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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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when the light fades | james wilson

summary: taking place during the, "euphoria" episodes in season two, doctor eleanor cross, secretly involved with james wilson is called to work upon a case with the diagnostic team. a/n: original female character, trigger warning for needles, and severe emotional "distress". words: 14.6k

the hospital was quieter than usual, its usually frenetic energy simmering down to a rare stillness. the noise of nurses, patients, and doctors bustling through the hallways seemed to fade into the background, leaving wilson’s office a little bubble of calm.

papers scattered across his desk were left untouched, their urgency lost in the quiet comfort of the moment. he wasn’t thinking about them. because she was here.

eleanor was sitting across from him, her legs tucked underneath her as she flipped through a medical journal. the soft rustling of pages was the only sound in the room, and wilson found himself zoning out, his gaze fixated on her.

she wasn’t even aware of it—totally absorbed in her reading, as always. her hair, a dark cascade of waves, framed her face effortlessly, not a strand out of place, but still perfectly imperfect.

it was the kind of thing that made wilson want to watch her for hours, to study how the sunlight hit her in just the right way and how her lips would curve into that small smile when she found something that piqued her interest.

there was something about her, something about the way she carried herself, that made wilson feel like he’d known her for far longer than they had. she was warm, comforting, and steady, a quiet force that had a way of making the world feel more manageable. she had this presence that softened everything, even the chaotic moments of the hospital.

he leaned back in his chair for a moment, taking her in. she wasn’t just beautiful—though she certainly was that—but it was more than that. it was her energy, her kindness. he liked how she made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he didn’t have to be anyone but himself when he was with her.

eleanor was the department head of virology, a top expert in the field. she had spent years studying viruses and infectious diseases, but she was also one of the most compassionate people wilson had ever met.

it was that balance—her brilliance and her ability to make even the most chaotic day feel manageable—that made her stand out in the crowd of medical professionals. and it was why, when he stood from his desk and walked over to her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

eleanor looked up from her journal when he reached her side, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “hey,” she hummed softly, her voice warm, a little teasing. “you look like you’re about to say something.”

“just wondering why you're so interested in that journal,” wilson replied, his lips curving into a half-smile. “must be pretty riveting stuff.”

she raised an eyebrow, an amused glint flashing in her eyes. “it’s actually not bad,” she shrugged, leaning back slightly, “but i’m sure you’ve seen worse.”

he chuckled, stepping closer. “i’m sure i have,” he agreed. but before he could say anything else, she shifted her position just enough to make room for him beside her. without missing a beat, wilson leaned in, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him.

she stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but it only took a moment for her to relax, to melt into his embrace. the way she fit against him so effortlessly made his heart skip a beat. the world seemed to quiet even further, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.

wilson buried his face into the soft curve of her neck, inhaling her scent—something floral, something fresh, but with a hint of warmth that was uniquely her. he wanted to stay here, just like this, for as long as possible. he didn’t want to think about cases or the chaos of the hospital or anything else.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. he wasn’t usually so open, but with her... with eleanor, it felt easy.

she tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against his. “i’m always here,” she replied with a small, affectionate smile. “you know that.”

the words, simple as they were, meant everything. she wasn’t just here physically. she was here, really here, in a way no one else had been in his life.

without thinking, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. the kiss was gentle, soft, nothing like the frantic urgency that sometimes accompanied their moments together. no, this was something else—a quiet, intimate connection that spoke louder than any words could. it was a kiss that said everything they hadn’t yet voiced aloud, that held all the tenderness and understanding between them.

when they finally pulled away, eleanor’s lips were still curved in a faint smile, and wilson’s heart fluttered in his chest. there was something so right about being here with her, like they were the only two people in the world. he hadn’t felt this kind of peace in a long time.

“you’re distracting me,” she said, her tone teasing, though there was no bite to it—just affection, the kind that made his heart ache a little in the best way.

wilson grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he gently squeezed her waist. “am i?”

she nodded, her eyes sparkling. “yeah, you are. but i’m not complaining.”

before wilson could respond, the unmistakable beep of their pagers broke through the moment, loud and sudden, a harsh reminder that their bubble couldn’t last forever. both of them groaned in unison, their heads tilting back in frustration, as if they were already anticipating the inevitable disruption.

eleanor shook her head dramatically, making a face as she reached for her pager. “guess that’s our cue to go back to work.”

wilson sighed, though it was hard to stay upset when she was standing in front of him, looking so effortlessly beautiful. “you’re right,” he said reluctantly. “but i’d rather stay here with you.”

eleanor smiled, standing up and gathering her things. “i’ll make it up to you later,” she promised, her voice light, almost playful.

he chuckled as she walked toward the door. “you better,” he teased, but he couldn’t hide the affection in his voice.

“always,” she replied, sending him a wink before stepping out into the hallway.

for a moment, wilson stood there, just watching her go, letting the warmth of the moment linger in his chest. the faint hum of the hospital outside his office grew louder, tugging him back into reality. with a deep breath, he adjusted his tie, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the hallway, where the energy of the hospital pulsed like a heartbeat.

“you’re late,” house’s voice cut through the ambient noise like a scalpel, sharp and pointed.

wilson turned to see him leaning against the wall just outside the diagnostic conference room. his cane was planted firmly against the tile, and his expression was the usual mix of amusement and impatience.

“i’m not late,” wilson huffed, his brow furrowing.

“then you’re early, which is even worse,” house quipped. his gaze shifted to eleanor, who had stopped mid-step, her arms crossed in a stance that radiated equal parts annoyance and curiosity. “but look who you brought with you. our resident virus whisperer.”

“i wasn’t aware i’d signed up for whatever this is,” eleanor said dryly, tilting her head slightly.

house smirked, tapping his cane for emphasis. “you didn’t. but i’m invoking the ‘i’m smarter than everyone else’ clause to conscript you. we’ve got a case, and i need someone who knows how to spell ‘virology.’”

without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door to the conference room.

inside, the diagnostic team was already seated around the table. chase leaned back in his chair, a cup of coffee balanced precariously in his hand, while cameron was flipping through a patient file. foreman looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from mild boredom to guarded interest.

the air in the conference room felt stifling despite its pristine chill, the kind of tension that lingered when house called for a meeting without warning. cameron looked up from the file spread in front of her, her fingers idly tracing the corner of a page. her gaze softened, a polite but curious smile tugging at her lips.

“dr. cross,” she said, her voice warm but carrying a note of surprise. “house didn’t tell us you’d be joining.”

eleanor stood just inside the doorway, her posture straight but not stiff, her expression sharp, as if she was already calculating the chaos she was about to experience. she offered a small, wry smile, stepping further into the room with a deliberate ease that betrayed her experience in navigating unpredictable situations.

“house didn’t tell me, either,” she replied, her voice carrying a smooth, dry humor as she pulled out a chair and slid into it, her coat settling neatly around her.

house, lingering by the doorway with his cane balanced loosely in his hand, smirked. his sharp eyes darted between the two like he was savoring an inside joke only he understood. his fingers tapped a restless rhythm against the cane, the soft clicks filling the brief silence.

“well,” he drawled, his voice oozing with mock sympathy, “looks like you can go now. got everything covered.”

he waved a dismissive hand in wilson’s direction, a casual but pointed gesture that made his intentions clear. he hesitated, his lips parting as if he might argue, but the faint quirk of eleanor’s brow stopped him. she didn’t need defending, and she clearly knew it.

with a resigned sigh, he adjusted his tie, his gaze lingering on eleanor for a moment longer than necessary. “good luck,” he said softly, a hint of genuine warmth cutting through his otherwise wry tone. then, with a small nod to the group, he turned and left, the sound of his retreating footsteps fading into the hum of the hospital corridor.

house waited just long enough for the door to click shut before he hobbled into the room, his cane tapping a brisk rhythm against the floor.

he dropped the case file onto the table with a dramatic flourish, scattering a pen that cameron instinctively caught before it rolled off the edge.

“cop with a sense of humor,” he announced, leaning on his cane as if the weight of his words needed an extra flourish.

foreman, seated to his left, leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. his brow furrowed slightly, skepticism etched into the lines of his face.

“differential diagnosis,” house commanded, gesturing to the file with his free hand. “guy’s in the er, bleeding on everybody.”

foreman shifted forward, his hands now clasped together on the table. “drugs?” he asked, his tone clipped but thoughtful.

“he’s a cop,” chase interjected from across the table, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. his fingers drummed lightly against the tabletop, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.

“good point,” foreman said with exaggerated sincerity, nodding as if chase had just discovered the cure for cancer. “how about... drugs?” his smirk widened when chase’s eyes rolled, the australian doctor leaning back with an annoyed exhale.

house straightened slightly, his cane now hooked over the edge of the table. “tox screen was clean,” he continued, his voice taking on a singsong quality as he stepped around to the whiteboard. “he did, however, get hit by a bullet. just mentioning it.”

“he was shot?” cameron asked, her voice soft with disbelief. she leaned forward, her elbows resting lightly on the table, her fingers laced together.

house turned, his smirk widening as he raised an eyebrow at her. “no, somebody threw it at him,” he deadpanned, his tone so flat it took cameron a beat to process the sarcasm. she frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line.

chase leaned forward, his hands now resting on the edge of the table. “i’m thinking trauma,” he said, his tone contemplative. “he’s got bullet fragments lodged in his brain.”

“according to baby shoes,” foreman interjected, glancing down at the file in front of him, his voice calm but pointed. "he was laughing before getting shot."

“baby shoes?” cameron asked, her brows knitting together.

“the guy who shot him,” foreman explained, his tone devoid of the amusement house might’ve added.

cameron scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “reliable witness,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head slightly.

house perked up, his eyes lighting with mock delight. “his name is baby shoes. how bad can he be?” he waved a hand dismissively. “fragments are in the wrong part of the brain to cause euphoria, so let’s expand the search. factor in the cough and the cloudy lungs.”

chase flipped another page in the file, his eyes scanning the details quickly. “why are we ignoring the elevated heart rate?” he asked, glancing up at house.

“cause he’s in shock,” cameron shot back, her tone tinged with irritation. she leaned her chin on her hand, her fingers tapping against her cheek.

he frowned in response, not letting the remark deter him. “what if the heart was already fast before he got shot?”

“you mean after the foot race?” foreman countered dryly, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed again.

he tilted his head, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “he’s giddy. indicates a blockage of oxygen. carbon monoxide gas would elevate the heart rate and cause coughing and impair neurological functions.”

cameron blinked, disbelief flickering across her face. “he got co poisoning outdoors?”

“yeah,” house huffed, his tone sarcastic as he gestured wildly with his cane. “all because those bastards didn’t ratify kyoto. or he got co poisoning indoors and moved outdoors before he’d inhaled enough to make him drop dead.”

“test his arterial blood gas. if his carbon hemoglobin levels are higher than 15%, stick him in a hyperbaric chamber.” he said towards chase.

he gave a tight nod, his jaw flexing as he scribbled the instruction onto his notepad.

house leaned heavily on his cane, his gaze narrowing as he addressed foreman. “you—check the cop car for gas leaks or...” he waved a hand as if plucking the idea from thin air.

“if it was the cop car, his partner would be sick,” foreman interrupted.

“well, maybe she is. she just doesn’t have as good a sense of humor. also check his personal cars, work, home.” he paused, spinning his cane theatrically before smirking at the group. “i’ll check the precinct. you know, do the hard work.”

foreman exhaled sharply, his pen tapping against the table as he stood. cameron sighed softly, rising as well, her movements deliberate but resigned. chase lingered for a moment, his eyes flicking to eleanor, who had remained silent, observing the group with a thoughtful expression.

as the team filtered out of the room, foreman hung back, trying to keep his face neutral. he glanced at eleanor, and his eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion as she didn’t immediately leave with the others.

she had been quiet throughout the whole discussion, just listening, observing. her sharp eyes missed nothing, and it was clear she was deep in thought.

after a beat, she pushed her chair back, the screech of it cutting through the quiet. she stood, taking a moment to stretch before turning to foreman. “i think i should go with you to the officer’s apartment.”

foreman blinked, surprised, then nodded slowly, unsure what exactly she was getting at. “yeah? you’re interested in the environment?”

“i don’t know,” eleanor said, her voice soft but certain. “hysteria is a dangerous symptom." she paused, letting her words settle in the air before continuing. “we need to check his surroundings. find out what’s influencing him.”

foreman thought for a moment, his gaze flicking to the door where the others had left. cameron and chase were busy following their own leads, but he knew there was something to what dr. cross was suggesting.

her intuition was sharper than most, and he’d learned to trust it. he’d worked with her enough to know that she wasn’t someone who wasted time on hunches. when she made a suggestion, it was based on solid reasoning.

“you’re right,” he said with a nod. “let’s go.”

they didn’t waste any more time. the walk to the car was silent, the weight of the case hanging heavy between them. foreman wasn’t sure what exactly he expected from the officer’s apartment, but he knew it was going to be something far from ordinary.

he glanced at eleanor as she opened the passenger door, watching her with an unreadable expression. she was already deep in thought, her mind on the case, piecing together the possibilities with a kind of precision he envied.

as he started the engine, the soft hum of the car filled the space between them, and eleanor’s presence seemed to settle comfortably in the silence. she wasn’t the kind to make small talk, and foreman appreciated it. there was something reassuring about the quiet.

he focused on the road, the city’s streets blurring by as they made their way to the officer’s apartment. it was a short drive, but to foreman, it felt like it took much longer.

his mind kept circling back to the case. the officer’s bizarre symptoms, the laughter that didn’t fit the situation, the coughing, the elevated heart rate. none of it made sense. and yet, he felt like eleanor was onto something.

when they arrived, they parked in front of the building. foreman threw the car in park and turned to eleanor. “ready?”

eleanor didn’t immediately respond, her gaze lingering on the apartment building. it was a typical place for a cop to live—nothing special. clean enough from the outside, but foreman couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

“let’s get this over with,” eleanor said finally, breaking the silence. she pushed open the car door with determination, her heels clicking against the pavement as she walked toward the building entrance. foreman followed closely behind, trying not to think too much about what they might find.

they entered the building, a stale smell of old carpet and dust filling the air. the hallway was dimly lit, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. it wasn’t exactly a pleasant place, but it wasn’t unusual either. the kind of apartment complex that housed people in a hurry, just enough to get by.

they found themselves outside of the officers door, their backs to the dimly lit hallway. foreman shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes scanning the surroundings, a subtle tension building in the air.

eleanor, on the other hand, was already scanning the door, her fingers brushing over the frame lightly as she waited for foreman to act. without a word, foreman reached forward, testing the handle, and to his surprise, it turned easily. the door creaked open slowly, the hinges protesting under the strain.

as they stepped inside, the smell hit them immediately—musty, stale, mixed with the faint scent of something rotting. foreman’s nose wrinkled involuntarily, but she didn’t seem phased. she moved deeper into the apartment, eyes sharp, taking in every detail.

the living room was the first thing that greeted them. it was a mess—empty cans and bottles littered the floor, scattered pizza boxes were piled haphazardly in the corner, and half-eaten fast food meals were strewn about on the couch and coffee table. the couch itself sagged in the middle, its upholstery torn and stained in various spots.

“this place is a dump,” he muttered under his breath, though she was already moving past the clutter with practiced ease. her eyes swept over the room with purpose, taking note of every detail.

“it’s not unusual,” she said, her voice calm yet thoughtful. “a high-stress job like his can take its toll. when you’re dealing with that kind of pressure day in and day out, it’s easy to neglect everything else. chaos tends to follow.”

she glanced toward the kitchen, and he followed her gaze, noting how the counters were covered in dirty dishes, and the floor was sticky with spilled food. a few bottles of liquor were visible on the counter, their labels peeling from the years of misuse.

"look at this," foreman muttered, crouching down to examine an orange. it was shriveled and rotted, its skin a sickly shade of brown. he carefully bagged it, his gloves making a soft rustling sound as he sealed it.

eleanor stood beside him, her eyes scanning the scene. "food born illnesses," she mumbled, her tone cool and steady. "botulism, or maybe even salmonella."

she then crouched down in front of the sink, her knees bending with ease despite the small space. the air in the apartment was thick with the heavy smell of mildew and lingering rot, but she focused on the task at hand.

she carefully examined the taps, her gloved fingers brushing the rust and grime that clung to the metal. the faucet’s surface was encrusted with a thick layer of dirt and calcium buildup, the grime almost making the once-shiny metal unrecognizable.

the water stains that had settled into the base of the tap looked like they had been there for months, if not longer. a faint ring of rust ran along the edges, the faucet itself looking like it hadn't been cleaned in years.

eleanor’s brow furrowed as she traced the filth with a gloved hand. "this is bad," she muttered under her breath, her gaze narrowing as she studied the area closely.

with careful precision, she reached for the swab in her kit, taking a slow, deliberate motion as she pressed it against the surface of the rust and mold.

she rubbed it lightly, making sure to collect as many samples as she could. the swab picked up a thick layer of grime and discoloration, leaving behind an unsettling streak of dark brown on the white tip.

then she reached for a sample bottle, filling it with the water from the tap. the water poured out with a soft, almost soothing flow. she studied it for a moment, noting how clear it was. it seemed clean, nothing unusual about it at all.

no discoloration, no unusual smells. she raised the bottle to the light, tilting it slightly to catch the way it shimmered in the fluorescent glow. she frowned slightly. “this water’s clean,” she muttered, more to herself than foreman. “it doesn’t explain any contamination.”

foreman nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he glanced around the kitchen, looking for any other clues. “so, it’s not the water.”

“no,” eleanor agreed, still inspecting the sample.

they moved toward the back of the apartment. foreman reached the hallway and paused, eyes scanning the closed doors as they passed. eleanor pushed the door to the bathroom open with a flick of her wrist.

it was cramped, and the light flickered, casting long shadows on the cracked tiles. nothing here seemed out of place at first, until eleanor crouched down beside the cabinet. there were several bottles of industrial-grade chemicals tucked behind a few cleaning supplies.

the bottles were half-full, their labels faded, but one caught her eye—a powerful chemical solvent. she picked it up carefully, not wanting to touch it too much before bagging it for testing.

“found something,” she said softly, looking over her shoulder at foreman. she slipped the bottle into a plastic bag and stood, eyeing the bathroom fixtures.

“good catch,” foreman replied, nodding in approval. “you think this is what did it?”

“could be,” eleanor replied, her voice thoughtful. “he’s clearly been exposed to something. whether it’s this or something else in his environment, it’s too soon to tell. let’s keep going.”

they continued through the hallway, stopping when they reached a small balcony. the door was open, and foreman stepped out onto it first, glancing down at the alleyway below. the faint glow of led lights seeped from beneath a door on the far side of the balcony, catching their attention.

“what’s that?” foreman asked, squinting his eyes in the dim light.

her gaze followed his, her lips curling into a small frown. “looks like it’s coming from a room on the other side of that door.”

they both moved toward it, their footsteps light on the outdoor surface, the chilly wind rustling around them. when they reached the door, eleanor leaned forward and checked the handle.

it was unlocked, so without hesitation, she opened it, revealing a hidden room. foreman stepped in first, his eyes widening as they adjusted to the dim, artificial light.

the room was unlike anything they had seen in the apartment so far. rows upon rows of marijuana plants stretched out before them, the bright leds illuminating the room in an eerie glow.

the air was thick with the pungent smell of weed, overwhelming the senses. foreman’s first instinct was to pull his shirt collar up over his nose, but eleanor barely seemed fazed. she walked in, her eyes darting from plant to plant, examining each one with a quiet intensity.

“this is a full-on grow room,” foreman muttered under his breath. “he’s been growing his own.”

she nodded, carefully walking around, inspecting the plants. “this kind of setup requires a lot of chemicals and attention. if he’s been exposed to these plants or the chemicals used to grow them, it could explain his symptoms.”

foreman continued to check the room, taking careful samples of the air and the surrounding chemicals used to nourish the plants. he glanced over at eleanor as she moved to a table set up against one of the walls, covered in various bottles and vials. her hands moved with precision, examining each item and carefully bagging the ones she thought might be relevant.

when foreman finished taking the plant samples, he moved over to her side, watching as she took a closer look at the setup. “what’s this?” he asked, pointing to a strange device near the corner of the room.

she crouched down beside it, her fingers brushing over the device. “this looks like a nutrient injector,” she said, examining it closely. “it’s used to feed nutrients into the plants. if this isn’t calibrated correctly, it could cause a buildup of toxins in the air.”

“how do you know so much about this?” foreman asked, clearly impressed.

eleanor gave him a small smile, though her eyes remained fixed on the device. “you’d be surprised what you pick up when you’ve worked in the field long enough.”

foreman smiled back, but it was more of a nervous habit than anything else. he appreciated eleanor’s expertise, but he also knew that this wasn’t something they could rush. they needed to test everything.

they spent the next several minutes bagging more samples and carefully taking notes. the room had an almost eerie calmness to it, the only noise coming from the sound of water dripping, the faint hum of the led lights, and the occasional shuffle of their footsteps.

when they were done, eleanor stood and looked around the room one last time. “we’ll need to take these back for testing. hopefully, it’ll give us something solid to work with.”

foreman nodded, his hands full of samples. “yeah. we should head back soon.”

they left the room, making sure the door was securely closed behind them. the balcony felt colder now as they returned inside, and eleanor led the way back to the front of the apartment.

foreman followed close behind, the weight of the situation settling in. they had gathered what they could, but now they just had to wait for the results.

wilson was bent over his desk, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard, the soft click of the keys punctuating the otherwise quiet room. his focus was on the pile of reports in front of him, but his mind, for once, was drifting.

he didn’t hear the knock at first. it was a soft, polite tap, but the moment she stepped into the room, it was like everything else faded into the background.

his eyes lifted slowly, catching sight of her as she appeared in the doorway, a faint smile playing at the corner of her lips. she didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, watching him. her presence, though silent, was unmistakable. it was a presence that made the room feel warmer, lighter.

“hey,” she finally said, her voice soft but carrying an edge of affection.

“hey,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips before he could stop it. he set his pen down, his attention already shifting toward her.

eleanor moved closer, her gaze still on him, but it wasn’t the usual scrutinizing look of someone analyzing a case. no, her eyes were softer now, almost adoring, as though she was savoring the sight of him in this rare, quiet moment.

she slid onto the corner of his desk, the light rustle of fabric the only sound as she settled herself. her body angled toward him, close but not demanding, as though she just wanted to be in the same space.

wilson didn’t speak. he didn’t need to. instead, he allowed his hand to rest on her thigh, the gesture so natural it almost felt as though they’d been doing it for years, rather than just a few months. his fingers were light at first, careful, as though he were testing the waters, waiting for a response.

but eleanor didn’t pull away. in fact, she seemed to lean into his touch, her posture relaxing even further, as if the weight of the world had simply disappeared.

he continued to work, his fingers drifting back to the keyboard, but his mind was no longer on the reports in front of him. he was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from her skin beneath his hand.

he could feel the way her muscles would twitch ever so slightly at the brush of his fingertips, and the way she sat so still, so composed, and yet so completely open to him.

eleanor’s gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes soft and fond as she watched his every move. she didn’t interrupt him—didn’t ask questions or demand his attention. she was content to sit beside him, simply existing in the same space.

he had never felt anything quite like it before. the way she could simply be with him without the need for anything more. it was a new kind of quiet that he had come to cherish—no rush, no tension, just the two of them together.

her eyes never left him, studying him with such an intensity that it made his breath catch for just a moment. he glanced up, meeting her gaze with a soft, unguarded smile.

“what?” he asked, his voice low, though not with any particular question in mind. just a small invitation for her to share whatever was on her mind.

but she didn’t say anything. instead, she just smiled back, that small, private smile that only he ever saw. the kind of smile that said more than words ever could—said everything he needed to know.

he could feel his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite name, and he couldn’t tell if it was the way she was looking at him, or the sheer comfort of being near her, but either way, he didn’t want to move. didn’t want to break the moment.

and so he didn’t.

he returned his attention to the screen, fingers moving over the keyboard once again, but this time it was a slower, more relaxed movement. as if, in that instant, nothing mattered except this—her hand lightly resting beside his on the desk, his fingers still curled around her thigh.

he could feel the weight of her presence next to him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t experienced before. it was as if the hospital had faded away, and in this small, quiet corner of the world, they could exist without anyone or anything else pulling at them.

eleanor leaned just a little closer, her shoulder brushing lightly against his. it was subtle, but it sent a wave of warmth through him, a simple, comforting reminder of how right this felt. she didn’t need to say anything. she didn’t need to do anything. she was simply there, and that was enough.

wilson let out a quiet breath, the weight in his chest loosening just a little more. he moved his hand from her thigh, letting it drift gently to her side, where he let his fingers rest lightly, tracing the curve of her hip.

she didn’t move away.

he let his hand linger there for a few moments, feeling the rise and fall of her breath beneath his palm. each breath was like a rhythm, a melody he wanted to play in time with. the room felt smaller now, but it didn’t feel suffocating.

a bead of faint sheen of sweat began to gather at her forehead, and she noticed it almost immediately, brushing it off with the back of her hand.

and then, just as the stillness seemed to stretch on forever, the shrill, insistent beep of eleanor’s pager sliced through the air, for the second time today, sharp and jarring.

wilson’s hand fell away from her side, and for a second, neither of them moved. she exhaled softly, her shoulders slumping just a fraction, a small frown tugging at the corners of her lips as she got off the desk.

turned to face him, her gaze soft, and before he could say anything, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his cheek in a fleeting, tender kiss. it was gentle, warm, like the softest whisper of affection—a promise that she would be back.

wilson’s heart gave a small, unexpected lurch at the contact, his breath catching for just a moment. he smiled at her, the gesture making his chest tighten in the best way. his hand instinctively reached out, as if to catch her, to hold onto the fleeting softness of her touch, but she was already pulling away, that quiet confidence of hers still evident in the way she moved.

“i’ll be back,” eleanor murmured, her voice low, carrying a warmth that made wilson feel like everything would be okay. her eyes lingered on him for a second longer, a silent reassurance, before she straightened up and began to walk toward the door.

wilson watched her go, a mixture of longing and affection pulling at him. he couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—graceful, poised, but with a quiet strength that only he seemed to see. she paused at the door, her fingers brushing over the frame, and with one last soft glance in his direction, she stepped out into the hallway.

the door clicked shut behind her, and the stillness of the office seemed to settle back around wilson. but it wasn’t the same. he could still feel the warmth of her kiss on his cheek, a lingering trace of everything she was—everything she brought to his world.

he let out a quiet breath, running his fingers over the spot where her lips had been. he could still feel the faint echo of her presence there, as though she’d left a piece of herself behind.

with a soft exhale, wilson returned his gaze to the work in front of him, but his thoughts were no longer on the reports or the patients waiting for him.

while her thoughts were scattered as she saw house, cameron and chase standing outside of the isolation ward. their faces were etched with concern, so focused they didn't notice as she walked up to them.

house was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as a look of deep concentration passed on his face, while cameron held a clipboard, scannin through something.

“what’s going on?” eleanor asked, her voice cutting through the quiet as she approached.

house glanced up at her, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. he didn’t answer right away, and cameron was the one to speak first.

“foreman’s sick,” she explained quickly, her voice carrying a trace of concern. “he’s showing the same symptoms as the police officer.”

eleanor froze for a moment, her mind processing the information. she stepped closer to the window of the isolation room, peering inside. her stomach tightened when her gaze met foreman's. he was looking at her with a concerned expression.

the officer was in the same room, but on the opposite side in a hospital bed. his forehead was slick with sweat, beads of moisture glistening in the dim light.

the skin around his eyes was puffy and swollen, dark bags hanging beneath them as if he hadn't slept in days. his eyes themselves were bloodshot, red veins spreading across the whites of his eyes in angry streaks.

his lips were dry and cracked, and his breathing came in shallow, labored gasps as he lay there, colour draining from his face.

“you don’t feel anything?” chase asked, his tone probing but not unkind. “no dizziness, no disorientation, sweating, headaches, muscle contractions.. no.. uh hysteria?"

eleanor blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in focus. she could feel the weight of their scrutiny as they all looked at her, their eyes wide with concern. she shifted uncomfortably but shook her head, trying to keep her composure.

"uh," she paused. "i think im fine, i don't feel anything unusual." she said slowly.

there was a pause as the group exchanged a look, and eleanor could sense the relief mixed with the suspicion hanging in the air. they were still unsure, still on edge. she understood why. foreman wasn’t just any colleague—he was a friend, someone they all cared about. the same concern that was written on their faces now was mirrored in her own chest.

after a long moment, house spoke up, his voice sharp and cutting through the thick tension. "you're sweating." he pointed out.

eleanor flinched slightly at his words, instinctively raising a hand to her forehead. the dampness of her skin surprised her, and she could feel the slight heat rising from her neck. she brushed it off quickly, trying to focus on something else.

"it’s nothing," she said, her voice steady, though she was aware it sounded less convincing than she intended. "must just be warm in here."

but house didn’t let it slide. "yeah, sure," he said with a sharp edge. "everyone else is perfectly dry, except for you." his gaze narrowed, calculating.

eleanor took in a slow breath, willing her body to calm down. maybe it was just the warmth. but even as she thought it, the dull throb in her temple seemed to sharpen.

the sound of the elevator door opening interrupted her thoughts, and wilson stepped outside, his presence immediately catching her attention. she watched him walk toward them, his footsteps measured but quick.

“what’s the update?” he asked, looking between the group, his eyes eventually finding her. there was a flicker of something in his gaze, something deeper than the usual curiosity.

no one answered him at first. house’s eyes flicked to him but didn’t linger, his attention entirely on eleanor.

“is something wrong?” wilson’s voice was quieter now, his gaze narrowing slightly as he took a step toward her.

“her,” house said bluntly, pointing to eleanor, a dry smirk twisting his lips. “doesn't feel so good.”

her eyes met his, but she didn’t say anything. she was fine, wasn’t she? why did everyone suddenly think something was wrong? her fingers twitched, almost involuntarily, and she winced as another wave of discomfort surged through her wrist. she flexed it, trying to hide it. trying to ignore it. it wasn’t important.

"i’m fine," she said firmly. the words felt hollow even as they left her mouth.

house wasn’t convinced. “how’s your hand feel?”

eleanor hesitated, glancing down at her left hand, but even as she tried to reassure herself, the dull ache flared. she pressed her fingers to her palm, trying to stifle the sudden discomfort, but it was no use. it hurt.

she swallowed hard, and when she opened her mouth to say something, her voice betrayed her. "it hurts," she admitted softly, barely above a whisper.

"muscle contraction," chase muttered under his breath, his eyes darkening with suspicion. he exchanged a glance with cameron, and then his gaze returned to her, more focused.

wilson moved closer, his expression softening, his hand instinctively reaching for her arm. “el- dr cross, talk to me,” he said gently. there was a quiet urgency in his voice, a crack of worry he couldn’t hide.

but she just shook her head, willing herself to be fine. “it’s nothing,” she insisted, trying to sound convincing even to herself. the words felt empty, and she could see the concern creeping into wilson’s features. his eyes searched hers for any sign that she was telling the truth.

then, just as she was about to say something else, a sharp pain shot through her temple, stabbing right through her thoughts. her breath caught, and she swayed slightly on her feet, suddenly dizzy. “my head—” she started, but the words dissolved as the pain intensified.

wilson’s hand was immediately on her arm, steadying her. but that wasn’t enough. the pain wasn’t the only thing she felt now. she clenched her fist as a sudden, tight pain seized her wrist, shooting up her arm, and her fingers began to twitch uncontrollably.

“eleanor?” his voice was thick with concern, but before she could answer, the tightness in her wrist increased. her muscles spasmed involuntarily, and her breath hitched as she felt her body starting to betray her. she couldn’t stop the twitching, couldn’t stop the pain. her chest tightened as the intensity of the muscle contraction became unbearable.

"my hand..." she breathed, her voice faint and trembling.

"another muscle contraction," chase muttered, his tone grim.

his face paled, but he kept his grip on her arm, his other hand reaching for her face, trying to find some reassurance in her gaze. he wanted her to tell him it was nothing, that it was just stress, just a side effect.

but she couldn’t even meet his eyes anymore. the headache had nearly consumed her, the pain radiating outward, and she couldn’t focus.

then, without warning, her body jerked. her legs buckled beneath her, and he barely managed to catch her in time.

“eleanor?!” he shouted, panic rising in his chest.

“she’s seizing!” cameron shouted, her voice shrill with shock. she moved quickly, hands shaking as she knelt beside him, trying to help stabilize her.

“get the crash cart!” house ordered immediately, his usual sarcasm gone. his voice was sharp, focused. there was no room for hesitation.

wilson could barely process the words. everything seemed to slow down as he cradled her head against his chest, his mind unable to keep up with what was happening. her body was jerking violently against him, and the fear that coursed through his veins felt like ice.

he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—he just kept whispering her name, trying to get through to her, but her body wouldn’t stop convulsing.

her lips trembled, her eyes rolled back, and wilson felt his heart shatter in his chest as he helplessly watched her.

“stay with me, eleanor,” he begged, his voice rough, his hands shaking as he tried to hold her still. but there was nothing he could do. her body twisted in his arms, and the twitching of her muscles became erratic, frantic. he wanted to scream, but his throat felt raw, like it couldn’t make a sound loud enough to reach her.

cameron was checking her vitals, her face pale, the reality of what was happening dawning on her. “we need to stabilize her. now.” her voice was urgent, as she worked with chase to administer an emergency sedative.

chase pushed the syringe into her vein, and her jerking began to slow, but wilson’s fear didn’t subside. he felt her body relax in his arms, her breath shallow, but it wasn’t over. not yet.

he watched as cameron and chase moved her onto the gurney, quickly hooking her up to monitors, and a mask went over her face. he couldn’t bring himself to move as he stayed glued to her side, his heart in his throat. “is she going to be okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, cracked.

no one answered him immediately.

“get dr cross into isolation,” house said, his voice calm but firm. his expression was unreadable. “she’s not out of the woods yet.”

he stood frozen, his hand pressed against the glass as they wheeled her into the isolation room. the team moved swiftly, but to him, every second felt like an eternity. the moment he stepped inside, he watched them hook her up to more machines, trying to stabilize her, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

he reached out, touching the glass softly, his breath shallow. his fingers trembled as he watched them move around her, making sure she was comfortable.

house’s voice broke through his thoughts. “you’re not just worried about a colleague,” he said, low and calm.

he didn’t respond at first, his eyes fixed on her unconscious form. house stepped closer, his eyes lingering on him “how long?”

wilson closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. but he couldn’t lie. he didn’t have the words. the only thing he could feel was the painful ache in his chest.

"how long have you been sleeping with her?"

“does it matter?” he asked softly, his voice cracking.

house didn’t push further. he turned and walked away, leaving wilson standing there, staring at eleanor through the glass.

"please wake up," wilson whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of machines.

eleanor jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her body stiff and rigid, the remnants of the seizure still sending tremors through her muscles.

the cold metal of the hospital bed against her skin felt alien, and she shivered despite the heat radiating from her body.

her head was pounding, a dull, relentless throb behind her eyes that made it feel as though her brain were trying to split her skull open. she sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady herself, but the world around her spun, each breath shallow and strained.

"ow! damn, chase, you suck at this," foreman’s voice broke through the fog of her mind. his tone was light, even mocking, but it sounded so out of place in the sterile, clinical isolation room.

the sharpness of his words made eleanor’s heart race, her senses flooding with the sudden realization of where she was: in a hospital, alone in a bed, connected to machines that beeped with a steady, rhythmic pulse, the same machines that would monitor her every move now that she was sick.

she gasped again, her breath uneven and shallow, her hand shooting up to clutch at her chest. the familiar cold panic of being out of control set in. she hadn’t had seizures before—not like this. her body wasn’t hers anymore. something was inside her, taking over piece by piece, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

chase immediately noticed, his head snapping in her direction. "dr cross, hey, it’s okay. you’re awake."

his voice was softer now, gentler, but eleanor barely heard him. her pulse raced, and she tried to push herself up, but her body refused to cooperate. her muscles trembled, her skin slick with sweat.

she was burning alive from the inside out, and the pressure in her skull felt like it was about to crush her. her mind was foggy, but beneath that, there was the gnawing understanding that this wasn’t normal. she was in danger.

her throat felt raw, as if she hadn’t spoken in days. she tried to ask what happened, but her voice cracked. she swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "what… what happened?"

chase moved closer, his expression a mix of concern and exhaustion. "you had a seizure. we’ve got you hooked up to monitors to keep track of everything." his voice faltered as he spoke, the weight of what was happening pressing on him as much as it pressed on her.

"seizure," eleanor repeated, trying to make sense of it. her mind raced, her thoughts slipping and sliding away like oil on water. the last thing she remembered was the sharp pain in her head, the overwhelming dizziness, the sense that something had been terribly wrong—her body fighting against her in a way it never had before.

the image of wilson sleeping just outside the isolation room caught her attention. he had been there the whole time, hadn’t he?

she had no idea how long she’d been out, but he looked so still, his body slumped in the chair, his arms draped across his chest as he slept, clearly exhausted from the long hours of watching over her.

his face was softened in slumber, his brow slightly furrowed, as though the weight of worry still clung to him even in rest.

a surge of warmth flooded her chest. there was no mistaking it—the tenderness she felt for him was undeniable. she wanted so badly to reach out to him, to tell him that she was okay, that she wasn’t going to break. but the words caught in her throat. what if she couldn’t control it? what if the virus got worse? the thought terrified her.

"wilson hasn’t left," chase added, his voice quieter now, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace of the room.

eleanor’s gaze softened as she studied wilson from across the room. the sight of him there, his exhaustion palpable, tugged at something deep inside her.

she loved him, and despite her exhaustion and confusion, it wasn’t a passing thought. it was real.

a force inside her that she couldn’t ignore. she had never known love to feel like this—steady, sure, even when everything else around her was falling apart.

"is he… sleeping?" eleanor murmured, her voice barely a whisper. her throat felt thick with emotion as she watched him.

she couldn’t help but feel both devastated and relieved by the sight of him, the way his eyes fluttered in his sleep, his lips parted ever so slightly. he was there. always there. the one person she trusted to hold her when the world spun out of control.

"yeah. he’s been here since you got admitted. he won’t leave you alone. he’s worried."

she nodded faintly, her heart heavy in her chest. the words hit her harder than she expected. the thought that wilson had stayed by her side, refusing to leave even for a moment, stirred something deep within her.

how could she be so lucky? how could someone so kind, so selfless, care so much for her? it wasn’t lost on her that she had never felt this loved before. not like this.

but as much as she wanted to reach out to him, as much as she wanted to curl up in his arms and let him hold her through this nightmare, there was no escaping the reality that she wasn’t well. she was scared. she was so, so scared.

"chase, what’s happening to me?" eleanor asked, her voice breaking, the vulnerability she usually kept so tightly locked inside slipping through. "what’s going on? what are we testing for?"

"we’re still trying to figure that out," chase answered, his voice distant as he looked at the monitor readings. "toxins are in the lead, viral's a distant second. we’re testing for any kind of neurological damage. the mri showed a lesion on foreman’s cingulate cortex. it’s�� it’s concerning."

a lesion. she could barely wrap her mind around it. she felt so helpless. she was supposed to be the one solving the puzzle. she was the virologist, the expert. and now she was the one lying in a bed, unable to help the anyone at all.

she closed her eyes, letting the heaviness of it all settle on her shoulders. her head throbbed, the pain a constant reminder of how little control she had over the situation.

she hated the feeling of being weak, of being out of her element. it felt wrong. she had always prided herself on being one of the smartest person in the room, the one who could fix anything.

but now? now, she could barely stay awake without feeling like her body was betraying her.

foreman, standing off to the side, began muttering into his pocket recorder, his voice steady as he listed his symptoms.

her breath hitched as she looked back at the unconscious officer beside her, his chest rising and falling erratically.

he was in pain, and she could feel it. every groan of discomfort felt like a warning, a shadow of what might come for her.

her hands were slick with sweat now, her skin flushed with fever. she could feel the heat in her face, the dizziness creeping back in as her body struggled to hold itself together.

she heard gasp and immediately looked towards wilson. his body had twitched awake, and his gaze met hers.

he stood up so quickly that the chair he had been slumped in knocked back with a soft thud. the only thing he could do was stare at her, his chest tight, his heart still beating fast from the anxiety of watching her unconscious, watching her fight through a seizure.

her eyes softened as she locked onto his, a sense of calm washing over her. she had always felt safe with him, and despite everything that was happening around them, she still found comfort in him.

she couldn’t explain it, not in a moment like this, but the raw emotion in her chest made her feel like she wasn’t completely alone.

she didn’t waste any time getting off the bed. the muscles in her legs felt weak, but the urgency to move, to bridge the distance between them, pushed her forward.

she walked toward the glass partition in the room, her hand resting lightly on the cool surface, the faintest tremor still coursing through her fingertips.

she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t make her body behave the way it used to, and yet, she was here. she was awake. she was fighting through it.

"how are you feeling?" wilson’s voice was hesitant, almost whispering, the weight of his words hanging in the air. his hands hovered at his sides. "i couldn’t leave you. i just—i had to see you wake up. i needed to know you were okay."

eleanor looked at him, trying to mask how weak she felt with a small nod. she wanted to say that she was fine, that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong.

but her body betrayed her, and the truth was far from that. her forehead was slick with sweat, her pulse pounding painfully in her neck.

she felt her bloodshot eyes stinging with the burn of exhaustion, the weight of illness dragging her down, and she knew she couldn’t fool him. not now. not with the way he was looking at her, as if he could see through her like she were made of glass.

"i’m okay," she said, though her voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and fragile. "just… a little dizzy." she didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself or him, but she kept her gaze steady on him.

there was a certain vulnerability in the way she let him see her like this. she had always been strong, resilient even in the face of danger, but now, standing here in front of him, she felt small. she felt exposed.

wilson didn’t buy it. of course he didn’t. his brow furrowed, his eyes darting over her, searching for the subtle signs of distress she was trying to hide.

"you scared me, eleanor," he confessed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "watching you have that seizure… it was terrifying. i couldn’t do anything. all i could do was watch. i’m… i’m sorry."

the apology hit her harder than she expected. it wasn’t just that he was apologizing for not being able to help. it was the rawness in his voice, the way it cracked as if he were admitting that he, too, felt powerless in the face of her illness.

"you don’t have to apologize," she whispered, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "i’m the one who should apologize. i can't believe i let this happen to me," she let out a breath, shaky and strained, her fingers curling into the glass in front of her, seeking some sort of anchor.

wilson stood there for a long moment, his gaze softening as he watched her, his heart breaking with the weight of her words. "you don’t have to be strong, eleanor. not with me." his voice was gentle, the words a promise. "you don’t have to do this alone."

suddenly, her stomach twisted painfully, the overwhelming nausea rushing in, forcing her to bend over and clutch the trash can.

the fever was unbearable, scorching her from the inside, her body slick with sweat. her head felt like it was going to split open as each wave of sickness hit her.

she retched violently, her body shaking uncontrollably, and the world spun around her. she hated this feeling, hated how weak she was, how helpless.

the thought of wilson being just beyond the glass made it worse. she could feel him there, watching her, but she couldn’t let him see her like this. not when she was breaking, not when everything felt out of control.

with trembling hands, she wiped her mouth and stood, though her legs felt like they would give out beneath her. she didn’t want to look at him. couldn’t face him. but she had to push him away. "wilson.." her voice was raw, fragile. "you need to leave."

the words felt wrong as they left her lips, but she couldn’t stop them. she needed him to go. "please, just go. you don’t need to stay. not while I’m like this."

the words stung more than she expected, but the thought of him witnessing her this broken—this sick—was too much to bear.

there was a pause, and then she heard his voice, soft but firm. "I don’t want to leave you."

her chest tightened at the sound of his words. she could feel his gaze through the glass, the weight of his concern pressing down on her, and it made everything worse.

she could hear the sincerity in his voice, the desperation to stay by her side, and it cut deeper than the sickness.

"wilson, please," she snapped, her voice rising in frustration. she didn’t want to yell, but it was the only thing she could do to push him away. "you don’t get it. I’m sick, okay? I don’t want you to see me like this—weak, pathetic. I can’t—"

her voice faltered, and she clenched her jaw, fighting back the rush of emotion threatening to spill over. she swallowed hard, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"just go," she whispered, her voice trembling, but her anger was still there, raw and laced with hurt. she couldn’t let him stay and watch her fall apart. not when she needed to hold on to what little dignity she had left.

there was a long silence before she heard the sound of his footsteps. they were slow at first, hesitant, but they grew quieter, and eventually, they stopped. he was leaving. she didn’t want it to hurt this much, but it did. the emptiness that followed was suffocating.

he was gone.

the isolation room felt smaller as the moments ticked by, the air thick with tension. eleanor sat slumped against the bed, her head still throbbing with dull, insistent pain, but the worst of the sickness had eased just enough to make her feel the full weight of the situation.

her thoughts were clouded, fuzzy like her vision, but she did her best to focus as foreman and house discussed the case from the other side of the glass.

it was hard to pay attention. every little movement sent waves of nausea rippling through her, and the pain made everything feel distant, disconnected.

but she couldn’t afford to lose herself in the fog of illness. not now. not when foreman was still so sick, and the cop was screaming.

her eyes flickered over to him, lying unconscious in the bed next to her. he’d gone from grunting to full-on screaming, a guttural, primal sound that made eleanor’s stomach churn and her heart clench in sympathy.

she wanted to look away, to block out the sounds, but they were unbearable. the pitch of his screams grated on her nerves, like fingernails scraping across glass. she could feel every note of it vibrating in her bones.

foreman looked at the officer, shaking his head. he was in a rough spot, as bad as she was in some ways, but eleanor could see the strain on his face.

he was struggling to focus as he muttered under his breath, something about how the morphine was only doing so much. "we need to shut him up," he said, voice tense. "he’s driving me insane."

chase leaned in, glancing at the officer. "he’s over his limit on morphine," he explained, his tone flat but frustrated. "there’s nothing else we can do."

eleanor clenched her jaw, feeling the thudding ache of her own body as her vision wavered again. she could feel every inch of pain, but nothing as extreme as what the officer was going through. still, she could sense the threat in her body’s signals, the instinctual warning that things were about to get much worse. she swallowed hard, trying to focus.

she covered her ears instinctively, her hand trembling as she pressed against the side of her head, trying to block out the sound. she couldn’t take it.

it was like the sound was crawling under her skin, driving her mad. she looked at foreman, his hands already moving to prep a new syringe of morphine. she saw the decision in his eyes before his hand even touched the needle.

"no," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the chaos. she couldn’t let him make it worse.

but foreman didn’t hear her, or perhaps he just couldn’t stop himself. he pushed the syringe into the officer’s iv line, injecting the remaining dose of morphine. seconds later, the officer’s screams stopped—only to resume again, even louder, more frantic.

eleanor’s heart sank. the pain, it was relentless, and nothing seemed to work.

"he's developed a new symptom," house said suddenly, his voice detached but full of authority. "hyperalgesia." chase and foreman exchanged a look, but it was her who felt the weight of the words more than anyone.

"the infection's spreading to the pain center of his brain. his brain is telling him that his whole body’s in pain, and because of the location, painkillers are useless." she uttered.

a tear slipped down eleanor’s cheek as she watched the officer’s suffering, her heart hammering in her chest.

she could feel it in her own body, the deep-seated fear that tightened her throat. she wasn’t so different from him. the infection was spreading inside her, too. her brain would be next.

she could feel it in her skin, in the way her body burned with fever and her head felt like it was going to crack open.

another tear escaped her eye as she watched the officer convulse, still screaming even after the morphine was administered.

she knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before her own pain escalated. what if the morphine didn’t work on her either? what if she was stuck in an endless cycle of agony, unable to find relief?

"please," she whispered, almost to herself. "please, no."

the officer’s screams tore through her, louder than ever, and eleanor couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled up in her throat. her body was already in the early stages of that hell. she was sure of it now.

foreman looked up, his face pale as he met her eyes through the glass. "eleanor..." he started, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice, the helplessness that mirrored her own.

eleanor’s gaze shifted to the officer, and she clenched her fists against the bed, fighting the rising panic in her chest.

there was nothing they could do. there was nothing they could do for any of them. and as the officer screamed, her heart ached with a deep, bone-weary dread. she knew, in that moment, she was headed toward that same fate.

the officer died at 12:26. the room fell into silence, the kind that felt heavy, oppressive, and impossible to break. eleanor barely registered the time—her vision was so blurry now that the clock on the wall might as well have been a smudge of gray.

all she could feel was the weight of it, the grim inevitability that had hung over the room since the first scream tore from his throat.

she sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the thin sheet covering her legs. her vision was so blurry now that the edges of the world seemed to bleed into each other.

she could barely make out foreman’s shape as he moved about the room, pacing or maybe just shifting restlessly. it was hard to tell. everything looked like shadows layered on top of shadows.

she blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze, but it only made the pounding in her head worse. her entire body felt foreign—sore, heavy, and weak. she hated how cold she felt despite the fever burning beneath her skin, the beads of sweat clinging to her hairline and neck.

her stomach churned, threatening to revolt again, but she forced herself to breathe through it, shallow and slow.

foreman’s voice broke the stillness, sharp and tight. “he didn’t even make it through the day,” he muttered, almost to himself. then louder, “house, we’re running out of time. we need answers.”

“vision’s deteriorating,” eleanor finally managed, her voice so faint that she wasn’t sure anyone heard her. she didn’t bother trying to repeat herself. house must have heard because his voice cut through the haze a moment later.

“you seem to be deteriorating faster than he did. whatever this is, it’s picking up speed.”

their voices faded into background noise as eleanor leaned back against the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on her body. her gaze shifted to the glass wall. the chair wilson had pulled up earlier wasn’t visible through the haze of her blurred vision, but she didn’t need to see it. she could feel its absence, just as she felt his. the empty space where he’d been seemed to echo with her own sense of isolation.

she closed her eyes briefly, swallowing against the nausea that threatened to rise again. her head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache that no amount of deep breathing could ease. and then, through the fog of her own thoughts, she heard house’s voice rise, sharp and insistent, cutting through the silence.

“shove an ice-pick into the eye socket just above the tear duct. bang it a couple of times with the hammer, get a sample.”

her eyes flew open, and she stared across the room where foreman stood with his back to her, clutching the tools. no. no, they couldn’t. she wouldn’t let them.

mustering what little strength she had, eleanor swung her legs over the edge of the bed. her vision blurred, and the room spun as she forced herself upright. every step was unsteady, her legs trembling beneath her weight, but she pushed forward.

“foreman,” she croaked, her voice weak but resolute. “don’t—don’t do this.”

he didn’t turn around, but his shoulders tensed. cuddy’s voice echoed through the room, sharp and commanding. “foreman, you can’t do it! you’d be in violation of—”

“can’t do the time if you’re not alive,” house interrupted coldly, his words devoid of any emotion.

eleanor reached foreman just as he hesitated, his hand hovering over the officer’s face. she grabbed his arm, her grip shaky but determined.

“stop,” she said, louder this time. “you don’t have to do this. there has to be another way.”

foreman turned to her, his expression a mixture of frustration and desperation. “we don’t have time for another way, eleanor! if we don’t figure this out, we'll be dead like him."

“foreman,” cuddy snapped, stepping closer to them. “put the tools down. this isn’t a decision you can make—”

“i’m making it!” foreman shot back, his voice rising. “because if we don’t do this, we’re dead. is that what you want?”

eleanor stumbled back slightly as foreman turned his attention back to the officer. she clutched her stomach, her nausea threatening to overwhelm her. her mind raced, her body trembling with both fear and fever.

she looked at the officer, his body still now, his face contorted in agony even in after death. she saw herself in him. the grunts, the screams, the unbearable pain. she had tried to stop foreman, but as the reality settled over her, she realized that he was right.

“do it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. she swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes as she nodded. “do it. if it gives us a chance—if it saves us—do it.”

cuddy stepped forward again, her face flushed with anger. "foreman, we don’t even know what kind of contagion we’re dealing with."

eleanor watched as foreman adjusted his grip on the tools, her heart pounding in her chest. her vision swam, and she steadied herself against the edge of the bed. she hated this. hated that it had come to this. but she also knew it might be the only way.

foreman positioned the ice-pick, his hands shaking. eleanor forced herself to keep watching, even as her stomach twisted in knots. he raised the hammer—

and stopped.

“that didn’t feel right,” he muttered, lowering the tools.

“what are you doing?” house asked, his tone sharp.

foreman didn’t answer. instead, he pressed his hand against the bed. his fingers slid across the surface, his expression shifting to one of confusion.

“he’s blind,” house said flatly.

“he thinks he can see, same as the cop.” eleanor murmured.

foreman ignored him, picking up a small shard of wood from the mattress. “we need something to bag the sample,” he said, his voice shaking.

“forget it,” house said. “you just biopsied a mattress.”

“no!” foreman shouted. “no, i’m fine! house, there’s the sample. test it! you’ve gotta test that sample!”

“apparently i was optimistic about the thirty-six hours,” house said, turning away with a shake of his head. “intractable, unbearable pain is up next. sure you don’t want to reconsider that whole autopsy thing?”

wilson’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. the faint tapping of his shoes was the only sound that seemed to cut through the otherwise silent hospital. he was exhausted, bone-deep tired from the weight of worry that pressed relentlessly on his chest.

he stopped, peering through the glass, his heart sinking with every passing moment. eleanor was barely recognizable. the vibrant, sharp-eyed woman who had once commanded respect with a mere glance now lay in the hospital bed, her once strong and steady presence reduced to a trembling shell.

her red eyes were barely open, a thin film of sweat clung to her forehead, and dark bags beneath her eyes made her look as though she hadn’t slept in weeks—when in reality, it had only been hours.

the pain was written across her face, her expression twisted in agony that seemed to have no end. she trembled constantly, her body shaking as though she was fighting against some unseen force that threatened to tear her apart.

wilson’s throat tightened, his fingers pressing against the glass as if he could somehow reach through it, touch her, comfort her. but he couldn’t. not anymore. the isolation room had become a barrier that neither of them could cross.

he stepped back and knocked on the glass. her head jerked up, eyes unfocused for a moment before they fixed on him. she didn’t smile. she didn’t even look relieved to see him.

instead, she looked scared—terrified, in fact.

he gave her a small wave, trying to offer her the reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would stay with her through whatever came next.

her gaze flickered away from him, her eyes downcast as though the sight of him was too much to bear.

the silence between them stretched, and wilson could feel the ache in his chest grow deeper. he didn’t know what to say anymore. all of the words he wanted to offer her—promises, reassurances—felt hollow.

what good were promises when he could do nothing to stop the pain that wracked her body, nothing to stop the slow, relentless march of the disease inside her?

after what felt like an eternity, she spoke, her voice thin and cracked. “wilson, please…”

he leaned forward, pressing his palm against the glass. “eleanor, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“you have to go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“what?” wilson’s breath caught in his throat.

“please… you need to leave,” she repeated, more urgently this time.

he shook his head, his heart sinking. “i’m not leaving you, i can't. especially not now.”

but her eyes were distant, unfocused. “it’s better this way.”

his breath caught in his throat. “no, it’s not. it’s not better, eleanor. please, let me stay. let me help you.”

she let out a jagged breath, her hand weakly pressing against her own side as if she were trying to hold herself together. "please, wilson. go.”

he shook his head again, harder this time. he pressed his palm against the glass, desperate to reach her. “i’m not going anywhere. i’m not going to leave you alone.”

“you don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “i can’t… i can’t do this with you watching me. i love you too much. i don’t want you to see me this way, wilson."

her words hit him like a freight train. he froze, his breath hitching as the enormity of what she was saying sank in.

“eleanor…”

she shook her head weakly, her lips trembling as she tried to speak but couldn’t. the pain was overwhelming, and her body buckled in the bed as another wave of nausea swept over her. she turned her head to the side and gasped, muffled screams escaping her throat as the pain took over.

wilson’s heart shattered as he watched her, helpless, desperate to do something—anything—but unable to reach her.

the sound of her muffled screams filled the space between them, the sound echoing in his mind as she twisted in agony, her body contorting with every breath. the glass between them felt more like a wall, one he couldn’t break through, no matter how hard he tried.

he wanted to tear it down. he wanted to be with her, hold her, take away the pain. but instead, he stood there, paralyzed, his hand pressed helplessly against the cold, unyielding glass.

she gasped for breath, her eyes clenched shut as she trembled. every muscle in her body was tense, as though she was fighting to hold herself together, but there was nothing left.

the fight was draining out of her, and all she could feel was the overwhelming pain, each breath harder than the last.

his heart wrenched as he watched her, his throat tight with emotion.

“eleanor, please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “don’t push me away."

but she didn’t look at him. instead, she turned her face into the pillow, trying to hide the tears that escaped her eyes. “you don’t deserve to see this,” she whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. “i love you too much to let you watch me die like this.”

wilson’s heart shattered at the raw, devastating truth in her words.

he couldn’t leave. not yet.

but she was pushing him away. she was telling him to leave.

he couldn’t bear the thought of it. couldn’t bear the thought of walking away from her when she needed him the most.

but he knew, in that moment, that he couldn’t force her to let him stay. he couldn’t make her accept his presence when she didn’t want him there.

he stepped back,the weight of the decision nearly crushing him. he stood there for a moment, watching her from the glass, his heart breaking as he slowly turned away.

he left.

the sound of his footsteps faded, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world had gone silent.

eleanor’s chest heaved with quiet sobs, the pain in her body almost too much to bear. her vision swam, the world around her spinning. she could feel her breath coming in shallow, gasping breaths, and she wondered how long it would take before she couldn’t breathe at all.

the pain was unbearable, and eleanor couldn’t escape it. it twisted inside her, a constant, gnawing ache that crushed her from the inside out. every breath she took felt like an effort, a laborious pull that brought nothing but more agony.

her body trembled violently, as if her very bones were shaking from the weight of the pain. she could no longer see—everything was a blurry haze. the world had faded into nothing but the endless throbbing that consumed her senses.

her head pounded relentlessly, a dull ache that was so constant she couldn’t even remember what it was like before it began.

her vision had long since become a series of shifting shadows and silhouettes. she couldn’t even make out her own hands, which trembled as they clutched the side of the bed.

she couldn’t tell if it was the medication, the disease, or the sheer power of the pain itself that made her body feel so foreign, so out of control. she was trapped in a body that betrayed her at every turn, and it felt like there was no escape.

she wanted to scream, to let it out, but the sound was lost in her chest, swallowed by the suffocating pain that twisted tighter with every passing second. her throat was raw from the screams she’d already let out, the pain making them sound more like muffled cries. there was nothing left. just a void where her strength used to be.

her mind wandered to wilson. his face, his voice, his touch—flashes of him fought to break through the haze of agony. she could remember the softness of his hands on hers, his reassuring smile.

but now, that was a distant dream, fading further with each passing second. the thought of him seeing her like this—weak, trembling, unable to control the wreckage of her body—was too much.

she couldn’t bear it. he deserved more than this. he deserved someone strong, someone who wasn’t trapped in this pain.

"james," she whispered, her voice cracking, but it was drowned by the pain.

she almost imagined he was there, asking how she felt, his warmth wrapping around her. she wanted to reach out to him, to beg him to hold her and make the pain stop. but it wouldn’t stop. it never would. and she couldn’t let him watch her die like this.

a tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. the pain seemed to be eating away at her, at her very soul. she couldn’t even feel her own self anymore.

everything was crumbling. she wanted to scream again, but it felt useless. she thought of wilson again, his concern, his eyes filled with love for her. she loved him so much, but she couldn’t let him see her die like this.

the thought of him was all she had left. she felt the weight of her love for him, her heart breaking, but there was no other choice. she couldn’t keep fighting this. the pain was too much, and it felt like she was sinking deeper and deeper into it. she couldn’t endure any more.

her body trembled again, another wave of pain crashing through her. she screamed, her voice muffled behind clenched teeth, but the sound barely escaped her. she was so tired. so tired of everything—the pain, the helplessness, the emptiness.

her fingers brushed the cold metal edge of the bedside table, and her hand reached out, feeling her way to the medication station across the room.

the world around her was just a swirl of shapes, but she could still remember where everything was. her trembling fingers found the edge of the supply cabinet. she fumbled with the door, desperate. she needed something, anything, to end the pain.

her hands moved as if they knew the way better than her mind did, reaching out and digging through the contents. she felt the labels with her fingertips, reading them like braille.

she could barely make out the words, but her fingers were steady with the need to find the one she was looking for. potassium chloride. her pulse quickened as she found the bottle.

the cool plastic was familiar, and her fingers traced the letters on the label, reassuring her that she had found it.

with trembling hands, she pulled the bottle from the shelf. she could barely see, but she didn't need to.

she knew exactly what she needed to do. she filled the syringe slowly, painfully aware of how much time was passing, but unable to stop herself.

her hands, shaking more violently than ever, still managed to steady the needle. the liquid, cold and final, was drawn into the syringe.

her thoughts flashed to wilson again—his face, his love, his warmth. she wanted to feel his arms around her, to be held by him just one last time, but she couldn’t. she couldn’t bear the thought of him watching her die. not like this.

she lifted the syringe to her arm. the burn of the needle was nothing compared to the searing, twisting pain that filled every corner of her body.

her hands, slick with sweat, found their way to her vein. and with a final, trembling exhale, she pushed the plunger down.

the potassium chloride rushed through her veins, and for a moment, the pain seemed to intensify. she was losing herself, slipping away, but there was a certain calmness in it. she would be free soon.

her chest tightened, her pulse slowing as everything around her became a blur. the world spun faster, the pain a distant echo, and then her body seized violently. the air left her lungs, but it didn’t matter anymore.

her body fell limp, the coldness seeping through her veins. foam bubbled from her mouth as she let out one final, silent scream.

everything began to fade, and flashes of her life appeared—quick, fleeting memories. the first time she met the diagnostic team, their faces filled with curiosity and skepticism as they welcomed her.

wilson's smile, soft and comforting, as they sat together for the first time, laughing quietly over a shared cup of coffee. the way his hand had brushed against hers, a simple touch that meant everything.

her thoughts swirled with these moments, fading one after the other, until they were nothing but fragments, dissolving into the void.

house had called, amoebic meningitis.

but it was too late for foreman, cameron had begun the biopsy, but there was still eleanor.

without another thought, she grabbed her bag and rushed for the isolation room. chase was close behind, his face pale with the weight of house’s words.

as they neared the isolation room, they could feel the tension rising. cameron’s heart was pounding in her chest at the time sensitivity of the situation.

they reached the isolation room and rushed inside, their footsteps loud against the sterile tile floor. they had to act fast, there was no time to waste. they grabbed the supplies and began preparing to administer the treatment, but then they froze.

through the glass, they saw her. eleanor was lying on the ground, her body spread out awkwardly. her eyes were closed, and a small amount of foam clung to the corner of her mouth. cameron’s heart stopped. the room seemed to tilt as her body went cold.

“no!” she shouted, her voice breaking as she slammed her hands against the glass. her hands shook, her breath catching in her throat. she couldn’t breathe. couldn’t move. this wasn’t real. it couldn’t be real.

chase stood behind her, staring at eleanor’s body, his face pale with shock. he couldn’t believe it. he had just seen her alive, fighting. just moments ago, they had been hopeful. they had been preparing to save her.

wilson was the first to move. his face was streaked with tears as he grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open, forgetting about the need for protective gear. it didn’t matter anymore. he didn’t care. the only thing that mattered was getting to her.

he rushed to her side, dropping to his knees beside her. he reached out, his hands trembling as he cradled her cold face.

he could hardly believe what he was seeing. eleanor, the woman he had come to love, the woman who had brought him hope and warmth, was gone. her body was lifeless, too still. and the pain was too much to bear.

"no," wilson whispered, his voice barely audible. his hand pressed against her chest, hoping for a heartbeat, hoping for something. but there was nothing. she was gone. his world crumbled around him.

chase slowly followed wilson into the room, moving like a man in a daze. his eyes scanned her face, his hands trembling as he checked her pulse.

it was pointless. he knew that, but he had to try. he had to hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she was still with them. but no. nothing. there was no pulse. no breath. no life.

"she’s gone," chase whispered, his voice raw, as if the words themselves were ripping him apart. his gaze dropped to the syringe on the floor. his stomach churned, realizing what it meant. eleanor had made a choice. she had chosen to end her suffering, to put an end to the pain that had consumed her.

cameron stood frozen at the door, her hand pressed against the glass, her eyes locked on eleanor’s body. it was all she could do not to fall apart. the diagnosis had come too late.

they had been too late. she had held onto hope, but now… now the reality was crashing down on her. eleanor was gone, and there was nothing they could do.

“oh my god..” cameron whispered, her voice shaking as she pointed to the syringe on the floor.

she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. she couldn’t believe that she had chosen this, that the woman who had fought so hard had finally given in.

wilson barely seemed to hear her. his eyes were fixed on eleanor’s lifeless form, his hands shaking as he gently stroked her hair. his chest was heaving with grief, his heart shattered into a million pieces. “i couldn’t save you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i couldn’t save you…”

the room was silent now. no one moved. no one spoke. they simply stood there, each of them paralyzed by the weight of the loss.

eleanor cross was gone.

and she took a part of him with her.

#house md #allison cameron #eric foreman #gregory house #lisa cuddy #oc #robert chase #james wilson #original character #wilson #wilson x oc #wilson x female oc #wilson x reader

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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im like maybe 1/2 of the way through writing this wilson fic and its already about 9k words long... guys help. i tried to make this one shorter but its gonna end up being my longest one.. what do i do...

#house md #james wilson #oc #allison cameron #eric foreman #gregory house #lisa cuddy #original character #wilson #james wilson house #james wilson x oc #james wilson x reader

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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a match in the making | james wilson

summary: james wilson, head of oncology oversees an eldery patient and is unexpectedly caught in her match making scheme a/n: original male character, wilson being awkward and flustered, house's usual remarks, and maybe a slightly rushed ending words: 7.2k

james wilson adjusted his tie while walking briskly through the gleaming hallways of princeton plainsboro teaching hospital. the reflection of fluorescent lights on polished floors stretched out before him, a seamless path broken only by the occasional scruff of hurried shoes or the soft squeak of a gurney's wheels.

his shoes echoed faintly, a sound he found oddly comforting despite the starkness of his surroundings.

he glanced at his watch, 8:32 am, later than he intended to start his rounds. his schedule was already packed, but it always was. the thought didn't bother him, it was easier to keep moving, easier to focus on the next meeting, the next conversation than to linger on the spaces in between.

tucking his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, wilson exhaled quietly, his breath steady but weighted. the morning light filtered through the expansive glass windows lining the hospital's east wing, casting long, soft shadows across the corridor. the view outside was crisp and clear, the kind of winter day where the sun burned bright but the cold bit at your skin.

he didn’t pause to admire it.

instead, his attention shifted to the faint tug at the edge of his sleeve. a loose thread, small but persistent, had frayed along the cuff. he picked at it absentmindedly while walking, his fingers rolling the thread back and forth as if its small imperfection required his immediate attention.

the morning hum of the hospital surrounded him—a symphony of paging systems, murmured voices, and the steady rhythm of life continuing on, even in the face of uncertainty. wilson moved through it all like a thread in the fabric, weaving his way through the noise and energy with practiced ease.

at the nurses’ station, he exchanged polite nods and a quick smile, his professional charm as natural as breathing. he signed off on a chart handed to him, his pen gliding smoothly across the page. “thanks, laura,” he said, his voice warm but efficient, his smile gone the moment he turned away.

the elevator ride to his office was uneventful, save for the moment he caught his own reflection in the brushed metal doors. his tie was slightly askew, the knot just off-center. he frowned, fixing it with a few deft movements. it was a small thing, but he clung to small things. they made him feel like he had control, even if it was over something as trivial as a tie.

by the time he reached his office, the coffee he had poured earlier that morning was lukewarm, sitting untouched on the corner of his desk. he picked it up and took a sip anyway, grimacing slightly at the stale bitterness. setting it back down, he turned his chair toward the window and stared out for a moment, the city stretching endlessly beyond the hospital’s perimeter.

wilson had an office with a view. that was supposed to mean something, wasn’t it?

he shook the thought from his mind and opened his laptop, skimming through emails and typing responses with mechanical precision. he toggled between patient reports, board meeting agendas, and a reminder to call his brother that he had been ignoring for three days.

the phone on his desk rang, and he answered it with the same calm, measured tone he always used. “dr. wilson.”

the conversation was brief—another adjustment to his schedule, another case to prioritize. he hung up and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

it wasn’t exhaustion, not really. it was the feeling that lingered just beneath the surface, the one he rarely acknowledged. a kind of hollowness that came and went, ebbing and flowing like a tide.

he shook his head and stood, straightening his coat as he stepped back into the hallway.

wilson’s steps were unhurried now, his stride measured. he paused briefly to glance at the bulletin board outside the oncology ward—a sea of papers tacked up with colorful pins. announcements, flyers for charity events, a calendar marking the end of the year.

someone had pinned a photo of the holiday party from a few weeks ago. wilson recognized himself in the background, his smile faint but present as he stood off to the side, holding a cup of punch. he remembered the punch being too sweet, the noise of the room too loud. he hadn’t stayed long.

the memory made his chest tighten, but he turned away before it could linger.

passing the cafeteria, he caught the faint scent of coffee and freshly baked bread. his stomach rumbled faintly, reminding him that breakfast had been a granola bar hastily consumed in the car. but there was no time to stop. there was never time to stop.

at one point, he reached into his pocket and found the candy wrapper he’d stuffed there yesterday—a peppermint his secretary had handed him after a meeting. he rolled it between his fingers as he walked, the crinkle of foil oddly soothing.

“good morning, dr. wilson,” a nurse said as she passed.

he nodded in response, his smile automatic but polite. “morning.”

her footsteps faded behind him, leaving him alone again with the steady rhythm of his own.

by midday, wilson found himself in the hospital’s atrium, the towering glass ceiling above letting in swaths of pale winter light. a fountain bubbled softly in the center, surrounded by a few benches where visitors lingered, some with coffee cups, others with faraway expressions.

he stopped for a moment, his hand brushing along the back of a bench as he surveyed the space. the sunlight warmed his face despite the chill outside, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself stand still.

the pager on his hip buzzed suddenly, jolting him from his brief reprieve. with a resigned sigh, he unclipped it and glanced at the screen. room 317. his brow furrowed. the number didn’t match any of the patients on his current rounds—he was certain that room had been unoccupied just this morning.

slipping the pager back into place, wilson headed for the elevators, his pace quickening with each step. his mind churned, trying to piece together who might have been moved to the room and why.

the elevator ride was brief, the familiar mechanical hum filling the silence as he adjusted his tie—a habit he couldn’t seem to break, especially when uncertainty gnawed at him. when the doors slid open, the oncology ward greeted him with its muted bustle. nurses moved purposefully, their hands full of charts and IV bags, while the faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air.

as he approached room 317, a nurse stepped out, her expression composed but brisk.

“ms. bennett,” she informed him before he could ask, her tone clipped but not unkind. “she fainted while walking. the paramedics brought her in about an hour ago.”

wilson nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. ms. bennett—of course. she was a regular patient of his, a resilient woman in her seventies with sharp wit and a no-nonsense demeanor. she had been diagnosed with lung cancer nearly three years ago, an uphill battle she faced with a steady resolve that never failed to impress him.

stepping into the room, he found her propped up in the hospital bed, her small frame swaddled in the standard-issue blanket. her silver hair framed her face in soft wisps, and though her skin was paler than usual, her keen eyes were as lively as ever.

“dr. wilson,” she greeted him, her voice a little raspier than usual but still carrying that wry edge. “didn’t expect to see me today, did you?”

“no, i didn’t,” he replied, closing the door softly behind him as he approached her bedside. “what happened?”

she gave a faint shrug, the gesture almost imperceptible beneath the blanket. “went for one of my walks—thought i’d enjoy the crisp air. next thing i know, i’m on the ground, and some poor kid is calling 911.”

his lips twitched into a faint smile despite himself. she always had a way of brushing off her own troubles, a quality he both admired and worried over.

he stepped closer, his gaze scanning her vitals and the chart at the foot of her bed. “you could’ve broken something. you’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“i’m fine,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, though her tone softened. “but i know that look. don’t start fretting over me, dr. wilson. i’ve already got one son who does enough of that.”

he blinked, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards despite himself. “you have a son?”

she arched a brow at his shocked reaction. “you sound surprised.”

“i just didn’t know you had a son,” he admitted, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the bed. “you’ve never mentioned him.”

“well, he’s busy,” she replied, settling back against the pillows. “an attorney—always buried under a mountain of cases. but when i faint in the middle of the street, apparently that’s enough to pry him out of his office.”

“an attorney,” wilson repeated, his tone thoughtful. “that explains it. will he be here soon?"

“oh, he’s on his way,” she assured him. “you’ll see for yourself soon enough. he’s a good man, my thomas. works too hard for his own good, but he always shows up when it matters.”

before he could respond, the door creaked open. his gaze shifted, and the figure that stepped into the room made his breath hitch unexpectedly.

the man was tall, his dark brown hair neatly styled, though a few strands fell against his forehead, softening the otherwise structured angles of his face. a pair of black-rimmed glasses framed his dark eyes, their sharpness softened by an undeniable warmth as they settled on ms. bennett.

his outfit was sharp yet relaxed—black dress pants paired with a crisp white collared shirt, a black tie knotted neatly at his throat. over it all, he wore a rich brown coat, its long lines giving him an air of effortless sophistication.

“mom,” the deep voice carried a blend of relief and worry as its owner crossed the room in quick strides, his polished shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor.

her face lit up immediately, her expression transforming from tired to radiant. “thomas, you made it,” she said warmly, her voice threaded with equal parts affection and pride.

the chair beside her bed scraped slightly as the doctor shifted to make room, an awkward movement that echoed in the otherwise quiet room. he glanced between them, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

“of course i made it,” he replied, his voice gentler now as he reached for her hand. his fingers were long and sure, but his touch was careful, almost reverent. “are you okay? what did they say?”

she waved off the question with a roll of her eyes, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “they’re fussing over nothing, as always,” she replied lightly. then, with a small tilt of her head, she gestured toward the doctor still standing near the foot of the bed. “but this is the man you’ve got to thank—he’s been taking good care of me.”

he turned at her words, gaze sharp and direct as it settled on the figure in the white coat. his eyes were dark, framed by glasses that lent him a polished air, and they carried an intensity that seemed to pin wilson in place.

caught off guard, he blinked feeling the uncharacteristic warmth creeping into the tips of his ears. thomas extended his hand, his movements smooth and deliberate. "thomas bennett," the patient's son said, his tone steady, almost commanding.

for a moment, it was as if the room shrank, the space between them charged with something unspoken. he fumbled slightly before stepping forward to clasp the offered hand. "james wilson," he managed, introducing himself. his voice caught just enough to betray his nerves.

the handshake was firm, stronger than he anticipated and the contact left him feeling unsteady in a way he couldn't quite define.

"thank you for taking care of her," thomas said earnestly, his eyes steady as they held wilson's gaze. there was sincerity in his tone, layered beneath the gratitude that made the words linger longer than they should have.

he cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as his hand reflexively went to adjust his tie. "it's my job," he replied, the words coming out faster than intended.

before anyone could respond, ms bennett spoke up, a mischievous glint lighting her tired features. "oh, it's much more than that," she said with a knowing smile, her eyes darting between the two men. "he goes above and beyond for his patients."

wilson's lip twitched in an awkward, self conscious smile, his fingers dropping from his tie to rest at his side. "your mother is one of my favourite patients," he stated, his tone light.

"see?" she hummed, turning back to her son as if her point had been proven. "i told you he's the best."

a soft laugh escaped his lips, more nervous than amused and his gaze flickered back to the man across from him. the brief eye contact sent an unexpected flutter through him, a subtle shift in his usually composed demeanor. there was something about the man's presence, his calm assurance paired with an underlying warmth. it unsettled him in the strangest way.

thomas seemed unaware of his sudden discomfort. instead, he gave his mother's hand a gentle squeeze and settled into the chair beside her, his expression softening as he leaned closer to speak with her.

wilson took a half step back, his hands returning to his pockets. he felt like an observer now, standing at the periphery of something intimate. yet as he watched he couldn't help but notice the warmth in their interaction, the way they anchored each other in a way he rarely saw anymore.

the thought stirred something in him, something bittersweet and he forced himself to look away, his gaze wandering to the room's window. the pale winter light cast long shadows across the floor, the muted glow softening the clinical sterility of the space.

when he finally glanced back, his eyes were caught on thomas again. the man's brow furrowed slightly as he listened to his mother speak, his focus unwavering. wilson found himself studying the line of his jaw, the way the glasses framed his features, and the quiet intensity that seemed to radiate from him without effort.

it was a moment before he realized he'd been staring. with a faint shake of his head and a silent scoff to himself, he turned his attention back to his patient, clearing his throat once more. "if there's anything else you need, ms bennett, just let me know," he said, his voice steadier now, though the earlier awkwardness lingered faintly in his posture.

before she could answer, her son spoke up instead. "actually, i might have a few questions once things settle down," he said, leaning back slightly in the chair and fixing him with a thoughtful look.

the directness of his words caught wilson off guard, and he blinked, fumbling for a response. "oh, um of course," he stammered, adjusting his tie out of reflex. "i'd be happy to answer anything you need."

thomas's gaze didn't waver, his dark eyes studying wilson with a quiet intensity that made him feel strangely exposed. "thank you, doctor," he said after a beat. there was a faint curve to his lips, not quite a smile but something close to it.

his face warmed under the attention, and he suddenly became aware of how tightly he was gripping the edge of his clipboard. "right," he mumbled, forcing a nod as he stepped back toward the door. "well, um just let the nurses know if anything changes."

thomas inclined his head in acknowledgement, his expression calm and composed, while ms bennett watched the exchange with a subtle glint of amusement in her eyes.

he turned quickly, his hand fumbling with the door handle for a fraction of a second before he managed to pull it open. "take care," he added, his voice slightly higher than usual as he slipped out of the room.

once the door clicked shut behind him, he exhaled, pressing his back against the cool surface for a moment. his fingers brushed over the knot of his tie, straightening it even though it was already perfectly in place.

he shook his head, before pushing off the door and walking briskly down the hall. but even as he headed toward his next task, he couldn't shake the faint heat in his cheeks, or the way thomas's gaze had lingered just a second longer than necessary.

he strode down the hall, his footsteps quick and uneven as he tried to shake off the feeling he had. he rounded a corner near the diagnostics department when a familiar voice cut through the air.

"well, look who's got a spring in his step," house drawled, leaning casually against the wall, his cane tapping the floor in a lazy rhythm.

wilson groaned inwardly. "house, i don't have time for-"

"don't lie to me," he interrupted, his eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. "you're practically glowing. did you just get laid?"

"what? no!" he shot back, his voice a touch too high pitched.

"huh." he tilted his head. "not laid. so crushing on a new nurse? wait, don't tell me. it's that brunette from pediatrics with the dimples. i've seen her giving you the puppy dog eyes."

"it's not a nurse!" wilson snapped, his tone more defensive than he intended. he immediately regretted it when his friend's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

"ooh, defensive," a grin spread across his face. "now i'm really intrigued." he stepped closer, his cane tapping the tile. "so if it's not a nurse, then.. another patient?"

wilson froze, his lips parting as if to protest, but nothing came out.

"wait, no. you wouldn't be blushing like that over just anyone." house's eyes widened theatrically. "oh my god it is a patient!"

"it's not!" wilson practically barked, his cheeks now fully red. "can you just drop it."

"drop it? you've clearly underestimated my dedication to pestering you," house replied, his expression turning mischievous. "besides, i'm narrowing it down. if it's not a nurse and it's not a patient, then.." he trailed off, scrutinizing wilson's face.

wilson groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"you're sweating," he pointed out gleefully. "your voice is higher than usual, you're fidgeting like you just walked out of an awkward first date, and you were practically strutting down the hallway which brings me to my next question." house leaned in, his expression suddenly serious. "is it a man?"

his head snapped up, his eyes widening basically confirming the guess.

house blinked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "it is a man!"

wilson sighed, exasperated, before burying his face in his hands, muttering something inaudible before he said, "can we not do this here?"

"oh, no, we're absolutely doing this here. who is it? someone from the hospital? your barista? wait, did you just discover grindr?"

he didn't respond, instead, looking straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line. the silence was deafening, and that alone made house pause. "fine, keep your little secret. but just so you know, this is the worst idea you've ever had. and that's saying something, considering you once dated a woman who faked terminal cancer."

wilson rolled his eyes, turning as if to walk away, but house wasn't finished.

"but i knew it all along," he declared, his smirk returning. "you've always had the signs. your closet is way too neat. your ties are.. well honestly, they're a little too fabulous. oh, and don't even get me started on how you always swish when you walk. textbook strut."

he stopped in his tracks, pivoting sharply to glare at house. "you have no idea what you're talking about."

he gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. "you wound me, wilson. here i am, just trying to support your big gay awakening, and you're shutting me out."

groaning, wilson resumed walking, his strides deliberately quick.

"but really, who is it?" house called after him, limping in his wake. "it's not that annoying guy in accounting, is it? or that orderly who wears skinny jeans? because honestly you can do better. way better."

"goodbye, house." he clipped as he rounded the corner. a mix of annoyance and unease bubbled up in his chest, as the other's voice still echoed in his ears but he pushed it away, refocusing on the sharp, rhythmic sound of his own shoes on the linoleum.

he was used to house's intrusions, hell, he even expected them. but this time, it felt different. this time, he had gone too far.

it wasn't the teasing or the jokes, no it was the topic itself. he could mock wilson about his crushes or failed relationships all he wanted, but this?

for months now, he had been feeling unsettled. questioning, in a way that felt both liberating and terrifying. after his last marriage had collapsed, he found himself revisiting pieces of his past, looking at things through a different lens.

he'd dated women for as long as he could remember, had loved them, had married them. but something about thomas, the way his gaze made wilson feel, the intensity of it, the way his presence made his chest tighten in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time.

he couldn't deny it.

by five, the hospital was beginning to empty out. the steady hum of activity that had buzzed throughout the day was now waning, leaving a quiet that felt heavier, as if the walls themselves were breathing a sigh of relief.

he had finished most of his rounds, checked in on a few lingering patients, and tied up the last of his paperwork, he was ready to leave early for once, something he hadn't allowed himself in a while.

but as he passed by the oncology ward on his way out, his gaze lingered on the familiar room where ms. bennett had been that morning. the door was slightly ajar, and as he glanced in, he saw her sitting in the bed, looking serene, but alone. he glanced around the room until he spotted the brown suit jacket draped over the chair, and a briefcase propped against it.

wilson’s stomach tightened, but he pushed the feeling away, adjusting his tie automatically as he walked toward the door and gave it a gentle knock before entering.

“dr. wilson,” ms. bennett greeted him warmly, her face lighting up as she saw him. “you’ve come to check on me again?”

wilson smiled, trying to keep his tone casual. “i was just passing by. thought i’d make sure you were okay before heading out for the evening.”

ms. bennett waved a hand dismissively. “i’m fine, just a little tired. my son’s getting himself something to eat.” she paused, glancing at the coat on the chair and then back at him. “he’s been working nonstop, poor thing. he doesn’t know how to take care of himself.”

wilson glanced at the coat again, his heart rate picking up slightly, but he forced himself to look back at ms. bennett. “i’m sure he’s just worried about you.”

“oh, he’s always worried about me,” she said with a fond laugh. “but he’s too stubborn to admit it. works himself half to death, then comes straight here without even thinking about himself. he’s a good boy, though. always has been.”

wilson nodded, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small smile. “he seems like a good son.”

“he is,” she said, leaning back against her pillows. her eyes sparkled with the same mischievous twinkle he’d seen earlier that day. “and you know, i still think you two would get along. you should sit down with him sometime. talk. get to know him.”

wilson’s stomach tightened, and he adjusted his tie out of habit. “ms. bennett, i don’t think—”

“oh, don’t be shy,” she interrupted, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “he’s a bit reserved, but once you crack through that lawyer shell of his, he’s a real sweetheart. and you…” she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if studying him. “you could use someone like him. someone who’s steady. you work too much. you need balance.”

wilson chuckled nervously, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “i appreciate the concern, but i’m not really—”

“oh, don’t give me that,” she said, cutting him off again. “he’s single, you’re single… it just makes sense.”

wilson’s face grew warm, and he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “i think i should let you rest, ms. bennett. sounds like your son will be back soon.”

she gave a dramatic sigh but smiled anyway. “fine, fine. i won’t push. but don’t be surprised if he starts asking about you. i may have mentioned how wonderful you are.”

wilson’s cheeks reddened even more, and he quickly nodded, stepping back toward the door. “have a good evening, ms. bennett.”

as he left the room, he felt like he could finally breathe again, but the weight of her words lingered. the way she spoke about her son—and the way thomas had looked at him earlier—it was stirring something he hadn’t quite worked out yet. he wasn’t ready to think about it, not fully. not here.

he walked aimlessly for a while, his mind too scattered to focus on anything. but eventually, he found himself in the cafeteria, the familiar smell of coffee and warm food pulling him back to reality. he scanned the room out of habit, and that’s when he saw him.

thomas was sitting at a table near the far wall, his hair mussed as if he ran his hand through it more than once. the crisp, white collar shirt was no longer perfectly pressed. the top button was undone, the tie loosened and hanging just slightly crooked. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms.

his broad shoulders seemed even more defined in the softer light of the cafeteria, his posture relaxed but heavy, as though the weight of the day was pressing down on him.

wilson froze for a moment, there was something deeply human about seeing him like this, stripped of the polished, commanding presence he’d carried in the hospital room. now, he looked.. tired. his glasses caught the low light as he rubbed his temple with one hand, the other loosely cradling a cup of coffee.

a salad sat untouched in front of him, and his gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the hospital. the faint slump of his shoulders, the absent way his thumb traced the rim of the coffee cup.

it was a vulnerability that hit wilson in a way he hadn’t expected. and those forearms.. strong, grounded, yet somehow tender in the way his hands rested against the table—wilson felt his breath catch before he could stop it.

he swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away for a second as heat crept up his neck. this was ridiculous. he was a professional, a grown man, and yet here he was, standing in the doorway of the cafeteria, flustered over another man sitting by himself.

gathering himself, he adjusted his tie, always his go-to nervous habit, and forced his feet to move forward.

with each step closer, his pulse seemed to quicken, though he tried to steady his breathing. by the time he reached the table, he felt almost lightheaded, but he managed to keep his voice calm, even if it was just barely.

he reached thomas’s side, his shoes clicking softly on the tile floor. he looked up, his eyes dark and tired, but there was something comforting about them. something familiar.

wilson opened his mouth, but for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“is everything okay?” he wondered, his voice quieter than he’d intended. he wasn’t sure if it was the right question, but it was all he could think to ask.

he shrugged slightly in response, setting his coffee down and leaning back in his chair. “just been a long day,” he said, his voice softer than before. “didn’t expect to end up here.”

wilson nodded, taking a step closer. he hesitated, unsure if he should sit down, but then he did, pulling a chair out and sitting across from him. it felt.. easier than he had expected. not as awkward, not as forced as he had anticipated.

“i should probably apologize,” thomas said after a beat, the faintest flicker of humor lightening his tired expression.

wilson blinked, thrown off. “apologize? for what?”

thomas let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and unguarded. “for my mom. she’s… persistent. i’m guessing she’s been going on about me all day?”

wilson felt a nervous laugh bubbling up, his cheeks warming. “she… may have mentioned you once or twice.”

“figured as much,” thomas said, shaking his head, amusement dancing across his features. “she’s been blabbering about you non-stop since this morning. dr wilson this, dr wilson that. i thought she was going to start handing out business cards with your name on them.”

wilson’s laugh escaped, soft and self-conscious. “she’s just… very passionate.”

“that’s one way to put it,” thomas replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grace that made wilson feel slightly off-balance. “she’s always trying to set people up. neighbors, the guy who fixes her sink, her dentist once. guess you’re the latest victim.”

his laugh came easier this time, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “well, she definitely has… a talent for it.”

thomas smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “she’s just determined to make sure i don’t die alone, i think. pretty sure she assumes i’ll spend the rest of my life buried in work otherwise.”

wilson glanced down at the table, his smile fading slightly. “she cares about you. that much is obvious.”

his expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “yeah. she does. she just… doesn’t know when to quit sometimes.”

he looked back up at him, meeting his gaze. “it’s not a bad thing. it’s… nice, actually.”

“nice?” thomas raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “she’s practically playing cupid, and you think it’s nice?”

he shrugged in return, his cheeks reddening slightly. “well… I don’t think she means any harm.”

“she doesn’t,” he agreed, his voice quieter now. “but still… sorry if she made things awkward.”

wilson smiled faintly, shaking his head. “it’s fine. really.”

for a moment, they sat there in silence, the hum of the cafeteria around them fading into the background. he felt the weight of the other's gaze on him, steady and unflinching, and it made his pulse quicken in a way he hadn’t expected.

thomas smiled, his gaze steady as he lifted his coffee cup. “but you know, she’s always had a knack for knowing my type.”

wilson froze, his hand hovering awkwardly mid-air before dropping to his side. “your… type?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly.

“mmhm,” thomas murmured, taking a slow sip of his coffee. his eyes never left wilson’s, watching the way his expression shifted—wide-eyed, panicked, and undeniably flustered.

he cleared his throat, his tie suddenly feeling much too tight. “and, uh… what’s your type?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

thomas leaned back slightly in his chair, a faint, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “doctors,” he said simply, his tone casual, though there was a deliberate weight to the word.

wilson’s breath hitched, his cheeks burning as he scrambled for something—anything—to say. “oh. well, um… that’s, uh… specific,” he managed, his voice pitching higher than usual.

"guess i like people who know how to take care of others,” thomas replied, his gaze dropping briefly to his coffee before sliding back up to him. “or maybe it’s just the lab coats.”

wilson laughed nervously, the sound awkward and abrupt. “lab coats?”

thomas smirked, shrugging lightly. “they do something for me.”

his mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of confusion, flattery, and something dangerously close to intrigue. “well, uh… i should probably let you finish your dinner,” he stammered, taking a step back as if to escape the heat of his attention attention.

“if you’re sure,” he said, his tone light but tinged with amusement. “but i wouldn’t mind the company.”

wilson hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding, before mumbling a hurried goodbye and practically fleeing the cafeteria. he could still feel thomas’s eyes on him as he walked away, his pulse thundering in his ears.

as he rounded the corner into the hallway, his mind still spinning from the interaction, he nearly walked straight into house.

“woah, watch where you’re going,” house huffed, stepping back dramatically. his sharp blue eyes narrowed as he took in wilson’s flushed face and slightly disheveled appearance. “let me guess. the guy again?”

he froze, caught off guard by his bluntness. “what—what are you talking about?” he stammered, his voice too high to be convincing.

he smirked, leaning on his cane as he tilted his head. “oh, come on. you’ve got that same panicked, ‘i just made a fool of myself’ look from earlier. except now your tie’s crooked, your hair’s a mess, and you look like you just ran a marathon. definitely the guy again.”

wilson opened his mouth to argue but realized there was no point. this was house—he saw everything and always pushed until he got the truth.

with a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “fine. yes, it’s him,” he admitted quietly.

his friend's grin widened. “i knew it. so what’s the problem? he’s not into neurotic oncologists with great hair?”

“house, this isn’t funny,” wilson snapped, though his tone lacked bite. “i just… i don’t know what i’m doing, okay? i’ve never—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

“flirted with a man before?” he finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

he nodded reluctantly, his cheeks burning.

house tapped his cane against the floor thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in his eye. “well, it depends. who’s the guy and who’s the girl in this relationship?”

wilson blinked at him, his expression a mix of exasperation and confusion. “we’re both men, house,” he said slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

“sure, sure,” he waved off dismissively. “but every couple has a dynamic. one’s the alpha, the other’s the… well, you. so which are you?”

“what does that even mean?” wilson asked, his voice climbing an octave as his frustration grew.

“it means, are you the one bringing flowers and writing sappy poetry, or are you the one standing in the doorway looking broody and mysterious?” he wondered, smirking.

“neither!” wilson exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “this isn’t some rom-com. i don’t even know if he’s interested, and even if he is, i have no idea how to…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely as if the answer might materialize out of thin air.

“flirt?” house supplied. “seduce him? sweep him off his feet and carry him into the sunset?”

“house,” wilson groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples.

“fine, fine,” he muttered, feigning seriousness. “step one: figure out if he’s into you. step two: stop being such a nervous wreck. step three: profit.”

“that’s not helpful,” he huffed.

house shrugged. “look, you’re overthinking this—big surprise. just be yourself. you’ve got the whole ‘sensitive and caring’ thing down. and if he doesn’t like that, well, there’s always grindr.”

wilson shot him a glare, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “thanks, house. really.”

“anytime,” he said with a mock salute. “now go on, lover boy. and for god’s sake, fix your tie. you look like a teenager after prom.”

as wilson walked away, his mind still buzzing with anxiety and his friend's unhelpful advice, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny sliver of hope. maybe, just maybe, he could figure this out.

the winter air was sharp, biting at his face as he left the hospital. house’s comments replayed in his head, equal parts irritating and oddly insightful. he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. he’d never been good at this—relationships, figuring out what he wanted, or even admitting what he felt.

the drive home was quiet, his usual radio chatter replaced by the hum of his own thoughts. even the sanctuary of his apartment couldn’t distract him. he tried watching a movie, flipping through channels, but every scene felt hollow. his mind kept drifting, unbidden, back to him.

the way he spoke, confident but not overbearing. the slight smirk that seemed to tug at his lips, like he was always on the edge of teasing but knew exactly when to pull back. the way his dark eyes lingered just a moment too long. wilson shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face.

he was overthinking. he was always overthinking.

the next day blurred by in a rush of appointments and paperwork, the hospital as chaotic as ever. he buried himself in his work, avoiding oncology like the plague—not because of ms. bennett or her son, he told himself, but because he was just too busy.

but as the clock ticked closer to 9 p.m., the hospital began to quiet. the steady hum of activity slowed, the fluorescent lights casting long shadows down the hallways. wilson finished his last notes and shrugged on his coat, ready to leave.

as he walked out of the hospital, the evening air greeted him with a sharp, cool bite, slipping through the folds of his coat and curling around his neck. he hunched his shoulders against the chill, his breath fogging faintly in the dim glow of the parking lot lights. it was quiet outside, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hum of traffic.

he wasn’t in a hurry to leave. something about the night air felt grounding, a balm to the relentless buzz of the hospital. but as he rounded a corner near the courtyard, his steps faltered.

there, seated on a bench beneath a streetlamp, was the guy he had been avoiding all day. the faint glow illuminated him, casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement. thomas wore a thick black sweater that clung to his frame, paired with dark brown dress pants that gave him an effortlessly composed look. his laptop was balanced on his knees, its soft glow lighting up his focused expression, while a coffee cup sat beside him on the bench, steam curling lazily upward.

his heart stuttered, a small, involuntary jolt that left him standing there like a deer caught in headlights. he hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, let alone like this—calm, poised, and completely unaware of the effect he had on wilson.

his first instinct was to retreat, to turn back before thomas noticed him. but as if sensing the weight of his gaze, thomas looked up, his sharp eyes locking onto his.

recognition flickered in thomas’s expression, softening the lines of his face into a smile. “doctor,” he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, cutting through the chill of the night. “what are you doing out here?”

he hesitated, his thoughts scattering. “just… heading home,” he replied, his voice quieter than he intended. “needed some air.”

“seems we had the same idea,” he pulled wilson's attention. gesturing to the bench beside him. “care to join me?”

he hesitated again, his pulse quickening. “i don’t want to interrupt—”

“you’re not interrupting,” thomas said firmly, closing his laptop and setting it aside. “sit. unless you’ve got somewhere pressing to be?”

the casual confidence in thomas’s tone made his feet move before his brain could catch up. he crossed the short distance to the bench, his hands jammed into his coat pockets as if that would steady him. he lowered himself onto the bench, the wood cold even through his coat.

“you’ve been keeping busy?” thomas asked, taking a sip of his coffee. the steam curled around his face, softening his sharp features.

“always,” he replied, managing a weak chuckle.

“same,” thomas said with a faint sigh, leaning back against the bench. “mom’s finally resting, so i figured i’d catch up on work. though honestly, i’m mostly just procrastinating.”

he gave a small smile, his gaze darting to the other's hands, where his fingers wrapped around the coffee cup. “she’s lucky to have you here.”

“she reminds me every chance she gets,” thomas said, his lips quirking into a faint grin. “but i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t a little chaotic juggling everything.”

“it must be,” wilson murmured, his breath visible in the cool air.

a shiver ran through him, subtle but enough to make him shift in his seat, his shoulders hunching further against the cold.

thomas noticed. “you cold?” he asked, his tone light but laced with concern.

“a little,” he admitted, rubbing his hands together briefly before shoving them back into his pockets.

thomas’s gaze lingered for a moment, a flicker of something warm passing through his eyes. “sorry for dragging you here, then.”

“you didn’t drag me,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out too fast. “i mean, i wanted to…” he trailed off, his face warming despite the chill.

the other smirked smirked, the expression equal parts teasing and genuine. “you’re not used to this, are you?”

“used to what?” wilson asked, his voice betraying his nerves.

“someone being this direct,” thomas said, leaning forward slightly.

his stomach twisted, a mix of anxiety and something else, something more electric. “i… guess not,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

“relax,” thomas said with a soft chuckle. “i’m not trying to put you on the spot.”

he gave a nervous laugh, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat. the silence that followed buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, the kind that made his skin prickle despite the cold.

“so,” he began after a beat, his tone dropping slightly, “what do you say to grabbing a drink sometime?”

wilson's heart leaped into his throat, eyes snapping up to meet his. “a—a drink?”

“you, me, somewhere warmer than this bench,” thomas said, his smirk widening. “what do you think?”

he blinked, his thoughts scrambling. “i… uh… are you sure?”

he chuckled again, his breath visible in the cool air. “i wouldn’t have asked if i wasn’t.”

“right, of course,” wilson rushed out, his words tumbling over each other. “i just… i mean, yeah. yeah, that sounds… nice.”

“good,” thomas hummed, standing and grabbing his laptop. the motion was smooth, deliberate, and wilson’s eyes involuntarily followed it. “then it’s settled. i’ll let you pick the place.”

“oh, i’m terrible at that,” he admitted, standing as well. his legs felt unsteady beneath him, as if the ground had shifted slightly.

“no pressure,” thomas said, shrugging on his jacket. “we’ll keep it simple.”

“simple’s good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

thomas’s smile softened, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned to leave. “goodnight, doctor.”

“goodnight,” wilson replied, watching as he walked away, his figure silhouetted against the dim glow of the streetlights.

as wilson stood there, the chill of the evening nipping at his skin, he felt a strange warmth blooming in his chest. for the first time in what felt like ages, the ever-present weight of loneliness lifted, replaced by hope.

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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writing a oneshot abt lonely wilson lowkey crushing on a patients son, thoughts??

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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get to know me and my interests! feel free to ask questions down below and ill add them here

they/them. fanfics, guitar, reading, rock and punk music, and fashion

current hyper fixation is house md

favourites colours are green, black and brown

indigenous, and ukrainian

#get to know me #get to know the author #get to know the blogger #house md #fanfic writer #interests #hobbies

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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heres my page to help you and i out when it comes to sending in requests! may add more to this list eventually :)

rule one: please be mindful of timelines and my personal time. its totally understandable to be impatient as i am myself but its so easy to lose motivation or a hyperfixation. i’ll try my best to answer every request but it’ll be very unlikely that i can.

rule two: as i get older ive begun disliking writing smut. its become an ick for me, so i typically stick to like fading into smut, and the aftermath of it.

rule three: i also typically dislike “x readers” the writing is weird for me, and i feel like it takes away from the story because it limits the description i can include, but i’ll still allow requests for them.

rule four: be specific and give me details to work off of. if im not a huge fan of the plot or idea i may ask to change it or just refuse.

#rules for requests #rules #blog rules #requests #navigation #masterlist #rules for requesting #preferences

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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hi guys! thought it'd be good to reintroduce myself since it's been quite some time since my last few posts! i took a one year, unplanned hiatus on writing, and here i am back again. this will be my new pinned post/introduction page!

here's my masterlist here's a in depth overview of ocs (coming soon...) here's my rules for requests here's a get to know me!

#introductory post #introduction #introduce #pinned post #pinned bios #pinned message #pinned intro #masterlist #requests #rules for requests #get to know me

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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In the club freakin it Wilson style

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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seven hours in "heaven" | robert chase

summary: chase and quinn were ordered to stay at the hospital all night at house's insistence to run blood tests, but they find themselves stuck in an elevator. with no one available to help them for seven hours, they take their frustration out on eachother. a/n: original character, bit of angst, bit of spicy words: 6.7k

the conference room was thick with tension, a heaviness hanging in the air as robert chase and madelynn quinn clashed over the diagnosis. they'd been running in circles for hours, but neither of them seemed willing to budge, their voices sharp and their tempers fraying.

"i'm telling you, it's not a viral infection," chase said, his voice tight with frustration as he leaned over the table, eyes locked on hers. his fingers tapped against the surface, betraying his impatience. "the symptoms don't match, and you're ignoring the obvious in favor of something that's not even close to fitting."

her eyes narrowed and her arms folded across her chest, her posture rigid. "you think i don't see what's in front of me? maybe if you stopped trying to dissect every little detail like it's some elaborate puzzle, we'd actually get somewhere."

chase's jaw tightened, and he bristled at her words. "oh, so now i'm the one over complicating things?" his tone was a low growl. "maybe if you stopped trying to force your limited thinking into everything, we wouldn't be stuck at square one."

"you're the one making this personal, chase," she shot back, her voice rising, a hint of scorn creeping into her words. "i'm not the one who's too busy trying to impress house to actually listen to anyone else."

foreman, sitting across from them, exchanged a glance with cameron. both of them had stopped contributing long ago, their silence now thick with their shared frustration. cameron's fingers drummed absently on the edge of the table, her face etched with the same annoyance that foreman wore. house, however, sat back in his chair, a twisted grin on his face as he watched the spectacle unfold.

"are you two done yet?" house finally chimed in, his voice dripping with mock amusement. "because i'm starting to wonder if you'd rather spend the whole night arguing than, i don't know, saving a patient's life."

neither quinn nor chase responded immediately, both still seething. but house's words were the final straw.

"enough," house said, leaning forward and tapping his cane against the floor in time with his words. "i don't care who's right or wrong. i need those blood tests tonight, not tomorrow. are you two going to stop bickering long enough to get them done, or do i need to send foreman and cameron to do it instead?"

the weight of his demand hit them both like a slap to the face. there was no arguing now. chase gritted his teeth and stood up from the table, the anger still simmering in his chest. "fine," he muttered, his tone biting. "we'll do it."

she tapped her fingers on the edge of the counter, her eyes scanning the blood samples in front of her. she didn't need to look at the results to know what they would say, her hypothesis about the infection was already shaping up to be right.

it had been hours since she last spoke, and the lab had become a tomb of silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of machines and the clicking of her keyboard.

chase, across from her, was doing the same. she could feel the weight of his presence more than she could hear him. he was just a silhouette in the corner of her vision, focused and stiff, as if trying to ignore the undeniable tension between them.

it wasn't that she didn't want to speak. she was tired of fighting, but there was nothing left to say that wouldn't make her angrier, and wouldn't make him more defensive.

everytime she looked at him, she remembered how he practically betrayed the team, betrayed her. he was her friend, or at least that's how it used to be. then vogler came, and suddenly chase was no longer her ally. he was a competitor, willing to do anything to save his own skin.

and in doing so, she was fired. she could still remember the look on his face that day. desperate and apologetic, but too late, he trampled over her trust.

"run the cultures again," chase's voice broke the stillness. his tone was careful, almost uncertain, like he wasn't sure what kind of response he'd get from her this time.

"i already did." quinn's words were curt, but she didn't care. it wasn't like he had any real suggestions anymore. everything he said sounded like a repeat of the past. "it's an infection, dr. chase. a bacterial one, we just need to confirm the strain."

he didn't respond immediately, and she could feel him glancing at her. she didn't look up from the microscope, though. she couldn't afford to look at him, not now, not when the frustration bubbled under her skin like acid.

"you're sure?" he asked finally, his voice a little clearer. "because we've been wrong before."

"yeah, i'm sure," she muttered, reaching for a new slide. "we wouldn't be doing all this testing if i wasn't."

she could feel the weight of his eyes again, but she resisted the urge to look up. every fiber of her being told her to keep her gaze fixed on the blood samples, to drown out the pull of his stare. every time she looked at him, she saw a version of herself. a version that had trusted him, that had thought maybe, just maybe he'd always be there for her. that had been before vogler, before he had pushed her out.

they continued for a few more minutes, but it wasn't the comfortable silence that used to exist between them. it wasn't the kind where they'd both be focused on the same task, working in rhythm without a word. this silence was heavy, like the air before a storm. and maybe that was what they were both waiting for, an explosion.

a release of all the anger, all the hurt that had been bottled up since voglers reign of the hospital.

when the machine beeped, signaling the results were in, she didn't look at chase. she didn't need to, she already knew. it was exactly what she expected. she could already feel the small flicker of victory, but it didn't bring her any peace. it never did anymore, not with him around, not after everything.

"positive for an infection," she said, her voice cold and flat. "like i said."

he didn't reply. she could hear the slight rustle of paper as he reviewed the results, but there was something else in his silence. something she couldn't quite place. guilt? regret? both? she didn't know anymore, all she knew was that whatever it was, it wasn't enough. it wasn't nearly enough.

she turned off the microscope with a deliberate click, sliding her chair back with a creak. she stood up, taking off her lab coat and folding it neatly over her arm. she didn't look at him, she wouldn't look at him.

chase watched her, his fingers tightening on the edge of the counter. he opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself.

"where are you going?"his voice was quiet, like he didn't want to disturb her but didn't want her to leave without an answer.

"to get something to eat," she said sharply, not bothering to look back. "we're waiting for more results, might as well get a snack."

"snack?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "you're leaving?"

she stopped at the door, her hand on the handle. "i'm hungry, chase," she said, her voice thick with unspoken layers of frustration. "is that a problem?"

"no." he cleared his throat, his tone unconvincing. "i just thought.."

"yeah, you thought." she didn't give him a chance to finish. "you thought you could win and keep your job and forget about everything. well, congratulations. you're the best diagnostician now, aren't you? you can do all the tests you want, but that doesn't change what happened."

he flinched, but she was already out the door. the last thing she heard as she walked down the hall was his chair scraping against the floor as he got up to follow her.

the cafeteria was mostly empty, save for a few exhausted nurses lingering around tables, their conversations muted. the vending machines hummed in the corner, offering an assortment of snacks that looked far less appetizing than anything she'd have in a normal situation.

"great," she muttered, scanning the rows of chips and candy bars. "looks like this is it."

he lingered behind her, his footsteps quieter than usual. he was still trying to figure out what to say. she could tell, he wasn't used to this, the silence between them, the way she had completely closed him off. he wasn't used to being the one who didn't know how to fix things.

he grabbed two protein bars, not meeting her eyes. quinn grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of water, and they both shuffled to the counter in silence.

they sat at a small table in the corner, the faint light of the cafeteria overhead casting a tired glow over everything. she tore open the bag of chips with a sharp motion, her fingers moving mechanically, not caring about the fallen crumbs.

chase took a bite of his protein bar, chewing slowly, his gaze fixed on the far wall. he didn't seem to care that she wasn't talking, that she was avoiding him. she almost wished he would just leave, let her have the silence. it was easiest when he wasn't around, when he wasn't making things worse by existing in her space.

"quinn," he sighed, after what felt like an eternity. "i didn't mean for it to happen that way, i didn't mean to hurt you."

she looked up at him finally, her eyes narrowing. "intentions don't matter much, it's the consequences that stick."

he didn't have a response, he just sat there, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't. they ate in silence after that, the tension between them so thick it felt suffocating.

thankfully, the results of the last few tests would be finished any moment now.

his footsteps were just a few paces behind her, too quiet, too heavy with unspoken words.

at 12:30 am, the lights flickered and the elevator door opened.

she stepped onto the elevator first, the cool metal floor beneath her shoes offered a little comfort as she leaned against the back wall, her shoulders sagging slightly from the weight of the night, exhaustion creeping in.

it was strange, how close they were in such a small, enclosed space, yet the distance between them felt wider than ever.

she reached for the button to close the doors, and as soon as the doors slid shut with a faint mechanical hum, a momentary sense of relief washed over her. it was just the two of them now, quiet and isolated.

but then, just a second after the doors closed, the elevator jerked. the sudden movement caught her off guard, her stomach lurching as if the floor had dropped out from under her. she instinctively reached for the wall to steady herself, her fingers pressing hard against the cold metal.

the faint rattling of the cables above them echoed, and the lights flickered once, twice, casting the small, dimly lit space in an unsteady glow.

for a brief moment, it felt like everything had stopped. quinn's breath hitched, the rising panic making her pulse quicken.

"chase?" her voice came out quieter than she intended, a thread of uncertainty cutting through the usual icy detachment.

the elevator shuddered again, this time with a sharp, violent jerk that caught her completely off guard. her balance faltered beneath her feet, the floor vibrating as if the elevator were being rattled by some unseen force. her breath caught in her throat as she stumbled, her body pitching forward without warning.

her hands flew out in front of her, but the sudden movement was too much. she was going to fall, she realized in a panicked flash, her stomach lurching as the elevator continued to shake beneath her.

but then, just as quickly, she felt him.

chase's arm shot out, steadying her by the waist, pulling her back just as she was about to lose her footing. the warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold air, and she felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn't just from the cold. it was from the force of his hands gripping er, his presence was overwhelming.

"whoa, hey!" his voice cracked through the tension, urgently guiding her back to her feet. his fingers brushed over her arm as he steadied her, his grip tight as if he feared she might slip again. "you alright?"

she didn't answer at first. her mind was still reeling from the sudden lurch of the elevator, the way her body had almost collapsed from under her. she was disoriented, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. but there was no time to focus on that. the elevator shook again, a violent tremor that made her heart race.

she gasped as her hands found the railing by the door, but her knees were still wobbly, her body still not entirely sure of itself. her pulse was frantic, and it took a few seconds before she could get her bearings again.

and then, almost as quickly as it had happened, she felt his hand on her elbow again, guiding her back to the railing. he didn't say anything this time, just silently offering his support.

her breath was coming in shallow bursts as she grasped onto the cold metal railing, the pressure of her fingers digging into it like she could anchor herself. "thanks," she muttered, her voice hoarse as she fought to regain composure.

everything was still, the shaking had stopped. it felt like the whole space had been frozen in time, the low hum of the machinery now eerily quiet. the lights flickered once more before settling into a dim, almost oppressive glow.

she stood there, gripping the railing with white knuckles, her head spinning in a way she couldn't explain

chase's figure loomed just in her peripheral vision, but he didn't say anything as he walked over to the emergency button. with slight hesitation, he pressed the button with a firm push.

the soft buzz sounded almost too loud in the stillness of the elevator, followed by a soft expectant beep. but when no one answered after a few seconds, he tried again. the silence in between the calls felt endless, a quiet tension that stretched every nerve.

she couldn't stop herself from looking over at him, her gaze falling to his hand on the button. her mind was still spinning and she slowly slid to the floor, her knees by her chest.

a voice crackled through the speaker. "emergency response, how can we assist you?"

chase was quick, his voice holding an urgency that quinn hadn't heard in quite some time. "we're stuck in the elevator. it's broken, no movement, nothing."

"are you injured?" the operator asked. "anyone in immediate danger?"

he glanced at her, his eyes darting quickly over her face, searching for some sign that she was hurt, but quinn shook her head, her hand still pressed to the railing, grip tight. her stomach churned, but there was no real physical pain, she just felt disoriented, overwhelmed.

"no, no one's hurt, we're fine."

"okay," the voice replied after a pause, a bit too calm, considering the situation. "unfortunately, no one can come untill morning. it'll be just under seven hours until we can get someone out there. please remain calm and stay in place."

seven hours. the words hung in the air, too heavy to ignore. her stomach twisted more as the realization set in. she would be stuck here, in this small, claustrophobic box, with chase, alone for hours. her mind raced, thoughts colliding with no way to control them.

she tried to shake the sense of panic creeping into her chest. they couldn't wait seven hours, that was too long. trapped in here with everything they hadn't said, all the things that still loomed between them.

"wait, what?" chase's voice broke through her thoughts, disbelief coloring his tone. "you're telling us no one can come until morning?"

"yes, sir." the operator replied, the voice growing quieter, as if delivering bad news was somehow routine. "we've already contacted maintenance, but it's the middle of the night. no one will be able to get to you until morning."

the blood drained from her face, breath catching as the enormity of the situation started to sink in. she looked up at chase, who stood there, staring at the small speaker with wide eyes. his lips were pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched with frustration.

"seven hours," she murmured under her breath, a distant whisper.

chase looked at her now, gaze softer than before, like he could sense the way her shoulders were tense, the way her breaths were starting to come quicker, the way her eyes began to water.

his mouth opened to say something, but then he hesitated, closing it again. he wasn't sure what to say, either. how could he be? they were stuck in a broken elevator, and everything between them felt just as broken.

"just our luck. stuck in here, no way out. i guess it's just perfect, isn't it?" she scoffed, voice sharp with frustration.

he stiffened at her tone, jaw tightening. the tension that disappeared momentarily was back, just like that. "yeah, sure. perfect," he snapped, cutting through the stale air. "just what we need. another problem to deal with."

she turned sharply, locking eyes with him. she could feel the anger bubbling up, the frustration and fatigue only adding fuel. he was right there, the person who had ruined everything between them, and almost ruined her life. she didn't care if it was ridiculous or petty, it felt like the only thing she could hold onto or control at that moment.

"well, maybe if you hadn't been so selfish in the first place, we wouldn't be here now!" her words were like venom, rising with each syllable. "you were too busy trying to save your own ass to think about the rest of us, to think about me. hell, you still can't even own up to it."

the words hit him like a slap in the face and he stepped toward her as an unspoken challenge. "are you seriously blaming me for this? for what happened with vogler? i didn't make the damn rules!" his voice was harsh, every word like a strike against her. she could almost feel the spit coming from his mouth. "someone had to be fired, right? the worst employee had to go, and guess what? it sure as hell wasn't going to be me."

for a moment, everything went still. her chest tightened, breath catching in her throat. the words hung in the air, sharp and venomous.

she could hear her pulse hammering in her ears, her stomach churning, a hot acidic bitterness rising in her throat. the way he said it, the casual dismissal, the callousness, it was like he had stripped her of any humanity, reduced her to some expendable figure.

"you're unbelievable," she bit out, her voice trembling, attempting to stay composed. "you don't get it, do you? you don't get how much it hurt to almost lose everything because you couldn't see past your own damn ego."

"you think i wanted to screw you over?" his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "you think i wanted any of this? you think i enjoyed watching you break down after you were fired? all i wanted was to hug you and tell you i was sorry. god quinn, you think i don't feel like shit about it?"

for a second, there was silence between them. his words hung in the air.

"then why didn't you. why didn't you hug me? tell me it was all going to be alright? you never apologized! unless we're counting thirty minutes ago," she said through gritted teeth. "you never even tried to make things right until now."

he sighed, his hand coming up to his forehead to massage his temples. "because i didn't know if it was going to be alright." he let out desperately. "i didn't know if it was going to be okay.. for my job, for house, for you, for us. i didn't know."

the silence that followed was thick and suffocating, stretching between them like an impenetrable wall. the anger in her chest had started to settle, replaced by a quiet, unbearable ache. the sting of his words, the cruel finality of them, still clung to her, but now it was something softer.

she had tried so hard not to let it show, tried to keep her composure, but it was as if everything had finally broken through the damn she'd built up over the years, and the tears started to slip quietly down her face.

her shoulders shook slightly as she blinked rapidly, desperately trying to stop them, her breath catching in her throat. she didn't want him to see, witness the weakness she felt in that moment.

quinn was mad at herself for even letting it happen, for letting him and the situation they were in get her like this. she wiped her eyes quickly but it was no use. a tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it, and then another, falling silently onto the floor.

she bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to steady herself, trying to keep it all in. the faintest sound, her breath catching as she tried to hold back a sob, betrayed her.

and he had heard it.

the quiet, broken sound cut through the silence like a sharp blade. for a second, he didn't move, didn't speak. he wasn't angry anymore, not at her, not at himself. in that moment, the weight of everything ⎯ the insults, the arguments, seemed distant, like they no longer mattered.

he looked at her eyes, eyes softening with something that resembled guilt. she was trying to hide it, but he could see it. the way her face was flushed with the effort of holding in her tears, the way she wiped at her eyes as if it could make the pain go away.

it was the kind of pain he had helped cause, the kind he could no longer pretend he hadn't had a hand in.

he took a tentative step forward, and the movement seemed to break the stillness, drawing her attention. she looked up, startled as if she hadn't expected him to notice. "quinn.." he said softly.

she shook her head quickly. "i'm fine," she whispered, though her voice cracked, betraying the lie.

he watched her for a long moment, his heart sinking. it was the first time he'd seen her so vulnerable, so raw and it was a side of her he'd never really allowed himself to acknowledge before. she was always the strong one, but now here she was, standing in front of him falling apart in a way that made him feel like he was the one who had been hurt, not her.

"the things i said, i didn't mean them. the deal with vogler, i meant," he paused for a moment. "but i regretted it the second i saw you were fired." he knelt down in front of her, moving her hair from her face.

"i was so worried about my job, but i should've acknowledged that you were too, along with cameron and foreman. and most importantly i should've apologized right away. quinn, i'm so sorry."

as the quiet settled between them, she let out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes again. the weight on her chest felt lighter, but the vulnerability still lingered, raw and unfamiliar. she didn’t notice chase move closer until she felt his hand brush against her shoulder—hesitant at first, as if testing whether the moment was right.

when she didn’t pull away, he leaned in, wrapping his arms around her in a firm yet gentle embrace. the sudden warmth of it caught her off guard, and for a split second, she froze, unsure if she should allow herself to accept it. but then his grip tightened just slightly, grounding her in the moment, and something inside her unraveled.

she let herself sink into the hug, her hands awkwardly coming up to rest against his back. it wasn’t perfect or graceful, but it was real—comforting in a way she hadn’t expected.

"thank you," she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"you don’t have to thank me," he replied softly, his breath warm against her hair. "i should’ve done this a long time ago."

the hug lingered, neither of them in a hurry to pull away. it wasn’t about fixing everything all at once; it was about showing they cared, that even after all the pain and distance, there was still something worth holding on to.

when they finally broke apart, chase’s hands rested lightly on her shoulders, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper—something unspoken.

"we’re good?" he asked, his voice quiet but hopeful.

she gave a small, hesitant smile, nodding. "we’re getting there."

3 hours till rescue

“and the second i hit the ground, i knew i’d messed up,” chase said, finishing his story with a wry grin. “the pain was... let’s just say it made me rethink every stupid decision i’d made up to that point.”

quinn, half-asleep, shifted against his shoulder. her head was heavy with exhaustion, but she mumbled, “let me get this straight. you snuck out of your house, climbed out the second-story window… and broke your leg falling out of a tree?”

“it wasn’t just any tree,” chase said, mock-defensive. “it was the neighbor’s tree. much taller. better view.”

she snorted softly, her laugh muffled against his shoulder. “oh, that makes it so much better. what were you even sneaking out for?”

“concert tickets,” he said, matter-of-factly. “my friend’s older brother was selling a pair, and I couldn’t miss out. so i figured, you know, climb out, avoid the creaky stairs, save myself the lecture.”

“and instead,” she murmured, “you ended up with a broken leg and the lecture of the century.”

“pretty much. though honestly, my mum was too worried to yell at me much right away. that came later, after the cast and the crutches.”

quinn let out a sleepy hum of amusement. “how old were you?”

“fifteen. old enough to know better, apparently. at least according to mum.”

she chuckled softly, the sound trailing off as she fought to keep her eyes open. “so, did you at least get the tickets?”

“nope,” chase said with a grin. “but I did get grounded for two months and a healthy dose of regret.”

“good,” she mumbled, her voice growing softer. “you deserved it.”

“you’re one to talk,” he teased lightly, tilting his head just enough to glance at her. “like you’ve never done anything reckless.”

“maybe,” she murmured, her head lolling slightly against him as sleep started to claim her. “but at least I didn’t break my leg doing i…”

he let out a quiet laugh, settling back against the elevator wall. her weight against him was comforting, her presence warm and steady despite her exhaustion. he shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, and let the silence stretch between them.

for the first time in a long while, the stillness didn’t feel empty.

2 hours and 30 minutes till rescue

“so, by the time I got back to the house, the cat was gone, and I was just standing there in the rain, covered in mud,” quinn finished, her voice quieter than it had been before. she was staring at the ground in front of her, her hands loosely clasped in her lap. “i never saw it again. it wasn’t even our cat—just this stray that kept showing up. i thought if i took care of it long enough, maybe it would stick around.”

chase didn’t say anything right away. he tilted his head slightly to glance at her, his expression softer now. “sounds like you really cared about it.”

“i did,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “it was the only thing i looked forward to that summer. just this scrappy little thing that didn’t need me but still came around anyway.” she shrugged, trying to downplay the emotion in her voice. “guess i should’ve known better.”

“doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it,” chase said after a moment.

quinn turned her head slightly to look at him, her expression unreadable. “yeah, maybe.”

there was a long pause, the air between them heavy with unspoken thoughts. eventually, quinn leaned her head back against the elevator wall and closed her eyes. “your turn,” she said softly, as if the act of speaking might shatter the fragile calm between them.

2 hours till rescue

the silence stretched between them, the kind of quiet that felt almost companionable despite the tension of the situation. quinn's head was still leaning against chase's shoulder, her eyes half closed when he broke the silence.

"i slept with cameron," he admitted suddenly, the words heavy in the stillness.

quinn blinked, tilting her head to look at him. "yeah, i know."

he turned to glance at her, surprise flickering across his face. "you know?"

she shrugegd, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a small smirk. "everyone knows, chase. it wasn't exactly subtle."

he groaned, leaning his head back against the elevator wall. "great, that's embarrassing."

"don't be," quinn said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "i slept with wilson."

his head snapped up toward her, eyebrows shooting up. "you're kidding."

she shook her head, her smirk growing. "nope, two weeks ago. i was going through it and well he was charming. one thing led to another.."

he stared at her for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. "i don't know whether to be impressed or horrified."

"it was surprisingly nice," she admitted, chuckling. "but, you know, one and done. no strings attached."

"guess that makes us even," chase said, a teasing edge to his tone.

"does it though?" quinn shot back. "i mean cameron's kind of a big deal. sweet, smart, beautiful. feels like you win this one."

he shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "she is all those things, but it was complicated, she was complicated. not exactly my proudest moment."

she hummed thoughtfully. "isn't it always complicated? i mean, my thing with wilson wasn't exactly a stroke of genius either. he's married. i should've known better."

"we're not exactly known for our stellar decision making, are we?" chase quipped, grinning.

she laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “definitely not. but hey, at least we’ve got stories to tell.”

“so... wilson, huh?” chase asked, his tone playful. “what’s he like?”

“sweet,” quinn said, a faraway look in her eyes. “gentle, really. but also... sad. like he was carrying this invisible weight. i think that’s why i gravitated toward him. it felt safe, in a way.”

chase nodded, his expression softening. “i get that. cameron was... well, she was cameron. caring, compassionate, but there was always this... intensity about her. like she wanted to fix everything, including me.”

quinn tilted her head, studying him. “did you want to be fixed?”

he hesitated, then shook his head. “not really. i think that’s where we clashed. i didn’t want to be someone’s project.”

she reached out, lightly tapping his knee. “good. you’re not a project, chase. you’re just... you.”

he looked at her, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. “thanks, quinn.”

the silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. it felt like they were finally seeing each other in a different light, one where their shared vulnerability didn’t scare them but brought them closer. the quiet hum of the elevator seemed to pulse around them, and for a moment, quinn was acutely aware of how their bodies were close—too close, maybe. and yet, it didn’t feel wrong.

"do you ever wonder," chase started, his voice suddenly serious, "if maybe we could have... something more? not just the mess, but... something real?"

the question hung between them, delicate and vulnerable. quinn's breath caught in her throat, unsure how to respond at first. she wanted to say yes, to admit that she felt the same pull, the same quiet longing.

“i think...” she started, her voice shaky, “i think we could. maybe.”

and then, before either of them could second-guess it, quinn closed the small distance between them. she leaned in, a soft press of her lips against his, tentative at first, but when he didn’t pull away, it deepened. it was a kiss that was tender, exploring, full of things they hadn’t said but both felt in that moment.

quinn’s breath hitched as chase pulled back slightly, his forehead still resting against hers. his eyes searched hers, his lips just barely brushing hers as they both caught their breath. her hand remained on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat.

“this is insane,” she whispered, her voice shaky but not uncertain.

“completely,” he agreed, his voice low and rough. “but i don’t care.”

before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, firmer this time, less hesitant. the kiss was hot and unrestrained, all of the tension between them finally unraveling in a rush of heat. her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned against her mouth, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw.

she leaned into him, her body moving closer instinctively. chase shifted, his other hand gripping her waist as if anchoring himself to her. their movements became more frantic, the soft hum of the elevator lights the only sound aside from their heavy breathing.

quinn’s back hit the cool metal wall, and she barely noticed, too caught up in the feel of his hands on her, his lips moving against hers. he pressed against her, his body warm and solid, and she let out a soft, involuntary noise as his mouth moved to her jaw, then lower, just beneath her ear.

“chase,” she breathed, her voice almost a plea.

“quinn,” he murmured against her skin, his voice laced with something between desire and desperation.

his hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly but not forcefully, pulling her even closer. her fingers traced down the back of his neck, skimming over his shoulders, memorizing the feel of him as if she’d never get another chance.

their kisses deepened, each one more intoxicating than the last. her head tilted, giving him better access as his lips found hers again, his tongue brushing against hers in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.

their kiss slowed, breathless and messy, as the tension between them only seemed to grow stronger. quinn could feel her heart pounding in her chest, every nerve in her body awake and thrumming. chase’s hand slid down her side, and she gasped, a quiet sound slipping from her lips. the moment felt so fragile, like any movement could break it, yet they both leaned in closer, driven by something they couldn’t deny.

the warmth between them deepened, the space that had once been just physical, now electric with something else. chase’s hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her steady as their lips found each other again, more urgent this time. quinn's breath caught, a small gasp escaping her as she moved instinctively closer to him.

as their bodies pressed together, the world outside the elevator seemed to vanish entirely. all that remained was the heat of their skin, the pulse of their hearts, and the quiet rhythm of their shared breaths.

it wasn’t just a kiss anymore.

it was everything else that followed—soft, slow, and insistent.

10 minutes till rescue

the elevator was quiet again, save for the faint sounds of voices growing closer from outside. chase glanced at his watch, but the time didn’t matter. what mattered was the uncertainty—they didn’t know how much longer they had. it could be minutes. it could be longer. all they could do was prepare.

quinn, sitting on the floor beside him, let out a quiet breath, her chest still rising and falling in the aftermath of everything that had just happened. she gently ran her fingers through her tangled hair, a little unsteady as she tried to steady herself, to get back to the reality of the situation. she didn’t know what to say, so she stood, brushing herself off.

“we should... look presentable,” she said softly, her voice still thick with what they had just shared. her eyes met his for a brief moment, and the connection felt heavier than it had before, but there was no time to linger.

chase nodded, pushing himself to his feet and smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes, running a hand through his disheveled hair. he tried to look calm, tried to fix everything, but he couldn’t quite shake the way he felt, the way things had shifted between them.

“yeah,” he said quietly, his voice still a little raw. he caught her gaze as she straightened her jacket, fingers carefully smoothing over the fabric. there was something about the way she moved that made his heart beat faster. something so familiar yet new.

he cleared his throat. “you look... amazing.”

quinn glanced at him, her lips curving up into a small, almost shy smile. “thanks,” she murmured, her fingers brushing through her hair again, trying to get it under control. it felt like everything had changed between them, and yet here they were, standing in an elevator, preparing to face whatever came next.

there was a brief, heavy silence between them, but the air felt different now. more fragile. chase stepped closer, his eyes lingering on her. she felt his presence before she saw him move, his hand brushing against hers. the touch was light, but it carried so much more. she didn’t pull away. neither of them did.

“we should be ready,” quinn said, her voice soft but steady as she met his eyes. there was something in the way he looked at her—like he understood.

chase nodded slowly, his hand resting on her waist. the space between them felt smaller now, not just because of their proximity, but because of the weight of everything they’d shared. he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers with a quiet tenderness, not needing to say anything more. the kiss deepened, slow and careful, as if neither of them wanted to break the spell of the moment.

when they finally pulled away, their faces were still close, breaths mingling in the small space between them. chase let out a quiet exhale, his forehead gently resting against hers. he didn’t need to say anything. neither of them did. they both knew what had passed between them—what they had just shared.

the elevator door slid open with a soft ding, and standing there was a maintenance worker, house, foreman, and cameron. house looked like he had just been handed a front-row seat to his favorite reality show, foreman was grinning like he knew something hilarious, and cameron looked like she was about to launch into a thousand questions.

quinn and chase stepped out, not exactly looking guilty, but not not looking guilty either. house’s grin spread wider.

“well, well, well,” house said, tapping his cane on the ground like he was delivering the punchline of a joke. “so, did you two enjoy the ride, or was it more of a... stuck between floors situation?”

foreman chuckled, shaking his head. “honestly, i was expecting more screaming. but apparently, you two like to keep things... private.”

cameron blinked, clearly confused, then looked back and forth between them, before she put it together. “wait. you two—?”

quinn shrugged, her tone casual. “yep. just keeping it elevator level.”

house raised an eyebrow. “elevator level? nice. i’m stealing that one for later.”

quinn and chase exchanged a glance but didn’t acknowledge it further, simply walking toward the exit. house’s chuckle rang out one last time as the doors began to close.

“seriously,” house called after them. “i’m impressed. you two are the new definition of ‘getting stuck in an awkward situation.”

#robert chase #house md #house #gregory house #chase #robert chase x oc #lisa cuddy #james wilson #eric foreman #allison cameron #angst with a happy ending

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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Me when Wilson

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novemberdrift · 7 months ago

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the chase | robert chase

summary: chase is infatuated with his colleague, but she is blissfully unaware to his yearning, unlike the rest of their coworkers, until suddenly shes made aware. a/n: original female character, and chase in absolute puppy love words: 8.2k

he wasn't sure when it started.

maybe it was the way her sharp green eyes scanned through case files with laser precision, her brows furrowing slightly when something didn't make sense. or perhaps it was how she always tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, her fingers lingering there for just a moment too long.

she didn't notice him watching, not really. at least, chase didn't think she did. madelynn quinn wasn't the type to dwell on people's attention, too focused on her work, too driven to let anything distract her. that was part of what made her so intoxicating,

today was no different. she was seated at the end of the conference table, one leg crossed over the other, a stack of patient files balanced precariously in her lap. she had kicked off her heels sometime in the last hour, and her bare feet rested on the chair across from her.

the sunlight streaming through the blinds highlighted the faint freckles dusted across her nose, something chase had only noticed recently.

he leaned against the door frame, coffee cup in hand, taking a moment to admire her before speaking. "you're going to burn yourself out, you know," he said, keeping his tone light.

quinn glanced up, startled but her expression softened when she saw it was him. she straightened, setting the files aside. "it's fine, just a few more things to wrap up."

he stepped into the room, holding out the cup. "figured you might need this."

her lips curved into a small smile as she accepted the coffee, her fingers brushing against his for a fleeting second. "thanks chase, i appreciate it."

"no problem," he replied, watching as she took a sip. he couldn't help but notice the way her shoulders relaxed, the tension easing from her frame.

after placing it down she had a wave of realization, and her eyebrow raised as she turned to face him once more. "is this-"

"two pumps of hazelnut syrup? yes it is."

it had been a simple accident, really. one morning, he overheard her ordering a coffee in the hospital cafeteria. a black coffee with two pumps of hazelnut syrup. the order stuck in his mind for reasons he couldn't explain, and the next day, when he noticed her buried in paperwork similarly to today, he decided to bring her one.

"you're observant." she noted, looking at him for a moment. he almost forgot how to speak, her gaze was curious and he felt his chest tighten under the weight of it.

"hey," chase stopped her from reaching for another file. "you work too hard. let me take some of those off your plate."

quinn hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but something in his expression must have stopped her. she exhaled softly and handed him a small stack of files. "fine, but only these. and don't mess up my notes."

he grinned, taking the files from her hand. "wouldn't dream of it."

"forty year old female, seizure, confusion, and paranoia," house summarized. "could be anything from a brain tumor to a really bad breakup. go."

cameron spoke first. "toxins. she works in a flower shop. pesticide exposure could explain the neurological symptoms."

"except her bloodwork's clean. no signs of organophosphates." foreman leaned back in his chair.

"what about an autoimmune condition?" quinn suggested, her voice steady and measured. she was standing by the board, arms crossed, a thoughtful frown on her face. "lupus could cause seizures, and the paranoia might be early CNS involvement."

"it's never lupus," house quipped, popping a vicodin into his mouth like it was a breath mint. "but sure, let's poke around her immune system just for fun."

chase chimed in quickly, tone eager. "she's right. the symptoms fit. we should check ANA levels and do a lumber puncture."

house raised an eyebrow, turning to quinn. "wow, your very own lapdog. did cuddy issue that as standard equipment, or did you train him yourself?"

chase flushed but didn't respond. quinn didn't even blink at the jab, shrugging unfazed. "i'll schedule the LP," she said cooly, straightening as she stood up towards the door.

her heels clicked down the hallway as the door swung shut behind her. as soon as she was out of earshot, house's gaze locked on chase, his smirk widening. he began tapping his cane against the floor, clearly savoring the moment.

"so," he began, dragging out the word as he leaned toward chase. "is it her charm, her intelligence, or the way she doesn't give a damn about you that's got you all hot and bothered?"

he groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "can we focus on the patient?"

"oh, we are," house said with mock seriousness. "it's just that diagnosing you is way more fun."

cameron chimed in, her voice soft but teasing. "you've been acting different around her for weeks. agreeing with everything she says, covering her cases, bringing her coffees.."

"don't forget the staring," foreman added, smirking. "it's like watching a teenager in love for the first time, painfully obvious. even house noticed and he misses social cues on purpose."

"i'm being professional." chase muttered defensively.

"professional?" house repeated with mock incredulity. "you're practically writing her name with hearts on your chart notes."

foreman leaned forward, grinning. "you should just tell her. what's the worst that could happen?"

"foreman and i have a bet going. he thinks you'll confess by the end of the week, i don't." cameron chimed in, her tone playful but curious.

house tapped his cane against the floor, his grin devilish. "i'm rooting for the big moment to happen during a lumbar puncture. nothing says romance like spinal fluid."

chase groaned again, burying his face in his hands. "can we just drop it, please?"

"fine." house huffed, waving him off. "go stick a needle in someones spine. maybe you'll come back with a diagnosis. or better yet, a girlfriend."

the room was dimly lit, the soft hum of monitors filling the silence as quinn readied the lumbar puncture tray. chase stood a few steps behind her, watching as she moved with deliberate precision. the gloves snapped tightly against her wrists as she turned to the patient, her face warm but professional.

"this might pinch a little, but i'll make it quick," she assured the woman, her voice calm and steady.

she had an ease about her ― efficient but never cold. her tone wasn't overly gentle, but there was an undercurrent of reassurance that worked better than flowery words. chase couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"chase," quinn called, pulling him from his thoughts. "i need you to hold her steady."

he moved quickly, stepping to the patient's side and placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. "i've got her," he murmured.

she gave him a brief nod of thanks, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before refocusing on the needle in her hand. she had a small crease in her brow, one he had noticed always appeared when she was concentrating. "alright, deep breaths." quinn instructed the patient, leaning in closer.

the angle brought her shoulder almost against chase's arm. he could smell the faintest hint of lavender from her perfume, subtle and clean, and it made his stomach twist in a way he tried to ignore.

"you okay there?" she asked without looking up, her voice wry.

he stiffened slightly, startled by the question. "yeah, of course. why?"

"youre holding her like she's about to run off. loosen up a little, she's not going anywhere."

chase's lips twitched into a sheepish smile. "right, sorry."

she glanced up for a second, and her expression softened. "it's fine, just don't make her more nervous than she already is."

her teasing tone caught him off guard and for a moment, he was struck by how her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled like that. he shifted his focus back to the patient, trying to seem composed but the warmth in his chest lingered.

quinn's hands moved deftly, her movements practiced and smooth as she inserted the needle. the patient winced, and she immediately spoke, her voice low and soothing. "almost there, you're doing great."

the words were meant for the patient, meant to reassure and soothe but chase's stomach flipped like she'd whispered them directly into his ear. her tone was soft, warm in a way that made his pulse quicken and his throat suddenly dry.

he felt a flush creep up his neck, blooming on his cheeks and he prayed quinn wouldn't glance up and notice. she's not talking to you, he told himself firmly, but the way her words replayed in his mind made it impossible to focus.

he shifted his stance slightly, trying not to grip the patient's shoulder to ground him. his mind was betraying him, taking the innocent phrase and twisting it, her voice lingering in his head in ways it shouldn't. a faint warmth stirred low in his stomach, catching him completely off guard.

"there," quinn said, finally withdrawing the needle. her hands moved quickly as she capped it and discarded her gloves. straightening up, she gave the patient a reassuring smile. "see? that wasn't so bad."

chase stared at the patient's back, not really seeing anything as he struggled to calm the heat creeping over him.

"good teamwork," quinn added, glancing at him with a playful smile. "you didn't faint or anything, i'm impressed."

the lightness in her voice only made him feel more unsteady. he cleared his throat, trying to muster a response. "you think i would've fainted?"

"with the way you were grasping onto our patient or how the sweat beads started dripping down your forehead?" she chuckled, seeing his reaction to her words.

his face flushed a deep crimson, and he instinctively raised a hand to his forehead, realizing with horror that there was indeed a slight sheen of sweat. "i wasn't.." he started, floundering for an excuse. "it's just warm in here."

quinn gave him a skeptical look, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "uh huh, sure, dr. chase. you're not usually this jumpy during a lumbar puncture. did you skip breakfast or something?"

he swallowed hard, willing his body to cool down, but her casual teasing and the way she was looking at him only made his heart race faster. "no, i just.." he trailed off, utterly at a loss for words.

she shook her head, her smirk softening into something almost fond. "relax, chase. i was kidding. you did fine, just maybe ease up on the death grip next time, okay?"

chase forced a laugh, trying to play it off. "noted," he said, though his voice came out a little too tight.

she pushed off the counter and handed him the patients file, her fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. "seriously, though," she added, her tone more sincere now. "thanks for helping out."

as soon as she was gone, chase let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his cheeks still burning.

he glanced down at the file in his hands, her handwriting neat and precise on the notes. despite his embarrassment, he couldn't help the small, helpless smile that crept onto his face. even when she teased him, she had this way of leaving him completely disarmed.

and yet all he could think about was the sound of her voice and the warmth in her eyes as she thanked him.

the sound of clinking coffee cups and the shuffle of paper filled the air in the conference room as the team gathered around the large table. chase had barely finished rechecking the lab results before sliding them across to quinn. he watched her closely as she scanned the report, her brow furrowing in thought.

"well?" house asked, his eyes narrowed as he sat back in his chair, one leg casually draped over the armrest. "any breakthroughs, or are you still in the dark like the rest of us?"

she glanced up, her gaze meeting his, her lips set in a faint but determined line. "it's negative. the lab results didn't show any signs of infection, cancer or autoimmune disease. whatever's going on, it's not showing up in the blood or cerebrospinal fluid."

she pushed the paper further across the table and chase found his fingers itching to take it back, to be closer to her, to study the lab results alongside her. but instead, he kept his hands folded under the table, his mind caught somewhere between curiosity and distraction.

"that's a dead end," house muttered, tapping his cane on the floor rhythmically, the sound a sharp counterpoint to the silence hanging in the room. "you two get cozy while the patient's condition deteriorates, or are we actually solving something here?"

chase couldn't help but glance at quinn again, his mind whirring. she didn't seem phased by house's sarcastic remark, just as she hadn't been fazed by his teasing earlier.

"i think we're missing something." quinn hummed, her voice calm, eyes scanning the room for the right words. "we're only looking at what's obvious, but the patient's case is too complex for a straight forward solution. could it be a neurological issue? something else that's undetectable in the fluid?"

chase leaned forward, considering her suggestion. "maybe. her symptoms are erratic, though ― fever, dizziness, muscle weakness. the kind of things that could point to dozens of conditions, not just one." he paused, catching her gaze for a moment before quickly turning his attention back to the case. "what if it's something metabolic, like a rare enzyme deficiency?"

quinn nodded slowly. "possibly. but even if that's the case, the lab work still isn't supporting it. there's no indication of metabolic failure-"

"can we just get to the point?" house interrupted, his voice laced with impatience as he flicked a pen between his fingers. "you two are flirting with each other's intellects. either come up with a solution, or i'll have to do it myself."

chase felt his cheeks flush at the comment, but forced himself to ignore it. quinn didn't even flinch at the interruption. "house, no one's flirting, but we are working. if you're not going to add anything useful, maybe you should take your jokes elsewhere."

there was a slight edge to her tone, something that made chase pause.

he gave a non chalant shrug in response. "fine, fine. but you're not getting anywhere without some creative thinking. so here's a thought, what if the answer is something completely different? a parasite? something environmental?"

quinn tilted her head, considering the new idea. "we didn't test her for parasites," she said thoughtfully, flipping through the file in front of her. "it's possible the exposure came from an unexpected source. contaminated water or food?"

chase, now leaning over the table, started jotting down notes.

"well, that's a start," he said, his eyes glinting with that trademark sarcasm, though his tone was slightly more approving. "a potential environmental cause. that's more than we had before."

"we'll need to check for any recent environmental exposures," quinn added, her voice calm but resolute, her eyes still on the file as if looking for more answers. "if the patient's home environment is the cause, we need to find out what changed, what's different."

house, leaning against the back of his chair with his cane resting by his side, watched them with an almost amused expression, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the table. "sounds like you two have it figured out, go check it out."

chase lifted an eyebrow at house's tone, sensing the unspoken challenge hidden beneath the casual remark. he knew house didn't think this would be a simple fix. but then again, when was anything simple under house's watch.

"both of you," house continued, locking eyes with quinn and chase as he made his final decision. "go check the patient's home. see if you can find something that doesn't belong. maybe it's the carpet, maybe it's the cleaning supplies, maybe it's some new plant she's decided to bring in. just go."

chase tried to hide the rush of anticipation that flickered inside him at the thought of spending time alone with quinn, but it was impossible. his heart beat just a little faster, and the heat of his blush came quicker than he could manage.

she nodded at house's instructions. "alright, we'll head out after gathering any additional supplies we might need. if there's a chemical or environmental cause, we'll find it."

"good, go already." house muttered dismissively.

quinn gave a roll of her eyes, while chase's mind was elsewhere. she was leading the way out of the hospital, walking with purpose as always. and there he was, trailing behind her, fighting the fluttering of his heart. his eyes followed her every step, every movement, as if she was the center of his world.

"ready?" she wondered, her voice snapping him out of his daze.

"yeah, of course." he replied, a little too quickly.

she didn't seem to notice his slightly flushed cheeks or the way his gaze lingered on her longer than it probably should have. instead, she simply walked to her car, a sleek silver sedan parked under the dim light of the parking garage.

she unlocked it with a soft click, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine, the purr of the car filling the quiet air. quinn adjusted the rear view mirror before glancing at him momentarily, and looking away just as quick.

as she shifted the car into reverse, chase's eyes flickered to the way she effortlessly reached across, her hand holding onto the passenger seat as she turned to check behind her. there was something almost magnetic about that simple action, the casual confidence with which she maneuvered the car. the way her body shifted in the seat, the soft tension in her shoulders as she turned, he had to swallow, his thoughts tangling with the sudden wave of attraction.

the way she controlled everything around her, it was hot. he felt a strange knot tighten in his chest, and his gaze drifted downward, his mind wandering just a little.

the drive was relatively short, taking them through quieter streets and eventually into a residential neighborhood on the edge of town. it was the kind of area where houses had more personality, smaller, more lived in with gardens overflowing with flowers and ivy creeping up the sides.

"so, uh," chase started, trying to fill the silence as they passed a few more houses. "what do you think we'll find? something in the air? or..?"

quinn's focus never wavered from the road, but her lips quirked into a small smile at his question. "i don't know. could be something in the water, or mold in the house. we'll just have to check everything."

she turned a corner and the house they were headed for came into view. it was a small bungalow tucked between two larger houses, the front yard overflowing with plants, flowers, ferns and vines. "that's the one," quinn said, her voice calm but with a touch of determination as she slowed the car.

chase's gaze drifted to the house, it was small but looked cozy, lived in. he felt a knot tighten in his chest at the thought of walking through the door with her.

quinn parked in the driveway, her fingers brushing the keys before she looked over at him. "let's go."

he nodded a little too eagerly, then reached for the door handle, his mind still half focused on her. the warm light from the setting sun cast a soft glow on her features, making her look even more striking. he couldn't seem to stop staring at her.

they both stepped out of the car, and quinn moved toward the front door, her pace brisk. she reached for the handle and tried to turn it, but it didn't budge. "huh, locked." she muttered, glancing back at chase.

"guess we'll have to try the back," he sighed, trying to sound casual as he followed her rounding the side of the house, the sounds of birds and the rustling of leaves filling the air.

quinn reached the back door and tried the handle. this time, it gave way and she glanced over her shoulder at chase. "after you," she hummed, a smile playing on her lips.

"cozy," chase remarked, glancing around at the cramped space. "if you're a recluse who doesn't mind the occasional fungal outbreak."

she chuckled softly, walking further into the house. "it's not so bad. a little decluttering, some bleach, maybe an exorcism, and it could be.. charming."

he smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind her. "right. maybe we'll add some scented candles while we're at it."

turning her head, quinn glanced at him, lips tugging upward into a rare grin. "you volunteering to redecorate?"

"for you? absolutely," chase replied, his tone light though his heart skipped a beat at how casually the words slipped out. he paused, and his eyes widened.

she gave him a look that hovered between amused and skeptical, but she didn't comment. instead, she gestured toward the far end of the room, where a stack of plants lined the windowsill. "let's start over there, check for any obvious molds or i don't know cursed succulents."

chase walked past her toward the plants, glancing back over his shoulder as he did. "cursed succulents? is that an official diagnostic term, dr. quinn?"

"it will be if i find one," she shot back, her tone laced with dry humor.

as they worked their way through the small space, examining shelves, vents and the plants scattered throughout the conversation ebbed and flowed easily between them. chase couldn't stop stealing glances at her, the way her brow furrowed when she concentrated or the way her lips quirked when she found something amusing.

"so, you seemed pretty unbothered earlier when house was being.. house." chase mentioned after a beat, breaking the silence as they regrouped near the kitchen.

she raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "when is he not being house?"

"you know what i mean," chase pressed, leaning casually against the counter. "when he said we were flirting."

quinn scoffed, shaking her head as she crouched down to inspect the baseboards. "yeah, that was funny."

"funny?"

"yeah," she hummed, not looking up as she took a sample of dust. "i mean, you and me? flirting? house just says whatever he thinks will get a reaction. like when he called you my lapdog."

he blushed at the reminder as his fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. "you don't think we flirt?" he asked, again trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.

quinn finally looked up from the floor, eyebrow raised. "do you?"

chase hesitated at the question, his brain racing to find an answer that wouldn't expose him. she tilted her head once more, trying to read his expression. "wait a second." she said slowly, a confused expression playing on her face. "why'd you pause? do you think we flirt?"

he straightened up, suddenly hyper aware of the tension in the room. he gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "no, of course not," he replied, his voice betraying a slight waver. "i mean, it's just house being house, you know? stirring the pot for his own amusement."

she didn't look convinced. she narrowed her eyes as she studied him, the teasing light in her expression fading into something more serious. "you hesitated, though," she pointed out, her voice calm but probing. "why?"

his stomach flipped. "i didn't hesitate," he said, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.

quinn's brow arched, skepticism flashing in her eyes. "if you say so." she stepped up past him toward a shelf lined with mismatched trinkets, picking up a porcelain figurine and inspecting it absentmindedly. "house likes to make things awkward." she mused, her voice light but not dismissive. "i'll give you that."

"exactly" chase said, seizing the opportunity to latch onto something else. relief surged through him, and he forced a small strained smile. "he just says things to get under people's skin. it doesn't mean anything."

she hummed softly, as she set the figurine back on the shelf. her fingers lingered for a moment before she turned back toward the room, her gaze scanning the walls for any potential environmental clues. "he's got a knack for finding buttons to press, thankfully he missed this time."

quinn reached for her flashlight, clicking it on as she leaned closer to examine a crack in the baseboard. "there's moisture here," she said, more to herself than to him. "could be mold, let's check the rest of the room."

chase nodded, swallowing hard as he turned his attention to the opposite side of the room. he should have been relieved that she'd dropped the subject, that she wasn't lingering on house's comment, or his awkward deflection. but instead, there was a strange ache in his chest, a hollow reminder that her mind was elsewhere.

he glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she crouched down near the radiator, flashlight illuminating the faint sheen of moisture along the board. she was utterly engrossed, her movements efficient and precise. god she was so captivating. the way her mind worked, always ten steps ahead, dissecting every detail with that unflinching intensity.

and then there was the rest of her. the curve of her cheek when she tilted her head, the way she tucked stray strands behind her ear without noticing, the subtle way her brow furrowed. she was beautiful in a way that felt effortless, and it left chase feeling entirely out of his depth.

not that she cared. madelynn quinn didn't give a damn about him, at least not personally. sure, they worked together, and she respected his input when it mattered, but that was where it ended. to her, he was just another colleague, along with foreman and cameron. she never joined them for drinks after work, or celebratory dinners, and chase found it odd, but at the same time so intriguing.

"chase!" she called out, her voice cutting through his thoughts. she was standing by the doorway now, pointing towards the kitchen "let's check in there."

the office was now unusually quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights above the only sound breaking the stillness. quinn sat at her desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she finished the report for their latest case.

across the room, foreman stood by the filing cabinet, leafing through a stack of charts and organizing them into neat piles, ordered by house. it had been a long day, but there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing they'd solved the case. the patient had responded well to treatment after the mold was removed, and her condition was already improving.

"so," foreman began, glancing up briefly. "glad we figured it out, it's insane how so little can be so dangerous."

she looked up in his direction. "yeah, she'll be fine now, guess we can call it a win."

"mmhm"

they fell into a companionable silence, the only sound the rustling of papers and the soft clicks of quinn's keyboard. but as she finished the last line of her report, a thought that had been nagging at her since earlier that day surfaced again.

she leaned back in her chair, looking over at foreman. "hey, have you noticed anything weird with chase lately?"

foreman froze for a split second before resuming his work. "weird how?"

"i'm not sure," she frowned, trying to articulate the unease she couldn't quite shake. "we had this strange moment at a patient's house.." she stopped, feeling a little ridiculous.

he sighed, and finally looked up, brow furrowing. he hesitated then said carefully, "huh, so he told you."

quinn blinked, caught off guard. "what? told me what?"

the realization of what he'd just said hit him immediately. he turned back to his files, his movements suddenly more purposeful, almost hurried as he glanced at his bag and coat. "nothing, forget what i said."

"no, no." she straightened up, her voice sharp with curiosity. "you can't just say that and expect me to move on. if somethings wrong with him i have to know, he's my partner."

he shook his head, and grabbed his bag off the chair next to him. "it's not my place."

"foreman," she pressured, her tone brooking no argument. "what did he tell me?"

he let out a long, suffering sigh, clearly weighing his options. "you're really not going to let this go, are you?"

"not a chance."

after another moment of deliberation, he finally relented, lowering his voice as if to shield the conversation from invisible ears. "fine, you didn't hear this from me, alright quinn?" she nodded in response. "chase likes you, like a ton."

she froze, her mind scrambling to process what he'd just said. "what?"

"you heard me," foreman said, sounding irritated now. "he's into you. has been for awhile."

"that doesn't-" she stopped herself, her thoughts racing. "that cannot be right, foreman."

"it is." he said with a shrug. "house started picking up on it weeks ago, that's why he's been picking on him so much for agreeing with you."

quinn stared at him, her mind whirring. she thought back to every interaction she had with chase, replaying them in her head with a new lens.

the coffee he brought her most mornings, always the way she liked it. the way he lingered after conversations, his gaze holding hers for a beat too long. how he always seemed eager to help, whether it was taking on extra work or offering to stay late.

even his nervousness earlier that day, the way he fumbled over his words, his awkward laughter, the tension in his posture. she'd dismissed it as chase just being chase, but now..

and then there was house. the comments, the smirks, the unsubtle digs about chase following her like a loyal puppy. she'd rolled her eyes at them every time, but now they took on an entirely different meaning.

"oh my god," she muttered, more to herself than to foreman. "how did i not see it?"

he gave her a flat look. "you're not exactly the most approachable person, quinn. he'd probably figured you'd never notice."

"i'm not approachable?" she blinked, genuinely taken aback.

foreman gave her a knowing look, leaning against the edge of the desk. "come on, quinn. you're always in work mode, and you barely make conversation with us. you also have never gone out with the rest of us and we've invited you what, five times? you always say no."

her mouth opened to protest, but nothing came out. she hadn't realized how others saw her. sure, she preferred to keep her professional and personal lives separate, but unapproachable? she didn't know why she was so bothered by it, but it stung in a way quinn hadn't expected.

he arched a brow, clearly reading her expression. "it's not a bad thing. you're serious about your work, and you're good at it. but yeah, you give off this vibe like you don't have time for anything, or anyone outside of it."

"does everyone think that about me?"

he shrugged carelessly. "pretty much, don't get me wrong, we respect you. hell, cameron practically idolizes you. but socially? you're a closed book."

the words hit harder than she cared to admit. it wasn't like she didn't want to be part of the group, it just never seemed like a priority. still, foreman's blunt honesty left her unsettled.

"you know, we're going out for drinks tomorrow after work," foreman said, his tone casual. "cameron, chase and i. you should come, break the cycle a little."

quinn hesitated, her first instinct to say no already on the tip of her tongue. but something stopped her. maybe it was the revelation that chased liked her, or the realization that her colleagues, people she spent more time with than anyone else, saw her as distant. whatever it was, she found herself nodding. "yeah, okay," she said. "i'll come."

foreman looked mildly surprised but didn't push it. "good, maybe you'll see we're not so bad outside of work."

as he grabbed his files and headed for the door, she stayed seated, her thoughts spinning. was she really so closed off that people thought she didn't care? that she completely missed chase's crush?

quinn exhaled slowly, resting her chin in her hand. tomorrow would be different. maybe she'd let herself step outside the rigid boundaries she had built.

the following day, the team gathered in the conference room, all leaning over the medical files for their new patient. house walked in, dragging his cane behind him and leaning on it with a dramatic sigh, as if bored by the whole ordeal already. he threw the patient's file onto the table, his eyes scanning the room.

"okay, listen up," he began, without preamble, looking at each of his team members in turn. "thirty seven year old art curator drops dead mid lecture. chest pain, seizure, then a nice dramatic fall for the benefit of the audience. they're probably still tweeting about it."

cameron picked up the file first, flipping through it quickly, a mix of concern and confusion on her face. "the chest pain could be indicative of a heart attack, but she's too young for that, unless she has a family history. and the seizure.. it doesn't fit with typical cardiac issues."

foreman leaned forward, scrutinizing the details in front of him. "it could be neurological, maybe an aneurysm or a brain tumor that caused the seizure. could explain the sudden symptoms."

sitting quietly in the corner, quinn glanced over the patient's file with a furrowed brow, her sharp mind already starting to churn. "what if it's metabolic?" she offered. "like a pheochromocytoma, an adrenal tumor. it's rare but it fits. sudden onset of symptoms, severe chest pain, and the seizure. but we'll need more tests to confirm."

"maybe you're not just a pretty face after all." house remarked.

chase was silent for a moment, not wanting to take away from quinn's point. he hesitated before speaking up, a bit awkwardly. "could it have something to do with stress?" he shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of house's gaze on him. "i mean, she works in a high pressure environment ⎯ art shows, dealing with curators, critics.. it might be a reaction to all the tension at the gallery, possibly a panic attack that got out of hand."

house tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "ah, chase," he said, voice laced with sarcasm. "using your charm to diagnose stress. the human body responds to stress in many ways, but somehow i don't think a seizure from a tight deadline is what's causing our patient to drop dead. keep trying to sound deep, maybe you'll impress quinn with your vast understanding of emotional trauma."

chase shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at quinn, who unlike usual, had a reaction to his comment. her usual stoic demeanor was gone, replaced with something softer. her cheeks tinged with the faintest pink, an almost imperceptible blush spreading across her face.

her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, to challenge house or even laugh it off, but the words seemed to freeze on her tongue. instead, she simply closed her mouth, an unreadable expression settling in as she turned her focus back to the case.

his breath was caught in his throat the moment he saw the flush rise to her cheeks, and his gaze lingered on her. was it possible quinn finally noticed him?

chase was struggling to focus on the patient as quinn prepped for the next test. his mind kept drifting, thoughts wandering back to the moment she'd spoken, her words hanging in the air like a delightful mystery. he had just adjusted the equipment when quinn's voice broke through the silence again.

"are you excited for drinks tonight?"

his hand froze, and he looked up, a little too quickly. "what?"

she glanced at him, offering a small sheepish smile. "oh, sorry. foreman invited me to get drinks with you guys this evening. i said yes."

his heart nearly skipped a beat. drinks with quinn.

chase's mind scrambled to process it all. she was going, she had said yes to drinks with them. he blinked a few times, suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. the test, the patient, the whole room felt so distant now.

"i didn't know you were coming," he managed. "i mean, that's great though. really great."

he tried to mark the giddiness bubbling inside him, but his expression betrayed him. a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he had to force himself to keep his hands steady as he continued the procedure.

inside, however, everything was racing. she said yes. quinn, the woman he'd been quietly crushing on for weeks, was going to be in the same space as him, away from work. away from the intensity of the hospital. she was going to let him see her as a person, not just a colleague, not just a brilliant, unattainable woman he admired from afar.

the thought of seeing quinn laugh, her guard down, maybe even talk about something personal, it was enough to make his head spin.

"yeah, i think im looking forward to it," she hummed.

the bar was alive with muted chatter, the occasional clink of glasses and the soft hum of music weaving through the air. it was an unassuming place, the kind of spot that didn't draw much attention but invited the weary to sink into its dim lighting and warm wooden tones.

at this late hour, the crowd had thinned, leaving a scattering of patrons, their low voices blending into the ambient hum.

quinn, perched on the stool beside chase, was an effortless presence. her posture was relaxed, her left elbow resting on the bar as she held her second martini in her hand. the olive on the toothpick swayed slightly as she took a sip, her lips grazing the rim of the glass with a deliberate, almost absentminded elegance.

chase tried not to stare, but it was like telling his heart not to beat, impossible and instinctive.

he leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on the bar, his fingers toying with the condensation on his beer bottle. the drink sat mostly untouched. he couldn't focus on it, not with quinn right there. she smelled faintly of lavender again, that soft, floral scent so unmistakably her. it was subtle, but to chase it was intoxicating, wrapping around him and pulling him in like a gravitational force.

she turned slightly to comment on something foreman had said earlier, her voice light with amusement as she recounted a detail. her hair, swept into its usual ponytail, shifted with her movement, brushing against her neck.

he found himself fixating on that small, elegant curve. the slope of her neck meeting her collarbone, her skin illuminated in the low, golden light of the bar. the way her hair cascaded over her shoulder made it impossible not to imagine brushing it aside, his fingers grazing that smooth skin.

the thought was maddening, a dizzying mix of temptation and restraint. he felt a pull of it like a tide, his hand twitching slightly as though it might actually reach for her. but before he could stop himself, she shifted again, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"what are you doing?" she asked, her tone curious but guarded.

his heart slammed against his ribs, the blush rushing to his cheeks faster than he could even think to stop it. he fought for an explanation, his words coming out in a tumble. "you, uh.. you have something here," his voice sounded almost desperate to play it off as nothing. he reached up and pretended to pick something off of her shirt.

she blinked, brushing a hand over her shoulder. "did i?" her tone was nonchalant, almost dismissive, as though she didn't think much of the exchange. but chase thought about it too much. far too much, his fingers gripped the bottle in front of him tightly, the condensation slipping against his palm.

foreman's exasperated sigh broke the moment, and chase glanced up to see him rolling his eyes at cameron. she smirked into her drink, clearly amused by whatever she was witnessing. he wished they would just leave already.

and eventually, after an hour they did. cameron stood first, annoucing it was getting late and foreman decided to follow suit, giving a quick nod to quinn and chase before they walked out the door.

the silence that followed felt sharper. the absence of other voices seemed to shrink the space around them, pulling them into a closer orbit. chase shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were.

"so," quinn said, breaking the quiet as she took another sip of her martini, "you always this quiet outside of work, or is tonight special?"

her words caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond. "i guess i'm just.. not used to this," he admitted, gesturing vaguely around the bar.

"what, socializing?" she teased, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

her humor disarmed him, and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "something like that."

she turned slightly toward him, angling her body so her knee brushed against his. the contact was light, almost accidental, but chase felt it like a spark, his skin tingling where they touched. he was sure she didn't notice, why would she? she seemed completely at ease, her focus on the drink in her hand.

for chase, though, it was anything but easy. he couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop drinking her in with every stolen glance. the way her lips curved as she smiled, the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, the way her fingers curled delicately around the stem of her martini glass. it all felt painfully vivid, burned into his memory like a brand.

when their drinks were empty, she glanced at him, her expression relaxed but curious. "ready to head out?"

he didn't want the night to end, but he nodded anyway, following her lead as they left the bar and stepped into the cool night air. it greeted them immediately, crisp and refreshing.

the street was quiet, the faint glow of streetlight stretching their shadows across the pavement. quinn pulled her coat tighter around her, the fabric brushing her chin as she glanced up at chase.

he walked beside her, his hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze flickering between the ground and the sky. he was silent, but there was an energy about him, a restlessness that hadn't been there earlier.

quinn noticed it immediately, how could she not? she spent most of her evening piecing together the puzzle that was robert chase.

the revelation foreman had dropped on her the day before still lingered in her mind. chase liked her. it has shocked her, confused her and now it had her looking at him differently. every glance, every subtle gesture, every quiet moment felt charged, layered with meaning she hadn't noticed before.

chase, meanwhile was doing everything in his power not to combust. the entire night had felt like a dream, sitting next to quinn, her perfume intoxicating, her laugh like a melody he couldn't stop replaying in his head. and now, walking beside her in the stillness of the night, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

"you're quiet again, chase." she said, breaking the silence. her voice was soft, her breath visible in the chilly air.

chase looked at her, startled out of his thoughts like usual. "sorry," he mumbled, his australian accent thicker than usual. "just thinking."

quinn tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "you think a lot."

he chuckled, the sound low and nervous. "guess i do."

they walked a few more steps in silence before she spoke again. "you didn't have fun tonight?"

"what? no, i did," he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. "it's just different. seeing everyone outside of work."

she studied him for a moment, her sharp haze almost unnerving. "you mean seeing me outside of work?"

he froze, his heart lurching in his chest. he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. she'd hit too close to the truth, and for a moment, he was certain she could hear the pounding of his heart.

quinn smiled faintly, shaking her head. "relax, i'm kidding," she brushed off, though there was a note of something else in her voice, curiosity, maybe? or hesitation.

chase managed a weak laugh, though his nerves were still shot. "right, kidding."

they reached the corner of the street where their paths would diverge, but neither of them made a move to part ways. instead, they lingered, the silence stretching between them like a taut string.

quinn was the first to break it. "foreman said something yesterday."

his stomach dropped. "oh?" he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked just enough to betray him.

she nodded, her expression unreadable. "he said you.." she trailed off, her eyes searching his face.

chase swallowed hard, his palms sweating despite the cold. "he said i what?"

she hesitated, the words hovering on the tip of her tongue. she could see the nervousness in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as he waited for her to continue. part of her wanted to spare him, to let it go and pretend she didn't know. but the other part of her, the part that spent the entire evening watching him watch her, couldn't resist.

"he said you like me," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

chase's breath caught, his entire body stiffening. he looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried to figure out what to say. denying it felt pointless, she clearly already knew. but admitting it? that felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss.

"i.." he started, his voice barely audible. "i didn't want you to find out like that."

her brow furrowed, heart pounding in her own chest. "so it's true?"

he met her gaze, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability and something else, something raw and unguarded. "yeah," he said, his voice soft but firm. "it's true."

the air between them felt electric, the tension palpable. quinn didn't know what to say, didn't know how to process the sudden shift in their dynamic. she'd spent so much time thinking chase was just another co worker, another piece of house's dysfunctional puzzle. but now, standing here with him, she realized she'd underestimated him.

"why didn't you say anything?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

chase gave a small, humorless laugh, his breath visible in the cold air. "because i didn't think you'd care. you're you, focused on your career, and i'm just.." he trailed off.

"you're just what?" she pressed.

"just me," he said simply, his voice tinged with self deprecation.

quinn stared at him, her mind racing. without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. "you're not just anything," she said softly.

chase looked at her, his breath hitching as her words sank in. her touch was light, tentative, but it was enough to send a shiver down his spine. he searched her eyes for any hint of mockery, any sign that she wasn't serious. but all he saw was sincerity, her gaze unwavering as she looked at him.

before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them. his hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he leaned in. he hesitated for a split second, giving her a chance to pull away. but when she didn't, he closed the gap, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and desperate.

something inside her softened, and she leaned into the kiss. his lips were warm and soft, his touching careful, as though he was afraid of breaking her.

when they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to process what had just happened. "quinn,"

she smiled faintly, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. "i'm not sure what this means," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"neither do i," he said honestly, his hand still resting against her cheek. "but i'd like to find out."

she nodded, her smile growing just a fraction. "me too."

they stood there for a moment longer, the cold night air forgotten as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence. whatever came next, they'd face it together.

#gregory house #house md #house #robert chase #chase #robert chase x oc #eric foreman #allison cameron #lisa cuddy #james wilson #robert chase in love #original character #oc

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