Title: Nonconsensual (Part 2/3)
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Author's note: Be gentle, it's my first time! And PLEASE leave feedback :)
Summary: House can't stand to see her hurt like this, and, even if he had no way of showing it, it killed him inside.
** I'd like to thank everyone who commented on the first part and shared their thoughts. I love the feedback! **
It had been almost 2 hours since Cameron had collapsed, and House was trying as hard as he could not to completely lose it. He would like nothing more than to find the guy who did this to her and beat him to a pulp with the tip of his cane, then run his bike over him.
She looked like a porcelain doll lying there, completely helpless and vulnerable. Since Cuddy and
Nurse Brenda exited the room, and approached House. “She’s stable, and the GHB should be out of her system within 12 hours.”
“Thank you,” he said, realizing it’s the first time he had ever been interested in what was coming out of that woman’s mouth.
Glancing up and down the hall, House walked quitely into Cameron’s room so as not to wake her. He sat down on the chair by her bed, smiling at her, thinking of the old Disney movie Sleeping Beauty; he was the knight who was supposed to wake her with a kiss. Oh god, he thought to himself, when did I become the mushy type?
She heard the familiar sound of beeping machines and intercom pages, and hesitated to open her eyes. She knew where she was, but what the hell had happened? As she adjusted her eyes to the rising sun shining through the window, she felt a weight on her left side, and looking over she saw the infamous tennis shoes rested on her bed, and the rest of her boss was sprawled out in the easy chair by the wall, his mouth slightly parted with the faintest sound of snoring escaping it. Why did this man always seem so irresistible? She shifted slightly, trying not to wake him.
“Scared to wake me up?” She jumped a little, the sound of his voice startling her, and yet calming her at the same time.
“Oh, no, sorry.” She paused. “Um…what…why did I…” she stuttered.
“You collapsed in the hallway about 36 hours ago, and have been unconscious for about the last 18 hours.”
“Oh, okay, um…thank you for being here, really…it helps…”
“Cameron,” he interrupted, “do you remember what happened on Thursday night?”
At first she had no idea what he was talking about, but then it hit her. Oh god, she thought, slowly recalling the events of her “date.”
“I…I was on a date, and the guy…oh god, no…he…he…” she couldn’t finish, and broke down crying, weeping, thinking of what he had done to her.
“Cameron!” shouted House, “Cameron, I need you to tell me his name, what was his name?!”
“He…he threw me on the bed…and…and…” she couldn’t concentrate, and House decided to wait on talking to her. Right now he knew what he had to do, something he had never dreamed of doing, especially in a hospital.
“Come here,” he said, as kindly as he could. He reached out and softly took a hold of her shoulder, bringing her closer to him, trying to be as comforting as he knew how to be. It killed him to see her like this, her eyes red and swollen, her tear-stained cheeks, her delicate frame looking frailer than ever. Her sobs were muffled against his jacket, her body shaking in fear, fueling House’s growing anger towards whoever had caused her this much pain.