Chapter 9 — Not So Ugly Ducklings
I began spluttering out apologies before I could even turn and meet House's eyes. Much like earlier when I tried to log into his computer, I expected to see accusation and anger, or at the very least annoyance in his gaze, but instead a dull amusement rested there.
"House—I'm sorry, I should've—I'm really, really sorry..." I trailed off, realizing that House wasn't looking for an apology. He wordlessly extended his hand, and I carefully passed him his guitar, my stomach doing flips in the hopes that he really wasn't upset that I had touched his baby without permission.
His hair still sopping wet from his bath, House limped over to the couch and sank down next to me. House had changed into a pair of his sweats and a vintage t-shirt. His hands settled on the guitar, and he paused for a split second before beginning to play.
I was transfixed as House's skilled fingers combed over the strings. He blew me out of the water when it came to guitar, that was for sure. At first he played a fun blues melody I didn't recognize, quite possibly something he made up himself, but slowly he switched to something familiar. Familiar, dancing at the edge of my thoughts...
"Over the Hills and Far Away," I said softly, smiling.
House didn't acknowledge me, just continued to play.
I sank into the back of the couch, closing my eyes again without the fear of House creeping up behind me.
A certain amount of peace settled over me as he played. I wished that House would sing, knowing what a fantastic voice he had, but I wasn't going to ruin the small bonding moment between me and the older doctor with words. When he finished with Zeppelin, he moved into something I couldn't identify, slow, and with a hint of melancholy.
The peace of the music was interrupted by House's phone ringing loudly. House closed his eyes for a brief moment before handing me his guitar and motioning for me to put it back on the stand. I obeyed, quickly scrambling up from the couch and placing the well-maintained instrument back where it belonged.
I hovered by the piano as House had his conversation with whoever had called him.
"House," he answered. "...I sense an excuse coming on...you what?" House burst out, nearly jumping off of the couch. I saw him massage his leg with a wince, anger crossing his features. "You lost the patient," House repeated, running a hand over his face. "I'm coming. Keep looking." House snapped his phone shut, lifting himself up quickly. His leg seemed to be a little better since his bath, but obviously the pain never went away.
"That...didn't sound good," I ventured, crossing my arms.
House limped towards his bedroom. "It's not," he replied cryptically before slamming his bedroom door.
I stood awkwardly outside, wishing I had watched season one more often so I knew what point in the episode we were in. I knew at some point Dan tried to jump off the hospital roof, but beyond that, I didn't remember anything else that I hadn't already told House.
Within a few moments, House was out of his room, tugging on his coat, and heading for the door.
"Whoa, hey!" I called, halting him before he left the apartment. "You're not going to just leave me here, are you?" I asked, trying to keep a note of fear from creeping into my voice. It's not like I was afraid of the dark or anything, but with my less than sublime mood, the last thing I wanted was to be alone at night in House's apartment for who knew how long.
"That was the plan," he told me, hand on the door knob.
"Listen, House, we need to get this cover story circulating at the hospital sooner rather than later, and...I really, really don't want to stay here alone right now," I told him halfheartedly, fidgeting with the edge of my shirt.
He sighed, rolling his eyes and jerking his thumb at my small dresser. "Fine, whatever. Get changed and be quick about it." I headed toward my dresser and slid out some decent clothes, and before I made my way into House's bathroom to change, he halted me.
"Hey," he called. I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "If you like your hands un-amputated, don't touch my guitar again without asking."
House and I strolled side by side into the lobby of PPTH around eight, the crowd starting to thin out as night continued on its path. My eyes darted to Cuddy's office, but the administrator didn't seem to notice House and I making our way to the elevators, engrossed in paper work as she was.
"You have any idea where the kid is?" House asked as we stepped inside of the elevator.
"Not at this point, no. You didn't hold up a giant clock in the show and tell us what time it was. I'm not even sure what point we're at in the episode. Season one wasn't my specialty," I told him honestly as I pounded the button for the fourth floor, nervous for my more in-depth meeting with the original ducklings. "God, for once in my life, I wish I had been more obsessed with the show."
I knew that eventually Dan would end up on the roof, but I didn't know if he was there now. Which was decidedly not good.
"So, you ready to put on the father/daughter front?" House asked, abruptly changing subjects.
I grinned at the diagnostician. I was going to get to pretend House was my dad. This was going to be interesting to say the least, but with a pang, I realized I may never see my real dad again, and my smile fell. Never mind the fact that you'd be hard-pressed to find someone less like my actual father than Gregory House. Paul Carhart held honesty, hard work, and kindness in high esteem.
House would've hated him. And vice versa. Dad didn't even like me watching the show, convinced that it was the source of the attitude I sometimes copped with my parents.
"Well, we should probably get our stories straight. My mom's name was Annette Carhart, you had a one night stand like nineteen years ago, and she didn't see it fit to involve you in my upbringing. Annette was an only child and her parents were dead, so the only person left to take care of me when she died in a car crash was you. Got it?"
I had confidence that House wouldn't screw up when we had to act our parts. If there was one thing he was good at, it was lying.
House simply nodded. "Where'd you live before now?"
"Just say I lived in Harrisburg. At least that part will be true," I replied with a shrug as the elevator doors binged open. A worried looking Cameron was waiting outside of the door to the differential room, her eyes immediately bouncing to House. Despite him being crippled, he moved much faster than me, and I had to dash to keep up with him as he limped in her general direction.
When we reached the doors to the diagnostic offices, we paused in front of House's newest employee.
My opinion on Cameron changed several times over the course of the show. The first two seasons, well, she kind of annoyed me. Especially towards the end of season one. I thought it was kind of pathetic how pushy she was with House, and their one date was one of the most cringe-worthy moments of the entire show.
Once season three rolled around, especially after she assisted in the suicide of Ezra Powell, I really started to warm up to her. By the time the original ducklings disbanded, I actually thought she was pretty cool, though Chase would always be my favorite of House's first team. I continued to like Cameron more and more in seasons four and five, but when she left Chase in season six, I was upset with her. I was a dedicated Chameron shipper, and I kind of just stared at the TV in devastation after she and Chase broke up.
Still, I guess I kind of owed her, or at least the hallucination of her, for getting House out of that warehouse.
I filed away my opinion of Cameron as 'undecided'. After all, my interaction with both Wilson and House had shown me that knowing someone in real life and watching them through a screen were two completely different things.
House thumped his cane on the ground. "Where are Chase and Foreman?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.
"They're looking for Dan." Cameron's eyes lingered on me before she extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Allison Cameron," she said, smiling at me.
I blinked in surprise before taking her offered hand. I tried to remember how young Cameron was in season one. Twenty six? Twenty seven? I had always viewed the whole cast as so much...I don't know, older than me. More adult. But I was nearly eye level with Cameron, and at this point in canon, she and Chase didn't have all that many more years under their belt than I did.
Man, being back in time was weird.
"Anya Carhart," I greeted her with a smile. I released her hand and glanced at House, waiting for him to explain my presence to Cameron.
"She's my illegitimate daughter that I just found out existed yesterday. Now go and find our patient," House ordered.
Cameron's jaw dropped so fast it wasn't even funny. Okay, it was a little funny. "You...?" she trailed off, not really seeming to have any words for the sudden surprise. She swallowed and blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to compose herself. "It's, uh, nice to meet you," she said, directing the statement towards me.
"Nice to meet you, too," I responded.
House gave an exaggerated sigh. "Go. Patient. Find. Now." He waved off in a random direction, and with a last, confused look at me, Cameron trotted off in search of Dan.
"We're really lucky this isn't later in the series," I told House as he pushed into his office.
"Why?" he asked. He plopped down in his recliner, leaning his cane against the side.
"There's no way in hell Cameron would have bought that if this wasn't season one," I explained, pushing House's feet slightly to the side and sitting on the foot stool.
"Oh, so she works for me for the next couple of years?" House asked, giving me a triumphant smirk.
"Shit," I cursed myself. "I'm not supposed to be telling you things!"
"I'll have a blow by blow of my life wheedled out of you by tomorrow," he said with a snort.
"Will not," I retorted with an angry squint. "I've watched you deflect questions for years. I pretty much learned from the master."
"You're a cocky little snot, aren't you?" House asked, but not rudely.
Oh my God, am I bantering with House? I really was living the dream.
"I'd remove the little snot part, but yeah, pretty much," I responded.
A House quote (like usual) popped into my mind: "Arrogance has to be earned."
I blinked, realizing House had said it at the same time as me. We kind of just stared at each other for a second.
"Um," I said dumbly.
"That's getting really annoying," he said, though he didn't actually seem irritated. I noticed that House didn't tend to take much of anything seriously. He hadn't on the show, and that was one thing that held true in real life.
Huh. Had I finally acknowledged that this was real life? I'd been here for about thirty-six hours. This was either the world's most elaborate coma fantasy, or it was reality. Felt pretty fucking real to me, that was for sure.
"Sorry, force of habit. I'm a House quote machine. I could probably recite every insightful thing you have to say for the next seven years."
House tilted his head, catching on that I hadn't mentioned season eight. "What about the last season?" he inquired.
I bit the inside of my lip, trying to figure out how to respond to House's question without giving anything else away about the show. "I only watched most of the season eight episodes once. It was a busy year for me, not to mention...eh, most of them really weren't that great," I said nonchalantly, hoping House wouldn't pursue the topic further and press for more details.
"What, my life get too happy for you? Not fun to watch anymore?" he asked, tapping his fingers restlessly on the side of his recliner.
I made a motion of sealing my mouth, then tossing an imaginary key over my shoulder.
"How mature," he commented snidely. I was about to respond when a gasping Foreman and Chase plodded into the office. House looked away from me and focused instead on his breathless employees. "I'm guessing you caught our little lost lamb?"
"He nearly jumped off of the roof. He's hallucinating, thought he was on the lacrosse field," Chase explained.
"Chase had to tackle him to keep him from killing himself," Foreman sighed, eyes flitting briefly to me. Fangirl Me was about to explode, but I was trying to keep from either smiling ear to ear or pulling both of them into a bone-crushing hug. I didn't even like Foreman that much, but still. He was from House. Therefore, I pretty much had the inclination to worship the ground he walked on.
"Why didn't you tackle him?" House asked.
Foreman gave him a withering look. "I know I'm black, but Chase was closer."
Chase, on the other hand, I liked very much. Okay, I had a crush on him. I had my respective phases with House, Wilson, and Chase, but let's just say House and Wilson weren't getting any younger, but Chase was just growing into his lab coat and looking better by the season.
So, I internally took a very large knife and stabbed Fangirl Me to death to keep myself from looking like a complete and total fool.
"Hi," Foreman greeted me, apparently not knowing what to say on the subject of my presence. Chase nodded at me and smiled tightly, still seeming winded from the incident with Dan on the rooftop.
Cameron must not have dropped the bombshell on them that I was House's daughter. Wait, am I going to have to call him Dad? No. Too weird. Can't do it. I don't care if it blows my cover. I just couldn't call the guy I'd only technically known for two days Dad. Plus, I'm pretty sure if I was really in the situation I was pretending to be in (i.e. dead mother and new found father) I wouldn't be referring to House as my dad either. That's a title that's earned.
"Hey," I replied awkwardly.
"Oh, right," House said, eyes dodging to me before he addressed Foreman and Chase, "Meet Anya. My daughter."
"You have a daughter?" they asked in unison. Ha. Adorable.
"Yep," House answered, not elaborating further. I just shrugged at them when their bulging stares moved to me. "Well, he obviously doesn't have MS." House scooped up his cane from where it leaned on the recliner and stood up. He limped towards the differential room. Before he opened the glass door, he tossed me his pager. "Page Cameron here."
Foreman and Chase chanced a confused glance at each other before tailing their boss into the differential room. I stared at the pager in my hand. Fangirl Me probably would have freaked, but since she was now dead from exsanguination, she had nothing to say on the matter. I quickly obeyed House and sent a page to Cameron before pocketing the diagnostician's pager and staring at the differential room.
Oh...it's so tempting...
I now had two options. I could stay in House's office, watch TV or play his DS until he was finished for the night and ready to head home, or...
Or I could go be nosy and participate in the differential.
It was hardly a choice at all.