Yet More Easter Exchange fics
Apr. 26th, 2011 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
menolly_auTwo ficlets written for the Easter Basket Fiction Exchange. Headings and summaries behind the cut.
Title: Transformation
Words: 1217
Rating : PG 13
Spoilers : None
Characters : House and Wilson
Summary : Wilson is having dreams which he can't remember. Science fiction/supernatural themes.
Written for
damigella_314 for the Easter Basket fiction exchange
He wakes in a small room. At first he thinks he is at the hospital. Then he realises that there is something not quite right. The light is strange, the material of the wall and of the ceilings is just that little bit different than he is used to. Even the air seems slightly off somehow.
He looks down at himself. He is lying on a cold surface, completely naked. He tries to sit up but he is pulled back to the surface by a force stronger than gravity. A flood of adrenaline fills his body and his heart beats faster. He opens his mouth to yell but nothing comes out.
A door opens in the room and he stares at the being who enters. Not human. Not human. Alien. The being approaches him, claws reaching for him. He tries to shrink away but cannot move. The claws touch his forehead.
Pain explodes within him.
Wilson jerks awake with a shout, his heart pounding.
For a second the details of his dream are clear in his mind and he understands everything. In the next second the dream is gone, slipping out of his grasp. He is left only with a sense of dread.
So it has been every night for the last week.
He stares at the ceiling, eyes wide open, heart racing. The clock ticks over to 3 am. He knows there will be no more sleep tonight. No more dreams.
If only he could remember. He thinks the dreams will stop when he remembers.
For now he can only get up, stare out the window as the darkness gives way to dawn. Another day starts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stands in the room of a young child with cancer. Charlie he reminds himself. This is Charlie. He is eight. He is dying.
He feels nothing. He looks at the small scared bald headed child and feels nothing. He does not care about him. The parents are looking to him for guidance, for help and he has nothing for them. He nods at them and leaves the room. Charlie will be dead within two hours.
He heads towards House's office. He is spending more and more time there this week. In the rest of the hospital he feels off balance, separate from them. It is as if he is standing outside himself, looking in, watching as the kindly Doctor Wilson goes through the motions. It is only when he is with House that he begins to feel connected again.
House does not seem to mind Wilson's sudden need for his company and for that Wilson is glad. House is a good friend. He can rely on House.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wilson sits in the cafeteria, the fork in his hand moving in slow circles around his congealing food. A cup of coffee has long since gone cold. The other people in the cafeteria are staring at him but Wilson doesn't care. Let them stare. He looks at his food, trying to remember. There is a puzzle here, he just has to solve it.
He looks up at House, who is sitting opposite him, watching him.
“I'm don't know what's happening to me, House. I think I'm losing my mind.
“You're fine Wilson,” House says, his eyes locked on Wilson.
“No, I'm not House! I'm not fine! I can't sleep, I have these terrible dreams. I can't concentrate, everything is just so....”
House stares at him intently.
“Everything is what, Wilson?”
Wilson takes his hands away from his face.
“I don't know!” he almost screams. The cafeteria goes quiet. People look towards them and then away. He doesn't care, they're nothing to him.
House shoves his chair away from the table, glares at the onlookers and then glances back at Wilson.
“There's nothing wrong Wilson, this is how its supposed to be. Come on, we're going home.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at the loft House sits Wilson down on the couch and plies him with food and drink. Gradually Wilson relaxes, becomes calmer.
“Thanks House,” he flashes a smile at his friend. “I feel a lot better now. I don't know what got into me before.”
“Tell me about your dreams. Tell me what you remember.”
Wilson shakes his head.
“They're just dreams House. They don't mean anything.”
“Tell me.”
Wilson closes his eyes and tries to focus on the details of his dreams they slip away as he reaches for them.
“I just can't remember. I know I'm not here, it's like I'm somewhere else entirely. And people are watching me. I can hear things..see things...and there's someone else there. And then I wake up. And just for a second I know what it all means, and everything makes sense. Then it's gone.”
Wilson stares at the floor.
“I'm going mad House.”
House shakes his head.
“You're not going mad Wilson. One day you will wake up, and you will remember, and then you will understand.”
Wilson stares at him. An sense of calm descending over him at House's words. Suddenly he is eager to sleep, to dream. He doesn't protest as House leads him to his bedroom and watches while he gets ready for bed. As he slips under the covers House is still watching him.
Just as he falls asleep he hears House whisper softly.
“See you in your dreams Wilson.”
The pain seems endless as the alien's dry claws scratch his face, another mind invades his, exploring him from the inside out. Thoughts and feelings and memories all tumble around inside him, his own mixed with many others. His mind is full to bursting and the sheer intensity of it drives his insides into knots, his heart pounding, his blood rushing through his body. It seems there will be no end and then
it stops. The claws are removed and the alien steps back. He hears clicks and whispers and knows what it means.
“You are ours.”
He looks down at his naked body and watches as his skin ripples and flexes. Something is settling within him. He knows he should be horrified but he is not. He feels strong and powerful, as if another world has opened up to him.
He nods to the alien,
“I am yours”
He turns his head as another being enters the room. He smiles, a sudden rush of warmth filling him.
“House, you are here too.”
“I was always here.” House approaches him, reaches for him. One human hand touches Wilson's face. “They changed me first.”
They both watch as House's hand transforms into a claw, as his skin ripples into a leathery covering.
“Am I like that?” Wilson asks
“Yes, that and more. I will help you learn how you are now, show you what you can do. Wake now Wilson.”
Wilson wakes again, but this time there is no panic, no fear. He remembers his dreams, he remembers everything. He looks to the doorway where House still stands.
House smiles and reaches out one claw.
“Welcome to the new world, Wilson.”
Wilson smiles and looks down at his own hand, watches with a smile as the surface ripples and changes into a claw.
Time to go hunting.
Title: It's Not MS
Words: 752
Rating : PG 13
Characters : House and Cuddy
Summary :A West Wing/House MD crossover. House decides that President Bartlet doesn't have MS.
Written for
flywoman for the Easter Basket fiction exchange.
Partially inspired by another House/West Wing crossover - In the Shadow of Two Canes which can be found here.
"The President doesn't have MS."
Cuddy looked up from her computer. There was only one person in the hospital rude enough to just barge into her office like this and that was the tall scruffy guy with the cane who loomed over her desk, staring down her blouse.
"The President of...your fan club?"
"Oh, what a wit! No, Wilson doesn't have MS, he just walks funny. President Bartlet, the big Chief, the guy who was all over my television screen last night interrupting the final episode of Hot Girls of Miami Beach. Now I'll never know if Candy went off with Joe or Bill. Or maybe both..."
"President Bartlet has MS, end of discussion. He just announced it on national television."
"So it must be true then. He doesn't have MS."
"This is going to end his career House, there's going to be an investigation into whether he should be impeached. He's not going to say he has MS because he has a sore leg."
"Public loves a lame duck, get himself a good cane and they'll be falling all over themselves to vote for him."
"So you think he's fabricated the fact that he has a serious illness, and that's he's been covering up for years so that he can get the sympathy vote at the next election?"
"No, the idiot thinks he has MS because that's what his moronic doctors told him. One test and they've jumped straight to the top of the degenerative disease Hit Parade. Get him in here and we'll work out what he actually has." House turned to go, apparently quite secure in the belief that she would somehow be able to produce President Bartlet for him.
"House, I can't call up the President and tell him that the dozen or so doctors he's already seen were wrong and there's a madman in New Jersey who wants to have a look at him."
"Why not?"
"It... just doesn't work that way! Do you have idea how many doctors, faith healers and alternative practitioners are probably trying to ring the White House this morning after that press conference? All saying that they can cure the President. I am not having this hospital put on a blacklist because you think that you can diagnose a man by watching him on your television!"
House strode over to her desk and picked up her phone, thrusting the handset at her.
"Ring up that guy you used to date - Sam Seabone or was it Seahorse? He works for the President, he can get us in."
Cuddy stared at him, open mouthed.
"That wasn't me, that was my twin sister - Laurie. And how did you know about that anyway?"
House just stared at her and she sighed, she'd forgotten who she was dealing with. "Never mind, of course you knew." She made a mental note to change the password on her computer - again. "Anyway, I'm not involving my sister just so you can indulge your curiosity. The answer is no, House." A horrific though struck her. "And you are not, repeat not, going to DC to drug, kidnap or otherwise assault the President to get him here."
House looked affronted, his eyes going wide. "Just because I drugged one patient..."
She stared at him and he shrugged.
"Okay, maybe it was two. Just because I drugged two patients..."
"House, this is not a soap star, or your ex girlfriend's husband. You are talking about the President of the United States. There will be no drugging. There will be no phone calls. You will forget it and go back to your office and play with your ball. Are you reading me?"
"Fine! But when he dies of something else, and all the little democrat children are crying into their cereal just remember that you could have saved him."
House turned and limped out of her office. She heaved a sigh of relief and went back to her paperwork. House was just being ridiculous. The President had MS, not some mystery illness. House was just bored and trying to make trouble. She was not going to ring her sister, she was not going to try and make contact with the White House.
Five minutes later she put down her pen and picked up the phone.
"Hey Laurie? It's Lisa. I've got a big favor to ask you..."
Title: Transformation
Words: 1217
Rating : PG 13
Spoilers : None
Characters : House and Wilson
Summary : Wilson is having dreams which he can't remember. Science fiction/supernatural themes.
Written for
damigella_314 for the Easter Basket fiction exchangeHe wakes in a small room. At first he thinks he is at the hospital. Then he realises that there is something not quite right. The light is strange, the material of the wall and of the ceilings is just that little bit different than he is used to. Even the air seems slightly off somehow.
He looks down at himself. He is lying on a cold surface, completely naked. He tries to sit up but he is pulled back to the surface by a force stronger than gravity. A flood of adrenaline fills his body and his heart beats faster. He opens his mouth to yell but nothing comes out.
A door opens in the room and he stares at the being who enters. Not human. Not human. Alien. The being approaches him, claws reaching for him. He tries to shrink away but cannot move. The claws touch his forehead.
Pain explodes within him.
Wilson jerks awake with a shout, his heart pounding.
For a second the details of his dream are clear in his mind and he understands everything. In the next second the dream is gone, slipping out of his grasp. He is left only with a sense of dread.
So it has been every night for the last week.
He stares at the ceiling, eyes wide open, heart racing. The clock ticks over to 3 am. He knows there will be no more sleep tonight. No more dreams.
If only he could remember. He thinks the dreams will stop when he remembers.
For now he can only get up, stare out the window as the darkness gives way to dawn. Another day starts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stands in the room of a young child with cancer. Charlie he reminds himself. This is Charlie. He is eight. He is dying.
He feels nothing. He looks at the small scared bald headed child and feels nothing. He does not care about him. The parents are looking to him for guidance, for help and he has nothing for them. He nods at them and leaves the room. Charlie will be dead within two hours.
He heads towards House's office. He is spending more and more time there this week. In the rest of the hospital he feels off balance, separate from them. It is as if he is standing outside himself, looking in, watching as the kindly Doctor Wilson goes through the motions. It is only when he is with House that he begins to feel connected again.
House does not seem to mind Wilson's sudden need for his company and for that Wilson is glad. House is a good friend. He can rely on House.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wilson sits in the cafeteria, the fork in his hand moving in slow circles around his congealing food. A cup of coffee has long since gone cold. The other people in the cafeteria are staring at him but Wilson doesn't care. Let them stare. He looks at his food, trying to remember. There is a puzzle here, he just has to solve it.
He looks up at House, who is sitting opposite him, watching him.
“I'm don't know what's happening to me, House. I think I'm losing my mind.
“You're fine Wilson,” House says, his eyes locked on Wilson.
“No, I'm not House! I'm not fine! I can't sleep, I have these terrible dreams. I can't concentrate, everything is just so....”
House stares at him intently.
“Everything is what, Wilson?”
Wilson takes his hands away from his face.
“I don't know!” he almost screams. The cafeteria goes quiet. People look towards them and then away. He doesn't care, they're nothing to him.
House shoves his chair away from the table, glares at the onlookers and then glances back at Wilson.
“There's nothing wrong Wilson, this is how its supposed to be. Come on, we're going home.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at the loft House sits Wilson down on the couch and plies him with food and drink. Gradually Wilson relaxes, becomes calmer.
“Thanks House,” he flashes a smile at his friend. “I feel a lot better now. I don't know what got into me before.”
“Tell me about your dreams. Tell me what you remember.”
Wilson shakes his head.
“They're just dreams House. They don't mean anything.”
“Tell me.”
Wilson closes his eyes and tries to focus on the details of his dreams they slip away as he reaches for them.
“I just can't remember. I know I'm not here, it's like I'm somewhere else entirely. And people are watching me. I can hear things..see things...and there's someone else there. And then I wake up. And just for a second I know what it all means, and everything makes sense. Then it's gone.”
Wilson stares at the floor.
“I'm going mad House.”
House shakes his head.
“You're not going mad Wilson. One day you will wake up, and you will remember, and then you will understand.”
Wilson stares at him. An sense of calm descending over him at House's words. Suddenly he is eager to sleep, to dream. He doesn't protest as House leads him to his bedroom and watches while he gets ready for bed. As he slips under the covers House is still watching him.
Just as he falls asleep he hears House whisper softly.
“See you in your dreams Wilson.”
The pain seems endless as the alien's dry claws scratch his face, another mind invades his, exploring him from the inside out. Thoughts and feelings and memories all tumble around inside him, his own mixed with many others. His mind is full to bursting and the sheer intensity of it drives his insides into knots, his heart pounding, his blood rushing through his body. It seems there will be no end and then
it stops. The claws are removed and the alien steps back. He hears clicks and whispers and knows what it means.
“You are ours.”
He looks down at his naked body and watches as his skin ripples and flexes. Something is settling within him. He knows he should be horrified but he is not. He feels strong and powerful, as if another world has opened up to him.
He nods to the alien,
“I am yours”
He turns his head as another being enters the room. He smiles, a sudden rush of warmth filling him.
“House, you are here too.”
“I was always here.” House approaches him, reaches for him. One human hand touches Wilson's face. “They changed me first.”
They both watch as House's hand transforms into a claw, as his skin ripples into a leathery covering.
“Am I like that?” Wilson asks
“Yes, that and more. I will help you learn how you are now, show you what you can do. Wake now Wilson.”
Wilson wakes again, but this time there is no panic, no fear. He remembers his dreams, he remembers everything. He looks to the doorway where House still stands.
House smiles and reaches out one claw.
“Welcome to the new world, Wilson.”
Wilson smiles and looks down at his own hand, watches with a smile as the surface ripples and changes into a claw.
Time to go hunting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: It's Not MS
Words: 752
Rating : PG 13
Characters : House and Cuddy
Summary :A West Wing/House MD crossover. House decides that President Bartlet doesn't have MS.
Written for
flywoman for the Easter Basket fiction exchange.Partially inspired by another House/West Wing crossover - In the Shadow of Two Canes which can be found here.
"The President doesn't have MS."
Cuddy looked up from her computer. There was only one person in the hospital rude enough to just barge into her office like this and that was the tall scruffy guy with the cane who loomed over her desk, staring down her blouse.
"The President of...your fan club?"
"Oh, what a wit! No, Wilson doesn't have MS, he just walks funny. President Bartlet, the big Chief, the guy who was all over my television screen last night interrupting the final episode of Hot Girls of Miami Beach. Now I'll never know if Candy went off with Joe or Bill. Or maybe both..."
"President Bartlet has MS, end of discussion. He just announced it on national television."
"So it must be true then. He doesn't have MS."
"This is going to end his career House, there's going to be an investigation into whether he should be impeached. He's not going to say he has MS because he has a sore leg."
"Public loves a lame duck, get himself a good cane and they'll be falling all over themselves to vote for him."
"So you think he's fabricated the fact that he has a serious illness, and that's he's been covering up for years so that he can get the sympathy vote at the next election?"
"No, the idiot thinks he has MS because that's what his moronic doctors told him. One test and they've jumped straight to the top of the degenerative disease Hit Parade. Get him in here and we'll work out what he actually has." House turned to go, apparently quite secure in the belief that she would somehow be able to produce President Bartlet for him.
"House, I can't call up the President and tell him that the dozen or so doctors he's already seen were wrong and there's a madman in New Jersey who wants to have a look at him."
"Why not?"
"It... just doesn't work that way! Do you have idea how many doctors, faith healers and alternative practitioners are probably trying to ring the White House this morning after that press conference? All saying that they can cure the President. I am not having this hospital put on a blacklist because you think that you can diagnose a man by watching him on your television!"
House strode over to her desk and picked up her phone, thrusting the handset at her.
"Ring up that guy you used to date - Sam Seabone or was it Seahorse? He works for the President, he can get us in."
Cuddy stared at him, open mouthed.
"That wasn't me, that was my twin sister - Laurie. And how did you know about that anyway?"
House just stared at her and she sighed, she'd forgotten who she was dealing with. "Never mind, of course you knew." She made a mental note to change the password on her computer - again. "Anyway, I'm not involving my sister just so you can indulge your curiosity. The answer is no, House." A horrific though struck her. "And you are not, repeat not, going to DC to drug, kidnap or otherwise assault the President to get him here."
House looked affronted, his eyes going wide. "Just because I drugged one patient..."
She stared at him and he shrugged.
"Okay, maybe it was two. Just because I drugged two patients..."
"House, this is not a soap star, or your ex girlfriend's husband. You are talking about the President of the United States. There will be no drugging. There will be no phone calls. You will forget it and go back to your office and play with your ball. Are you reading me?"
"Fine! But when he dies of something else, and all the little democrat children are crying into their cereal just remember that you could have saved him."
House turned and limped out of her office. She heaved a sigh of relief and went back to her paperwork. House was just being ridiculous. The President had MS, not some mystery illness. House was just bored and trying to make trouble. She was not going to ring her sister, she was not going to try and make contact with the White House.
Five minutes later she put down her pen and picked up the phone.
"Hey Laurie? It's Lisa. I've got a big favor to ask you..."
