A/N: I'm rather depressed today, so I dug up this story to cheer myself up. I started it thinking I was going to do a Halloween crack!fic short story but got too sick to finish it by Halloween, so it got shoved aside. I learned a couple of things with the effort. One: I don't do crack!fic. I do angst. Two: I don't really do short either. Let me know if you're interested or if you think this is the stupidest premise for a story you've ever read.
Four Going on Forty
Four Going on Forty
"I think it's possible," Chase shrugged. He was torn between telling the truth about his beliefs and taking the easy route by agreeing with his peers.
"You would," Cameron laughed. "He has all the Harry Potter books, you know," she informed her colleagues, making them laugh. "And the movies."
"I only liked the first five," Chase told her. "I haven't even finished the seventh," he announced. "I read spoilers. It sucked," he said bitterly. Of course, that bit of information probably was not helping his case. Foreman was looking at him like he had sprouted a third arm.
They were gathered around the table in the conference room discussing the latest case. The patient had been a four year old boy with a genetic disorder. The interesting element was the mother who claimed she was a witch, but not just any witch, a sorceress. She and House had had a knock-down-drag-out fight when she said she was going to turn to the Black Arts to find healing for her son, rather than trusting the medical guidelines to cope with the disorder. House, of course, had called her an idiot and asked why her magic did not keep her son from getting sick in the first place. She had no answer for that, but asked House how he would handle it if his son had a problem medicine could not cure. House had declared that he was smart enough to not have children so he would not have to deal with their problems. He had enough of his own.
"Look, I'm not saying I think she can heal the kid. I'm saying I think it's possible that she really does practice Black Magic. I think it's possible that she believes she could heal the kid."
Foreman rolled his eyes, "How gullible are you? Aliens and witchcraft?"
"And God. Don't forget God," House added, sitting at his desk, twirling his red and white ball.
"Look, I witnessed an exorcism," Chase revealed. "There are some freaky things out there."
"Really?" Foreman asked, sounding as though his curiosity was piqued. "What was that like?"
"I can't believe you're buying into that crap too," House scolded Foreman.
Before Chase could answer, Ivana Whit, the patient's mother, burst through the office door. She was dressed in black from head to toe, even wearing a long leather trench coat. Her blond hair and fair skin were paled by her dark eyeliner and bright red lipstick.
"Halloween isn't until next week," House told her sarcastically. "Come back then and we'll bob for--"
"Hush!" Ivana yelped. "You think you're so smart. You think you can tell a mother how to treat her child? You don't know anything, but you're going to find out."
Concerned by the woman's ranting threat, Foreman reached for his cell phone to alert hospital security.
"Don't even think about it!" Ivana shouted, turning toward Foreman. His phone flew from his hand and his chair hurled itself against the wall with him still in it. He swallowed nervously, then dropped his hands to his sides to show he was cooperating.
Chase and Cameron were startled into silence by the scene.
"You're going to give me a sick kid?" House asked, with a laugh. "Please, even if you could use your hocus pocus to make a child materialize, you wouldn't inflict a disease on the innocent. You're a mother, after all."
Ivana scowled, looking from House to Foreman to Cameron to Chase. She paused a moment, examining each of their faces carefully, then smiled deliciously when she studied Chase.
Unnerved, he looked to Cameron, who was watching Ivana watching him so closely.
"Oh, you're perfect," Ivana laughed. "No parents. No family."
"How did you know that?" Chase asked, stunned.
"I'm reading your aura," Ivana told him, inching closer. She reached out to stroke his cheek and he backed away from her.
Again, Chase looked to Cameron for a reaction, wondering if the three other doctors had set him up in some kind of elaborate hoax. Cameron's gaping expression told him that she was not in on this if it were a prank. He glanced at his own chest and legs, wondering if there was some way to cover up his "aura." He felt violated somehow that she was gathering information from him without his permission.
"So damaged, so young," Ivana whispered. She turned back to House, looking him up and down with a penetrating glare. "Medicine can't heal everything. Yes, he's perfect. He's yours." All the loose papers on the table started swirling around, the lights started flashing. The glass door of the office swung back and forth on its hinges.
In awe, Cameron watched the door swinging, then felt herself being pulled under the table by Chase. He had his back to the door and was shielding her from the flying glass as it shattered. "Close your eyes!" he told her.
When she opened them, the entire room was dark. It looked as if the entire fourth floor was dark, but it was quiet. There was not even any light coming in the window from the outside streetlight. How could the hospital be this dark? The emergency generators should have kicked in for a power outage. She remembered that each floor had its own generator and that the system was set up so that the ICU, ER, OR's, and patient rooms were priority. Office space was not guaranteed emergency power. She put her hand to her forehead because it was burning and felt that she was bleeding, though it was just a small cut. "Chase?" she called. His body had been so comfortingly close to hers when they hit the floor. Now she could not feel him near her. "House? Foreman?"
"Cameron?" she heard Foreman answer. "Where are you?"
"Under the table," she answered. "Why don't we have any light at all?" she asked. "Chase? House?" she called their names again.
"What the hell was that?" came House's voice.
"I don't know, but I think we need to do one of those exorcisms Chase was talking about," Foreman answered, getting to his feet and feeling his way to now overturned table. "Cameron? Give me your hand," he instructed, groping around in the murky darkness to find her. "Where are you?"
"I'm here!" Cameron said, able to feel around until she found Foreman's ankle by moving toward his voice.
Foreman reached down to the woman and helped her get to her feet. "House, don't you have a flashlight in your desk?" he asked.
"I can't find my desk," House told them. He was not sure exactly where in the dark room he was. He had been at his desk before the "sorceress" arrived, but he was on the floor now. "Son of a bitch," he cried out, reaching out and cutting himself on shards of the glass from the door. "Damn it, Chase, say something so we know you're alive," he ordered.
They all waited expectantly. Nothing.
"Chase?" Cameron called, more frantic now that House had put the idea into her head that he might not be alive. The kooky woman had been looking at him like she planned to use him in some kind of diabolical plan. "He has to be here!" she told them. "He pulled me under the table so I wouldn't get blasted by the glass. He should have been on top of me when I woke up."
"Too much information," House griped.
"Oh, shut up!" Cameron ordered him, "Chase, where are you?" She carefully felt around under the table, but there was clearly no one there.
"Ah! Found it!" House announced from another part of the room.
"Your flashlight?" Foreman asked.
"My desk," House answered.
Foreman rolled his eyes and called Chase's name. They waited, but the only sound was House rumbling through desk drawers.
"Someone has a light," Foreman announced, noticing a shining circle dancing its way down the hallway toward their office. "Hey! We need some help!" he yelled to the unknown person. "Someone's hurt!"
Cameron wanted to tell Foreman that Chase was not hurt, but since he had not answered, she had to accept that he was at least unconscious, if not worse. "Please! We need the light!" she added.
"House? Who's hurt?" came Wilson's voice as he hurriedly brought the flashlight into the office. "What happened to the door?" he asked, his feet crunching over broken glass.
"We can't find Chase," Cameron told him. "He pulled me under the table, but he's not there."
"Where's House?" Wilson asked.
"Here," House answered. The sound of rummaging continued. "See if you can find Chase."
Wilson carefully shone the light all over the floor of the room and eventually made his way to the far wall where there was a couch. There was no sign of Chase, "Who's the kid?" he asked, the light falling onto the form of a small boy who appeared to be sleeping.
"Kid?" House asked, stopping what he was doing. "What kid?" They all made their way toward the couch where the cherub like face of a little blond boy was illuminated.
"Oh. My. God," Cameron covered her mouth with both hands. She recognized the child from pictures in Chase's home. "It's Chase."