Dr House watched everyone that walked through his hospital with the eyes of a patient, cunning lion. He could get nearly any kind of information that he wanted out of people simply by being annoying enough to get them to talk just to get rid of him.
Currently, he was spending his spare time between annoying people and diagnosing cases by wondering about the new intern. She was a first class medical student he had accepted during what he blamed as 'one of his apparently insane moments'. She was neat, orderly, and a completely focused person, to a fault, often needing yelled at to get her attention when she worked in the lab.
Of course he noticed her lack of self-esteem, and her quick tears and visible devastation when he yelled at her. It was as if she regretted disappointing him. He had no expectations however, so disappointment wasn't a factor, in his mind.
Now House was tough, distanced, sometimes crude, but he did have a rarely seen soft side, and how he showed it was by being tough, as obtuse as that was. But he noticed the adverse effect his yelling and bickering to the team had on his new intern. Now no one expected him to be babying her, and if they had, he would have fired them on the spot. She was reasonably okay when he was firm. But the yelling always reduced her to the appearance of a shaking child that refused to look at him. And when he spoke to her directly, which forced her to look into his face, he could see pained eyes that hid tears as if they were afraid to cry.
He would watch the way that she acted around the sick people, patients that were maybe not so nice, and family that came to visit those in the hospital. She was different around calm people versus high strung people. It was subtle, mostly in her body language more than her words.
He studied her and studied her, a grain of concern in his thoughts. He didn't like what he was seeing. And while he was as cantankerous as an old goat, he did actually care about the humanity around him.
One day he finally figured it out. It hit him like a lightning bolt when he saw Wilson playfully sneak up behind her in pharmacy and grab her arm. It caused a chain reaction of emotions, starting with her screaming, "NO!" and stumbling backward, tripping over a rolling chair, and falling to the floor, arm thrown up over her face, cowering, as if expecting to be struck.
"Hey I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" Wilson apologized profusely, holding out a hand to help her up. She grabbed the offered hand, but as soon as she was on her feet, she bolted and ran away.
House tapped his chin with his pen. A tough little thing during a code blue, but just a touch from his favorite doctor and she completely fell apart. That spelled abuse to him, and he wasn't quite sure how to tackle that.
Wilson walked into the office, looking very confused and a little hurt. "House what did I just do?"
House raised his eyebrows. "You just scared the diagnoses out of our little girl. What did you think you did? Made her day? Be careful, sexual harassment lawsuit coming right up." He limped quickly out of the room leaving Wilson glaring after him in frustration. House chuckled when he had gotten far enough away. He kept up a tough demeanor but in reality House was very caring. But he loved confusing people. He had called this girl "his girl" ever since she had been hired. He wasn't sure what the problem was with her but he was going to find out. He found her hiding in the laundry room between two bins, hyperventilating from trying not to cry. House shoved open the laundry room door, leaning on the doorframe, and looked down at her for a moment, then dropped to a squat next to her.
"Ya know," he began. "You could just, I don't know," he looked up at the ceiling "maybe just do that thing called cry, and then you'd feel better. Keeping it all in just choked up the sinuses, makes your eyes red, could explode your head. Then wouldn't that be disgusting?"
He brought his gaze back down to her face. Her eyes were wide and red rimmed, and she shook her head quickly. "No, no, I'm fine, I'm really fine. I just got startled is all. This is so stupid, I don't know why I am so upset. Lack of sleep last night and too much coffee this morning, I'm sure."
House raised his eyebrows. "And you just had a panic attack because you got startled when the handsome Doctor grabbed you in a completely unromantic way, because of staying up too long reading Nancy Drew and drinking a Red Bull on your way in?"
She hesitated then halfway nodded, brow furrowed, confused about why the excuse sounded so silly when he said it, but she didn't look up at him. House tapped his cane on the floor for a moment then leaned in closer to whisper in her ear.
"You know, I think it's a lot more sinister than that." His eyes were wide in that typical intimidating House look.
She leaned away, averting her gaze. "No, no it's not."
House reached over with his cane, and turned her averted face toward his own. "I want to know what he did to you."
She frowned and sighed heavily. "He just grabbed me, Doctor. I'm sure Wilson didn't mean anything by it. He was just being Wilson. He teases people."
House rolled his eyes. "Of course he was being nice. Uh, no little one, I wasn't asking about Wilson. Him. You know what I mean."
He studied him for a moment, her eyes widening as she realized what he was meaning. Her gaze dropped to the floor again. "You don't really care, though, do you? I've heard all about you, Dr House. I am not another enigma for you to solve or a puzzle for you to work on in your spare time."
At that she stumbled to her feet and walked away, leaving House staring after her, more burdened than she knew.
She left the hospital, throwing a few backward glances over her shoulder. She didn't want House to follow her. Not tonight. He would be there. Not House. Not Wilson. But him. He was coming to pick up some old boxes from the cellar. That's how it always started. Some innocuous reason to get inside her hours.
But it never ended that way.
It always ended with her laying on the floor, sobbing, and bleeding. She didn't want House to come. Didn't want him to help. Didn't want him to see her helpless, to hear her scream. She felt broken. Felt like she was disappearing into the past. Felt so lost in her own destruction that she couldn't ask for help even if it walked right past her. And it did. House kept his umbrella covering his face and walked a block behind her. He had stubbornly decided that he was going to find out what was going on.
Halfway to where she lived she stopped at a bridge, gazing down at the murky water. It wasn't a suicidal stare, just a moment to reflect and relax. She turned and sank to the ground, her back leaned against the cold metal support, watching the lights twinkling on the rough surface of the water across the bridge, not seeming to notice the drenching she was getting.
Part of him wanted to go to her and offer the umbrella. But that would blow his cover and his chance to figure this out, so he sat down nearby, simply watching. The rain poured down over her blonde hair, and her pale face. Or were they tears? House wasn't sure. He was curious but it hadn't quite gotten to the level of sympathy yet.
House knew it should have but as a doctor his sympathy switch was a long distance from his hard-nosed analyst switch.
But concern was definitely there. He watched as she finally began to make her way to the street she apparently lived on. It was not dingy but not glamorous. Her apartment building was tall, narrow, and squeezed between two larger buildings, it's class windows shuttered, and masses of vines sprawled across the outside. It looked quite unkempt. House waited till she was upstairs, then waited for nearly an hour in the rain. Nothing happened, and eventually he lost interest. It wouldn't do for him to be caught here. But he was going to ask more questions tomorrow.
She came in very late, walking with a slow and deliberate gait. House again watched closely. His eagle eye caught that something very much wasn't right. And she knew it, he could tell, by the way she kept casting furtive glances at him.
They were in the middle of a minor surgery that she was assisting with. He had insisted on it, unbeknownst to her, so he could observe her more closely. She was trying to focus on the sutures but knowing he was looking right thru her was unnerving.
"Your hands are shaking." That was all he said. She didn't look up at him. Just laid down the tools and when he was done suturing, she stepped out of the way. No more was said till she was transporting the patient back to ICU.
"You are limping." He said again with typical grave solemnity. She just glanced at him, her face crumpled as if she was going to reply, but then she just continued walking. Her attempt to get away from him was momentarily diverted as the charge nurse called her over to update a file.
As they talked, House was walking around them, making deductions that she completely ignored. As the two women parted, and she was walking away, he hurried up behind her and threw an arm around her middle back. "Hey there," came out of his lips. But she never heard it. She froze, a mask of sheer pain crossing her face, draining her lips of all color. She couldn't breathe for a second, then gulped in air, gasping, "House, you idiot!" Then she ran away, with House limping quickly after her. She glanced back, growling at his insistence, and went the only place she thought he wouldn't go. The women's restroom.
But of course he followed.
"House get out of here." She commanded through gritted teeth from her hiding place, standing in the stall. House limped around, then paused to look at himself in the mirror, nonchalant, and unperturbed by the surroundings. "And why should I do that? It's my hospital." He inspected his teeth and brushed back his hair.
"It's a ladies restroom." She replied feebly.
"Yeah so?" House replied.
She sighed heavily. "So you aren't a lady."
"There's no ladies in here," he reasoned, being difficult. "No reason we can't talk. You and me - just two friends."
"House, you really are a moron," she replied. Her voice sounded strained. Suddenly there was a clatter and through the mirror he could see her legs, and realized she was now sitting on the floor. sprawled out like a limp rag doll.
House whirled around. His eyebrows went up. "Ok well you don't mind if I come in, do you? What with you being on the floor and all?" Without waiting for an answer, he pushed open the stall door she had jarred open. She was breathing heavy, propping her elbow on the toilet lid, and was trying to stand up.
"No don't do that, idiot." He said, trying to keep a tough persona. "When anyone falls, we have to call a nurse first. Oh look, you got a doctor instead."
"I'm fine!" She hissed, practically face to face with him. He took in the shadowed eyes, and realized she was wearing makeup. He hadn't seen that before. A strange feeling was beginning to creep up on him. He said nothing about it however. "I don't think so, Doc. You look a bit sick to me."
She growled weakly and tried to pull away. "Sometimes House you really are an idiot."
He held up his hands. "Ok fine, if you are really ok then you're on your own." He stepped back and watched her try to stand. She winced with pain and hesitated. She looked up at him with the most haunted defeated eyes.
"Um a little help, House?" And held out her hand.
House skipped it and put his hands under her arms and pulled her up strongly. She whimpered then pushed him away and staggered to the sink where she stood with her head bowed, hands gripping the porcelain, knuckles white, breathing heavily, trying not to throw up. "Thanks" she said flatly.
House walked up beside her, limping with his cane, eyebrows raised. "Thanks for what? Picking my student intern up off the floor where she fell for no apparent reason since she's actually ok but I think she is weak, injured and wearing makeup to hide bruises where someone beat the bazooka out of her. But she's fine, no, she doesn't need help and is going to walk right back out there and show the world that she's tough and can take care of herself. Never mind that she can barely walk and her face crumples up like someone pulled her joints apart when she tries to move. But she's ok, no worries." He nodded as if agreeing with himself. "No worries at all. See, it's perfectly normal." Then he leaned in really close and whispered, "I don't hire punching bags, I hire doctors."
This touched something raw inside of her, and suddenly bitter tears were streaming silently down her face. House, who slightly felt like an idiot, knew his bullheaded manners always got a confession. He had hoped he was wrong, but that did not appear to be the care by her reaction. She turned away as if to leave, then paused, and turned back to face him. Defeat was written in her eyes.
"I can't talk about this, Doctor House."
House stamped his cane on the floor. "Girl, if someone is mistreating you then I want to know."
She closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration. "Why House? Why? So you can fix it? So I can be another project so you can be the hero?"
House decided to let the tough manner drop. "Ok," he said softly, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm going to say something, and I don't want you to ever tell the team." He looked down into her pain clouded eyes. He knew pain. Knew it well. And she was in a lot of it. She nodded her feeble agreement to his terms and House took a deep breath. "There's - um - well. There's a side of me that actually is caring about you right now. For some really strange reason - maybe its too much Vicodin, the addiction is finally destroying every bit of common sense that I have - I can't stand the thought that the only reason I can't figure out why you are crumbling right before my eyes is because you can't admit that you, and only you, are the victim." He winced. That didn't sound like he wanted it to, but she nodded.
"Thanks. But you can't fix it House."
He jumped at this apparent agreement that he had been right all along. "There is something there. Ah hah! There is. So who is it? Jealous boyfriend? Manic milkman? Pushy paper boy? Oh please don't tell me all this was for nothing and it was just a tumble down the stairs? Look at me being all rude and prying into situations that don't concern me, right?." The tough side of House still refused to let the concern show. He wanted to gag himself with a tangerine after he said that. Sometimes he didn't think his mouth actually belonged to him.
She turned away from him. "No House. Like I said don't worry about it." She started to walk away again, but House reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Instantly she yelped in pain and her knees buckled. House jumped, startled, and let go, confused because he genuinely didn't mean to cause that kind of pain. She took a few quick breaths to steady herself and House took the direct route. In a low voice he asked "What really happened, girl? No jokes, no playing around, no lies. Tell me." She glanced at him for a moment, her eyes desperately pleading, words on the tip of her tongue as her mouth opened and closed, and for a moment he thought she was about to tell him. Then she turned and walked out of the restroom.
House followed noticing the stiff back, the barely noticeable way she walked was unsteady. Wilson was in the hallway walking toward ICU. She gave him a cheery greeting, even though her voice shook just slightly. Faker, House thought bitterly. It was all fake. Lies. Everyone lies.