House didn't notice at first that anything was amiss. She was quiet, not contributing much to the differential, a little withdrawn but nothing that would take his attention from the case, though he made a mental note to force some caffeine on her if she didn't perk up by lunch.
He had ordered an MRI, bloods, a tox screen and a lumbar puncture so he didn't think much of it when she knocked on his office door asking him to help her with something.
"What's up, can't get consent?" He glanced up. "Tell the gormless parents that half these tests wouldn't be necessary if they'd used the one brain cell they have between them and vaccinated their damn kid. Could be the plague for all we know."
"No, its not the kid, he's stable for now, we'll have the results in an hour."
"So what? If its getting out of clinic hours, forget it, this is the first place Cuddy'll look and I'm not sharing my good hideouts."
"No, its not... Look, I need to do some tests and I need you to be my attending."
"Didn't need to go to medical school for that, I'd play doctor with you either way" The sexual innuendo tripped off his tongue so easily it was almost automatic, even with most of his attention still on his soap.
"House..." Her voice cracked a little and he looked up, frowning.
"What's the matter?" Now he was looking more closely at her, she wasn't quite right. Pale, more so than usual, her eyes were red as though she had been crying and she looked more fragile, somehow, than usual.
"I need you to help me. I've done some of it myself but..." Her voice was wobbly and she was visibly shaking.
He sat up and dropped the oversized tennis ball he had been messing with, giving her his full attention, realising now that something was very wrong.
"I need you to do a rape kit. On me."
He reached out without looking and shut off the soap, standing and carefully moving past her to close the door, giving them privacy. He hesitated before speaking, knowing he needed to approach this with caution.
"Okay. First, I need to know what happened? Are you injured? Aside from the obvious?" He kept his voice steady and as emotionless as possible.
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a low, guttural sob. He saw her face begin to crumple and instinctively reached out to comfort her, hesitating slightly with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, not sure whether it was a good idea to touch her. She flinched slightly at the touch but then stepped forward into the embrace, pressing her face into the rough material of his jacket. He hugged her, gently at first, in case she wanted to pull away, then more tightly as she started to cry harder, taking her weight easily when she leaned into him.
He held her firmly as her sobs grew louder, her whole body heaving with the force of them. It felt like a kind of catharsis. She was breaking down in his arms but when he let go, he knew she would recover herself and she would be okay. Cameron was more resilient than they gave her credit for.
They stood there for several minutes until Cameron had cried herself out and was just leaning, exhausted against his chest. She was the first to let go, ducking her head to hide her face as she grabbed a handful of fast food napkins from his desk to blow her nose.
"Sorry." She muttered self-consciously. "I didn't mean to lose it like that."
He shook his head. "Don't. Nothing to be sorry for." There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Where do you want to do this?"
30 minutes later found them in a side room on the third floor, chair wedged under the door handle to keep out the illiterate morons who couldn't read the engaged sign and the half completed rape kit, laid out on the table.
House carefully unpacked the contents and instructions and read them briefly. It had been a few years since he had had to do one and even then it was a rarity. They were usually carried out by female clinicians.
His heart ached as he saw that Cameron had already neatly folded the clothes she had been wearing with tissue paper and sealed them into the evidence bag. Scrapings from under her fingernails, head and pubic hair samples and swabs of her skin, mouth and genitals were also sealed and carefully labelled. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as he pictured her meticulously collecting her own rape kit, or as much of it as she could, by herself.
Finally there was only the internal examination left to do. Cameron moved silently into position, placing her legs in the stirrups and he pulled on fresh gloves with a feeling of trepidation.
"Are you sure you want me to do this? Because I can fetch Cuddy? Or anyone, whoever you want."
She shook her head. "No. I'd rather it be you. I trust you."
Great. House thought. No pressure then. He took a deep breath and picked up the colposcope.
The internal examination was exactly as horrifically awkward and emotionally wrought as he expected it to be. In addition to documenting and photographing Camerons injuries, she also needed a couple of stitches. Her assailant had not been gentle and his roughness had resulted in a small tear, which House stitched as carefully as he had ever stitched anything in his life. The sutures were tiny and perfectly spaced to ensure she healed as painlessly and quickly as possible.
The last thing to do was to document her emotional state and account of the assault. Some of it, he could fill in himself but there was no avoiding the hard questions. Rape examinations were highly invasive and not just physically. By the end of it Cameron's face was burning with shame as he quietly and without inflection, asked her what penetration had taken place, whether her assailant had ejaculated and where and if she had washed, urinated, wiped, vomited since the assault. She answered his questions but didn't elaborate and was clearly beginning to flag.
House closed up the completed kit with a sense of relief. It was over. She hadn't broken down, had remained amazingly stoic through it all, even when having to give the rapists name, a man she had mentioned she was seeing the last few weeks, and he hadn't lost control of himself and cried or punched anything. The god damn A Team, he thought drily. No situation too awkward.
Once Cameron was dressed he moved the chair from under the door and they made their way toward the elevators, House fighting the urge to wrap an arm protectively around her shoulders; she looked so exhausted.
"Do you want me to take you home?" He asked her.
She shook her head. "I can't. I need to change the bed and I just... I can't."
He looked at her assessingly. No way was she going to last out the day.
"Come on. The couch in my office is comfortable. I'll tell the other two Stooges you have a migraine. We'll kill or cure this patient and I'll head to your place and ...make it presentable." And photograph the crime scene, he added silently. The bastard wasn't getting away, they were going to nail him with as much evidence as he could get.
"Thanks." She murmured.
He was so lost in murderous thought that he only just noticed she had stopped.
"Cameron?"
She didn't answer, swaying slightly on the spot with a look of horror before doubling over and vomiting copiously onto the floor.
"Crap!" He was beside her in an instant, dropping the box onto a nearby bench and scooping her hair back, only just saving it from being hit as she spewed again. He held onto her, holding her steady until he was sure she was done before steering her towards the bench and nodding at a passing nurse who handed him a cup of water and some tissues and said she would call a janitor to take care of the mess.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." She sounded on the verge of tears again as he handed her the water and tissues and sat beside her, rubbing firm circles into her back.
"Allison? What's going on, are you okay?" Chase really had the worlds worst timing, she thought as he jogged down the corridor towards them.
"She's fine!" House cut in sharply. "She has a migraine, no one ever died from that, don't you have a patient to not kill?"
Chase looked between the two of them, obviously taken aback at the rebuke.
"Okay... do you want me to drive you home?"
House stood up, forcing Chase to take a step back to avoid a collision.
"You know, as head of department, I always thought it was up to me whether to send someone home? Guess I'll have to check with Cuddy, call me a control freak but it was kind of a perk when I took the job."
"She's sick, what do you possibly get from keeping... what's that?" Chase moved faster than House, dodging him as he tried to intercept and picked up the box. House snatched it back from if but not before Chase saw the label.
Sexual Assault Evidence Collection Kit
Patient name: Allison Cameron
Attending physician: Gregory House
He stared at her disbelievingly, taking in her pale complexion, red eyes, the bruises around her slender wrists.
"Who?" He demanded.
"Chase, don't." Cameron pleaded quietly. "Just don't. You're going to make a scene."
"Damn right, I'm making a scene. I'm making a fucking murder scene, now give me a name!"
"Dr Chase!" House snapped, voice icy. "We are NOT discussing this here. My office. NOW!"
Chase stared him down for a moment before nodding and turning to help Cameron up, glaring at the couple of orderlies who were watching curiously. "What? You never seen a migraine before? This is a hospital, people puke, deal with it!"
House propelled the two of them up the corridor, shooting the orderlies a look of his own.
"Don't you people have messes to clean? What are we paying you for? I could have cable instead of you!"
This is my first House fic so I hope I've kept them in character as far as possible. Please comment if you like it, all comments are appreciated!
Sorry about the formatting issues, Ao3 is not so keen on paragraphs. If you want to read it properly formatted, it's also on FFN under the same title.