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STOLEN FROM MY E-GIRLFRIEND, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) i_heart_cameron1 0 F A V O R I T E S TV show: House Flower: Tulips Alcohol: All Kinds Movie: LOTR Color: Green/Red/Black/Orange Sport: Hockey!! and dancing Mall: dont like malls Music: All kinds Season: Autumn 1 0 F A C T S Hometown: St. Johns, Newfoundland Height: 5'8" Hair color: dark brown/black Hair length: mid back Hair style: Wavy/Curly Eye color: steel-blue Shoe size: 7 in women Mood: bored Name: Charlie 1 0 L O V E L I F E Have you ever been in love: No Do you believe in love: Yes Why did your last relationship fail?: Because I was in eighth grad of course Have you ever been heartbroken?: No Have you ever broken someones heart?: I don't know Have you ever fallen for your best friend?: nope Are you planning on getting married?: nope Are you afraid of commitment?: Probably 1 0 T H I S O R T H A T S Love or lust?: Both. Seperately. Hard liquor or beer?: Hard liquor. Night or day?: evening! Hook-ups or relationship?: Both, especially hook-ups as you can learn from them. T.V. or internet?: Internet Pepsi or Coke?: Water Wild night out or romantic night in? Wild night out Saturday or Sunday?: Saturday Colored or black and white picture?: Black & White Phone or in person?: In person 1 0 H A V E Y O U E V E R S Have you ever been caught sneaking out? No Have you ever skinny dipped?: ALL THE TIME w00t Have you ever done something you regret?: shit man, everything. Have you ever bungee jumped?: No Have you ever been on a house boat?: yes'm Have you ever finished an entire jaw breaker?: never had em before Have you ever wanted someone so badly it hurt?: Yes!! Have you ever stayed up all night til the sun came up: Yep Have you ever been caught by your parents with a hickey? I'm good at hiding shit Have you ever been caught by your parents doing anything more than making out?: Once again, good at hiding shit 10 A R E Y O U S Are you missing someone right now?: I miss Sheila... and Nicole... and Kat...<3<3<3<3 Are you happy? um no Are you talking to anyone right now?: im so alone. :( Are you bored?: yes. hurry up 6:00 Are you German?: no Are you Irish?: no Are you Italian?: no Are you French?: no Are your parents still married?: yes. Do you like someone right now? I love Sheila, and Nicole, and Kat! <3 <3 and course i like lots of people. unless i dont like them. like teenangers. grr. Current Mood:  blah
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DONT MAKE ME COME TO VEGAS
for i_heart_cameron
+++
‘Don’t make me come to Vegas,’ I had said many times over.
She held me tight and kissed me.
‘Don’t make me come to Vegas,’
She waved and vanished beyond the doorway, boarding the plane for a 3-4 hour flight to Las Vegas.
‘Don’t make me come to Vegas,’
I had told her sternly, ‘Don’t make me pull you out of his bed.’
The plane departed with a loud, angry roar, driving down the runway to pick up speed, then took to the air. I watched as the large metal object soared higher and higher until it was out of sight. I watched as all my hopes were whisked away on a plane to Las Vegas, and, along with it, the woman I was in love with.
That was 6 years ago.
I met Sara Sidle when I was in collage. My friend had thrown a big New Years party. I noticed that Sara was alone the whole time, over by the bar, sipping a beer slowly. She was staring at me the whole time, so I gathered up my courage and approached her.
It was only one night, and I was drunk and high, and I got caught up in the moment, and the second her lips were against mine, I knew that she was ‘The One’, and that we’d never truly be together, much like House and Stacy in the present day.
I woke in her bed, naked, on January 1st, the day after New Years. The sun was shining through the window, casting distorted squares of light on the floor. My head was killing me, and there wasn’t a part of my body that wasn’t sore. Also, there was someone’s strong arms around me, legs entwined with my own, head on my shoulder. Hot breath tickled my bare skin.
I awoke on January 1st, spooning another woman.
The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
After that night, we found ourselves having sex one, sometimes two, times a day. We never told anyone, we kept it a secret. We didn’t even communicate outside of the bedroom. There really wasn’t any reason to.
Eventually, we drifted apart, not seeing each other for a long while, once a week, sometimes less. That’s when I met Marek. We married, but he died soon after due to terminal cancer.
I told Dr. Wilson once that I fell in love with Marek’s best friend, Joe (everybody lies). Joe fell in love with me, and Sara and I started seeing each other more often. She was my safety net when things got bad, and I hers.
Sara went to a forensics’ seminar, and became completely infatuated with a man named Gilbert Grissom. Her relationship with him was akin to my present one with Gregory House.
Grissom offered Sara a job in Vegas—one of those one-time shots—and she took it. She left in less than a week after agreeing to take the position, and I was left alone once again.
I wanted someone to just sit with me. Hold me. Comfort me. Tell me everything is fine, and though I knew it wasn’t, I could pretend, even if it was just for a little while. Perfect for one minute, and for one minute, I would sit in the palm of perfection. One minute is enough. A person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection is worth the effort. A moment was the most you can ever expect from perfection.
I later applied for a job at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and was accepted. I’ve worked there for Dr. House almost 3 years now.
The week before last, I got a call from a Sara Sidle. My heart leapt into my throat.
‘Don’t make me come to Vegas,’She was devastated over a recent case she had at work, and desperately needed comfort. It had been 3 years since our last get-together, and I was craving her so badly.
‘Don’t make me come to Vegas,’
We both knew she didn’t go work in Las Vegas for the job itself—the fact that Grissom personally asked for her and the possibility of the two of them was the reason for her leaving.
‘Don’t make me come to Vegas,’ I remember saying those words so clearly, ‘Don’t make me come to Vegas and him out of your head.’
It was a long, anxious plane ride. I was jittery the whole time. My hands trembled in excitement and worry. What if I wasn’t what she wanted anymore? What if I no longer invoked that feeling inside of her? What if she no longer invoked that feeling inside of me? My thoughts tumbled in my head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free,
But my fears were put to rest as soon as I knocked on her door. It flew open to reveal a long legged woman in shorts and a tank top standing there. Her dark hair was wavy, falling down around her shoulders. Her orbs were a deep, ebony brown, burrowing into my own steel-blue eyes. The apartment behind her was dark and empty.
As worn down as I was from the plane, and the stress form the last few weeks, I gathered myself inside her embrace, hugging her, letting go of my bag and putting both arms around her. We stood together for a long, quiet moment.
Then I pulled back, looking her in the eyes, and kissed her. Tenderly, at first, but then it built, a long kiss that spoke of years of yearning, and not having, and this solid moment laced with passion.
She grabbed me by the wrist and drew me inside.
The struggle to her bedroom was a hard one. We stumbled the whole time, both of us having trouble breathing from excitement. It was too dark to see where we were going, so I let myself be led onwards.
All of my carefully chosen clothing was tossed aside as she pinned me down on her bed like a feline closing in on her prey. I smiled up at her. She kissed me again and I arched against her as she ventured downwards. I knew whom she was thinking of, just as she knew whom I was thinking of. But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered, nothing but her bare skin on mine.
All the sadness and frustration and unfulfilled desire of the past few years evaporated in that instant. The bedroom receded. The earth. The cosmos.
And the sad thing was, as always, I knew that after this passionate moment, after we slept together, we’d hate each other in the morning.
Current Mood:  accomplished
Current Music: She Loves You, Beatles
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Hospital Induced Sickness
Chapter 8
“The one you love, not the person that'll simply have sex with you, appreciate them to the fullest extent, and then beyond, 'cause you never really know what you got, until it's gone.” –Allison Cameron
Michael smiled. He kissed my cheek lightly, then whispered in my ear. "Look, you don't have much time. A beautiful nightmare has opened it's mouth, ready to devour you. You better hurry and do something...Otherwise you'll be forever caught in the spiral of this twisted paradise...continuosly raped by your own nightmares..."
Eight o’clock. I was lying on a bed, with a needle in my arm, and the plastic sack of fluid catching the light so beautifully, and I could see the clock perfectly. Slowly, I turned my head.
James Wilson was there, his lab coat laid on the chair next to him, and he was reading. His eyebrows were knitted together and when he looked up at me, I loved his expression. He closed the book soundlessly and smiled.
“You’re awake,” He said. A rich, soft voice. The black circles under his eyes betrayed the energy in his ebony orbs.
“Am I?” The noise hurt my ears. So many people in the halls. Doors swooshing open and shut.
He stood and came across the room and took his hand in mine.
“You’ve been in a coma for the last few days.”
“Then I’ll live?”
“Yes,” He said. But he wasn’t sure. Did he mean for me to see that he wasn’t sure?
“Don’t let me die,” I said, moistening my lips with my tongue. They felt so dry! Lord God, the pain behind my eyes was unbearable.
“There you go again,” He said, his smile brightening.
“Sit with me.”
“I am. I told you I wouldn’t leave. I’ll stay here with you.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked abruptly.
Wilson glanced at the clock. “About 63 hours.” He shrugged.
I gasped. “Jimmy! You didn’t go home at all?”
A dark look passed over his face but it dissipated quickly. “My house is a bit too empty. I don’t like being alone.”
I didn’t ask about his wife. I knew they were having problems. If they weren't, he wouldn't have come to me. Instead, I smiled at him weakly. “Being alone presents you with a myriad of possibilities.”
He smiled back knowingly. Were those tears hovering in his eyes?
“I didn’t mean to make you cry…” I whispered.
“You’re better. Much better. I think you’re going to be all right. You have mild meningitis. Don’t worry.” He sounded more confident.
I nodded, gratefully, looking to the side. Dr. House was sitting on chair outside in the corridor that was propped up against the wall. His head was tilted back arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes closed.
Sleeping. He was sleeping.
I looked back up at Wilson. “How long has he been there?”
He shrugged again. “Longer than me. He missed Kevin Duncan’s wake. The funeral is in an hour. You kept muttering his name, and you only responded when he was in the room.” His voice was strained.
He must have seen the look in my eyes, for he gripped my hand reassuringly.
“He cares about you, Allison.”
“He avoids me. He loves Stacy. He’ll never love me.” I shook my head.
“You’re dreaming. It’s the fever.”
I laughed bitterly. “Wouldn’t that be splendid? I stood in the snow and tried to imagine just such a thing—that all my life of death and sorrow and pain and loneliness was all a dream and I was still 10 years old, asleep beside my parents after a nightmare. No such luck, James. The dying woman needs you. The dying woman’s crying. You’re not afraid of dying, are you?”
“I’m afraid of you dying. Sleep now. The nurse is coming in to give you another shot. I’m not leaving. I wont leave you alone.”
“What are you doing?” Joe asked softly.
I was slouched over Michael’s bed, sobbing. All the machines were gone, all the beeping and the tubes, modern medicine that couldn’t fix him.
“Michael, Michael, listen to me. Come round Michael… You’re ill, do you hear me? We can’t make you better. Just hold my hand. I’ll stay beside you.”
I climbed into the bed with my dying husband.
“I love you, Michael. I love you.”
He didn’t reply. He was no longer conscious.
“Try and drink a little of this.” Wilson slipped his hand behind my neck. Ah, the pain when I lifted my head.
His lids were heavy and smooth over his downcast eyes. So simple he seemed, fine and strong. How many people have kissed his beautiful mouth? I knew that I have, many times over.
“People are dying here, aren’t they? I hear people crying.”
“It’s a bad time,” he said, his soft lips barely moving. “But you’ll be all right. I’m here.”
Joe was so angry.
“But why, Allison?”
Because he was diseased. Because he was sick. Because there is no cure for cancer.
Joe was so heartbroken, standing there in his long black coat, yet he could not stop looking at him, at his closed eyes, at his ivory cheeks.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?”
I didn’t answer.
“You knew this would happen.”
Who spoke? I was startled, but it wasn’t Joe, it was Gregory House, standing near, knuckles white from clenching his cane so hard. Why was he here? I know this is a dream, but I didn’t know him then.
“I knew,” I said, looking back to my ill husband. His chest rose and fell lightly. He seemed so small, so frail.
“That’s why you married.”
I shook my head. “That’s why I felt attracted to him. I wasn’t planning on falling in love. It’s so easy to wish for death when nothing’s wrong with you. It’s so easy to fall in love with death, and I have been all my life. And I’ve seen it’s most faithful worshipers crumble in the end, screaming just to live, as if all the dark veils and the lilies and the smell of candles, and the grandiose promises of the grave meant nothing. I knew that. But I always wished I was dead. It was a way to go on living.”
House laughed. Oh that horrible, mocking laugh. It hurt my ears. “And now that you’re dying, you’re afraid of it.”
“I am,” I sighed, turning to him. He had a odd look in his crystalline-blue eyes.
“We’re not letting you go that easily, Dr. Cameron.” He seemed strangely compassionate, so gentle. He smirked like the smug bastard he is. Joe was still horrified, staring at Michael, at his small form, at his dying body.
“You’re not supposed to be here, House. I didn’t know you when my husband died.” I told the crippled man beside me as I turned to focus on Michael.
“Hey, it’s your hallucination, not mine.”
I smiled sadly. “I'm sleeping with Dr. Wilson..." I confessed.
I have no choice. All my escape routes have been blocked. I'm being closed in with barbed wire from all directions. My love has no future, I know that. There's only one path I can choose. My feelings have no place to go! I have to tell him, now!
"But, you know what?" I hesitated. "I love you House. I’m not a schoolgirl with a crush. I’m in love with you, powerfully, painfully in love. I know you’ll never love me, but—“ I choked off. I could feel him just behind me. His breath tickled my neck. “But I can be… whatever you want me to be; a friend, a girlfriend, a colleague, anything. Just as long as you know that I’ll never give up on you. I know I can fix you, and I promise that I will.”
His laid his hand on my shoulder and clenched it tightly. His voice was hard, cold and commanding. “Time to wake up, Allison. Time to get better.”
I nodded slowly, my eyes still on my husband.
“Goodbye, Michael.” I whispered. His eyes fluttered slightly, and his chest stopped moving. He was lifeless. Dead.
Gone.
I woke with tears running down my cheeks, and looked up to find Dr. House looming over me, his blue eyes full of concern. I smiled up at him.
Don't... give me that look, House. You see, even if I can't reach you, I can feel your warmth... I'm fine with it.
I reached up where his hand grasped my shoulder and held it in my own frail grip. He looked so strange. Behind him, Wilson had a look of horror in his eyes.
Had I said all of that out loud? Did they hear me? Does House know?
It suddenly occured to me that it didn't matter. At the moment, nothing mattered. Nothing but his hand in mine. His lips on my forehead.
Goodbye, Michael.
Current Mood:  cheerful
Current Music: Pain - Jimmy Eat World
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A/N: Hey all youse who are reading! I know tis been a long time since my last story update! Sorry! Ooh, guess what! i won a poetry contest! go me! Also got an honourable mention:P On with the story! The next chaper will be up pretty soon. I already have it completed! Dont worry! I'll have Alesti's case coming up sooooon!
Hospital Induced Sickness
Chapter 7
“I deserve an explanation from you for all that I’ve been through. I don’t like to feel this way.”–Gregory House
It had taken me all morning to ease into accepting the gift this day was. Out of the darkness that usually enshrouded my life, I had captured a moment of bliss. Now that moment shattered.
“What happened?” I asked Wilson as he approached, just after having talked with the paramedics.
“They said that she just fell. Not tripped—fell, according to the witnesses. She hit her head pretty hard on the concrete steps.” He replied, coming to stand beside me.
We both gazed through the window at Dr. Allison Cameron, unconscious in the hospital bed.
Just half an hour ago, she was awake and hallucinating, babbling to who I could only imagine to be her husband. I gripped the handle of my cane and stepped inside the white room, Wilson following in suit. We stood together on either side of the bed. I watched the monitor beep in a slow, steady rhythm, the line jumping with each electronic beep.
“Cameron,” I said aloud. Her eyelids fluttered and she shifted slightly on he bed.
“House…” She mumbled. “Don’t leave me… alone… in the dark with him…”
Wilson looked at me. I glanced up. His deep brown eyes were full of concern… and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. He frowned at tapped her arm lightly.
“Allison,” He said, “Wake up. Theres no one else here. Just House and me. You need to wake up.”
Cameron groaned and moved to lay on her side, facing me, her back to Wilson. “House….” She grumbled again.
I saw the flicker of hurt flash across his face for a moment, but a furrowed brown and a worried expression quickly replaced it.
I dug in my pocket and withdrew a 10-dollar bill. I held it out to him. “Here. Get me a Reuben.”
Wilson glared at me, sighed, and took the money. I waited until he had left the room before I plopped myself down on the chair next to Cameron, pulling myself closer to her.
The room was silent for a long time.
“Cameron?” I asked tentatively, just to make sure she was still with me.
She grunted softly. Her left arm reached out and she enclosed her hand over mine.
“Never leave me.” She whispered, eyes fluttering once more. “I need you House. I’m dying. I’m dying and I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you. Stay with me, please.”
Tell me? Tell me what?
Tears and black mascara was streaming down over her cheeks. She choked and sobbed. Obviously she was seeing something that was giving her much unwanted grief.
Watching her tremble and cry, out of her mind, while her fingers entwined with mine, squeezing my hand for reassurance, I could feel a burning in my throat. My hold on my emotions slipped and I could feel my stomach knot.
I covered her hand with mine and held it tightly. “Don’t worry, Cameron. I won’t leave you alone with him,” I said, although I had no idea who she was seeing.
“He’s come to take me away,” she mumbled.
Wilson entered and my pulled my hands away quickly and her hands groped the air to find me. My skin tingled where I had touched her.
“House…” She moaned. “Don’t go away.”
I glanced up at Wilson. “She’s getting worse. Run some tests. My money’s on bacterial meningitis.”
He had a strange look on his face. He handed me my Reuben and my change, his eyes ticking between the delusional doctor on the hospital bed and the bum legged doctor in front of him.
I waved my cane at him. “Tests? Phone?”
He snapped out of whatever reverie he was in and reached for the phone beside the bed. He ordered the tests in a curt tone. Shortly thereafter a nurse came in to collect some of Dr. Cameron’s blood.
I stood to leave. Wilson caught my arm.
“You’re leaving?” His voice indicated he was both shocked and angry.
“I’ll be outside. Right there. She keeps groaning at me.” I snatched my arm away from his grasp. “I don’t want her to say or do something she’d regret later. Or—more importantly—something I’d regret later.”
I gave him a look and left the room with the swoosh of the door. I turned to the window, leaning against the opposite wall, and began to eat my sandwich.
Wilson sighed and slowly lowered himself into the comfy chair across the room. He leaned back and closed his eyes, exhausted.
I had to wonder why he was sticking by Cameron’s side so intently… it was almost as though he felt guilty. Or maybe I was misinterpreting. Maybe they were just really close friends. Or maybe something else entirely.
But I doubt they were that something else. Wilson wouldn’t do her behind my back… right?
I really wasn’t convincing myself of anything. James Wilson’s expression was clearly one of unconditional love.
Did Cameron feel the same? Was she really, truly over me?
My mood was spiraling downwards by the second.
Then Kelly Duncan walked up the hall to lean against the wall beside me. I offered her some of my sandwich. She took a small bite and handed it back to me, her green eyes on the two doctors in the opposite room.
“Wow,” she commented.
“What?”
“He really does love her.” Kelly observed. She turned to smile at me. “And you…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
I glared at her, but she gave me a dismissive wave and a short giggle. She knew of my feelings for my young employee already. Was it that obvious?
There was a loud beeping coming from Cameron’s room then. Kelly and I pushed off of the wall and rushed to get inside. Wilson was already on his feet.
“What is it?” Kelly asked.
He stared in horror at the monitor, then at the slumbering woman in the bed.
“She’s in a coma.” Wilson and I said in unison.
Outside, in the hallway, a half-eaten Reuben sandwich lay forgotten on the cold tiles.
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Not sure what thenewhope's favorite pairing is.. but I wrote a small cath/sara csi fic for her!
Sara could feel a warm breath on her neck. She spun around to find Catherine grinning at her. Her blue eyes were dark with passion.
Sara’s face scrunched in confusion. "Cath—"
Before she got the rest of her words out, Catherine’s mouth covered hers. Sara gasped and pulled back suddenly, smacking her back up against the bathroom wall.
The older blonde advanced on her again, pinning her up against the cold tiles. She trapped the brunette’s hands up above her head and her mouth captured hers again. She sucked on her younger colleague’s lower lip.
This is not an unusual event. Catherine behaves like this towards her young colleague whenever they crack a tough case together.
Cath let Sara’s arms go and pulled her pants down to her knees. Sara gasped as her small hand moves her panties aside and stroked that secret place between her legs. This time it was Sara who crushes her lips against the blonde’s smooth peach colored mouth.
She felt Catherine enter her. One finger, two, then three.
Her hips bucked. She slipped of Cath’s pants and returned the favor, then shifted positions so she was now pinning the smaller woman against the wall, who writhed under her touch.
Sara could feel she was on the brink of an orgasm, and she closed her eyes. Think of mutilated babies. A dog being mauled by a speeding car. Intestines all over the road. Anything to keep yourself going as long as possible.
Sara knew this meant nothing. It’s just one of those one-time things that happen more than once. It’s like Brokeback Mountain all over again, except they aren’t cowboys or on a mountain… and neither of them have penises.
Catherine threw her head back and bit her lip against screaming as she tumbled over the edge of ecstasy. For the first time, Sara had beaten her.
Grinning triumphantly, Sara once again kissed her secret lover hungrily. Catherine writhed and flexed her fingers expertly, and something in Sara exploded. Her head began to swim with pleasure and she let herself go. A groan curled up in her throat and just in time, Catherine slipped her tongue into her mouth, swallowing the blissful—and loud—noises.
They both withdrew and Catherine collapsed to the floor, exhausted. Sara pulled up her pants, righted her shirt, and smiled down at the tired blonde.
She washed her hands quickly and turned to leave.
"See you tomorrow," Catherine called weakly.
Sara glanced back. "Are we working together tomorrow?"
The blonde grinned wickedly, and Sara knew they would be playing Brokeback Mountain again next shift.
Current Mood:  annoyed - fucking sister...D:
Current Music: azure ray - displaced
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| Fiction Rated: T - English - Drama/Tragedy - Published: 02-07-06 - Updated: 02-07-06 |
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Summery:
Alistair Matthews has severe Cerebral Palsy and is glued to his wheelchair, unable to voluntarily move a muscle. On top of that, he has become inexplicably ill, but how do you diagnose someone who can’t move, speak, blink, or communicate in any way? Can House save his live? Is his life really worth saving?
House struggles with the possibility that somewhere inside the shell of a body, there is a boy trapped within himself, and whether or not letting the boy die would be the right thing to do.
Foreman is thrust into the limelight when his personal involvements with the case complicate his job and Alistair's life, resulting in a mess of comflicts that will cause him to seek both emotional and physical help from those around him.
Cameron is hell-bent on saving Alistair, but his father is convinced that killing his son is the only way to save him. House must battle off his own personal demons while also finding a way to keep this family together.
House finally reveals his attraction to Cameron and confides Wilson with his deepest secret, but poor Jimmy has quite a big mouth. Cuddy reacts to this news in an unexpected way and Cameron must face the facts and chose between House and Wilson, while Chase tries to win our fair maiden's heart in vain.
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PROLOGUE
My name is Alistair Matthews.
I am 10 years old.
I think my father is planning to kill me
Two teenangers, both about eighteen or so, walked up the sidewalk to wait for the bus just outside the fence of a large, blue and white trimmed Victorian style house. There was a boy sitting on the porch. He looked only young, perhaps thirteen, fourteen maybe. He was staring off into space. He was in a wheelchair.
“Hey,” One of the guys yelled in his direction. “You know if the bus has come by or not?”
His voice sounded nervous, even a little short, as though he felt angry with the boy.
When the boy didn’t answer, the same, big and heavy guy snapped, “Hey! You there, Roller Derby,” He must have meant the wheelchair. “Has the bus come by or not?”
His friend laughed and said, “I think he’s the short, stupid type.”
“No duh,” snarled the one who’d spoken first.
Both the guys where wearing black baggy T-shirts, baggy jeans, and dirty hands, complete with scruffy long hair.
“Hey, Ricky Retardo? Where’s the bus?” said the other guy.
“Yeah,” the first one laughed, “Retardo Montobon, where’s that streetcar named desire?”
They both laughed, but the boy remained completely still. Sat back in a casual sort of way in his wheelchair, gazing straight ahead of him.
The first one said, “Why don’t we come up there and slap you around till you show a little respect?” He sounded mad, mean.
“Yeah,” said the other one, “If you can give us one good reason why we shouldn’t mess you up a little, we’ll leave your ugly ass alone. Otherwise…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
They laughed again. None of their laughter sounded happy.
The boy still didn’t react.
The two of them pushed open the gate and approached the boy in the wheelchair.
“Hello, Ricky, seen any buses around here? What on earth are you?” the first guy asked, flipping his finger against the boys nose. “He looks like some kind of cartoon geek. You’re one messed-up geek there, bud.”
No reaction whatsoever.
The skinnier, shorter teen flipped out his lighter and held it under the young boy’s chin for a reaction. The boy’s muscles jerked and he jumped in the chair, but his eyes still were fixed straight ahead.
The two guys laughed. “Don’t like the heat, huh?”
The boy’s head snappedback and his eyes rolled up. His body shook and twitched. The two teens stood back in surprise. The boy’s face contorted in pain. The boy’s muscles contracted and seized. He was jerking around so much that the wheelchair toppled over and he smacked into the ground. Blood and vomit bubbled from his mouth. The two guys took off then, hoping over the fence and running down the road. They wanted to get as far away as possible.
The boy’s brother must have heard the chair crash because he came running out. He scooped the boy's head up and placed it in his lap. Theyounger brother continued to seize. A pretty blonde girl poked her head out from the doorway.
“Call 911!” The older brother ordered. “Now!”
The girl nodded and ducked back inside, searching for the phone.
The boy stopped seizing and became limp.
“Aja, nevermind. He stopped.” Said the older brother. Aja stepped outside, the cordless phone clutched to her chest.
They both heaved the boy back into the chair and used the tissue she had brought to wipe the vomit and blood up from the side of the boy's face. They were quiet for a few moments Finally, Aja spoke softly, as though wanting to be sure their severly retarted brother couldn't hear. “So do you think Dad's all right? Do you think Alistair is safe?”
“Yeah, Alistair's safe,” the older brother, Douglas said, sure and definate. “Even if Dad's gone nuts and wants to do something, he'd have to come through me.”
Aja nodded. She knew what that meant.
In the wheelchair, Alistair began to seize and vomit again.
A/N: This will get better,I swear. Its just the prologue! Keep reading! Rah! I hope no one takes offence to the fact I used the word 'severly retarted' Retard by definition means 'to hinder' or 'to hold back' This story is written with the style of the House MD show, meaning this is the part BEFORE the song! And the chapters will probably be really long, cause within 15 minutes to the next commercial on House, lots of things happen. This story is based on a book I read more than three years ago. Hope y'all like it!
Current Mood:  exhausted
Current Music: None Of Us Are Free - Solomon Burke
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Pairing: Sara/Catherine </b>
Rating: PG 13 </b>
Spoilers: None </b>
Disclaimer: Not my show! Sadly. </b>
Summary: Catherine’s POV. “I think you've massivly underestimated me.”
A/N: THAT THAR SARA/CATHERINE STORY IS UPDATED, Y'AWL! Sorry it took so long! Hope you likes it. The next chapter is the last one kiddies!
</b>
Part 5, TERMINATIO [DETERMINATION]
“If you don’t do it now… you’ll regret it your whole life… If you don’t fight while you’re alive, your soul will rot.” – Sara Sidle
“I’m dead.”
I frowned and leaned forward on the couch, placing my hand in my chin.
“You can check the funny papers. A month ago, I was declared dead.” The girl explained.
“Um…” Catherine shook her head, trying to think. “How?”
The girl smiled. “I’ve got a friend who’ll withdraw 4 pints of blood from you and put in pouches to freeze for 5,000 dollars. Another 5,000 and he’ll hook you up with fake papers. You can start all over again. Move to a different country. You’re free.”
I nodded slowly. So the whole crime scene with all that blood in her car… was set up.
“All you have to do is pick a place to put all the blood. 4 pints of blood, and there isn’t coroner in the state won’t declare you dead.”
Both Catherine and I were completely baffled.
“So you’re…”
“Willow Gellar.” She finished.
“Wow.” Cath said, leaning back.
I remained quiet the whole time. I could feel a red heat boiling in my stomach. Lloyd Gellar’s daughter.
“So I heard that your father was receiving blackmail letters…” Catherine said tentatively.
Willow grinned and nodded. “That was me. I blackmailed him for 5,000 dollars, so I could start over again, you know?” She became more serious. “Ever since I was 11, my father sexually abused me. So… 6 weeks ago I taped it, without his knowledge. Later I sent him a copy of it in the mail, demanding 5,000 dollars or the tape would be released in movie stores. My father is a very powerful man. He is a DA in Los Angeles, but he’s taking a holiday here in Las Vegas for a few months. He didn’t want his reputation ruined, that much I knew.”
“Can we see the tape?” I finally spoke. My voice surprised me. It was hoarse and raspy, as if I hadn’t spoken in a very long time.
Willow smiled sadly. “It won’t do any good. I’m 19 in that tape. I just wish I wasn’t so scared when I was younger. If only I had taped us when I was underage…” She shook her head and sighed.
Catherine put a hand over her mouth, trying to control the emotion swelling up in her. No one spoke for a few moments, but Willow seemed to know the question I was thinking of asking her.
“A month ago, when I was trying to leave town with my boyfriend, I got out at a gas station to pee. When I came back, he was gone. I watched him drive down the road, but he didn’t get very far. His car collided with a large delivery truck and was sent into the river. When the police investigated, they found my wallet on the ground outside the gas station. I was declared missing… so I took the chance to fake my death, and cross the border and head off to Arizona.” She said, stopping to take a breath. She hesitated, then added, “So I guess you’re going to call the cops now, huh?”
Catherine and I shared a look.
“No.” I said firmly. I turned back to Willow. “What’s say a forensic investigator spotted a ‘dead’ girl crossing the border to Arizona and called in just as she was gone, unable to chase after her, dammit, ‘cause by the time I called, she was already out of the investigator’s jurisdiction.”
Willow’s face lit up. “Really?”
I smiled and nodded. Catherine agreed aswell.
“Thanks. So much.” Willow said as she straightened up, grabbing her clothes. “I gotta get going then, my dad found me last time.”
Me and Catherine both stood. “Wait,” I said, “Do you know where we can find your father?”
Willow thought for a moment, then fished in her pocket for a pen and a piece of paper. She quickly wrote down and address on it and shoved it into my hand.
“There,” she said as she ran for the door, pausing to turn to me. She drew a tape from her pocket and tossed it to me. I caught it easily. “Good luck. I have no use for it now.”
Willow flashed us a smile, winked, and she was gone.
I looked at Catherine. She shrugged. I handed her the tape and kissed her forehead.
“Let’s go to work, hmm?”
Cat smirked and nodded.
I grabbed my coat and headed out the door, catching a glance at Willow as she got into a taxi and headed down the street quickly.
Turning back to Catherine, I suggested, “How about we go get some coffee and wait for a while, give her a chance to cross the border?”
She smirked and placed a hand on the small of my back, leading me towards the door. “You’re driving.”
Sitting in our regular café, I sat back in my chair. I dug in my pocket and placed the crumpled piece of paper with Gellar’s location on the table in front of Catherine.
She looked up at me over the rim of her coffee mug.
“Cat, I want him. I want to kill him so bad. Right now. Let’s go.” I said, quite determined. “I want my life back.” My voice shook.
She placed her coffee down and stared at me, crossing her hands and laying them over the paper.
“I’m not letting you go in without some sort of protection.”
I tapped the gun at my side. “I have protection.”
She shook her head. “I mean S.W.A.T teams, helicopters, the whole shebang. I’m not going to let him hurt you again.”
I sighed heavily. “I can handle him.”
“I don’t think it’s safe.” Catherine said slowly.
Again, I could feel the red heat boiling in my stomach.
“I think you’ve massively underestimated me.”
Good god, was that me? Was that my voice, so filled with hatred and anger?
I couldn’t even recognize the tone of my voice. I had never felt so angry before.
I bolted up from my stool, snatched up the address, and ran from the café. Climbing into my car, I started the engine and sped off towards the location scribbled on the paper.
The small log cabin was comfy and warm, with a decent sized living room that was attached to the kitchen, and a small but cozy bedroom that had a bathroom off to the north wall. There were many windows that allowed sunlight to stream through, and the cabin smelt pleasantly like pine.
I hated the place.
The very thought that Gellar had walked through this door, cooked meals there, slept in the beautifully decorated bedroom, made me nauseous. I was unable to stay in the cabin too long. I had to get outside for some fresh air.
Stepping out the front door, I froze. My eyes met the fierce aquamarine eyes of my rapist, of the man that has haunted my dreams and stolen my life away from me.
What cold eyes he had. They were like corpse’s eyes, emotionless, like plastic.
I drew my gun from its holster and pointed it at the center of Lloyd Gellar’s forehead. Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: Grant Lee Buffalo - Happiness
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