Well, anywho, I hope your holidays went well and as a little belated holiday gift, I present to you, our next chapter. Just a little forewarning, this chapter may be a little difficult to understand. It's also going to be the one that gets everyone to stop reading. But I tried to make this as realistic without being as odd as possible. If I never hear from you again, then that's okay, I get it. Keep in mind an actor in comparison to a character of a movie or story. It might be better to just go back and read the last chapter for description warm-ups. A lot of chapter five is mentioned. FYI...anyways, on with the story!
This writer has a not-so-secretive secret that needs to be explained. It's not so secretive because its more like common sense than anything else. But it becomes secretive when only a few members of society actually understand and can truly comprehend what means to be one with a language. It may not be noticed, or even thought with much consideration. Very few writers even take it upon themselves to consider this possibility. But in fact, much of our verbal language, the English language, comes from a variety of other languages. Language analysts have studied the act of communication and passive versus active voice for centuries, and only within the past couple centuries has someone actually come up with a solution to the English family tree. Their conclusion? The language is made up of three languages; Greek, Latin and German. What they failed to note, however, is the fact that other languages are spiced into it, giving us more than just an unique sense of identity. But rather, a culture and method by which to live.
The French culture gives us a word that we find to be quite charming. No, it isn't 'surrender'. Many of us are familiar with the phrase Deja Vu. This simple phrase is notorious for its explanations in karma and irony. When something we see seems familiar to what he have acknowledge in the past, we laugh and exclaim 'oh, it's deja vu!' The term Deja vu is french, meaning 'already seen'. Or, something that feels as if we know from previous experiences. Even if we have never encountered such a situation, it still resembles the possibility that maybe, at one point, we will.
English speakers very rarely examine their own wordings and what they say when making a point. The truth is, no one is really permissible upon using Deja vu, and being technically correct with it. It may feel familiar, or look familiar, or may even stir up memories of a once endeavored journey. But to truly comprehend is to truly know and remember one situation from the other and reflect on what was and what wasn't. A brief memory or glance at the past in comparison to now isn't an effective idea of deja vu. To use it properly, one must remember all of what was, and now find themselves at the opposite of the similarities. For instance, if a mother remembers feeding her son, only to be a position where she is now feeding her daughter, the similarity of opposition grants her the right to fear the power of Deja vu.
And if Hugh & Jennifer remember a time when they stood with their friends, only to be in a position with doctors, then their sweat and tears come not of their pain. But from the power of opposition, and the realization that we are all pawns in the French terminology. It may be what Americans consider to be the most powerful of French perspectives...
...It wasn't intended nor was it decided, but Hugh took it upon himself to investigate every trail or coincidence his fingers could grasp. From movement to the slightest wiggle of a finger, Hugh concluded that he must do three things; one being that if his clue was correct, then he must form a plan in order to obtain information. Two, while doing this, he must continue his alias under pressure. Oh yes, and three, this order of thinking must be precise for both he and Jennifer. If they are to mess up...well, they haven't concluded that yet.
But one small flaw, however, musingly passed Hugh's conscious like a fly in New York City. He continued on his way, his one free hand grasped firmly to Jennifer's arm. It took her a moment after contact, but she was finally able to keep up her pace. She could feel his tensity through his grasp, and with each step made. The hallway was crowded, and both feared they would be lost in the transition. Every doctor and nurse walked as if they knew their routines like the back of each hand. It was intimidating, no doubt. So, she kept close to her real colleague, much like a child does with its parents.
"What?" Jennifer asked curiously. "What'd you find?"
"I'm not sure yet," Hugh whispered, allowing his accent to gently flow past his lips. "But I have an idea."
Our wannabe Cameron took it upon herself to merely trust him, rather than interrogate him. It would be pointless, and who knows, she wondered, maybe he was actually onto something. Humph, she added. It wasn't as if she didn't trust him, but in this scenario, she counter-argued the idea that maybe he was just as frightened as she were. And maybe because of it, he'd look for answers in the glass walls if he had a hunch. Her eyes glanced downward towards Hugh's legs. The flaw. Jennifer whispered to him, not looking up from her glance. "Hugh...you're walking too much without using the cane. It's too suspicious. Slow down."
His eyes drifted over to her, noticing now that she was more focused on his little detail than running into someone. Truly, she was more concerned on not playing their cards right than looking like a fool. It was admirable to Hugh. Something he probably wouldn't have considered alone. She earned her other arm, and so, he let her arm escape his grasp while slowing his pace. Indeed, she was right, and thus began to use the cane with more frequency.
"Thanks," he quietly muttered to her.
She nodded respectfully, just as Cameron would to any order. Her eyes made notice of the glass office that belonged to Doctor House. She stopped walking, reaching out to open the door. She took a step, as if to enter, but was cut off by Hugh, who almost knocked her to the floor.
"Cripples first," Hugh told her both crudely and loudly, showing no remorse for his actions. "Women and children second."
Jennifer rolled her eyes and sighed. Unlike Hugh, but very much like House. Oh, why did David Shore have to be so rude? And why did his wife lack a masculine spine? All water under the bridge, she thought sadly, and proceeded inside. She let the door close behind her loudly, her ears lacking the sense of sound. For her eyes were focused on Hugh, and his actions.
He stood over 'his' desk, his fingers flipping through the pages of the very long script Jennifer somehow brought with her. She stood near the door, puzzled and mystified.
"What are you doing?" She questioned. "Where's this idea you said you had?"
"I'm going to show you," Hugh told her, not meeting or even acknowledging her confused stare. "But first, i'm going to tell you something."
It was then that he finally turned to her. His eyes met hers from a long distance and he could almost feel that she was on edge. The odds of him actually coming up with an idea or plan is far beyond whole numbers. But it wasn't as if she had much to offer.
"I think..." Hugh began, leaning on his cane. Though he himself wasn't a cripple, it did assist his posture in such a stressful time as this. He was serious, and his accent began to creep out. "...I think I know how we can get out of this."
"Out of what?" Hugh stared blankly at her, in response to her question. Her eyes began to widen. "Wha-here? You know how we can get home?"
"Yes-well-" He sighed, bitting his bottom lip and looking at random places around the room. "-I mean, I'm pretty sure...if my facts check out. My workings."
"Facts?" She walked closer to him, her face growing weary. "Come on, Hugh, I just dropped a pint of urine back there and I know it's gonna be me that has to clean it u-"
"-Yes, facts. Listen to me," He turned away for a brief moment, grabbing the large script and tucking it under his one arm. The blue eyes were sincere but serious. Almost as if to say 'I understand your concern, and I'm here. But don't worry too much'. Those eyes watched her fold her arms with much curiousity. She was listening and that's all he needed. His voice became lowered, though no one else was with them. Or rather, anyone they knew was within 30 feet of that office. Dramatic effect? Well, he is an actor. "I went into the exam room, and I had a male patient who's suffering from Gd only knows. I was...somewhat crude to him, as expected. Actually...I was more than crude. I was a compete ass to him, and he didn't deserve that kind of trea-"
"-Yeah, yeah, you played House, you were being an arse," Jennifer rolled her eyes impatiently, emphasizing every word that crossed her lips. "I get that. What's the significance?"
"Anyway, he studdered the entire I spoke with him. And that right there stuck out in my mind. It was as if I knew this man without actually knowing him. You follow me, sweetcheeks?" She nodded. "But then...he said something to me that, I knew, was familiar. Do you know what he said? He said 'I should've gone to the Mayo Clinic. At least their food is better.'"
Jennifer blinked with little or no expression. "Okay...Where's the part where i'm wow-ed?"
Hugh smirked, taking the script out from his arm. His eyes grazed downward while his fingers did most of the work. Jennifer watched him for a few seconds, before he stopped, and handed the script to her. "Here. Read the last line."
She hesitated, but took the script from him. She flipped the book around for proper reading. Her lips slightly parted and her eyes began to scroll down. "Um...let's see...'Patient number three...patient grumbles and balls hands into fists. Patient; I should've gone to the Mayo Clinic. At least their food is better'...whoa." Her eyes went from content to widened in a matter of half a second.
All high and mighty, Hugh leaned back against the desk, letting the cane drop to the ground. He folded his arms with triumph. Conceited? Hardly, he discovered something that was truely incredible.
But Jennifer couldn't praise. She couldn't even move. Her eyes were the only active parts of the body, and even then, they could only look at the script or at Hugh. All she could do was ask redundant questions. "So...what does this mean?"
"Jennifer," Hugh began. "Are you familiar with the term Deja Vu?"
"Yes," She replied slowly. "It's the idea of reenacting a situation twice."
Hugh smirked even more. "Are you feeling it now? Because bloody hell knows I am."
"How..." Her eyes drifted downward. "How did you know? How did you know what that man said was in the script?"
"Because," He replied enthusiastically, an index finger shooting up. Jennifer jumped back slightly at the suddern outburst but managed to regain composure. "I memorized much of the script. Didn't remember any of my lines from that scene. But for some reason, the words 'Mayo' and 'food' stuck out in my mind when I first read the line. Imagine that, right? Might've had much to do with hunger strike the producers neglectfully put upon us. I mean, my Gd, a little bread here or there...anyway...I couldn't forget the line, even if it wasn't mine. So, when that patient recited it to be VERBATIM..."
"...Wait a second," Jennifer looked down as she rose her hand to stop him from speaking while using the other arm to close the script. He looked at her with some mystification. She was concentrated on what she heard, but the fact that she wasn't jumping for joy was what left Hugh in suspicion. But she, although usually potrayed to be weak in the most personal of scenes, knew that even now, Occam's Razor would most likely play a part in their plan. It was clearly a lot to process, and thus, looked up for clarification. "...Did you just say you didn't know your lines?"
"I didn't. I still don't."
"Then what did you say?"
"Just...whatever came to mind," He shrugged nonchalantly.
Leaning up to appear much higher, she made it perfectly clear of her logic, via straight eye to eye contact. Though they were narrowed and her lips slightly parted, she returned the confusion given to her prior with a vital question. "If you did it straight out of improv, then how in the world did you come to a point where the guy could recite the script?"
Hugh blinked. "Sorry, sweetcheeks, I don't believe I follow."
Jennifer sighed and rolled her eyes. She then lowered herself back to her soles. Her eyes drifted around and her head turned every so often, as if to search for a rational and easily understandable explanation. "Okay...umm..." This was going to be harder than anything she's ever had to explain. Once again, she looked up at him with much seriousness. A look the real Cameron has given many times before. "...you just said that the patient recited a line from the script. Well, you just told me that you didn't say anything from the script. He followed the script and you didn't. So, logic would say that if two things are supposed to do something, and one falls out on doing that, then the possible outcome is changed. If you and I are supposed to clean a room, and you bail, then the quality of the clean room isn't the same as you and I together. Therefore, because you didn't say the lines in script, the patient shouldn't have said the line in the script after YOU didn't say a line in the script. He could've said anything else similiar to that phrase. Anything else would've been fine, but instead, for some reason, he says the exact same line. How is that possible?"
Confusing, huh? No need to fear. For those who couldn't catch that last remark, good 'ole Hugh will be sure to straighten out any bits of confusion. For he started to understand Jennifer's logic, and her perspective. She was right. He paused briefly, his eyes slightly widening as she spoke. With each passing word, he began to slowly understand. And with that, he folded his arms and stared at the glass walls behind her. "You're right...it makes sense. What you said makes sense, not the script. I did take it upon myself to do a little improvization, so naturally...because I drove the conversation out of the script...he should've broken free and said anything that wasn't on the script...hmm...this is fascinating...I...I don't know how to explain that, Jenn."
"Do you remember what you said to the guy?"
"No. I just remarked on a bitchy ex-girlfriend in a manner House would be quite pleased with."
"Well..." She looked down at the script with a motherly expression. Instantly, she began to flip the pages as if to be searching for something. "...we might as well find out what your lines should've been." Hugh waited patiently as she licked her thumb and proceeded to flip quickly. Let's hope Hugh isn't bothere by another person's saliva. When she stopped, her eyes tracked up and down the page, lightly skimming. The silence wasn't what worried Hugh, but rather, the soft and gentle giggle that slid out of her mouth seconds later.
"What? What in bloody hell is so funny?"
"Some of these lines...they're really funny," She bit her lip in attempts to silence her giggling. "They...they kinda make you sound stupid, though. But then again, this is a Christmas special we're doing here."
"Like what?" He interjected, almost half as rude as House. Did he even listen to her after the word 'stupid'? "What does it say?"
She couldn't help but giggle once more, before shaking her head and rejecting anymore humorous antidotes. "Relax, these'll actually tickle your funny bone. Like this one...it's when the patient criticizes your handwriting. 'House: We get small cases like yours all the time and you take it personal when we don't write in cursive for you.'"
"Oh..." Hugh shrugged to himself. Maybe it wasn't all that ba-wait, what?!! Hugh froze without indication. That phrase...again...familiar...because it was his. He showed nothing to leave Jennifer suspicious. Instead, he could only mutter words that we're too soft and too quick for anyone to hear. "...Wha'wustha'?"
"Here's another one," the wannabe immunologist exclaimed zealously. "This was written after you asked about him having children. 'House: Do you have a girlfriend? Maybe a woman who bitches at you for your lack of common sense?'" She couldn't help but muster a laugh. A laugh that singled out itself. She didn't look at Hugh and his now worried expression. Her laughter kept the room at a steady octave.
But when she did finally acknowledge the only voice that seemed to echo the room, her smile faded quickly. "What's the matter, Hugh? Upset that you didn't get to say those very crude and, dare I say, House-like remarks to your patient?"
Jennifer laughed this time, which was, at first, accompanied with a charming smile given by Hugh. He knew what she didn't. And the longer she laughed, the more inclined he was to laugh with her. And so, he ended up doing so. He then scratched the back of his head and decided to just play it off as coy as he possibly could. "Well, i'm not really that upset about it considering that, well, I did say those lines."
"Yeah, too ba-" Wait, did he say what I think I just heard? No, she must've heard wrong. She kept her smile, through which she asked. "-What?"
"I said those lines, Jennifer," Hugh told her, his voice low and serious. If one could walk upon a voice, indeed, it would a cold and spooky walk.
"But I thought you said you didn't know your lines."
"I didn't. Those weren't the lines on the script."
"Uh," She raised an eyebrow as she glanced downward towards her little 'book of confirmation', and back up at him. "Yeah, they are. They're written right here." She held up the book and gestured to them.
"I know they are," His insisted while he slightly raised his voice. "It's the only way YOU know what I said to the patient. I didn't even remember what I said until you brought it up...verbatim. What I mean is that those aren't the lines David wrote for us to recite."
Jennifer rolled her eyes. "What? Oh come on, Hugh, the words are right here in black and white. Are you sure you didn't just memorize them and forget you remembered them?"
What kind of question is that, he wondered? Doubt my sense of reality, will she? Humph! "What in bloody hell does that mean? Are you calling me a liar?"
"No," She told him sternly. "I'm not calling you anything. I just think that...I don't know. How 'bout this; let's go over everything one more time. This is a lot to process and I want to make sure we're both on the right page here."
"Fair enough," Hugh agreed like a gentlemen. Ah, the English charm has done wonders in a time like this. Though he has lost much in this epic battle, (or perhaps this writer is playing the drama card) he still can maintain much of a practical mind when critical thinking and analysis is called into play. His fingers reached down and told hold of the cane, positioning himself for anyone and everyone to see.
The blue eyes drifted with Jennifer, watching her move from her once frozen state to a state of pacing. The book was tucked nicely under her arm, just as Hugh had done previously. She was making him dizzy. Back and forth. Back and forth. "Alright..." She would ever so often take time to merely glance at him, but always resume to the concentration that was ever-so needed for her pacing. She would stare straight ahead until she would turn around to face Hugh, and walk back towards him. "...let's start from the beginning. We are actors. We are in a television show. David created the television show, which means that he created the characters. Actors memorize the script the creator writes, and then they recite it. Characters just say the lines. Still with me?"
"Of course," Hugh respectfully replied. "But my question is, are you still with me? You're pacing like you murdered a man. And...from a doctor's perspective, that hardly looks irreparable."
"I'm pacing because it helps me think," She sighed once more, failing to stop or even slow down. "One trait Cameron and I fail to share."
The wannabe Doctor House nodded. "So, we have this script which, appearently, is what? Their way of life?"
"Basically," She flipped around and proceeded to walk to his direction. "The-the script is their communication, but...our way of...ya know, tracking what they say. We know, but they don't. And the reason they don't know is because David didn't design these characters to acknowledge that they recite his lines for communication. He left it as realistic as any other television series. What kind of show would center its dialog around a group of doctors who know they don't exist and have to read from a book of lines? But...if we use improvization with them, it's almost...like we're diverting them to say something else. And they will say something that's completely off the radar. But...it'll usually be a response to something we said. Something THEY think was off the radar. Something off the script."
"Ah, I see," He nodded. "This will lead to a series of questioning. They'll break away from...the script...in order to find out...why it is we who have broken from the script."
"Exactly. But the problem is that we didn't break from the script. We aren't the characters, so we're not liable. But since we play these characters, we are these characters in their eyes. This explains why...why that magazine said not to reveal your true identity, but just play along with their beliefs."
"Yes, percisely. And after the confusion is dealt with, their next line is what? Out of the script?"
Jennifer nodded, stopping her tracks in front of him. And so it was, they spoke face to face. "Yeah, it has to be. It's all they know, and I have a feeling these characters can't improvise for long."
"But the confusion doesn't have to be dealt with," Hugh was slightly catching on to the logic of 'here and there'. For forty-eight years old, he still had a lot of brain power behind that charming smile. "Right? Look at it like this; if I undergo a quite sophisicated and pretentious conversation with a one Doctor Lisa Cuddy, and I were to say something that was COMPLETELY outrageous, do you know what might come of that?"
"Not really, no."
Hugh paused. Nothing better than keeping Jennifer on her toes. The room became filled with a hushed movment that caused nothing to be heard. His eyes drifted upward as if to search for answers beyond the ceiling. Jennifer, confused, glanced upward with him. She then pushed her lips together, giving her an akward look. She opened her mouth to speak, but Hugh beat her to it. "Do you hear that? It's silence. I can guarentee you that if I acted so far out of character, and it obligated Cuddy to join me, she would take the easier route. She'll say nothing until a certain amount of time passes, and then change the subject by reciting her lines."
"Very impressive," She conceeded knowledgably. "Alright, so we know that everyone here is a character. And, no matter what we say, they will always refer back to the script. So...how does tie in with getting back home again? Didn't you say that this might get us home?"
"It was you who said that travel is possible, only when two of the same party reinact an exact activity at percisely the exact time. May I ask, who are we mistaken for?"
"Doctor House and..." Her eyes began to widen with much clarity. "...Doctor Cameron."
"And they are..."
"Characters," She began to smile. And right then, it was as if a door had opened up. A light at the end of a seemingly dark tunnel began to reveal its true beauty and security. The key to this everlasting madness was to be shown to our unsung heros here and now.
"AND you, my dear, we're fortunate enough to bring-"
"-The script," She cut in with some enthusiasm, trying her hardest not to excude too much confidence. "We can keep track of the real House and Cameron from here, because no matter what they say or how bizarre Omar, Jesse and them react, they will always refer back. So all we have to do-"
"-Is memorize the script," He concluded with his acadmeny-award winning smirk. "Act out the script percisely. If they're destined to recite the script no matter what, then all we have to do is...dare I say, play our parts."
"Hly crap, Hugh!" She smacked his arm playfully, letting her jaw drop to release her joyful voice. A light from within her mouth, her happy smile and teeth which are rarely shown on camera together, were now glittering brighter than ever. "You're like the Doctor House of parallel universes. I have to say, i'm really impressed. Didn't think you had that kind of logic in you."
Hugh smirked down at her. A true day for the one Hugh Laurie. He reached up and gently tapped his temple with one finger, as if to demonstrate the art of common sense. "Ya know, I still have a little bit left in this noggin. I must say, it does help to not believe in something, and try very hard to disprove it. But looked how far that worked in my favor."
Our wannabe immunologist couldn't help but giggle. A sigh of relief it was to know that she could actually trust Hugh in understanding what the rest of them have already shunned her for. Does she have to remind them that she didn't actually believe this at first? What was the use, she's already marked with this and now is obliged to live with it. "But..." Her soft and gentle smile began to fade once another simple realization began to fluster. "...What about the script in general? I mean, you told me that your improvization somehow found its way onto the script."
"Yes..." He gently reached up and stroked his chin with his thumb and index finger. "..Hmm...maybe...the script...has a mind of its own."
Is he serious? She narrowed her eyes. "What? A mind of it's own? That's the stupidest thing you've said so far."
He cleared his throat crudly, his fingers trailing down to the collar on his t-shirt, and tugged it melodramatically. "Hardly. I've said worse. Far worse to any man with a sensical mind, I assure you. But consider this; What if...the script knows when these characters are acting out? The script would...need to make sure that these characters refrain from making the same mistake."
"So, you're saying that the script is correcting itself?"
Hugh shrugged. "Everything corrected has been in past tense. That's because the script probably doesn't know until the that exact moment who follows through and who's diverted."
"In either case, the script...this book right here," She held it up for emphasis. "Would need to make sure that there are no errors. So, everything that wasn't said but should've been said is...written over...to compensate for the real actions. I understand that, but what about future events? Can we actually change the outcome of the script down the road?"
"You mean like changing the PPTH Christmas ball?" He asked and she instantly nodded. Ah, his frightened colleague. Why was it he for whom refused to share the confidence. "I doubt it. The script doesn't want to change what's already written. But it will if it has to, right? That's got to be why the characters keep reciting their original lines, even after we drift them off the scene. I think the future is safe...for now. As long as we do nothing to the last few scenes...hmmm...last few scenes..."
"What? Another idea to add to this wave of confusion?" She rolled her eyes. Damnit, I just want to go home.
Okay, she was right. And Hugh knew it. He was just as angry about all this as she was. Though he was calmer, mostly due to his broadway days, where he was trained to remain as calm as possible. A strategy to help in the real world, at best. Thus, again, he remained as calm as possible. Ever so carefully, he placed his one free hand atop Jennifer's shoulder. A true sign that they were stuck in this together. And though it was not pleasent or even worth their time, they knew as he bent down to stare eye-to-eye, they had to get through. "Not an idea, Jennifer. A plan. We don't have to memorize the entire script. Just the last part. I can hardly believe that the boys back home haven't already pushed the real doctors off the script at least a couple times. Memorizing the script now is just pointless. I say we simply read the script, scene by scene, and get a...a generalization. Then we can take it from there."
"So, you're saying we continue our alias as Doctor House & Cameron, cure patients, save lives in our own style and then...come Christmas Ball time, we memorize every detail? That's a lot of time we're wasting! Time that could be used to get us the hell outta here!"
"Jennifer, let's be realistic, shall we?" His grip firmly placed on her shoulder. Not as if to cause pain, but to indicate seriousness. From the corner of his eye, he could see several passing doctors peeping in from the outter hallways, as if they looking for them. Cuddy has hidden dogs everywhere, and Hugh knew that their time was precious. "If we memorized every little detail from now 'till the end of the script, by the time we're done, it WILL be the end of the script. If hadn't noticed, we're the main stars here. Our time is limited, and besides, this might give us a chance to be a little more...comfortable with our surroundings...I know you don't like this, clearly, I do not find this in my fancy either. I know you miss Jesse as much as I miss my family. But regardless, this is our only way we can...survive this whole fiasco. We need to trust each other in order to make this work. You have my word, Jennifer, I promise that. Now can I have yours?"
Jennifer reached up and held her forehead with her hand. It was sickening to her. All of this was purely sickening. It twisted her stomach like Friday Night Mexican with the crew. But what choice did she have. Deep down, she knew Hugh was right...again. Boy, admiting defeat can be quite tiring. Perhaps its what tired out the French. (No offense) As her eyelids began to gently close thenselves from this outside world that seemed more like a prison than anything else. Her heart raced with much furry and agrivation. Who could blame her? When it once again became more silent than Jenn would rather hear, she removed her hand and opened her eyes, only to find Hugh looking down at her sincerely. She then bit her lip and allowed her eyes to roam around. Hugh accepted it and took it as decent fear. "Okay..." She muttered before gathering up her courage to face her fellow colleague. "...You have my word. After all, we're in this together. Might as well work like a team."
Hugh couldn't help but smile. Not a manly smirk that he usually gives when he's amused. A decent smile, a sign of hope. "You're right. It would be rather pointless to work alone. Speaking of work, I do believe we have some patients to treat."
"Ugh. Don't remind me," She grumbled, her face turning sour.
Our wannabe Doctor House couldn't help but laugh. "Relax, you won't kill anyone. In fact...you just might be able to help them."
"What do you mean?"
It was then that Hugh took his first vow of silence. Dramatic effect again?! She wasn't too sure of whether or not Hugh was truly full of himself. Nah, he's just happy he figured it all out. Of course the star of the show figures it out. Oh brother, what have we gotten ourselves into? While she search for answers in his eyes, his smile, his body language, anywhere that could hide his plan. It left her on her toes which is exactly what he wanted. The idea to dream and to plan and to change what has already been written was within their grasp. Hugh noticed what Jennifer failed to acknowledge. In his years, he became an actor, a friend, a husband and a father. Through each of these he discovered that no matter where you look, there's always something to be seen. Jennifer was young and he knew that she would have to learn this eventually. Maybe, just maybe, 'eventually' decided to come early.
While the world of House had set its sails on our unsung heros, our reality did nothing to sooth the aching bones and tired minds of our fantastic four. Granted, they may not endure, or even merely experience the kind of painful and lifechanging impacts that Hugh and Jennifer may enounter. But, they were more tired than the duo put together. Who had the most to be tired about? None other than Robert, for whom did the only amount of work either of them had seemed to do. And yet again, he was called upon.
But this time, it was more of a mental obligation rather than a plea for his familiarity. He couldn't resist; it was almost as if he and Doctor Wilson shared the heart which did beat at the same drum. And though he did curse himself when he was alone or undergoing a task that left him weary, in the end, he would be proud of his good fortune and carry on.
Robert sat on the hospital bench, leaning forward with his arms over his knees. His fingers were laced together, as if he were praying. But for what? Oh yes, that's right, for Hugh and Jennifer. Very rarely would anyone ever see Robert pray when many had the oppertunity of watching. It was a small fear, prayer in public. Not a crime against humanity, but a self-inflicting crime which torchured him for much of his life. So what if he prayed where anyone could see? His colleagues-strike that, his friends we're in some Gd forsaken world, where the only sight of him is seen as Doctor Wilson, and only Doctor Wilson. They chat, nor look or smile at each other without knowing that the one person they see isn't who they want to see. And that calls for prayer.
Just as Robert began to recite yet another prayer taught to him as a child, a soft yet manly voice cooed with distance. "Hey."
Robert turned to his right, only to find Jesse stopping beside him. "'Sup, homie."
"I hope i'm not bothering you," Jesse softly insisted. "You look a little...urm...worn out."
Robert shook his head, then gesturing to the empty spot beside him. Jesse gave a small smile and sat down. "Eh, a little, I guess. I think i'm just more worried than anything else."
"You're worried for Jenn and Hugh, aren't you?" He asked soothingly. Boy, that Aussie could cool down a burning river with his tender voice. When he saw Robert nod, he couldn't help but sigh and nod with him. "I can inderstand that. I too am a little worried. For Jennifer, I know Hugh can take care of himself."
Robert's lips started to curve into a smile. "You don't think Jennifer is capable of handling her own?"
"No, not necessarily," He defended. "I trust Jenn, I do. I'm just..." His voice jolted out an ironic laugh, keeping him unable to explain for a brief moment. "...I'm just playing the worried boyfriend card."
Robert chuckled alongside him while reaching out and gently patting his shoulder. "It's all good in the hood, mo fo. We've all played that card at one time or another. I remember I first played it when I brought my girlfriend to meet my parents."
"Oh yeah? What happened?"
The wannabe oncologist sighed. "Let's just say dirty charades and my alcoholic family don't mix well. For shizzle, bro."
Jesse couldn't help but muster a laugh. After all, it was what kept him from traveling down that worried road. "Robert, this has gone too far."
"What are you talking about?"
"You've GOT to stop trying to be black. It's driving us all crazy, Omar especially."
"Hey!" Robert threw him a look, just as he gently balled one of his fists and pounded his chest. "You don' know me. I grew up in the 'hood! I ate off food stamps and sold dope, for sho, man."
"Alright, first of all, I can't be seen with you if you're gonna act like this. I value my life," Jesse's face turned sour. "Second, you didn't grow up in 'the hood'. You grew up in the rich part of New Jersey. Hell, you played in Dead Poets Society. I know you're acting like this because your girlfriend wants you to get a tougher shell. But for crying out loud, Robert, you don't have to act like a ghetto gangster to prove a point. There's other ways-less DANGEROUS ways."
It had grown silent then, perhaps due to the crusifixion of Robert's wannabe persona. Granted, it wasn't Jesse's intention nor was it his desire to simply crush Robert. In fact, it left Jesse slightly confused as to why this would even be considered a downfall to him. Regardless, he watched Robert look away with a sigh and then turn back to him hopelessly. "Jesse, why do you have to do this to me?"
Jesse opened his mouth to speak, but was instantly cut off by the sound of an lab door creaking open. Both men turned to find a young, blonde woman in a white lab coat standing over them with a yellow envelope. Her eyes met both men's and smiled warmly upon them. "Well, well, i'm glad to see you're interested in the results."
"Excuse me?" questioned Jesse.
"DNA results," clarified Robert, turning his head back to him. "For House & Cameron. Ya know, that little joke you made me play on her."
"Oh, right," The wannabe wombat slowly eased his mind. Nodding and softly chuckling, he folded his arms and leaned back into the bench. "Yeah, how'd that go, by the way?"
"-He got the data if that's your question," The blonde women cut in while literally dropping the large envelope into Robert's lap. Her head slightly nodded towards it while she continued. "And there's your results."
At first, Robert couldn't help but look down. There was so many things that would've made it worse, had it not have been an envelope. A brick, a fist, you can only imagine. His fingers wrapped around the edges of the envelope, giving himself a firm grip.
"So, what'd you find?" He could hear Jesse ask the doctor from his side, as if he were impatient.
The blonde doctor formed a smirk upon her face. A smirk that could only reveal nonverbal truths. Yes, she did know. Yes, she was nosy, or at least had that annoying trait. But what she lacked most was the ability to reveal. The ability to ruin what many would rather know on their own. And here, she knew she had no place to do so. With only her smirk and a soft wink, she kindly replied "I'm not a spoiler."
And with that, she flipped the hair that nicely neat in a ponytail, and headed back into the lab. The door shut behind her, causing Robert to slightly jump, and cause a series of blinking. Silence. Again with the silence. A clear indication to him that what he held within reach would answer all the confusion, and should be opened immediately.
"Come on, open it up," Jesse insisted, breaking into his unconscious.
Robert decided to say nothing, but rather nod in agreement. He then began to untwist the metal coil that held the lip of the envelope in place. As Jesse waited patiently much like a little boy before Christmas dawn, he watched Robert pull out the documents and begin to read them. "Ahem...let's see...do you want the Maury version, or the less dramatic version?"
"Maury?" Squinted Jesse. "That guy who does those DNA tests for teenage mothers? Sure, why not."
Robert smirked at him, flashing his tony-award winning expression. He then returned to the papers within his grasp, and proceeded to playfully examine them. "In the case of House & Cameron, David, you..." He paused, his face timid and frozen with joy. Jesse took this as a dramatic effect, one that Robert especially takes as a personal notion. But what he failed to see was the widening of eyes and the jaw slightly shivering with surprise. "...Oh my Gd..."
"OH...MY...GD..." Was he reading it correctly? Yes...yes, he was. His eyes didn't alter the possibility that this could be true. But it was real. As real as the black and white on Hugh and Jennifer's script. His answer...their answer...Hugh and Jennifer's answer...House & Cameron's answer...the world's answer...left Robert spooked. He reread over and over again, as if reading a 45th time would change the truth.
"Let me see-" Jesse reached out and quickly snatched the results from Robert's now numb and less assured fingers. It slightly too Jesse back, considering that although Robert wasn't the mmasculine of men, he wouldn't never let anyone snatch something from him. And now, Jesse stared at him as he stared down at his fingers. The truth. 'No time for him,' Jesse's mind instructed. 'Read'. His eyes looked down at the slightly crumpled document that was nearly torn from the snatch. "...What? Is it really that ba-" This document was more of a killer than anything; it left both of them silent and shocked. Jesse's eyes widened, quickly realizing what the results actually meant to him and his relationship with Jennifer. Indeed, this was quite bad. "-whoa."
"Yeah," That was all Robert could muster from his dried lips. But then again, perhaps that enough. Jesse saw it, he knew the seriousness of this. The betrayal of everything they stood for. Every ethic or every moral being which lived in their blood like a hair to an animal was now at liberty to be changed. He couldn't process this sitting down, and thus, he stood up.
"Do...Are they sure?" Jesse had an even harder time, considering that Jennifer was someone he truly cared about. Someone he could trust with anything and everything. And as he rose to his feet, he began to consider a life without it. A life as alone as he stood, even with Robert beside him. Neither had the right mind to react properly.
This was first time in perhaps what may seem to be a long time that both Jesse & Robert actually found something uniquely in common. They both looked at each other with the exact same expression. Confusion, surprise, fear. And it was there that the entire hospital had seem to dissipate. Every person, every voice and every harmful display of emotion had literally been painted over with a white coat of silence. Jesse opened his mouth, as if to speak, but failed to find his voice. In a time like this, how could he? He didn't know whether he was angry or upset. But both emotions were justified, and both of them knew that this was going to change everything they worked so hard to achieve.
"Go get Omar, and i'll get Lisa," Robert told Jesse, his eyes jumping from the results at hand to Jesse's eyes. "We need to talk to Shore NOW. He's not gonna believe this..."
(Now I KNOW this had to have been rushed. I feel guilty, since I hate rushing works of writing. But I fell behind, and that's not your fault. So sorry. Okay, yeah, I totally lied in the last chapter. I said you'd find out the results. Well, again with the rushing. I decided to cut it short. I'm starting to consider this chapter to be my 'test chapter'. If you really love my story, even when its mostly dialog and confusing, and you really want to know the results, then you'll come back to me. XD And i'll be here, most likely eating a Cheetos and drinking Cola. I greatly appreciate each and every one of you for your time and interest. I'll try next time to bring you a chapter in a speedy amount of time. Promise. XD
Next chapter, on a whole new Fish Out Of Water, the Fantastic Four have some news to bring David. How will he take it, and what plan does he have to keep stability? And later, Hugh and Jenn apply their knew discovery in hopes of what they know might actually be true. Will it work, or have disastrous effects? Stay tuned.)