Ghost From the Past (2?)
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,526
Disclaimer: I own House. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except season 1 & 2 on DVD and my own insanity.
Summary: In the middle of a case, a figure from Cameron's past arrives, creating complications and confusions in her life.
Author's Note: As I said, this is my first House fanfic. The characters may be very, very OOC. It is possible. I have no medical experience, therefore anything I write is probably very wrong. I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine. I'm also very vague about some stuff. I know. It's because I don't know enough to be specific.
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They were getting nowhere. Two days. Cameron could hear a clock ticking in the back of her head, even though there was no clock in the room. She could feel the time slipping away from them. She was edgy. She hadn't slept in thirty hours, which wasn't unusual when they were working a case, but adding to it Joe's presence in the hospital and the way that Chase kept staring at her was enough to push her over the edge. She was one step away from a breakdown.
Chase touched her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"
She jumped. Then she closed her eyes and cursed silently. "I'm fine."
"You're really tense," he said, not moving his hand. He set down the files in his other hand and put it on her shoulder, rubbing the muscles. In spite of herself, she moaned. Her whole back was sore, and this felt good. Still, she knew better than this. So did Chase. "Maybe you should go home, get some rest."
She smiled ruefully. "I wouldn't be able to sleep."
"You could get a drink, try and relax," he suggested. He picked the files back up. "You shouldn't have promised him. You are making it too hard to think because you're pushing yourself so that you don't break the promise."
Her good mood, a temporary euphoria from the massage, evaporated. "Chase—"
"Look, you're a good doctor. If you've got a fault, it's that you care too much. You were already involved with Elizabeth before you found out who her uncle is. You need a break, Cameron. Go home," he told her, walking away.
She stood and started after him. "If you think that my professional judgment is compromised, why aren't you going to House?"
"Because House will figure it out anyway, but also because I don't want you pulled off the case," Chase said over his shoulder. "I want you to get your act together. House isn't having one of his normal moments of brilliance. And we both know that if we save that girl it won't be because of anything I said or did."
He'd stopped to look at her when he said it, and she saw the vulnerability that Chase rarely showed anyone. She had an insane urge to grab him by the tie and kiss him. Maybe House was right. Maybe she liked to fix things—people—that were broken. She licked her lips, trying to find the nerve to speak.
"Chase," she began, having trouble swallowing. Why did he have to look at her like that? She couldn't think straight before, but with Chase looking at her like that and the memory of his touch during that brief massage—
"Allison, come quick! Something's wrong!" Joe's frantic voice broke the spell, and both she and Chase ran into the room.
"She's coding," Chase said, and the files were out of his hands, gone who knows where as he effortlessly assumed the role intensivist. She was by his side, reacting by instinct, but his calm in a crisis always impressed her. She followed his lead, accepting his orders as they brought Elizabeth back.
"She's stable," Chase announced, stepping back. He looked at Cameron. She sighed softly, but managed to smile. They had saved Elizabeth. For now.
"You saved her," Cameron told him. She touched his arm, but he looked away.
"She went into arrest," he said, "and we still don't know what's wrong with her. I haven't saved anyone."
Chase walked away, leaving Cameron to explain to the family. It wasn't like him, not the way he'd been lately. He'd been careful to be the one interacting with Elizabeth's family, almost as if…as if he was shielding her from having to interact with Joe.
She stopped in the middle of explaining to the family, stunned by the revelation. Why was Chase being so nice, acting so concerned?
"Allison?" Joe prompted.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Elizabeth is stabilized. And this new symptom may help us find out what is causing her condition. Please excuse me. I need to meet with Dr. House and the others."
She hurried down the hall to the differential diagnosis room. Out of breath, she waited for someone to speak. House looked at her. "Nice of you to join us, Cameron. I trust you were assuring the family that we will come up with the answer?"
She glared at him. "They were worried. She went into arrest—"
"Ah, but why did she go into arrest?" House asked. "It wasn't the sight of Chase in his suit."
"I wasn't even in the room," Chase said.
"Not only that, but you look like crap. So does Cameron. I need to think. Go home. Get some sleep I don't need either of you killing any patients. Foreman, drive them home."
"Excuse me?" Foreman said, looking incredulous. Cameron looked at Chase. No one could really believe what they were hearing.
"You heard me," House answered. "I want to know that they went home. And I don't want them killing anyone on their way. Now, take them home. I can't use doctors that are too tired to think. Get out of here."
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Cameron rolled her eyes and followed the others out of the room.
"You don't really have to do this," Chase said, taking out his keys. Beside him, Cameron adjusted her purse on her shoulder. "We're both capable of driving ourselves home."
Foreman scoffed. "You think I don't know that? But House will know if I don't."
"Are we back to being afraid of House?" Cameron asked; her words cut off by a yawn.
Foreman shrugged. "Does it really matter? Just get in the car."
Cameron groaned. Chase looked at her, silently recanting his words about her being capable of driving herself home. She swayed, about to fall asleep on her feet. He opened the door of Foreman's car and helped her into the back seat. She didn't even protest. That alone spoke volumes as to how tired she was. Foreman started to get in the driver's seat, then pointed to the passenger's side, motioning with his eyes. Chase walked around to the passenger's side and got in.
Foreman started the car and backed out of the lot. He drove out, turning onto the street. "Which one of you lives closer?"
Chase shrugged. "We're not that far apart, but your place is closer, right, Cameron? Cameron?"
He turned back to look at her. She was already asleep. He turned back to Foreman. "She's up on the left. Just after the light."
"Okay," Foreman said, expertly navigating them through the streets. He turned where Chase directed them, parking in Cameron's space. "Better wake her."
Chase leaned back and touched Cameron's knee, shaking her. She didn't respond, so he unbuckled himself and went around to her door. Opening it, he shook her, spoke loudly in her ear. She didn't stir. Foreman groaned.
"She's out cold. Hand me her purse," he said. Chase did, wrapping Cameron's arms around his neck as he lifted her into his arms. "Okay, I got her keys. Which apartment is it?"
"The first one on the right," Chase answered. He adjusted Cameron's position in his arms. Foreman closed the doors to the car and went to the door of the building, holding it open. Chase carried Cameron in, making his way to her apartment. Foreman outpaced him and reached the door.
"Which key is it?"
"I don't know," Chase said. "Just try them all."
"You don't know?"
"It was one time," Chase said angrily. "It's not like I have a bloody key to her place."
"Fine," Foreman muttered, checking the keys one at a time. The third key was the right one, and Foreman pushed the door open. Chase shifted Cameron, carrying her into the bedroom. She must have been in a hurry when she left the other day. The bed was unmade and there were clothes strewn about like she'd changed her mind about what she should wear. Chase laid her on the bed, over the rumpled sheets. He took off her shoes and unclipped her hair.
He covered her with the blanket and walked out of the room. Foreman was waiting for him. Smiling. Chase shot him a look. "What's with you?"
"Just you," Foreman said, shrugging. He was laughing silently.
Chase rolled his eyes and said nothing. He sat down on Cameron's couch for a minute. His whole body ached, and the thirty-two hours without sleep was catching up to him. "I wonder if she'd mind if I slept here."
Foreman looked at him and shrugged. "She might wake up and become disoriented. She won't remember how she got here."
"It won't be that bad," Chase said, leaning back. "It's her apartment. Once she realizes that, she'll be fine."
"All right. Then let's go," Foreman said, heading for the door.
"I'm coming," Chase assured him, but when he stood, the blood rushed to his head, and he stumbled, falling back on the couch. He put his hand to his forehead.
"Blood rush?" Foreman asked.
"I'm fine," Chase answered. It was the last thing that he heard himself say before he passed out.