanism had been on for a long time now, and apart from a few unpleasantly intimate moments she had been successful in keeping her boss at a safe distance.
-Alright –she said simply. Her impassive tone made him slightly wince and realize, not for the first time, that she was out of his league. Naturally, this never affected their working together. He gave orders and she carried them out, usually with no complaints or resistance. Like this time. Chase spotted his perky grin and shaking his head, he started preparing the instrument and the bed.
-And now? What if you cut into her stomach? Or if you pluck her beautiful eye?
House stolidly spitted out a piece of cucumber peeling. He had no idea what he was eating: looking at the sandwich he saw something thicker, something thinner, something very crispy, something mushy, but nothing had any taste, and he was eating out of sheer habit. He was on a territory void of everything, in the centre of a shapeless mass and a colourless world. His nostrils detected no smell at all, the objects all looked the same, yet different, and as his brain struggled to find something tangible, something familiarly plausible and perceivable, he felt his body, tense a few moments before, now relax into absolute repose. If there was nothing he knew, there was nothing to fear. The words of the familiar stranger did not have any impact on him. He could only be hallucinating.
-But I won't.
-But what if you do?
-Then her colleagues will heal her –he said swallowing the last bite.
Moriarty snorted in disbelief.
-You think it's that easy? You make a mistake and shift off the responsibility onto someone else? When was the last time you took responsibility for your actions?
House stared at the man dressed into a hospital gown just like his.
-This is what everybody does, isn't it? They call it collective remorse: Jung had talked about this, very fascinating stuff, I'll lend you my copy.
-The world doesn't work like that and you know it, even if you would rather shove your conscience under the carpet. –House was picking his teeth while Moriarty quietly continued. –I have a feeling that you only act with such flippancy when things are important to you. Am I right… House?
House stared blankly. He had noticed that for a while now he had been unable to give apt retorts to people he used to disarm with ease. The world had turned upside down: his three smug helpers did not give in that easily to his snarky moods, his thinking was slower than usual, even Chase seemed smarter. To blame the side-effects of the Ketamine for the slowing down of his brain activity would be cowardice, but under the given circumstances House had no better option. His leg didn't hurt him any longer, he was able to hop happily up and down the stairs, he stood up from his bed whenever he wanted to (taking his stitches into consideration of course), he had the right to dream about walking down the street like any other normal human being, about squeezing a woman (what woman?) into his arms like any other strong male. There simply had to be some kind of a side-effect. Apart from scientific facts House even toyed with the idea of divine grace, which previously he had considered extremely ridiculous: if this was a reward of some sorts for the bitterness of the past, long years, there will be retribution. He had lived enough to know that there was a price for everything.
-...House? House.
Foreman was looking at him askance. Seeing the young man's well-known doubtful expression House recovered himself fast.
-What? You never lose youself into a reverie? I was deliberating on entering for the marathon next month. Go ahead and scoff. We know for a fact that your brain is not large enough to comprehend such information, but I used to be into sports: check my muscles, bro.
He pushed his biceps into Foreman's face with a stupid grin. Foreman stepped aside, pouting.
-I'll be there cheering for your first place... or last. But for now, everything is ready for the experiment.
-And where is the guin...
Cameron stepped forward from behind the shadow of the monitors. House's mouth remained shut, as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief. She was wearing the same dress, the one she had worn at the charity evening. The colour was stunning, not too invasively erotic, not too pale, the perfect hue between passion and endless devotion. It suited her so well that he knew he would only be capable of picturing her in that exact colour until the end of his life. Her hair was streaking down softly onto her creamy shoulders, her lips were temptingly red, the silken material was her slick second skin, under which her flawless body stood hiding.
-...nea pig- stuttered House, then he took in the sight of a simple cardigan and tweed pants with a slight dizziness. Cameron stood staring at him with her mouth open, then she scratched her arm somewhat nervily.
-I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me that. I start to feel like it was a stupid decision on my part...
-Hush- said House, putting his forefinger to his mouth. –Harpo is really close. You want to give him the impression that this is not safe enough!
As Cameron lay down on the table and House sat down to the levers of the machine, he started dissecting the things happening inside his head. Within a mere few minutes, his brain went blank for several times, making him, the objective, the realistic House a victim of unreal events. How on earth is he prepared to do anything, let alone perform a dangerous demonstration that requires extreme precision? Not to mention that
it is she who is lying there.
House mustered all his strength and concentrated on the resting shape. He tried to imagine her as something without a face and personality, but the beautiful face looking straight into his eyes from the screen under his nose reminded him inexorably of the scary reality. In front of him lay the fragile body and strong spirit of Allison Cameron, surrendering herself to him completely. House's shaking thumb was reluctant to apply any pressure onto the button for a split second, but then the doctor awoke in him, the one who lived through everything, saw everything, and was afraid of nothing. He slowly released the breath from his lungs.
She did not deny the fact that she was extremely nervous at the sight of the slowly approaching mechanical arms. Even if Dr Gregory House was going to manoeuvre them. She would not have placed her life as fast and as unquestioningly into anyone else's hands, yet, without knowing why, a peculiar alarm got hold of her. And something else. Strange, familiar excitement.
-House... take it easy... the world is watching us, but don't let that bother you- snickered Cameron from her horizontal position. –Just please make sure to get me spare undies when this is over...
He grinned and sent a wink to the woman on the screen. Cameron, as if she had noticed it, started laughing quietly.
-You know that I'm ticklish, don't you? I hope you still remember... So please don't cause any unnecessary pain, ok?
The joke was lost on House. He started to bring the robot levers closer to the shapely young woman. He bit into his lip as he lowered the metal hand to the peachy cheek, until cold hand touched warm skin. Slowly, carefully he moved the mechanical hand on the soft female face.
-Delicate, no? –he asked almost inaudibly.
Cameron stared at him with fluttering eyelashes.
With precise movements, House directed the metallic arm lower. Not as suddenly as he would have liked to think of it in retrospect, the situation started to weigh down on him: the woman lying in front of him, the possibility that he might harm Cameron with the instrument at any point, but what pressed him tightest into his chair was the certainty that Cameron loved him, and trusted him so much that she was ready to place her life into his hands, without questions, doubts or arguments, she jumped at his single word, and all in all, considering the present circumstances, she would just about do anything for him. Not even the question he had asked himself dozens of times before (what does she like me for?) managed to distract him. He was unable to stop from staring at Cameron's perfectly beautiful, almost calm face, the huge eyes, the hair cascading down.
He pulled aside the soft cardigan a little, and the sight of the meticulous lace bra made his throat run dry.
-House. If you were wondering what wear under my clothes, you could've just asked- smiled Cameron playfully and with surprising confidence.
-You would've lied- House cleared his throat and continued on his discovery trip. He lifted the cardigan at her flat belly and blew some air into her navel through the small pipe. Cameron closed her eyes in apparent delight and from her open lips he could see the teeth with their perfect whiteness. He licked the corner of his moth and went on with an almost imperceptible smile. If he was uncertain before, her reaction dispelled his qualms, and he kept mapping out the perfect female body with growing excitement. Everything and everyone around him disappeared and he only concentrated on how to
give her pleasure?- he asked himself with a frown. Under his hospital gown he felt the painful desire that was close to becoming undeniable.
-House, you pathetic idiot –giggled Moriarty next to him. –A blind man could see that you should've done her a long time ago, if you have a hard-on from this...
House ignored Moriarty's remark and went on. In his hand the knob of the mechanical arm changed, became part of his own body, dissolving into his palm, and he himself suddenly was the elongation of the arm, with which he was, after all this time, able to touch her. He slided a mere few millimetres above her body, and with the tips of his fingers he could almost sense her breathing, which got faster. He did not touch her, he teased her, enjoying how she was in his power, how he was in total comand, how he could do what he wanted to her. The sweaty silence was broken by a slight noise: a button fell from the cardigan.
-House. What are you doing? And all this in front of everyone...? –asked Cameron raucously.
He slowly let out the air from his lungs. He had withheld it for god knows how long.
-Have you seen enough? –he asked, turning to Harpo, who stared ahead with an idiotic expression on his deformed face.
-No –came the muffled reply.
-I can understand... well then, the encore...
God, how beautiful she is, he thought, while he stroked the girl's belly with his mechanical hand, advancing upwards on the soft material of the cardigan. When he reached her breast, he circled the small mound very slowly, making smaller circles every time, and before he pulled away his hand he perceived with smirky delight that her nipple had completely hardened. Cameron could hardly stop her panting, and House could have sworn on everything that was dear to him in this miserable world that she had just whispered his name in between two slight moans
this red dress is like admission to heaven, it crossed House's mind. With another arm he cautiously cut the front of the dress, down to her belly.
-This is better than the movies –Moriarty laughed, and produced some popcorn from under his chair.
-Shut up- retorted House. –What I'm doing here is vital.
-Yeah, yeah, I can already see her vitals –giggled the accursed Moriarty.
House lasciviously slid the metal finger all the way under the dress. Red material slowly started to disperse on Allison's body, and through the monitor the girl was looking at him with a grotesque smile. Her eyes were bathing in tears, and by the time her eyelids fluttered their last, Foreman and Chase were holding down Gregory House from both sides, and in the midst of loud cries for help they lugged him away from the instrument.
House was standing at the table, on which Cameron's body lay cut up, bloody whimpers, real or imagined, coming to him nauseatingly. Her face was pale. The cardigan hung from her curvy shoulders, more like shreds of it. The bra rested in two parts on her humble breasts. Organs and intestines and a great deal of blood strarted to trickle from the anguished corpse in an endless stream.
Gregory House stood shaking in front of the girl's dead body. He felt his strength leave him by the minute. What happened?
How?
She trusted me. She knew she was going to die, yet... did she know?
House... What have you done
House
House!
-HOUSE! HOUSE!
Chase was looking at him with a worried face. House was crouching in a corner, he was cold, or shaking, had no idea which. He felt something trickle on his side, and in the madness of reality his brain projected him terrible images, unspeakable scenes of horror and death. Foreman was there too, and wanted to pull him up, but House could not even budge.
-I killed her... I killed her...
-Who?
-Her –he moaned. He was helpless against his tears that streamed down his face, neck, shirt. For the first time in his life he cracked under the burden of reality. He was unable to steady himself, the effect of the drugs, the fright, the sight of all that blood, her blood, Cameron's smiling eyes, her pain that he caused, her pain at knowing that he caused her pain on purpose, her pain that flowed down her face in silent tears, all this was loud inside himself.
-House, what are you talking about? –he heard the familiar voice right at his ear. Looking up, he saw Cameron's worried eyes through his tears. –What is it? What's wrong?
For a moment he dared not breathe, and when she placed her hand on his arm, he let out a nervous laugh. He rubbed his eyes with a shaking hand, allowing Foreman and Chase to help him up.
-Man, you always have to screw with someone –mumbled Foreman. –You scared the shit out of us. Why the hell did you have to start flailing with that bloody thing? You almost cut into Cameron.
-But only almost –smiled the girl, but then her smile was lost with those of Chase and Foreman. –Oh god, House, you again rip...
House woke up tired as hell and weak as a newborn lamb. His first glance fell on Cameron, who jumped to his bed in a blink.
-I know, I'm pathetic –she said resignedly, combing some greasy hair out of her eyes.
House swallowed on a dry throat, and before he had to ask, she had already placed the cup in his hand. House drank the water eagerly, he couldn't care less that most of it went to his shirt. Cameron wiped his neck and shoulders with a soft cloth, but he had more important things in mind.
-Apparently we had been here before... and it looks like you had indeed been up for quite a while.
-Yes... and yes, with minor breaks. Excuse the sight. I have had better hairdays... –she said, pulling a tired face.
-To hell with it... gimme your hand. –He held her hand, and seeing her surprised look, he had no idea how to start.
-Have I hurt you?
Cameron stared at him, frowning.
-In the lab.
-Where?
-With... with the mechanical arm.
-With what!
House's mind started to clear.
-Where is Moriarty?
-He died a couple of hours ago –she said quietly.
House rubbed the rough stubble on his chin.
-How long have I been here? Have I came to at any point?
-Two days. No, you have been out all the time. We were terribly worried...
Before he asked his next question he moved his leg under the cover. It hurt, but hardly at all.
-Did I get Ketamine?
-Yes.
He sat up in his bed, though he felt extremely dizzy.
-So I haven't hurt anyone...?
-No, House, I told you you were out the whole time –giggled Cameron. –But what's all this? Did you have any weird dream, or what?
-Thank god, I had a dream –mumbled House, and toyed with the girl's slender fingers for a while.
-Can I get my hand back? –asked Cameron with a laugh.
House leaned on his large pillow and feeling immense peace inside his soul he allowed himself a tired smile.
-Go... but come back –he added quietly.
Cameron stooped to him happily and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
-Luckily for me, you are in no position to be arguing... you are in my power –she whispered, then walked out of the room.
House looked after her with a strange feeling. This calmness had not been his guest for such a long time that he had completely forgotten it exists. He squirmed a little in his bed, careful not to rip out his stitches again. When he felt comfortable enough and was preparing to lay his head down, he noticed the small, dark brown button on his night stool.