Title: Doppelganger
Summary: Something unknown is plaguing House and things are getting out of control, driving the pessimistic doctor to the edge of his sanity. Can he be brought back in time to save his latest patient? Can he even save himself?
Time Frame: After Vogler, before the Duckling Elimination Game. The time of year is probably completely incorrect, but I don't care. My fanfic, my mess.
Pairings: One-sided Cameron/House relationship (Cameron cares, House doesn't).
Author's Message: Well, here we are at last. My second House fanfic and the most complicated fanfic that I think I've ever written. And for all the people who support House/Chase relationships, please don't kill me about the vaguely anti-House/Chase comment below. I'm not against House/Chase, I just don't believe in it.
Disclaimer: I own not, I profit not, so please sue me not. I'm fourteen; I can't afford it. However, any characters that you haven't seen before (Nikki, Alex, etc.) are my own creation and belong to me. Hands off please.
Anti-Warning: This used to be a no-update threat, but as quite a few people have reviewed (and I've been told that non-update threats put people off) I've decided to remove it. So ignore this message!
Nikki opens her eyes and immediately wishes that she hasn't. She feels ridiculously tired, so tired that she closes her eyes again, feeling the blood pulsing through her eyelids. Odd. She knows that she had a good night's sleep. Maybe she's ill. Oh God no. She can't be ill. But if she can have five more min-
"Nikki! Time to get up!"
Oh dear. Her dad. Nikki forces herself to sit up, shivering, and presses her palm against her forehead. Fever, check. Tiredness, check. It's probably something viral. She stands up and staggers towards the mirror, looking into it. The seventeen-year-old that looks back does, as always, appears about thirteen instead, with medium brown hair that falls to her shoulders. Luckily for her, she doesn't look too bad. Her dad, Alex, hopefully won't notice. She hates it when he overreacts to even the smallest of illnesses. She groans from annoyance and leans her head against the mirror, relishing the cool glass against her skin. Well, there's nothing for it but to go down and face the music. She makes her wandering way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Alex looks up from a newspaper, carefully scrutinizing her face.
"You aren't well, are you?" he asks.
"It's just a virus, please don't overreact," Nikki begs, leaning her head on the table.
Alex rolls his eyes.
"When do I ever overreact?" he asks, then continues without waiting for an answer, "I'll just take you to the clinic at Princeton-Plainsboro for a check."
Nikki groans before saying, "What about school?"
"Stuff school. You're going to the clinic."
Valentine's Day is not really a big event at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, but it happens there as well as everywhere else. The staff don't post huge pink hearts around or give out balloons, but there is always an air of happiness and potential romance hanging in the air. All except for the air in a one meter radius of Dr. Gregory House. An air of general pessimism hangs around him like smoke. Nobody even bothers to mention the words "Valentine's Day" in his presence. It's like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Nobody can stand waiting around for House to finish his full five minute rant against it. Crowds are practically parting before him as he limps down the corridor towards the elevator. He can beat Cuddy, he can beat Cuddy... He presses the 'up' button and waits, tapping a rhythm on his cane. Come on, come on, before Cuddy can-
"House!"
-catch him. Damn. He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, pretending that he can't hear her. Cuddy marches towards him like a solider going into battle, her stiletto heels clicking in the floor, her skirt short enough to merit a thousand jokes. Ooh boy, he's in trouble now.
"House!"
Ah, she doesn't give up. If only the lift could come now... wait, is that it? Yes!
"House. Clinic. Now," she commands.
"Sorry, no can do. My elevator's here."
The doors are beginning to open, all he needs is a little more time. But uh oh, Cuddy's got her strict face on. He needs more time but he's running out of it...
"House, you are going to go to the clinic now."
The doors are open and House steps gratefully through. Cuddy is close enough for him to make a show of admiring her breasts, which he does for comedic effect, but not close enough to stop him. He presses the button and waits impatiently for the doors. The doors shut before Cuddy can say another word and the elevator begins to move. Game, set and match to House. He suppresses a small, self-satisfied grin and stares at the ceiling, waiting for the floor with his office. Roughly five minutes later, House is limping down the hall to his office. He pauses at the door, peering through the glass with a frown. There's something on his desk that wasn't there when he left for lunch. Something that's wrapped up in red paper. Something that has a ribbon. Surely nobody could be that stupid, could they? Somebody has left him, the infamous Dr. House, a Valentine's Day present! He enters the office and sits down at his desk, letting his cane drop to the floor, before picking up the little parcel. The somebody has obviously given this little parcel a lot of care. The paper is of that high-quality, shiny stuff that resembles tin foil and is hell to wrap anything with, especially something with sharp edges like the little box it covers. The ribbon is made of gold velvet and shimmers when it catches the light.
House turns the box over in his hands, searching for a label or tag. Could it have been put there by accident? Unlikely, as the door does have his name on it, but still possible. Except for the fact that the box has a tag on it shaped like a heart with his name typed on it. Doctor Gregory House, right there in one of those fancy fonts that it takes two hours to read. He checks his watch. Cuddy shouldn't be along to nag him for another five to ten minutes, so he has time to unwrap this present, make a few sarcastic remarks to nobody about it then throw it in the bin. He picks at the edge of a piece of sticky tape with a fingernail until it comes loose then peels the entire piece off. He likes doing stupid little things like that well. It proves he can still do something. With pedantic care, he removes all the tape, screws it up into a small ball on the edge of his desk and unfolds the paper. Inside is a white cardboard box with a printed label on the top. House reads it with a frown.
Dear Greg, it says, I have been close to you for some time. I see you every day and every time I see you, talk to you, my feelings for you grow. I can barely last the day without being near you. I give you this little seasonal gift to let you know that I am near you and that I care about you. I love you with all my heart. Happy Valentine's Day.
His curiosity aroused, House pulls open the lid. Inside of the box is a foam cushion with a ring tucked into a horizontal slit. The thick band of metal is made of white gold and there is a single round stone set into it. House doesn't know much about jewellery, but he can tell that the stone is nothing too special. It's probably only quartz, or something like that, but the powerful emotion attached to it is more important by far. In spite of himself, House feels rather touched by the effort. He expected something cheap and tacky. He pulls it with uncharacteristic care from its nesting place and takes a good look, discovering the words I Love You engraved around the inside. House wonders who it was who left it there. Cuddy? Probably not. Cameron? Possibly. A nurse? Unlikely. Chase? Definitely not. Even though he is slightly girlish for a guy. He fiddles with the ring absentmindedly as he contemplates that the day that Chase gives him a Valentine's Day present is that day that he will throw himself off of the hospital roof. Without really concentrating, he slips the ring experimentally onto the first finger of his left hand. It feels like a nice fit, but he tries to take it off anyway. It won't come off.
House looks down at what he's doing and tries again. It refuses to budge, clinging stubbornly to his digit, unable to slide back over his knuckle. Still, it definitely isn't cutting off the blood flow and all he should need to remove it is to add a little bit of saliva for lubrication. But before he can do that, Cuddy storms into the room with an expression as dark as storm clouds. Uh oh, House has been a baaad wittle boy.
"House, you get your ass down to the clinic right now or God help me, I will triple next week's clinic time!" she snaps.
So the game begins and score one for Cuddy.
"Can't you just slap me on the wrist and send me on my merry way?"
House has drawn equal. Can he pass the 'almighty woman'?
"No, actually, I can't," Cuddy replies. "Vogler objects pretty strongly to it and so do I. Clinic. Now."
Cuddy is ahead once more. Is House equal to the challenge?
"All right, all right, you sound like a broken record."
Yes! He is drawing with her once more! House reaches for his cane then stands up. He takes a few awkward steps towards the door before turning around to face Cuddy once more.
"You know, it's a double-standard of this society that doctors have to go to the patient," he muses aloud. "We doctors have our mobility problems too. It's a complete lack of sympathy."
He's winning, he's winning. She's bound to give up soon... Except that Cuddy is a woman well practised in the art of bantering with House.
"That's what we have elevators for," she says. "Your first patient will be seen within five minutes and don't even try to get out of this because I will know. And you will get an extra hour of clinic for every patient you skip out on. Have a nice day."
House's face falls. Not only has he failed to get out of clinic duty, but Cuddy has bested him in a battle of wits. She smiles in a way that conveys self-satisfaction more than happiness and walks out of the room. House limps after her through the door and watches her leave.
"Your skirt's too short! I can see your ass!" he yells after her in a half-hearted attempt to save his pride.
Cuddy fails to respond verbally but, as he watches, tugs her skirt down slightly. House lets himself smile slightly then limps back to the elevator to find his first patient.
So there it is! If you want to review without being a site member, send me an e-mail (they count too). Reviewer responses will be put into my LiveJournal. See you soon!