Rash(ness)
astarvingwriter
Standard Disclaimer Applies x2
Author's Plea: Rash(ness), also known as the oneshot that wouldn't end, also known as the chaptered fic that wouldn't be plotted. As such, be prepared to be disappointed. I'm hoping one more chapter may finish it up after this.
Part 3.
When House arrived at 555 Trebuchet almost a week after the strange second encounter with the Glittery-Arm Woman, he found himself surprisingly reluctant to take that final step across the threshold.
He wasn't afraid. Rather he found walking into an Underground Support Group in the Rose Room of the Plainsboro Alternative Community Center rather more than his sense of humor would allow.
However, as reluctant as he was to put himself in such a position as to be forced to pretend to play nice with crazy people, the mystery surrounding the Williams woman and her glittering rash was simply too much to ignore. As none of his minions could read the business card the younger Williams had offered, nor were they interested in the events that precipitated the situation, he was forced to do the leg work himself.
Even so, it took quite a bit of effort not to leave once he heard the room's inhabitants begin a heated discussion.
"We should start already." House could almost taste the poorly hidden indignation in the man's voice.
"The Queen isn't here," stated a clipped female voice. He pictured a librarian, and not the sexy kind he often saw in pornos.
"So? I'm just saying we should start." The man's indignation was, if possible, even more poorly hidden.
"Start without the Queen? That's ridiculous!" The clipped female voice was now also shrill. His porno fantasies were dying quicker by the minute.
"Her making us wait, that's ridiculous. Why should we be so inconvenienced?" The man no longer even bothered hiding the indignation.
"You've just never liked the Queen, Mal!"
"You've just always been a kiss ass, Mathilda!"
"You're just both being annoying as all Underground. The goblins are difficult enough without listening to the two of you arguing all the time." This was a new voice, and possibly the sanest sounding of them all. However, as a participant in the Underground Support Group, the voice was most definitely misleading. The goblin reference also was a huge sign.
In fact, goblins were a step further than he was willing to take.
Crazy people were one thing; crazy people could be very interesting. Crazy people believing in goblins were something completely different. 'Different' was most likely just mushrooms, and at the very least, drug addicts failed to interest him.
Despite the sure mystery and despite the obvious indications of mass hallucinations if not mass insanity, he was ready to pop some Vicodin and call it a night. These weren't his kind of people. He wasn't sure, and frankly didn't care, who were his kind of people, but these people were squarely in the "no way in hell" arena.
His hand was already searching his pocket for Vicodin when an angry tap on his shoulder turned away all his thoughts of leaving.
"What are you doing here?" the Williams woman hissed.
Her sleeve had been pushed up, showing a particularly glittery forearm. Instantly his interest was revived. The lab tests of her skin scrapings had not provided adequate answers, after all. 'Results Inconclusive' just didn't have that satisfactory ring.
"House call."
"This is not my house, and you are not my doctor! Please leave!"
"You can't refuse a cripple." He shook his cane in her line of sight for good measure.
"This meeting is by invitation only."
"I was invited." When he flicked out the business card, she almost tore it from his fingertips before cursing and ripping it angrily into pieces.
"I am going to kill Toby…" she muttered while balling the card scraps in her fist.
"You do know that it is my solemn duty as a doctor to report the murderous thoughts of a crazy person to the proper authorities," he stated with clear intent.
"I am not crazy. Must you always antagonize me?"
House merely shrugged. He thought of a clever comeback but figured she would only be expecting that. It was best to wait for the right moment.
The Williams woman used his silence to close her eyes and take several deep breaths before she seemed to regain some composure.
"If you could read the card then maybe you should stay. It might be interesting to see how you react," she finally said resolutely.
"Spoken like a true crazy woman."
She ignored the comment and merely gazed at him with an assessing eye. A wry grin crossed her lips before she nodded to a small folding table in the hallway that was covered in assorted fliers for everything from Yoga to Nude-Tai-Energetic-Sculpture-Yoga.
"Tell me something. Do you see them on that table?"
"Mentally disturbing pamphlets? Yes."
"I suppose you don't then. Feel free to stay then, but decide now because I need to get this meeting started. Just know that whatever mystery you think you've found is nothing compared to what you might actually find."
"Did you take a speech class in 'Crazy'? Do they offer that class here?"
"I'll only give you this warning once: leave now if you don't want to start seeing the goblins."
And with that parting remark, possibly crazier than anything she'd said to date, the Williams woman turned on her heal and walked into the room. He walked just out of sight of the doorway and listened in.
"Your majesty! I knew you'd come!" The clipped female voice had changed almost completely by happiness.
"Of course, Mathilda. I'm sorry I was late. I… ran into an old acquaintance."
"Under or Above?"
"Above. They are far clingier."
The occupants of the room chuckled, and House felt a tiny bit insulted. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he took those last few fateful steps into the room.
"'Clingier'? You're the crazy woman stalking me," he said while meeting her amused eyes. He knew a challenge when he saw one, and he simply refused to be bested by someone who saw goblins.
"If that's how you want to see it," she stated with a smirk before turning to the assembled. "Everyone, please welcome the newest addition to our support circle, Dr. House. He's a bit difficult and a non-believer, but I have a feeling he'll be right at home soon enough."
"You didn't answer your phone."
Wilson almost sounded upset about it. House idly wondered exactly how that could be. It wasn't as if he regularly answered his phone anyways.
"I was spending quality time with the insane," he said between bites of his Reuben sandwich.
"Ah. I forgot that was on Tuesdays."
He wondered for a moment whether Wilson truly knew the extent of it. One of the regulars was one of the oncologist's former patients --and never failed to remind House of it. After three weeks, he'd hoped the annoying woman would realize that he didn't give a damn how wonderful she thought Dr. Wilson was.
That wasn't the end of it; in fact, the support group featured more than one forgettable face.
The first group member House had ever spoken to, other than the Williams woman, was an atrocious little man by the name of Mal. Mal had gone by "Malodorous" back when, two years before, he'd first entered the clinic claiming to be suffering disorientation and a skin rash.
In this case, unlike the Williams woman, it had a conclusive medical reason: he had severe sunburn, probably from wondering around the northeastern United States for the better part of a week in the middle of July. The disorientation was believed to stem from the same cause, but after listening to the man rant about missing the "forever dusk outside the castle walls" and how much he resented being "banished by that no-good King" for "one tiny bit of misunderstanding about his relations with a chicken", House had decided it was outright insanity instead of dehydration.
He was coming to realize it might be a much deeper problem than he'd ever imagined. For one, he wouldn't have guessed it was such a popular infliction.
And just to make everything even crazier, the Williams woman herself played a seemingly important part in their shared delusion: she was the Queen. Whether they loved her or hated her, all of the group members respected her and acknowledged her position as leader. Even those that hated the King were willing to at least listen to the Queen.
Even the King occasionally listened to the Queen, though House had a feeling that was more to retain certain conjugal privileges than to a express a wish for her input. Despite his outrageous appearance and outlandish attitude, the King was still a man. A much maligned and altogether ridiculous man, but a man nonetheless, and a man that seemed completely whipped by the Williams woman.
If anything, House almost felt pity for the King. He might actually have if he was not under the distinct impression that he had already met the King.
And, of course, it all went back to that first encounter. He still couldn't get an answer either way from either the Williams woman or the King about what happened and why everyone had conveniently forgotten about it, though the other group members claimed it wasn't unusual for the King to play with time to suit his needs.
As he was still finding his answers, he was left with attending the group sessions just to get more pieces of the puzzle. He'd been to three so far and found himself more curious after each. These people truly believed there was a fantastical Underground inhabited by goblins and other mythical beings. These people truly believed in magic.
He'd seen cults before, but never this level of diversity within such intense belief. It was such that he found himself wanting to see what they saw, if only so he could categorize it and study it.
Which reminded him…
"Is crazy infectious?"
The oncologist looked puzzled, but was a good enough sport to respond.
"Depends on the cause, of course. You're more of a specialist in that than I am."
House wasn't quite sure if he was referring to his medical specialty or if Wilson was actually making a comment on his apparently lacking sanity. He decided to go with the former.
"There doesn't seem to be a cause, unless you count stale water from the cooler, and I've already tested that."
"Why the sudden interest? Are you catching it?"
He thought he saw something move on an empty table. Though he couldn't see it except from the corners of his eyes, he nevertheless got an impression of something brown and ugly.
"Possibly," he responded with a blank expression.
"Well," Wilson said with a sigh. "Everyone already thinks you're crazy. It's not as if we need more proof."
And without another word, the oncologist picked up his lunch tray and went back to work.
"You're sparklier than usual," the man said in lieu of a greeting.
"Good evening to you too, Dr. House," Sarah replied with only a slightly frosted tone. She wasn't sure she liked that she was getting used to his presence. He was slightly tyrannical and terribly sarcastic, but certainly easier to deal with than some of the other group members. He even seemed to strike a chord with Jareth, which was saying quite a lot.
Then again, perhaps overbearing men could find common ground regardless of where they originated.
She still wondered, though, what would happen when the man began to really see the goblins. Already he was beginning to catch glimpses. It was only a matter of time and exposure before he would be able to see them outright and everywhere.
"You should really get that rash checked out. It could turn into something nasty," he said without looking away from her arms.
"Yes, well, I have a terrible fear of doctors."
"Really."
"Oh yes. I fear they're all ignorant pigs who never actually listen to their patients before diagnosing them."
"The last thing a doctor should do is listen to their patient."
"Like I said, it's a terrible fear."
They both smirked before his eyes were drawn to the refreshments table. She turned and acknowledged two goblins, Frip and Glonk, chasing each across the length of the table, occasionally stepping on some of the sandwiches she'd bought. The doctor's expression told her he couldn't actually see the two goblins yet, but he seemed to see enough to avoid the sandwich tray that evening.
In fact, he seemed pretty adept at avoiding rambling goblins considering he couldn't actually see them. While consoling a weepy and homesick former Undergrounder, she caught a glimpse of the doctor neatly sidestepping Plimp as he ran from the wrath of Loot and Pil.
Sarah couldn't help but feel vindicated. She'd been uncomfortable and at his mercy at the hospital, even though she'd never been a patient. Now he was firmly in her territory and about to feel just as uncomfortable. All the "crazy woman" comments would finally be avenged.
She wondered when she could time it just right to ask him exactly what going mad felt like.