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That Time May Cease
by echoes mourn
Disclaimer: I own House about as much as I own Bill Gates.
There are references to the Vogler story arc, but nothing you'd call a spoiler.
Hell hath no limits,
nor is circumscrib'd
In one self place;
for where we are is hell,
And where hell is there must we ever be.
--Christopher Marlowe
----------------------------------------------------------
Cameron was well into sorting through House's e-mail, and Chase had a good start on his
crossword puzzle when Foreman arrived, wearing the harassed look of someone not used
to being late. "Sorry. I got my new couch delivered today, and of course they were half
an hour late getting it there."
Chase shrugged. "Well, unsurprisingly, you still managed to beat House here, so you're
good."
Foreman hung up his jacket and pulled on his lab coat, turning around just in time to see
Cameron holding up a small white box. "Here, have a croissant. I got them on the way in.
There's no sign of a case yet, so we might as well all relax while we can."
It was perhaps this last statement that led fate to bring Cuddy into the office, obviously
on a mission. She wore a flamingo pink jacket and skirt that made the other doctors blink
at the color. "Please tell me House is here," she said, holding up a file. She looked
frazzled -- not unusual if House was involved -- but this time she actually looked hopeful
at the thought of finding him, which definitely was unusual.
"This early? Not a chance," Foreman said, shaking his head. Croissant in one hand, he
picked up the box and offered it to Cuddy, but she waved it off.
"No, thanks. I'll leave this here for you three to start with," she added, putting the thick
file folder on the table. "This is your new patient." She spoke almost reverently, and
earned herself three odd looks.
"William Oswin," Chase read. "Wait, the second richest man in the world, that William
Oswin?"
"The same. He's expected here in less than an hour, and he's requested House
specifically."
Foreman looked at her pleadingly. "Please, don't tell House that. He has enough ego as it
is."
The three of them were already studying the file, handing papers back and forth. "The
man's already had every medical test under the sun," Chase observed. "But they all look,
well, normal."
Cameron was nodding in agreement. "Why did he request House? None of these tests
show anything actually wrong with him. Except the fact that he's eighty years old, and it
doesn't require a world-famous diagnostician to reach that conclusion."
To Foreman's annoyance, House chose that moment to appear, bursting through the
conference room door in his usual abrupt fashion. "Ah, you're all talking about me again.
I can just feel the love." Then he saw Cuddy, and held up a hand to shield his eyes.
"Whoa! But I can't see it, because your outfit has blinded me. Is this your new, subtle
way of telling me not to look at your cleavage?"
"House, if you pull this case off, you can stare at my cleavage until Doomsday, for all I
care."
"Where's the fun in that, unless it bothers you?" He limped over to the coffee maker and
poured himself a cup before throwing himself into one of the chairs. "Just for that, I may
refuse to take this wonder case of yours."
Cuddy sighed. "It isn't your usual sort of case, I admit, but this is your big chance."
Cameron offered him a croissant, which he leaned forward to claim. "What, to win fame
and fortune? I'm already famous, as Cameron so rightly pointed out."
"The second richest man in the world is on his way here," Cameron explained.
"Bill Gates is coming here?" he asked around a mouthful of pastry, eyebrows raised.
"No, he's the first richest," Chase said.
House shook his head. "Nuh uh. I hear Gates has been slipping and let some other guy
pass him up."
"The point is, he's a billionaire trying to buy his way out of getting old." Foreman said.
Cameron nodded. "He's already taking a very expensive course of anti-aging hormone
treatments, but apparently that's not enough for him."
House grabbed some papers with his free hand and glared up at Cuddy. "What is this
crap? How is this a diagnostics case?"
"Look, we all know that he's just being a hypochondriac and thinks enough money can
fix anything. But he has promised - House, are you listening to me? Because this is
important."
"Yes, mommy," House sighed, rolling his eyes up at her.
"If we can help him, he has promised to replace the entire hundred million dollars that
you lost. The entire hundred million. No strings attached. So can you please just forget
the fact that this isn't a diagnostics problem and humor the man? Run a few tests, get him
on some palliative treatments - who knows, maybe there really is something minor
wrong with him that we can actually fix. So for god's sake, just try and take this
seriously."
The three younger doctors tensed and exchanged startled looks as Cuddy laid out the
stakes, watching quietly as the battle of wills continued.
"So if I humor this guy long enough to get the money, you'll never be able to throw that
whole Vogler incident in my face ever again," House said thoughtfully.
"I realize that's a very big if, but I hope that statement means you're at least willing to
try."
"Is he going to want to talk to me?"
"For a hundred million? Yeah, I think you can spare him a few minutes of your valuable
time."
There was a tense moment, then House made a strategic withdrawal. "All right. But I
wouldn't do this for a penny less than the full one hundred million." He hauled himself
up and went over to the whiteboard.
Cuddy's relieved smile froze into a grimace as she heard his next words. "Okay, kids,
differential diagnosis on being an old fart with more money than sense."
Foreman grinned, Chase turned a laugh into a cough, and even Cameron had to fight to
keep a straight face. "Oh, relax," House said, waving a hand casually at the furious
Cuddy. "I'm just getting it out of my system before his majesty arrives."
"Just make sure it is out of your system," she replied through gritted teeth, before turning
and marching down the hall.
-----------------------------------
Unsurprisingly, Oswin wanted to meet the entire team. So, after a diagnostic session that
was really more a chance for House to vent, they were all summoned into the billionaire's
room. Two people in business suits lingered in the background, one with a cell phone, the
other a laptop, clearly waiting impatiently for this conference to be over so they could get
back to the real work.
The expensive hormone treatments might have been worth it, for Oswin looked closer to
sixty-five than eighty. His hair was silver, but still thick, and his eyes were alert, even
piercing. He greeted them all as Cuddy made the introductions, repeating their names and
giving each a firm handshake. Even Foreman had to admit that he was charismatic,
though there was also steel behind those grey eyes.
But the steel melted into relief when Cuddy introduced House. "The man himself. I've
heard a great deal about you."
Under Cuddy's watchful eye, House shifted his cane awkwardly and returned the
handshake. "I could say the same. Pleasure."
"I'm told that if anyone on earth can find out what's killing me, it's you." The steel was
back, and even House blinked at the bitterness in his voice.
"We'll do our best, Mr. Oswin," House replied carefully.
The good humor was instantly back. "No, no, please call me William. We're on the same
side, you and me."
"Yes, well, we have your medical records, and a very detailed medical history, but Dr.
Chase will be asking you a few more questions, if you don't mind, and we'll need to take
some blood for some more tests."
"Perhaps Dr. Cameron could do that instead." It did a good job masquerading as a casual
remark, but it was clearly no such thing.
House was near enough to Cameron to feel her tense at this suggestion. She was drawing
breath to speak, and House himself was an instant away from forever ruining his good
first impression when Cuddy spoke up smoothly. "Perhaps Dr. Cameron and Dr. Chase
could work together on that."
"I'm sure Dr. Cameron can handle things on her own."
--------------------------------
"I thought you said no strings attached," House said accusingly, almost before the door
closed behind them.
"That much money always comes with strings," Foreman put in.
Helplessness made Cuddy angry. "Oh, come on. What do you think he's going to do, try
to maul her right here in the hospital? He's eighty, for god's sake!"
Chase kept looking back over his shoulder. "His fifth wife just divorced him for mental
cruelty. She's younger than Cameron."
"Cameron can take care of herself," Cuddy shot back, but she didn't sound convinced.
"She shouldn't have to worry about something like this!" House's voice was a barely
controlled shout. "The point is that if he starts pushing us around now, he'll never stop.
It'll be Vogler all over again." He was quieter now, but no less angry.
"But he hardly even looked at her twice," Cuddy said, worry creeping into her voice.
Then her eyes widened. From their position down the hall, she could see the two
assistants leaving the room.
Then House was brushing past her at top speed, his blue eyes grim, and Cuddy hurried to
catch up. "House, please. Just let me go in there instead."
"You won't be menacing enough."
"My point exactly!"
The male assistant considered getting in House's way, but an icy glare changed his mind.
He was bracing himself to barrel through the door when it opened in front of him and
Cameron herself stepped out.
"What happened?" House demanded.
"Are you all right?" Cuddy chimed in.
Cameron blinked, then slowly focused on the two people before her. "What do you mean,
what happened? Why wouldn't I be all right? I took the patient history like you asked me
to." Her voice, too, was slow and hesitant at first, though this quickly passed.
House looked at her, frowning, then glared at the assistants and grabbed the younger
doctor's arm, leading her away from the door towards the others. "First of all, I asked
Chase to take the history. And I realize there wasn't much left to ask, but I know you
didn't finish up that quickly. What happened?"
"Nothing!" Cameron insisted. "He apologized for sounding abrupt. He's just used to
talking like that. His daughter is about my age, and he hasn't seen her in years. I
reminded him of her, that's all. It's sad, he wasn't allowed to see his daughter at all, and
he really misses her."
"Does he miss all the ex-wives who divorced him for mental cruelty, too?"
Cameron sighed and put on her patient face. "He's an old man scared of dying. It's made
him rethink his life, and he really regrets some of the things he's done. He's trying to
make up for them. That's why he's so anxious to get better." The others were all looking
at her oddly, and she crossed her arms self-consciously.
"You know he can't `get better' from old age," Chase pointed out.
"And you were in there less than a minute. How'd he even manage to say all this crap so
fast, never mind get you to believe it? Even you're not usually quite that gullible."
She glared at House, but there was uneasiness hidden in the blue-green eyes. "I was--I
don't know, I was in there for a little while. Certainly not less than a minute. Right?" She
looked around at the group, her shoulders tensing.
Cuddy stepped in, sensing that this conversation would only make everyone more upset.
"All right, run whatever tests you need, fast, and we'll just get him out of here as quickly
as possible. We're going for professional, polite efficiency. And no one talks to him
alone. At least two at a time."
"What exactly do you think that guy's doing in there?" Foreman asked in disbelief.
"I don't know, and I don't think I care to know. I just want him out of my hospital before
he does turn into another Vogler."
"Or worse," House said thoughtfully as Cuddy turned and walked briskly back to her
office.
-------------------------------------------
"So you're all right with going back in there with me?"
Cameron rolled her eyes. "For the tenth time, Chase, yes, it's fine. He was perfectly nice
to me, as far as I remember. I just wish I could remember more."
Chase shrugged helplessly. "It still doesn't make any sense."
"Let's just focus on what Cuddy said. We'll just get him out of here as quickly as
possible."
She hid her faint hesitation before stepping into the room with her best professional
demeanor. Chase paused just before entering, carefully comparing his watch with the
time on the hospital clock. The gesture made him feel both relieved and foolish.
"We have some of your test results back, Mr. Oswin," Cameron began. She held the file
up like a shield, though she could never have explained why she was nervous. Forcing
herself to meet his eyes, she saw only ordinary grey eyes, with the usual expectant look
patients always had upon hearing the magical phrase `test results'.
"There are signs of incipient diabetes, most likely Type II, which isn't uncommon in
people your age. We'd like to start you on an insulin regimen to regulate your
metabolism, but after a few days, you'll probably be able to control it with diet instead."
Oswin shook his head impatiently. "But that's not killing me."
Cameron was taken aback by the flat, almost disappointed tone. "Uh, no. Properly
treated, even much more severe cases--"
"Then there's something else wrong that you haven't found yet. I'd like to speak to Dr.
House."
Chase had busied himself with noting the patient's vitals, but now turned to look at
Oswin dubiously, setting down his clipboard. "Well, we'll let him know. There will be
more test results finished soon, so he may want to talk to you then."
"As soon as possible," was the clipped response.
Back in the hall, both doctors took a deep breath, as though there hadn't been enough air
in the room. "House is going to love this," Cameron sighed.
"Damn, I forgot my clipboard," Chase suddenly realized. "Just a second." He darted back
into the room before Cameron could protest. She hesitated just outside the door, trying to
find a crack in the blinds that she could peer through. Oswin had insisted on keeping
them closed at all times, which had only made Cuddy repeat her earlier order more
forcefully.
A moment later, just as Cameron was about to barge in, Chase was back in the hall, and
she smiled in relief. Then she got a good look at his face.
-----------------------------------------
"Throw him out."
"Why, Dr. Chase, I'm surprised at you. What happened to Christian charity? At least
consider poor Cuddy. She'll have an aneurysm if she loses another hundred million."
"He isn't sick. Give him some placeboes and discharge him."
"Chase, be serious," Foreman said, shaking his head. He looked at Cameron for support,
but she was studying House, as she had since she'd returned. "We already know there's
nothing wrong with him, but if we can just--"
"There is something wrong with him," Chase cut in. "It just isn't something a hospital
can fix."
House frowned, his sharp blue eyes not leaving Chase, who stood tensely in the middle of
the conference room. "I don't want him here any more than you do. But we need a reason
to kick him out that won't make us sound crazy when we try to explain it to the board."
"Since when do you care what the board thinks? Cuddy will--"
"Even if we talk Cuddy into kicking him out, the board will probably just fire her and
we'll still be stuck with him. So give me a reason." His words were hard, but his look
was not unsympathetic.
Chase hesitated so long that House was about to speak again. "He's... manipulative."
"So am I. Are you going to throw me out, too?"
Chase shook his head sharply. "Not like that, he... `There is also another evil, which I
have seen under the sun, and that frequent among men: A man to whom God hath given
riches, and substance, and honor.'"
"Chase," Cameron began, but he merely continued. She looked at House again, and
whatever she read in his face only made her more uneasy.
"'If a man live many years, and attain to a great age, and his soul make no use of the
goods of his substance, of this man I pronounce, that the untimely born is better than he.
For he came in vain, and goeth to darkness.'"
"You want me to quote Ecclesiastes to the board?" It was a typical House remark, but the
edge was all but gone from his voice.
Foreman was looking doubtfully at his colleague. "You could say the same thing about
any rich man. What makes this one so different?"
"He's evil." Chase looked almost defeated, and did not meet anyone's eyes.
There was an awkward silence. Then House spoke.
"I think you're right."
------------------------------------------
Cameron had bolted when House left the room after his blunt statement, and was now
hurrying to catch up to him as he stalked down the hallway. "What are you going to do?"
"If Cuddy asks, I'll tell her you knew nothing about it."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
Cameron only caught the hesitation before he replied because she was listening for it.
"What, then? You want to protect me from the big bad misunderstood billionaire?"
"I think Chase is right, too."
"Now that's a sentence you don't hear every day. Especially the `too' part." He slowed
down, and Cameron took advantage of this to put her hand on his arm. Though he slowed
further, he still wouldn't quite look at her.
"I saw how he looked when he came out of that room. He wouldn't tell me what
happened, but he was only in there for five seconds. Nothing normal could have affected
him like that so quickly."
"Don't be too sure. This is Chase we're talking about."
But he didn't turn away as he normally would have. "Don't go in there by yourself."
"I'm not letting you anywhere near him." The false banter was gone, and Cameron knew
he was deadly serious.
She immediately changed tactics. "Then take Foreman with you. An orderly, a nurse,
somebody. Take a whole crowd with you!"
He stopped walking at last, and his eyes met hers. "Since when does an atheist believe in
the devil?"
Her heart clenched at the word. "He doesn't have to be the devil to be evil."
"'The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary...'"
"'...men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.'" Cameron finished the quote,
looking up at him almost hopefully.
"You're still waiting outside."
"House, please--"
"You still don't remember anything else about what might have happened to you?"
She saw concern, and, yes, uncertainty in his eyes, and that was somehow more
frightening than anything Oswin could do. "No. It feels like a dream now. All I remember
is feeling sorry for him."
House looked up at Oswin's door, now just a few yards away, and frowned. "Looks like
I'm expected. I guess I'd better hurry."
Her eyes flickered over to the door. Oswin's helpers were just leaving the room, looking
at House with vague curiosity. Or perhaps amusement.
Then House limped away. She followed him to the door, sending a chilly glare at the
assistants as they passed each other.
They reached the door, and House looked at her very seriously. "Wait here, or you're
fired."
Cameron bit her lip and nodded. She was relieved that he'd been his usual self. If he'd
told her kindly, she probably would have burst into tears.
Then he was stepping into the room, and shutting the door behind him. The sound of it
was like distant thunder.
She turned and planted herself next to the door, shooting wary glances at the assistants
and their bland faces. There was no question of her physically stopping them from
entering, but if something did happen, she would at least get inside first.
-----------------------------
"Ah, Dr. House. I'm glad you could spare me some time."
"Not at all. I've always wanted to have a chat with the Amazing Kreskin."
Oswin shook his head. "You don't really think I'm some kind of sideshow hypnotist, Dr.
House. You'd like to believe that it's something like that, but you know it isn't true."
Even using his title, there was something sickeningly familiar about the way Oswin
addressed him. "Actually, I heard you were evil and that got me curious. Are you more
evil than, say, Hitler? Because then I can brag about having shaken your hand."
Now the man smiled. "You are clever, Dr. House. I understand wanting to defuse the
situation with your delightfully dry and acerbic humor, but we really should get to
business. I'd like to tell you a story. Sit down. Rest your leg."
House would sooner have had another infarction than show weakness in front of this
man. "Go on," he said, bracing himself.
Oswin shrugged eloquently. "You do like to make things difficult for yourself. Still, it
isn't a particularly long story. I can be quite brief."
When he began the story, House's first thought was that the comparison to Hitler had
been more apt than he'd realized. The words were simple, the way they were spoken was
nothing remarkable, but he was immediately caught up in them. He had just time to
wonder if hours or days would have passed before he made it back outside before the
words carried him away.
Once upon a time, there was a young man who wanted what most young men want out of
life - money, success, power, and, of course, sex. Not having been born to money or
power, he had to make his own way in the world. He had a little more wit and
imagination than most, but this is not generally enough to make one's way, and he was
no exception.
One day, he approached a man of wealth and power and asked him for the plain truth of
his success. The man looked the boy up and down, then nodded once.
And he told the boy the plain truth.
The boy followed the wealthy man's advice to the letter, and because of this, found
himself in possession of a rare and valuable commodity: the three wishes of fairy tale
infamy.
Since he was a boy of some wit and imagination, he vowed to do even more with these
wishes than his mentor had done. To wish for money, fame, and power was all well and
good, but that would not give him the means to keep those things.
So he wished, first, for an uncanny sense of business; the instinct to know when to move
and when to wait. This let him build his own fortune.
Secondly, he wished that anyone who heard his words would have to listen, and believe.
This brought him fame, or at least as much of that as he wished.
And thirdly, he wished for the gift of seeing into others' hearts, of knowing their deepest
wishes and desires. And this gave him true power.
To have these three things for the next sixty years of his life, all he had to give in
exchange was one small part of himself, something he had never seen and would never
miss.
What do you think of the boy's bargain? Would you have made the exchange as readily
as he did, Dr. House?
House physically staggered as the sound of his name penetrated whatever web the man
had woven. His leg throbbed viciously as he righted himself. How long had he been
standing there? He scrambled for something to say. It was only more weakness to be at a
loss for words.
"I'd love to know what it was you were on. That must have been some strong stuff."
"You know all about drug addiction, don't you? You were unwilling to trade your leg for
your life. What would you give now to have your leg back, whole and healthy, just as it
was?"
"Trick question," House snapped. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of this man
knowing about his leg, his pain, everything he hid from the world.
"Not at all. You can have that. Youth, strength, wholeness. Fame, wealth, power."
"Good things come in threes, huh?" The snark was all but automatic, but in his mind, he
was still reeling.
"Then how about respect, adoration, love? Are you as indifferent to those things as you
pretend?"
"I thought you already knew all that." The response was again automatic, and House soon
regretted it.
"Yes, I do. I know." Oswin leaned forward. "I know how much pain you're in, all the
kinds of pain you're in. I know how you fight against it, how much you fear that it will
take away your mind as well as your leg. In your most secret moments you fear that
someday, you will be nothing but the pain.
"You can lose that pain. You can gain strength, knowledge, the world if you want it!
Think."
Thinking about the possibilities was already all House could do. The images pounded
painfully in his mind, echoing the throbbing hurt of his thigh. Whole. No pain.
Impossible. Wasn't it?
"Why are you doing this?" His voice was shakier than he liked, but this was what he had
to do. He had to attack.
"I want to help you." The words came smoothly, but there was a weakening in his eyes
that made House feel stronger.
"No, you don't. You're going down. You're dying. Maybe you just want to take someone
with you."
Oswin actually hesitated, and House stood a little taller. "I won't die. You'll save me."
The arrogance still filled his voice, but House, of all people, knew a brave front when he
saw one. "If your little fairy tale is true, what makes you think anyone can save you?
You're alone now, and all your money, everything you have, means exactly nothing."
But Oswin was rallying, and he replied rapidly. "I'm not alone. We're more alike than
you realize. Think what we could do together! Both of us are intelligent, capable men,
renowned in our fields. We're both driven, determined--"
House shook his head and looked down at the remnants of his thigh. Your leg. Whole.
No. Not like this. He lifted his head and met Oswin's gaze fearlessly. "I am nothing like
you."
As he enunciated each word clearly, he saw the answering realization in Oswin's eyes.
Then rage flooded into those grey eyes, and House flinched in spite of himself. "You're
right. You act ruthless, pretend you don't give a damn about anything but yourself, but in
the end, you're as weak as everyone else. You're just a hypocrite about it. You've
surrounded yourself with idiots. Dr Foreman doesn't have enough imagination even to
guess what's really going on, and Dr. Chase is still clinging to blind religious faith, of all things. And Dr. Cameron..."
He paused, his lip curled slyly. He no longer hoped to persuade, only to wound. "If I was
in your place, I wouldn't be daydreaming. I would have fucked that pretty little thing a
long time ago. She looks delicious."
The tip of House's cane was pushing, hard, against Oswin's shoulder before the last word
left his mouth. House didn't remember moving, but at least this time, it wasn't because of
any mind games. "You'd better stop talking."
"Or what? You'll kill me? Don't you know what's waiting for me? Go ahead, kill me.
Kill me!"
But all the anger had drained out of House. The sight of the sheer, animal terror in
Oswin's eyes shook him, and he stumbled backwards.
The door flew open. "House!" Cameron said breathlessly.
"Out. Now." His voice was more a growl than words. Cameron stepped back into the hall
immediately, though she kept the door from swinging shut.
House turned to look at his patient. He looked every day of his eighty years now, his
body hunched as though waiting for the blow of House's cane. He would not look up as
House left, his free arm scooping Cameron away from the door.
---------------------------------------
After rounding the corner, House turned and went into an empty patient room, Cameron
in his wake. "What happened?" she said breathlessly. She'd been unable to read anything
in his face, and this was frightening her more than she cared to think about.
"Where'd his minions go?" was House's only reply.
"I don't know. They looked at each other strangely and left just a couple of minutes after
you went inside."
"How long was I in there?"
"Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds. House, what happened?"
House almost laughed out of sheer relief. "I always knew you counted the seconds until
you could see me again." But he couldn't stand the fear in her eyes and continued
immediately. "He tried to play me like he did you and Chase. Unfortunately for him, I
don't play so easily."
Yeah, right. He could feel Cameron's eyes on him, and sense how uncertain she was. Her
worry annoyed him just as much as it always did when directed at him, but this time it
was also exactly what he needed.
"What do we do now?" she finally asked softly.
"Chase was right. A hospital can't fix him."
---------------------------------
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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