|Miracles or Cover Ups
Author: Patricia de Lioncourt PM
Spoilers for Season 6 of SPN. House needs a distraction, but he might just find a mind trip instead. Gen OneShot. NonShipRated: Fiction K+ - English - Supernatural/Humor - G. House & Dean W. - Words: 1,211 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-24-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7018960
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N- Okay, so just a small crossover idea. This came to me the other night while chatting with a friend of mine. Also, spoiler warnings for season 6 of SPN—mostly just the next to last episode. As for House, I'm behind a season—having only seen the first and second episodes of the season that's about to end—so it's just generically set somewhere along the way. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer- I don't own Supernatural or House. They all belong to their respective owners. I'm making no money off of this, trust me.
Miracles or Cover-Ups
He ignored the call for his name. Leaning heavily on his cane, he tried his best to increase the speed of his walk. But having only one fully functioning leg always hindered his escapes and, inevitably, Wilson caught up.
"House, don't ignore this," he said, stepping directly in his friend's path.
He rolled his eyes, leaning around Wilson. Shaking his head, he waved the file he had gripped in his left hand in the oncologist's face.
"I'm on my way to see a patient, Wilson. Can't you see that?"
Wilson scoffed. "Only as a means to continue to avoid the problem."
"I'm a doctor!"
"Who never sees his patients if he can help it!"
"Well, it just so happens that this one has me stumped. There, happy?"
House took a single step to his left, about to make his way past Wilson. His eyes were locked on the room just ahead. Two men occupied the space around the patient—one a crying wreck, possibly the patient's husband, and the other a dark haired, solemn man in a trenchcoat. House sniffed. Who wore a trenchcoat in the middle of spring? His attention was quickly drawn away from the room as Wilson snatched the file out of his hands.
Wilson flipped it open, scanning the information quickly.
"This isn't your patient, House. There's no mystery here. She was stabbed, brought in by an ex-boyfriend and her son, both who found her. She's not going to last the night."
"Exactly. I have to go inform them. Poor souls," House mocked, snatching the file back.
"Now I know she's not your patient. She's got a son, House. Don't use this dying woman as a shield."
House's eyes narrowed as the trenchcoat-clad man leaned forward over the woman, placing a single hand on her forehead. Her son? It was funny, but the way Wilson was talking, he was picturing a child.
"I lost a patient, Wilson. It happens. Let's move on, shall we? Or would you like it if I called up a local network and see if they could make a new hit soap opera out of it. We could be the new ER!"
"ER was a drama, not a soap opera."
House paused, one brow raised. Wilson shook his head.
"Not important. What is important is that you never take it well when you lose someone. Especially before learning what it is that killed them. You need to deal with this."
"And I will," House said, "after I talk to this poor, poor man."
As he hobbled away, Wilson could only shake his head and sigh.
"Fine, House. Fine."
House, a small grin of triumph on his face, opened the file for a quick look. Normally, he would just ditch it at a nurse's desk and continue on his way, but he could feel Wilson's overly puppy-dog eyes still on his back. Snapping the file shut with not a single word read off the page—after all, Wilson had just told him what was going on—he pulled open the room's door.
The man seated by the woman stood, quickly making his way around the foot of the bed. House shook his head, trying real hard not to laugh at the overplayed badassness that he was trying—even in a time of grieving—to put off.
"Stabbed, huh?" he said, making his way over to one of the many monitors that the woman—Lisa, he caught off the screen—was hooked to.
The man raised a brow, confused. "Car wreck."
"She wasn't stabbed. She was in a car wreck. I, uh… I'm the guy who hit her."
Had Wilson messed with him? That didn't seem right, not considering the circumstances. His eyes flew back to the monitor. The steady rise and falls of the beeps were all in perfect sinus rhythm, and the respirator was… unnecessary.
"Where's her son?" House asked, flipping the file folder open.
"I don't know. Maybe in the snack room? I've only been released for a few minutes, thought I'd come down and make sure that the other car was okay."
He looked choked up, more so than someone who hit a woman who—according to all the readings now—was going to be just fine.
"I don't remember seeing anyone in a trenchcoat walking past me," House commented.
There was a moment of silence. The man's eyes were flying between Lisa and House. House, for his part, was feeling a little like he had fallen through a rabbit hole.
"Her son? Wasn't he the guy in the trenchcoat?"
The man blinked, shaking his head. There was something else there, hidden, but House could not put his finger on it.
"Nah, that… that was a buddy of mine. Making sure I was okay."
Again, he looked way too choked up for the situation at hand. Finally, he sniffed, looking away.
"I, uh, I'm going to snag something to eat. But, say, Doc… is she going to be all right?"
House looked at the file. It was all there. Car wreck, possible concussion… but nothing about being stabbed or near death. He nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, she's going to be okay. She'll wake up in a couple of days, actually."
"I'm real glad to hear that," he said.
Finally, shaking his head, the man exited the room. House stood there for a moment, lost in his confusion. With a sigh, he pulled open the room's door, and stopped four steps beyond it.
"Wilson!" he called up the hall.
As he thought, the man was never far away from the potentially miserable. He was standing by House's side in moments.
"… Let's talk."
Obviously, just this once, Wilson had been right. The patient must have affected him more than he thought. After all, miracles—or cover-ups as the case may be—like that didn't happen every day.
End Notes: So, just a nice little one-shot. What did you think? It's been a little while since I've sat down to write for either House or SPN. I hope everyone was fairly in character. I have plans to write several fics for SPN—and even one or two for House—so I'm going to consider this further practice into those worlds. Also, the line about the "overplayed badassness," I hope everyone understands that that was House's POV, not mine. Please review!