Hey you guys, I really want 100 reviews on this story, but I was planning on ending it once you find out who Chase's stalker is- which should happen soon. So I'm going to toss a plot twist in pretty soon, maybe in this chapter, maybe not. That way, I can make it go on longer. And sorry for the longer-than-usual wait, I'm still practicing for that audition. AHHHH KILL ME NOW I'M SO SCARED I AM GOING TO FAIL COMPLETELY WAAAAAAH
Sean: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT? I AM GOING TO GET YOU! I AM GOING TO TELL MCCALL ALL ABOUT YOUR STUNTS WHEN GIRLS WHEN YOU WERE LIKE THREE AND THEN I'LL TELL AUNT PEGGY YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND THEN YOU WILL GET DESTROYED FOREVER AND THEN I'LL RUB MY HIGHER SAT READING SCORES IN YOUR FACE AND BY THE WAY DO I HAVE TO MENTION MY SUPERIOR TEAM IN DARK DAWN, THE FOURTH BOTTLE IN OCARINA OF TIME, AND THE DOOMED FIERCE DIETY'S MASK OF MAJORA'S MASK? YEAH, THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT! AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE I'LL DO? I'LL BRING YOU DOWN AND LOCK YOU IN A ROOM WITH... MS. JACKSON! WUHA!
And Janie: hon, I don't know if you're reading this- BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TELLING ME TO FIX MY POSTURE ON SAX! EVERYTHING IS BETTER NOW! I HIT ALL MY LOW NOTES AND MY TONE IS GOOD AND MY SOUND DOESN'T GET ALL SPITTY SO SOON AND NOW I CAN SUCK THE SPIT UP THROUGH THE REED AND... EVERYTHING IS PERFECT! WUHA!
Everybody else: 'suck the spit up through the reed' is not all sexually inneundoish! Don't you dare say that! I'm talking about my saxophone!
Also, in this fic, Thirteen doesn't have Huntingtons. Because its just really not fair that they give one of my top three characters an incurable disease, and it would just make things alot harder to write. And, someone, PLEASE tell me... at the end of tonight's episode, I saw a blond in bed with Chase. Was that... *shudders* CAMERON? And what the hell was up with Foreman? Sorry, I only caught the last ten minutes.
Chapter 8
Cameron knew Foreman should be getting to the hospital soon, which meant she would have to be wide awake, and not fast asleep, which was in danger of happening as she sank into the suspiciously soft, comfortable chair...
Cameron would have slipped into unconsciousness right then and there if the limp hand she was holding hadn't grasped her's. For a second, she was so tired that the significance of this fact escaped her; then she blinked her eyes open, shocked, to see Chase staring at her sleepily. "Hey... Allison..." he mumbled, giving her a tired smile.
"Robert!" she exclaimed in excitement, leaned forward and squeezing his hand. "Hey, sweetie! How do you feel?"
He shrugged weakly, looking her up and down. "Okay, I guess... what... how... how did we..."
Cameron smiled and said, "House," as a way of explanation. "He diagnosed Jason; we got you out in time."
Chase just rolled his eyes at the mention of House, then frowned and tugged on her hand. "Cameron... your arm... what happened?"
She hesitated in confusion, glancing down before biting her lip anxiously- Chase had seen the mark on her arm where House had drawn blood from. She knew she would have to tell him eventually... but right now? No, absolutely not. He was going to over react- however, not was the worst possible time for him to do that. "Oh, that? It's nothing, I just fell."
Chase gave her a look, then said, "I know you're lying...but I'm really too tired to get you to tell me the truth..."
With a broad smile, Cameron scooted her chair closer to his bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Don't worry, I'll tell you when you wake up. You go back to sleep now, okay?"
He groaned heavily, trying to kiss her back, but he was too exhausted to sit up. With a grunt, he gave up, then said, "Mmm... love you, Cameron..." Then he was out again.
With another smile, Cameron kissed his hand then leaned back in her chair, about to close her eyes again when there was a gentle knock on the door behind her. She blinked, then glanced over her shoulder to find Foreman standing in the doorway.
"You awake there, Cameron?" he asked, stepping slowly into the room.
"Foreman!" she exclaimed, quickly getting out of the chair and turning to face him. "Hey... look, I'm so sorry for dragging you out here in the middle of the night, especially since none of us have gotten a full eight hours sleep, but... well..."
"Yeah, I read the other letters, Cameron. I agree with you, it needs to be looked into," Foreman said, then accepted the letter from Cameron and read it quickly. After a minute, he glanced back up at her and said, "Wow, that's... yeah, that's creepy. But what exactly can we do about this? I mean, I doubt the police would do anything besides put his case on file then forget about him."
Cameron shrugged and sighed heavily, turning back to Chase. "I know. I know that, but... god, we can't just do nothing!" she stared at down at her sleeping boyfriend hopelessly.
"I know," Foreman said softly, unsure of what to say. Finally, he told her, "Look, Cameron, when Chase wakes up again, ask him about the letters. I can looking through our past cases to see if anyone has a grudge against him."
"Would you?" Cameron asked, looking over her shoulder at him hopefully, her voice anxious.
Foreman nodded with a chuckle, then said, "Yes, but you're doing my clinic duty for the next week."
Cameron sighed, then glared at him and said, "Fine, I'll do it myself, just bring me the files, will you?"
With another chuckle, Foreman said, "All right, all right, I'll do it. I'll be in House's office; once I get something, I'll call you, okay?" Cameron nodded without saying anything, then turned back to look at Chase. Once she heard the sound of the door closing, Cameron lay her head down by Chase's hand and just watched him sleep until she fell into a dream world herself.
HOUSE HOUSE HOUSE
House kicked his feet up, watching as the drug dealer started to shoot at the cops at low volume. He had been watching TV ever since he had left Cuddy alone in his bedroom around two hours ago. If he was being honest with himself- and he was- House was simply exhausted and he wanted to go to sleep. But he couldn't yet. He had things to think about.
Most notably, what he was going to do about Cuddy's rape- would he let her keep her silence, or would he push her to tell him who had done it? Because House really wasn't interested in letting the bastard who had done this get away with it, but that left him with two options: find this bastard himself and make him pay, or get Cuddy to report the rape to the police. He had to admit, option one sounded alot more appealing... however, he had to be there for Cuddy. That urge was stronger than the one for revenge.
Even so, though, he still had to get her to at least talk about it, report it to the cops. Then they could arrest whoever did this and stop him from hurting Cuddy ever again. Of course, House would prefer more violent methods...
House's ruminations were interrupted by a low shout from his bedroom. Concerned, he got quickly to his feet and limped to the back of his apartment, calling out, "Cuddy? Everything okay?" There was no reply before House threw open the door to his bedroom, then sighed- halfway in relief, halfway in sadness.
Cuddy was tossing and turning, kicking at any imaginary foe as she cried into a pillow and screamed, "No!" over and over again. House approached her slowly- he didn't really have any experience with nightmares, so he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.
"Cuddy?" he asked hesitantly, sitting down next to her and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. The younger doctor pushed his hand away and rolled onto her side so she was facing the wall rather than him, still sobbing and thrashing at her imaginary rapist. "Cuddy!" he said, slightly louder this time. "Wake up!"
Whether it was his loud voice or the crack of command in his order or some other unknown factor, he didn't know, but Cuddy suddenly jolted from sleep. Though she had stopped struggling, Cuddy was still crying. She buried her face in a pillow to muffle the sound, and House had to assume that she didn't know he was there yet. He reached over to put a hand on her back as he started to say, "Cuddy, its-"
"No!" she shouted, throwing herself away from his touch in a panic. "No, don't! Don't hurt me, please!" Cuddy scrambled away from him, backing herself up into a corner, hiding her face in her hands.
Alarmed, House got off the bed and slowly approached her, holding his hands up to show her he was unarmed. "Cuddy, it's okay... it's just me- House. That's all. I promise." The words were slow and awkward, though still sincere. He continued again, this time with more confidence. "It's just House. Look up and you'll see its just me, I promise."
Cuddy hesitated, then slowly raised her gaze to meet House's. "House?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yeah," he encouraged, refraining from touching her right now since he new she was already frightened and he wasn't sure if that would just scare her more. "Just me."
Cuddy finally looked at him, but when she saw it was him she groaned heavily and turned away, hiding her face in her hands- whether it was in shame or fear, he couldn't tell.
HOUSE HOUSE HOUSE
Thirteen woke up to find herself staring at the clock on her bedside table- two fifteen AM. She sighed, then rolled upright and leaned back against the wall in exhaustion.
This was happening more and more lately. She could excuse it tonight and claim that it was because of how tired she was today, but, in reality, she knew that that wasn't really true at all. Getting a full night's worth of sleep rarely happened... oh, who was she kidding, she hadn't slept eight hours a night in two months. She was lucky to get one hour now.
So now, during the day, she was running on adrenaline. And once she got home, too, though she drowned her sorrows in alcohol, more often than not. But running on adrenaline meant you had to crash sooner or later- so she would often crawl onto the floor beside her computer, because she was too tired to make it to her couch or bed, and just crash there for half an hour or more.
But today was different.
Now she wasn't just collapsed on the floor out of a need for a sleep. Now she was trying to avoid something. Something she should of done along time ago, yet was too afraid of doing. The first month, she attributed it to stress. But she couldn't do that now. Because, while these past two days had been absolute, pure hell... but the past week had been perfect. She wasn't just late.
But she had to be late. That had to be all it was. Because she couldn't deal with... that. Not now.
However, Thirteen had taken the test a half hour ago before falling asleep by accident. So she had to either check it, or throw it away. With a sigh, Thirteen got to her feet and trudged to the bathroom, picking up the little stick on the edge of the sink, hiding the colored part with her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and said a silent prayer, to what god, she didn't know, then opened them and moved her hand away.
Oh, god, it was pink. She knew what pink meant.
Pregnant.
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