Ghost From the Past (5?)
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 2,296
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. Hopefully, this chapter will sort out some of the confusion of the previous, and again, no spoilers past season 2.
Ghost From the Past
Chapter Five: Mistake Times 2
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"You people are useless," House thundered, slamming his cane on the table. Cameron jumped, even though she knew that it was coming. Chase didn't even look up from the laptop that he was using to research, and Foreman just looked at House. They were used to this. It had lost its effect.
House stopped. Foreman smiled. "Not as much fun when we don't react, is it?"
"Maybe," House agreed patronizingly. "Doesn't change the fact that you are all useless. What are you doing? Why aren't you coming up with a solution?"
"Maybe because you won't let me near the patient," Chase muttered. He continued typing, then scrolled down the page. Cameron glanced at him. Ignoring House was never a good idea.
"You want to cry about it, cry on Cameron's shoulder," House ordered. She felt herself blush a little and glared at House. Chase kept his head ducked behind the laptop. "Come on, people, what does this girl have?"
"Fatigue, headache, fever," she answered, "cardiac arrest. There are hundreds of possibilities."
"Try thousands," Foreman countered. "It could be one of thousands of viruses. Or a resistant strain of infection."
"Listeria," Cameron suggested, looking over Elizabeth's chart again.
"She doesn't have any neurological symptoms," Foreman said. "No double vision, no palsy, no dysphagia or dysarthia."
"She could be in the early stage and not have any of those symptoms," Cameron said defensively. "We don't have any proof that she doesn't have double vision, blurred speech, or trouble swallowing. She's intubated and on an IV."
"Listeria is treated by antibiotics," Chase said. "The reason House is interested in her case is that she wasn't responding to the antibiotics. If she had listeria, she'd be getting better. And there was nothing on her CT or MRI."
House smiled. "Thank you, Chase. You've saved me the trouble of explaining to Cameron why she is completely wrong. Someone give me something else."
"Okay," Chase said, looking up at House. "She's got Munchausen's."
"What?" Cameron exclaimed. "She's eight years old."
"And eight year olds can't have Munchausen's?" House asked, looking at Foreman. Cameron frowned, unsure if House was being sarcastic or not. Normally, she could tell. Either her instincts were wrong, or House wasn't being sarcastic.
"This is ridiculous," Foreman said. "An eight year old doesn't have the medical knowledge to induce this illness."
Chase shrugged. "House wanted something new."
"He also wanted something plausible," Cameron shot back. "Elizabeth doesn't have Munchausen's."
House looked out the window. Foreman looked at the board. "Maybe it's—"
Something light hit Cameron in the hand. She put her hand around the paper, crumpling it a little. Someone had passed her a note. She frowned. Passing notes? Are we in middle school? She opened it.
We need to talk.
It was Chase's handwriting. She felt herself start to panic. Her heart was racing, and her cheeks felt warm. If House looked back at her now—but Chase was the one that she really had to worry about. He was the one that wanted to talk. And if Chase wanted to talk, it had to be about last night. She couldn't handle this. What was she supposed to tell him? What could she tell him? Not the truth. Definitely not the truth.
She looked up. Foreman and House had left. She didn't remember hearing them leave. Her throat went dry. She turned slowly, looking at Chase. He was bent over the laptop. "House ordered you to get another CT scan."
"What? Why?"
Chase shrugged. "Maybe he's reconsidered listeria. I don't know. He didn't say."
"Chase—"
"Get the CT," Chase told her. "We can talk later."
She nodded gratefully, taking her chance to escape. She couldn't face Chase right now. She didn't even stop to think about why he'd been so quick to let her go.
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Cameron woke with a start. Elizabeth. She had to get back to Elizabeth. She had to go there right away. She didn't have time to sleep. Elizabeth's condition was serious. Cameron threw off the covers and got to her feet. She hurried to the door, and as she opened it, she stopped. Wait a minute. How did I get to my apartment?
She looked around. She was in her bedroom. She was still wearing what she'd worn to the hospital, except for her shoes. Her hair was undone. She didn't know how she'd gotten here, but someone had helped her, had taken off her shoes, let her hair loose, and tucked her into bed. Someone—it must have been either Foreman or Chase—had done this for her. She smiled briefly at the thought and then made her way into the kitchen. She needed coffee. She took a cup out of the cupboard, setting down next to the pot. She lifted the pot and started to fill it.
"You should go back to bed, Cameron," a voice startled her, and she nearly dropped the coffee pot. "It's only been two hours."
"Chase?" she asked. "What are you doing here? And how do you know that?"
"I've been awake for an hour," Chase answered, and she realized that he was on her couch. "Foreman must have left me here when I fell asleep. You were already asleep when we got here. I carried you up, and then I sat down for a second and fell asleep… Until I rolled over and hit your coffee table, that is."
She set the pot down and left the kitchen, coming close to the couch. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me look at it."
"I'm fine," he insisted immediately. "It's just a scratch. I can handle it myself. I'm a doctor, too, remember?"
She laughed, unable to help herself. "Doctors make the worst patients."
"House is a perfect example of that," Chase replied as she sat down next to him. She turned on the lamp, causing him to wince. She explored the wound gently. There was a slight bump, but the bleeding had stopped, and it had already scabbed over.
"You're right. It's not bad."
"I already cleaned it," he told her. "And I took some aspirin."
She smiled. "Differential diagnosis?"
"It's a minor wound, but there was trauma to the head. There's a small chance that I have a concussion," he recited matter-of-factly.
"Oh, so I need to wake you every two hours?" She teased.
"No. I can't sleep anyway," he told her. "It's not a concussion."
They smiled at each other and then lapsed into silence. She looked away, down at her feet. Chase had been the one to take off her shoes. She was sure of it. She could feel his eyes on her. She stood abruptly. "I should get changed, go back to the hospital."
"House will just send you home again," Chase said, not taking his eyes off her. She sighed and sat back down. Chase continued to stare. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" she asked, confused.
"You said that Joe was the best friend of your husband."
"I did?" She felt her face flaming. It was Joe's presence that had made her say it. She'd been flustered, distracted. She had said what she'd never meant to say. She swallowed. No wonder he'd been staring at her. He was afraid that he had slept with a married woman. Chase was many things, but he was not an adulterator. "Chase, look around you. Does it look like I'm married?"
"No," he answered like he had already asked the question of himself.
"It's true," she admitted at last. "I was married. He died."
Chase looked at her. "I'm sorry."
She looked into his eyes, those eyes full of concern, and she remembered how she had wanted to grab him by the tie and kiss him. She felt herself reddening again, but she drew closer to him. She grabbed his tie and kissed him. The kisses were deep and tender, slow at first, but growing faster and more urgent as they continued to touch. Clothes were in the way. His hands were under her shirt while she unbuttoned his.
History was repeating itself, she thought as Chase kissed her neck. She was about to make the same mistake.
"Cameron," he said, stopping to look at her. "Are you sure—"
"Please," she said. "We almost lost a little girl today. We don't know what's wrong. I just want to forget. Help me forget, please, Chase."
His mouth covered hers again.
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"Allison?" Joe's voice startled her out of her fugue. She blinked and looked at him. "Allison, are you okay? You were just standing there, staring off into space, ever since you brought Elizabeth back from her test."
She swallowed, unsure what she should say. She certainly couldn't tell him the truth. I'm sorry, Joe. I was just remembering what Chase and I did last night when I should have been concentrating on curing Elizabeth.
"You didn't even tell us the results," Joe continued. "Did you find anything?"
This she could answer. She shook her head. "I thought Elizabeth might have listeria. She might have been in the early stage, which was why the first CT scan didn't show any signs. But this second CT would have shown it if it was there. It's not listeria. We still don't know. We're still doing tests."
"You're not," Joe observed.
She shook her head, smiling a little. "No. I should go. I need to get back to the lab."
"Joe caught her arm before she could leave. "No, what you need is some rest. You're pushing yourself too hard. I know it's my fault. I've been pushing you. I'm sorry, Allison. I can't help worrying about Elizabeth."
"No, it's good that you care so much," Cameron assured him. "Many people don't. And most uncles wouldn't be missing work to sit at their niece's bedside."
"I can't leave her," Joe told Cameron, her eyes misting. "I can't. I… I left for coffee. I wasn't even gone five minutes, but when I got back—"
"He was gone," she finished. She'd known when her husband sent Joe out of the room that he wanted to be alone with her. He'd asked her to lower his morphine. He'd been in pain, but lucid enough to tell her one last time that he loved her. And when Joe returned, he was dead. Joe had held her while she cried. He'd carried the guilt of leaving that day alone until now. "It wasn't your fault, Joe. I don't think he wanted you there."
"I should have been there," Joe insisted. "All this time, I thought maybe…we used to talk, go for walks. We were friends, but I… I started to feel more. I worried that he knew, that he sent me away because he was angry."
Her throat was dry. She couldn't deal with this now. Not in the middle of a case. Not with a girl sick in the other room that Cameron was supposed to cure. She looked up at Joe. "He just wanted to be alone with me one last time, Joe. He didn't hate you or blame you."
"Allison—"
"I have to go," she said, pulling her arm free. She hurried around the corner. As soon as she reached it, she started running blindly. She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that she had to get away. She ran, ran, and ran until at last she found nowhere else to run. She slid to the ground, burying her head in her knees as she started to cry.
All those years ago, as she watched her husband die, she'd grown close to his best friend. Joe had been there for her. They'd shared the same worries, the same fears, and loved the same man, who was dying. It didn't take long for her to realize that she was falling for Joe, too. She had no one else. Her husband was dying. She leaned more and more on Joe. She sometimes thought that he felt the same, but she never asked. She never acted on what she felt. She couldn't have lived with herself.
Now she knew that Joe had felt the same. Wasn't that what she'd wanted to hear? So why did knowing scare her so much? She should be happy. A man she loved loved her.
But did she really love him? She had thought so, but then she'd had feelings for House. And she'd slept with Chase. Twice. Did that mean that she'd gotten over her feelings for Joe? It wasn't likely. Joe's presence had made her nervous. Guilty. She'd felt the same as she did before. What was she going to do?
She didn't know. She needed to pull herself together somehow. She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Cameron?"
She didn't answer. Couldn't. Arms went around her, and she was too tired, too exhausted physically and emotionally, to resist. She leaned into him. It was becoming a habit. She would have to stop this.
Chase brushed the hair back from her face. "Cameron, are you—"
She looked up at him. She didn't let him finish. She covered his mouth with hers. She wanted to be held, to be loved. Chase was safe. She knew how she felt about him. There was nothing more than physical attraction between them. She knew he would comfort her.
Chase pulled back, holding her so that she couldn't kiss him. "Cameron, we should probably—"
She put her finger against his lips. "I need you to be there for me. I need you."
Chase shook his head. "You're upset. You were running through the hospital, and I found you in tears. You're not thinking straight. You don't know what you want."
"Yes, I do," she insisted, kissing him again.