Disclaimer: I own nothing, but this crazy idea for melding the two verses.
Dr. Allison Cameron sat down hard. She was pretty sure that she was sitting at her desk, but she couldn't seem to think clearly enough to confirm that assumption. All she could think about was the fact that she'd just been contacted by a hospital in Los Angeles. That in and of itself wouldn't have been odd- she was a doctor, after all, and if not reknowned in her field, she was at least working with one of the most famous (and infamous) diagnosticians of her time. But the call from L.A. had nothing to do with her job, or with House, or with anything she allowed herself to think about on a regular basis."You're an only child, aren't you?"
Cameron flashed back to the words House had thrown at her only weeks before. He'd been so sure of himself, so certain that she had only child syndrome and took everything personally, as either a compliment or an insult, as if the world revolved around her. For a moment, she'd faltered, listening to him speak in his droll, dry way, and then she'd told him the truth... sort of."I'm not an only child."
Technically, she wasn't, even if she hadn't seen her younger sister in years. And then today, that sister she barely remembered, the one her father had refused to raise once he discovered the truth, the one her mother had been forced to give away- had popped back up in her life, completely unexpected. The girl was fifteen now. And her name was Buffy, not Elizabeth the way it had been before the baby's father- one Hank Summers- took her home to his pretty little wife.
"Buffy Anne Summers," Cameron said slowly. Not Elizabeth Marie Cameron, the way she'd been before. They'd called her Lizzy or Beth or Bethie or Ellie, trying to settle on the right nickname, but never once had they called her Buffy, and now it was the child's legal name. Buffy probably didn't remember being Elizabeth at all.
"If she can remember anything about anything," Cameron murmured, thinking back on the call. Her sister was in the hospital. A mental hospital. Her mother was refusing to take their call, and Buffy's father had fled the country. And somehow, social services had found Cameron, and now the doctors were looking for permission to continue Buffy's treatment, to increase the dosages of the million antipsychotics they had her on.
She'd asked them to fax Buffy's records over. She'd read them over, sign off on the treatment if it seemed reasonable. What else could she do?
The fax machine buzzed and whirred as the fax came in, and Cameron stood slowly and trudged towards it, unsure she wanted to read the information she'd asked for.
"What have we here?" Dr. Gregory House strode in. He was one of the few people on earth capable of an arrogant stride that was dependent on a walking cane. He plucked the sheet off the fax machine. "Zyprexa, Haldol, chlorpromazines..." he scanned down the list. "Plus tricyclic antidepressants and a little something extra to take the edge off. If by edge you mean consciousness."
Cameron froze. His words confirmed everything she'd feared from the moment she'd first spoken to Buffy's doctors, and he said them so carelessly. It cut her, even though she'd learned not to let House's words get to her.
"Someone's either highly psychotic or really tripping out right now," House said. Cameron reached for the papers, and he pulled them out of her grasp, scanning for the name. "Buffy Summers?" He shook his head. "Well, that explains it. Obviously, she has issues due to the fact that her parents hated her enough to name her Buffy."
Cameron latched onto the papers and ripped them roughly out of his hand.
"So who is this 'Buffy'?" House asked, making liberal use of sarcastic air quotes.
Cameron's throat tightened as she glared at him through tearing eyes. "None of your business," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I have to go." And with those words, Allison Cameron left Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and flew straight to California.
"I have a case for you."
House- his mind still on the puzzle that was this so-called Buffy Summers and her connection to his soft-hearted underling- didn't acknowledge his best friend's words.
"Girl, fifteen, exhibiting signs of malnutrition, bruising, and second degree burns."
House flicked on the television, deciding that the best distraction from both Wilson and the Buffy Summers mystery was some mind-numbing General Hospital.
"Malnutrition, bruising, burns," House repeated. "She's abused. Yes, it's very sad. Somewhere, puppies are crying and ice cream is melting. My heart breaks."
"House," Wilson cut in.
"It's sad, but it isn't interesting. Get the kid away from her parents, and get out of my line of vision. I can't see the screen."
"It's not abuse," Wilson said. "The burns and bruises have continued to appear since she's been isolated from all outside contact."
"Self-harm. Still not interesting."
"And the fact that she's apparently conducting so much static electricity that her hair is standing on end?"
House glanced away from the screen. "Now you have my attention."
"The bruises appear spontaneously, without any kind of known precipitating trauma. If you sit there long enough, they just pop up."
"Bruises popping up, static electricity..."
"And for some reason, weird stuff keeps happening in her room."
House put a look of faux shock on his face. "Weird stuff? Is that a technical term?"
"House," Wilson said, his patience wearing thin.
"I'll take on her case," House said, turning back to the show. "Honestly, you had me at 'teenage girl'."
"Willow Rosenberg, age fifteen. No history of major illness; no history of psychological illness. Spontaneous bruising, high electroconductance of the skin, and intermittently high temperatures. Differential diagnosis." House turned towards his team of doctors, waiting.
"You want a differential diagnosis for static?" Foreman said skeptically.
Chase opened his mouth and then- wisely- closed it again.
"No," House said. "I want someone to tell me why a fifteen year old girl would be carrying so much electrical charge that she's burning herself from the inside out. Any ideas? Any takers?" He paused. "No?"
Chase stared past House and there, he saw something in the hallway that made him lean forward and look harder.
"Chase, do you have an idea, or are you just constipated and concentrating really hard on making number two?" House's voice was laden with sarcasm.
"I have to go," Chase said, standing up.
"Number two it is."
"Not like that," Chase said. "It's just that girl, in the hallway."
House looked over his shoulder and whistled lowly. "Nice ass," he agreed. "Decent rack, symmetrical features..."
Chase glared at him. "She's my sister."
TBC... what's the differential diagnosis for magic? what happens when Buffy, Cordelia, and Willow meet up in different circumstances? And what's this about Cuddy having a nephew named Xander?