Jenniffer's Live Journal

Forever Tuesday

Mon, 03 Sep 2007 23:19:44 GMT

TITLE: Forever Tuesday
AUTHOR: JenButterfly

RATING: T
WARNINGS (including spoilers): Character death.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own House. I do own a mouse. I do not own a boat; I do not own a goat. I will not be sued here or there, I will not be sued anywhere.
SUMMARY: Chase always told her it was Tuesday and expected something to come out of it; now something has.

NOTES: For the finally_tuesday prompt: Chase gets hugged. AU in the fact that the ducklings still work for House and that whole ‘Cameron finally falling for Chase’ thing never happened.

BETA: None this time, but I still heart you Fluffy2001!!!!!!!111oneone

---

“It’s Tuesday,” he said. Every Tuesday of every month for the past three months his vocabulary consisted of those words. “And I like you,” he would say to follow it up.

Cameron couldn’t care less. At first it annoyed her and she would chide him for being so childish. After that phase came the ignoring stage. Chase would remind Cameron what day it was and his affection for her, and then they would continue as if nothing happened. Cameron would place the body fluids they were testing into test tubes and then into the centrifuge and Chase would continue entering data into the computer. During this phase, the only conversational words shared between the two were what Chase said. “It’s Tuesday, and I like you.” And that was that.

But not to long after that, Cameron grew out of the ignoring phase and moved on to just brushing it off. “Cameron,” Chase asked one day as they sat at the conference room table.

“Yeah, Chase?” she asked back, going over the notes in their most recent patient’s folder.

“It’s Tuesday,” he said as the words rolled off his tongue. Three months of doing this made it almost second nature. “And I like you.”

Cameron continued going over the folder, making notes on the legal pad next to her as she went along. Chase sighed and stood up to get some coffee. It was the response he was expecting; the same one he had been getting for a month and a half now, but that didn’t take the sting away. “So, did you watch Survivor last night?”

Cameron looked up from the folder and smiled. “Yeah, can you believe Bill got voted off? So much for his alliance with Karen,” she said without missing a beat. Chase smirked a little and went back to his seat at the conference table. The two carried on, researching and chatting about trivial things, until it was time to go home.

The next Tuesday came and Chase debated on whether or not to even bring it up today. He was about to begin his fourth month of this charade and Cameron had yet to yield. As a matter of fact, much to Cameron’s astonishment, he didn’t bring it up during any of the numerous tests they had ran or during their ‘breaking and entering’ House sent them on. It wasn’t until they were walking out of the hospital’s main doors did Chase finally open his mouth. “Cameron?” he said from the sidewalk.

Cameron stopped and smiled, her back facing Chase. Despite the way she acted, like she was bugged by his insistent reminding of his love for her, she actually found it touching. But she wasn’t about to let him see that. Cameron turned around in the hospital drop off lane and looked Chase in the eyes. “Yeah, Chase?”

Chase took a deep breath, unsure if he wanted to do this. Four months with little progress made him nearly quit, but now he was committed. Now he had to go for it and tell her. “Cameron, I just wanted…” He looked out of the left corner of his eyes and saw it, saw the red Sedan.

It came speeding down one of the parking lot aisles and turned onto the drop off lane. Chase knew in that moment that the driver was going to fast to stop, that the driver would hit Cameron unless he did something. “Watch out!” With out thinking twice, he lunged ahead and shoved Cameron out of the way, just as the car hit its breaks.

Several sounds assaulted their ears. First the sound of the car’s tires coming to a screeching halt, the crash of Cameron landing on her bottom in the decorative bush five feet away, the echo of the car hitting a body, and the thud of that body hitting the pavement ten feet away.

Cameron sat up in the bush and brushed her front side off. The driver of the Sedan got out and ran over to her. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

He held out a hand and Cameron grabbed it to help herself stand up. She then looked around for Chase, assuming he made it out of the way too. “I’m fine, but what about…” Then she spotted him ten feet ahead of the car. “Oh my…run inside and get some help!” The driver looked at where Cameron had been looking and saw the blonde man lying face up on the sidewalk, motionless. He ran inside and got somebody just like he was told.

Cameron rushed over to Chase and dropped by his right side. Now on her knees, she started her assessment of the broken man before her. She checked his pupils; barely reactive, his pulse; weak and thready, and his external injuries. His left leg was obviously broken as well as his right arm, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. Behind his head, on the black asphalt, a puddle of crimson blood began to pool out and spread fast. Cameron’s eyes began to water. “Chase, Chase can you hear me?”

Chase lethargically opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at Cameron. “Cam…”

“It’s okay, Chase, we’ll get you help,” she said in a soothing, yet quivering, tone as she petted his cheek. She then looked over her shoulder back at the hospital doors. “I need some help out here, now!”

“Cameron…”

Cameron looked back down at him and wiped a tear away. She looked at the blood, now fairly well spread, and held back the urge to fall into an all out crying fit. “Yeah, Chase?”

“It’s Tuesday…” he said weakly before closing his eyes and taking a shallow breath.

Cameron nodded and carefully scooped Chase up in her arms. She felt the back of his head and wanted to vomit when she touched his skull. She could feel the backside of his skull was crushed beyond repair. They both knew the end was coming and nothing could be done to prevent it from happening. “I know,” Cameron whispered, as she pulled Chase close and hugged him tight. “And I like you too.”

And with that said, Chase was gone.

The End

Michael

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 02:25:31 GMT

I’m about to kill the general. I have my gun aimed at his head, his left temple to be more specific, and I’m cocking my gun. I love the sound a gun makes when you cock it. Not the new ones, the ones that are automatic and are standard issue in the military. I’m talking about the old school ones, the revolvers that the good guy always carries in westerns. The good guy always cocks his gun slowly, enjoying the sound and feel of the barrel getting ready for use. They’re a treasure, a real fucking treasure. Especially the silver ones with the tusk colored handle. Yeah, those ones are fucking beautiful. I made sure I cocked my gun slowly just to enjoy the sensation of it like the cowboys do. How fucking lucky am I that the General so happened to have one of these antiquities on display in his office, with bullets still in it, nonetheless?

So here I am, standing in the middle of the briefing room with a fucking gun at the Major General’s head. He’s kneeling before me and I can see the two stars on each of his shoulders. To bad they can’t save him. Rank, that’s just a joke now. What’s his name? Oh, I suppose that’s important to you guys. Well if you must know, his name is Major General Richard Herman. But quite frankly, he looks more like a Dick to me. Of course, I’ve never called him that. It’s always been Sir or General or sometimes I even slipped out an occasional General Herman. He’s never liked that one, I think it’s because he doesn’t exactly like his last name, but I said it. Now, though, now I’m feeling the urge to finally call him Dick.

“So, Dick, how does it feel to know you’re going to fucking die?” I ask him. His bald little forehead is gleaming with beads of sweat but his brown eyes are resilient. Yeah, pretend that you’re not fucking trembling. I know you are.

“Well, Private, I must say it feels good.”

He called me by my rank. I guess my attempts to loosen the tension by using first names didn’t go over to well with him. “Private? Feels good? I must say, Dick, I’m intrigued.”

Dick smiles at me and slowly licks his lips. “Yeah, Private. Like hell you’ll keep the rank of Captain after this little fiasco. And as far as the feeling good part goes, it’s because I know that soon after you’ll be joining me down in hell. You can’t murder a General in cold blood and not get capital punishment, that’s just not how things work.”

I just smile at him and shake my head. “Yeah, well then send me a fucking postcard while you’re down there. I’d love to see what I’ve got to look forward too.” And then I did it. I pulled the trigger.

Sadly, I’m not a strong man as I just played myself out to be. I had to turn my head away at the last minute just so I wouldn’t have to see the carnage that would ensue. It’s disgusting, I know. A man who just killed his superior by five ranks can’t even face the destruction he’s caused. But hey, it’s not easy being the good guy. We have a conscience you know. We never really want to kill the bad guy, it’s just something that has to be done. I do however hear his corpse pop like a balloon and I know there’s a really big puddle of blood at my feet now. His body pop? It sounds weird, believe me, I know. But that’s what happens when this type of evil dies.

I toss the revolver to the ground and walk to the office door. It’s a pity, it’s a nice gun and I’d love to walk around with it, but alas it’s served its use and I don’t have the luxury of being able to carry around knick-knacks at the moment.

“Captain Reynolds, did you do it?” Corporal Michael asks me when he sees me leaving the General’s office. He’s a good kid; the bright eyed bushy tailed type that is eager to please. Chicks dig him too. There hasn’t been a day on the base where some gal hasn’t looked at him like he was a sex toy waiting to be taken out of its package. Maybe it’s his brown hair or his uniform (I hear babes dig uniforms) I’m not sure. But whatever he has going for him, it’s working.

I take my left palm and scrub my face before letting it rest on the nape of my neck. I study the ground and see a semi-automatic with out an owner. Well, since I have yet to acquire another gun, I might as well take it. I swing the strap onto my shoulder and look back up at the corporal. “Yeah, I did it.”

“Did it feel good to take that son of a bitch out?” He asks me. Obviously the kid hasn’t seen heavy combat until today, otherwise he wouldn’t have just asked me such a thing. I try not to let it bother me too much because I know tonight, when this is all over and he’s thinking back on things, he’ll want to vomit. Still, I can’t help but want to ruffle his feathers.

“How about you go fucking kill somebody you looked up to and tell me how it fucking feels.” I then begin to walk off. He follows like a lost puppy. Hell, he can’t be a day over twenty-one, of course he’s going to look for leadership where he can find it. Right now, I’m the one fulfilling that role.

“I’m sorry, sir. But you know it wasn’t really the general.”

It stings when he says it, partly because I know it’s true and partly because it hurts me to hear him shrugging it off. I mean, yeah, the man I just shot wasn’t really the general, but that’s not the point. The man I just killed, clone or not, looked like the general, talked like the general, even had the same demeanor as the general. As far as my mind is concerned at the moment, it was the general. I stop in the corridor and turn to my eager young shadow. “Yeah, it felt good to kill the bastard.” OK, so that wasn’t a lie. Even if it hurts to know you took a life, knowing that it was the life of a shit-head makes it easier. “And I’d gladly do it again should the circumstances permit.” OK, now that was a lie. I would do it again if I had too, but it would most certainly not be gladly. I shift my new gun back onto my shoulder and continue walking down the hall.

He looks like my little brother. In his camouflage uniform and black boots like mine, with both of us having buzz cuts, he honestly looks like a younger image of me just as my little brother did. I guess I could pass him off as a long lost sibling at my next family reunion, but I don’t think he’d like that too much. My aunts can give anybody’s cheeks a mean pinch should they find them adorable and let’s face facts; Michael sure has a baby face. That’s probably another reason why chicks dig him.

“Sir?” He asks me.

“Yeah?” I respond as we round a corner cautiously. My gun is held up, ready to fire, but when nobody is there I lower it and we continue.

“Sir, how are we supposed to kill all these assholes once and for all?” Michael asks.

“That’s simple. Take out the head clone.” I tell him. Yeah, kind of sci-fi, I know, but it’ll work. We’ve shot the entire force of worker clones dead and more just appear so now we need to kill off their source. You see the Head Clone is kind of magical. Not magical like an illusionist or like how you feel after snapping open a bra on a girl for the first time. Believe me, I know how that feels and it is wonderful to know the practice on your sister, no matter how disturbing it was for you or how much she said it was ok for you to try on her first, didn’t go all to waste, but that isn’t the same as this type of magical. This type of magic is like the creepy alien magic that you see them have in the movie. The type where they do things that make you think ‘What the fuck?’ but you can’t dwell on it to long because you have to shoot their brains out before they kill you. Yeah, that’s the type.

Anyhow, the big bad-ass clone can create more clones by simply chopping off one of its tentacles and letting the fucking thing crawl over to a corpse or puddle of blood. Then the little piece of shit soaks up the DNA it finds and voila, you’ve got yourself a cone that could fool your mother. Believe me, I didn’t think DNA carried the sort of information that says what our voices are like or how we walk, but there’s a lot of things we people thought we knew only to be proven wrong. The earth being flat or that the sun revolves around us is case and point right there. Hell, the race of life that I belong to has a tendency to think it’s right until it’s been proven wrong all the time. Well today was a big fucking ‘You’re wrong, assholes’ type of a day.

How do I know that Michael is still Michael? Because he’s been killing clones left and right with me and hasn’t shown any remorse. He’s shown no fear, despite this being the first time he’s seen action on any scale, and he’s determined to see it to the end. Overall, he’s a good kid. When, not if, but when we make it out of this mountain base that’s become a war zone, I hope he finds a nice girl and settles down with her. Yeah, I know twenty-one is pretty fucking young to get tied down like that, but he deserves it and I know that’s what he wants. He’s told me about how he raised his kid brother and baby sister without a dad around and his mom working to pay for the roof over their heads. When he talks about all the milestones he’s shared with them and how it was so wonderful to be a part of that, I can tell that he wants to be a dad, to help somebody grow again. He’s a good solider and an even better person, he deserves to fulfill his dreams.

We turn another corner and this time we’re confronted with about twenty beings of only about four or five different people. Michael and I let our guns loose and watch as our bullets kill all the bastards in front of us. When each one gets hit, no matter how superficial the wound, they pop like a water balloon. A human shaped, blood filled water balloon. It sickens me and I almost want to vomit as a river of the red mess flows down the hall and rises to our ankles. The nice grey concrete floors are no longer clean as they should be. I don’t lose it though, I can’t. When all the little fuckers are dead and the blood stops flowing, I turn to Michael and say. “We must be getting close, I haven’t seen a heard of them like that once yet.” Michael nods in agreement and we press on.

Further up the hall we see the bodies of the people that the clones we just killed took on. There’s Major Samantha Caldwell; a redhead scientist, Private Luke Jenson; a standard enlisted kid, Mark Hopper; the civilian brought on as a consultant, and Bethany Rogers, also a civilian scientist. I say a silent prayer as I pass their broken bodies, making a personal oath to kill the thing that did this.

At the end of the corridor there is just one door with a yellow six painted on it. Lab six is where the monster originated. It’s the lab that the fucker’s shuttle was taken to so it could be studied and it’s where this madness began. I close my eyes and place a hand on the bold metal handle. I stall for a minute but Michael brings me back. I can feel him grab my shoulder and squeeze in confidence. “Come on, sir. Let’s put an end to this.” Yeah, lets.

I open my eyes and swing the door open. That’s when I see the fucker. He, she, it…it looks like a blob with a fuckload of tentacles and it has no color. I can see through it just as well as I can see through carbonated water. First thing I do is shoot the little pieces of shit that are squirming around on the floor, trying to find somebody’s DNA. Then I shoot the big motherfucker that’s sitting on the exam table. It bursts open and it’s liquid insides gush all over the moment my bullets start to riddle its hide. I smile as I the thing screams in agony. I don’t know how it manages it; it’s a fucking alien for Christ’s sake and I don’t study aliens, I just shoot them. Point is, it screams for about five seconds before it’s finally dissipated so much that it’s dead. I smile and then turn to Michael. We know have the upper hand.

The problem is, when I turn around I meet the barrel of a gun face to face, and Michael is holding the weapon. “What the fuck?” I ask, taking a quick step back and raising my gun to the man before me.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Michael says. “Now I can’t get anymore friends, now I’m all alone.” Seriously, what the fuck? “You see, I can sense them. Well, I could sense them, but now all of my brothers are dead.”

I take a steady breath and study Michael. “How the hell…?” I begin, but something suddenly catches my attention. In the corner of the room is the corpse of a young, brown haired kid that I took under my wing. His body is riddled with bullets but no guns are around. Probably because the first clone took his weapon and has been using that. I look back to the Michael in front of me and my face turns red with anger. “You’re not Michael.”

“Very good, Mark. You’re not half as dumb as I thought.” The fucker that I shall, from this point forward, refer to as ‘Cock-head’ said. I would call him Dick, but that’s what I named the clone that took on the form of the general.

“Why?” I asked. Michael, the kid with promise, the kid that I thought had potential, is gone. I want to know why I didn’t know about it until now. I knew Michael was supposed to stand guard at this lab today, but I thought he made it out before the shit hit the fan. Yes, I was skeptical at first that it was really him, but when he willing killed clones with me, my doubts vanished.

“Why?” He repeats, mocking me. “Because that’s what we do. We clone ourselves to look like the inhabitants of any planet and then we slowly take over. That’s why.”

“You brought me here though, you brought me to the head clone. Why? You knew I was going to kill it.”

Cock-head smiled studiously and looked up at the ceiling. “No, you see, you brought yourself here. I just followed.”

“But you didn’t stop me from killing it, you could’ve stopped me at any point along our journey. When you met up with me two floors down, when we were trekking through the halls, at any point you could’ve ended my life.”

“Ah yes, but if I did that you wouldn’t have seen Michael and I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction to your dead prodigy.” Cock-head said. “See, I know what you think about him. I know the relationship you two had. I know everything that Michael knew up until his death. We don’t only copy DNA, we can copy memories too.”

I wanted to shoot him and I wanted to shoot him now. God how I wanted to fill his body with fucking bullets and then shoot at the blood that would inevitably come, but I couldn’t. You know how I said it was hard to kill Dick, imagine that pain vamped up about twelve levels. I know I have to kill Cock-head eventually, but I want more answers. “And when I was about to kill your leader? You could’ve mortally wounded me then, before I did any damage to it, and then I could’ve seen the real Michael’s body while I bled out.”

Cock-head then sighed in self-pity. “Yes, well, that was the plan until my gun jammed. But no matter, it’s fixed now and I do intend to kill you.” He said.

Tearing, burning, searing pain suddenly ripped through my chest as I fell back onto the wet examination table behind me while Cock-head opened fire. I soon fell to the floor, on my right side, and let my headrest on my outstretched arm. Cock-head smiled deviously and then crouched down to my level to admire his work, admire the four bullet wounds I now had. We then both looked over at the body of Michael, my prodigy student who’d been dead for God knows how long. “Well,” Cock-head began, “my queen maybe dead, but at least your last look at the world will still be that of your dead solider. The one you once admired so much and wanted so many good things for.”

I took in a gasp of breath, knowing the end would be coming very quickly, and smiled. Oh the devious scheme I had. I would make sure Cock-head’s plans went through, though I’d put my own spin on it. Cock-head looked at me and tilted his head in curiosity. “What’s so amusing, earth man?”

My left lung was collapsed, I could tell, and things were starting to get hazy, but I had to finish this. I had to finish this once and for all. If a dead Michael was the last thing he wanted me to look at, then a dead Michael it would be. I took my gun and with all the strength I had left, I raised it to Cock-head’s chest and pulled the trigger. Cock-head suddenly looked shocked and scared, but only for a moment before he burst into a puddle of blood. “Nice plan, but I had a different dead Michael in mind.” I uttered in my raspy voice, closing my eyes and knowing that at least now I could die happy.

~End~

The Twelve Steps To MST

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 17:09:27 GMT

Not really an MST, I just wrote it after thinking of the twelve steps to addiction. I hope you enjoy it!

1. Admit you are powerless when it comes to a bad!fic. You want to stop reading, you really do, but the sheer stupidity of the gaping plot holes and the horrible grammar has you compelled to read further, almost as if you want to see if it’s really possible for a story to suck so badly.

2. Come to believe in the power of MST. A power greater than you that can restore your sanity.

3. Turn your will and your life to that higher power. Let MST take care of all your bad!fic woes.

4. Drink some coffee while you take an inventory of the bad!fics you’ve read.

5. Admit to the Higher Power, yourself, and others the nature of you being wrong for reading the bad!fic in the non-MST form.

6. Be ready for the MST to remove the bad from the bad!fic and make it semi-bearable.

7. Humbly ask an MSTer to forgive you for the wrong doings you committed.

8. Make a list of all the bad!fic writers you’ve ever encountered.

9. Make direct amends with the bad!fic writers, apologize for not cluing them in on the suckiness of their stories sooner.

10. Continue to make inventory of the stories you read and when you find a bad one promptly turn it over to the higher power of MSTing so that it may meet its demise.

11. Seek MST through the internet, looking for only stories that will give us a further understanding as to why MST is so important.

12. Having been reawakened, carry the message to other people who have yet to find the power of MST.

Teh Self-Pimpin is in teh House!!

Thu, 15 Feb 2007 17:50:56 GMT

My first MST, posted onto my friends LJ account becasue, well, I didn't have a good layout until ten minues ago.

It's not just bad, it's annoying-high-schooler-Mary-Sue bad!!!

So read and leave tons of reviews! It's teh shiznap!!!!! Lolz!!!!!!

Stupid El-jay

Thu, 15 Feb 2007 16:35:32 GMT

It's being a butt and nothing lines up with this layout I'm trying to fix!!!!!!!!