Title: Spare Key, part 1/4

Author: Ritaann

Rating: M

Beta: Lynettinspaghet

Pairing: House/Cameron, original character

Genre: Thriller/horror (I hope)

Summary: Meet Ossel Olin, whose hobbies include photography, wig making and an obsession with females whose dark brown hair strikes his fancy…

Notes1: What started out as a thought evoked by the idea of having to include a cadaver somewhere in this fic has become something blown way out of original intentions of a one, possible two parter into a mini series. Huh. I can't guarantee any hard core scares within this fic, but I do aim to, if not shock perhaps disgust the reader (not with my writing …or at least I hope not :o … ) and yes, the ledgends were inspired by watching one too many x files episodes, although I'm not 100 sure if I did them in the same manner (from she who wishes she could check right now but won't be home for a few weeks to do so).

Notes: This is a fanfic written for SarahKjrsten at the 4th House/Cameron ficathon. She requested:

1. I would like to see a cadaver

2. I would like to see an interesting medical abnormality

3. I would like to see Lena Olin

Three things she didn't want anywhere near her story:

1. Cadaver!smut

2. Pickles

3. A saline drip

Part One

17:00
1st OF MARCH
PRINCETON PLAINSBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL
FIRST FLOOR CLINIC

In the shadows he stands, the light of day quickly fading as the clinic closes at the end of another Friday evening.

From behind the palm fronds a bowler cap peaks, steel grey eyes rake over a figure clad in a white coat, standing at the nurses station doing paperwork, her left hand massaging at an over-worked muscle in her neck

Carefully, so as not to disturb his dark leafy hiding spot, a calloused, working hand of nails filled with ingrained dirt digs at his neck as he follows her movements, rolling his shoulders as she did. He feels a twinge from below and a lazy smile contorts as he braces himself against the thick concrete pole at his back, one eye trained on the delectable Dr. Cameron's back.

The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end and Cameron couldn't help but feel a little unnerved at by the sudden lack of people who were down on the first floor. Despite being past closing time, nurses and doctors usually stayed at least an extra hour preparing for the next day and making sure all that needed to be in order from the past day's work was as it should be.

Out of the corner of her eye Cameron scanned all that she could without moving her head. Not finding the cause of her unrest, she put her pen down on the chart she had been working on and quickly whipped around.

"Shit," he whispered. Stilling his hand he crouched further still behind the imitation shrub and hoped that his choice of clothing earlier that morning would help his cause.

"Hey Cameron!" called Foreman, as he walked out of the elevator and she whipped around, one hand on her chest as she fought to control her breathing.

"Damnit Foreman! Couldn't you give a girl a little more warning?" she snapped.

"Hey I'm sorry," he replied, hands raised in the air in surrender. "Why are you so jumpy? One too many pinches on the bottom?"

Cameron rolled her eyes, "I don't know what the fascination is, but no, that isn't the problem. It's just a little creepy being down here when barely anyone is around."

Foreman nodded, "That and your need to relax is why I've come to see if you'd like to join Chase and I for drinks tonight- I though we'd check out that new bar downtown, the Hairy Boar- it's on the corner between sixth and seventh street? I've heard its good."

"Sure," Cameron replied, placing her completed chart back on the rack and the pen back into her pocket, "I'll see you guys there at seven."

Walking to the elevators, she couldn't help but glance behind at the waiting area. Seeing nothing out of place, she scolded herself for watching one too many late night horror movies.

xXx

16:00
FIFTH FLOOR LABORATORY, PPTH

She had been working in the lab all day. Seeing as the diagnostic department was devoid of patients and she was sick of sitting around and twiddling her thumbs, unlike Chase who was perfectly happy not having patients. Foreman had gone to the neurology department in a huff that his credentials were not being put to good use.

He was there again, staring at her through the glass walls of the fifth floor lab, waiting until she noticed his presence before ambling in through the door, coming to a stop in the middle of the room, leaving barely two-inches between them.

Turning away from the microscope to face him, she was waiting patiently as he eyed his surroundings, taping his cane on the linoleum, licking his lips as he prepared his next words.

"Cameron," he stated gently, allowing her name to linger in the air between them.

"Yes, House?" she asks.

He paused for a moment, "Have you seen Foreman around? I haven't seen him all day."

"He's up in neurology."

"Right, of course," he chuckled nervously before moving back and taking a three- legged step towards the door.

"Why do you always do that to me?" This time Cameron took a step towards House, whose frame seemed to lean towards the door in an awkward fashion.

"Do what?"

"Don't try to pull one on me, you know what I'm talking about." crossing her arms in front of her in a defensive posture.

"I do it because of that thing you decided to wear today, taking a page from Cuddy's book I see." House swiftly pointed his cane in subtle gesture towards the tan coloured skirt she had chosen to wear to work that day.

"It's knee length!" her voice raising in both pitch and tone in defence of her attire.

House secretly admired the facial expression of a pissed off Allison Cameron.

"Uhuh, and your point?" House taking another step towards the door, as though ready to flee the scene at the first sign of confrontation of a personal kind.

"You lied to me."

"I most certainly did not- a thing like that would make any man wonder what else you have hidden up there."

"Not about the skirt- you didn't come up here to look for Foreman."

House cleared his throat uncomfortably, "No, I didn't." he stated simply.

An uncomfortable silence sat between the two of them as Cameron waited for House to explain his last words, her hands moving to her hips.

"When… are you busy Friday night?" he asked simply, waiting for confusion then elation to set in. He only received the former.

"What?"

"There's a jazz thing I got tickets to in Atlantic city, and since Wilson will be busy being somebody else's bitch…"

"Oh," she said, pausing to digest the current turn of events, "Is this another one of your non-dates?"

"I suppose you could look at it that way, especially after the real date sucked." They both smiled at the truth of his words.

"Sure, okay." She nodded nonchalantly, doing her best not to grin and give away her excitement.

"I'll be around your place to pick you up at 7, show starts at 8." With that House limped out of the lab and headed down the hallway, Cameron staring after him, a small grin on her face and the phrase 'don't get your hopes up' running through her mind like a broken recorder.

xXx

18:00
1ST OF JANURARY
MOSSEL WIGGERY
16 PAINVIEW ROAD, PRINCETON

He watched as she arrived home, safe in his hideout across the street.

She lived as he did, alone in a one bedroom apartment. His was on the first level, hers the one above. With no more than a street apart, a telescope and long lens camera were all he needed to set up his game plan.

He waited as she got out of her car, knowing she would have her laptop slung over her left shoulder, keys in her right hand as she rode the elevator to her sanctuary and entered with the turn of a wrist.

Adjusting the lens to account for differences in distance, a grin had overtaken his face as he watched as she went about her afternoon routine.

She was as fond as he was of rituals and he enjoyed studying her even more due to her repetitive nature. Taking a couple of quick snaps with the camera, the sound of exposure overtaking the silence that permeated his lair, his breathing increasing in intensity, coming out on harsh burst as he watched her break routine and choose snug fitting jeans and top in preparation for her evening out.

"No," he whispered, but kept his eyes peeled until the moment she left her room for another section of the house.

Turning away from the telescope, the sound of metal wheels scraping against its confines, in need of oil seared through the chilly sir of the room and he immediately felt a little better, looking up at a wall to his left, painted what he knew to be her favourite shade of purple, covered from ceiling to floor with pictures of his latest obsession.

All were pictures of her from her side as she turned, or of her at an angle, none were of her staring directly into the lens. Too dangerous, he muttered to himself, but it was the one shot he longed to gain, the one shot that would mean she trusted him, that it was time.

Time that she be aware of his true purpose.

Half the pictures had been taken in the hospital where she worked, and many of them contained none other than her boss, Doctor Gregory House. He too was also never looking directly at the camera lens, and for this he was grateful. His sharp blue eyes saw all and this, he knew, was not a good thing.

Ossel Olin thought back to the first time he had met Allison. He loved that he could call her Allison, even if it was only in his own mind. No one called her that. Cameron this- and Cameron that- it made him feel supremely connected with her, as did the small ball of her hair which was always kept in his left pocket, where his left wrist, and major vessel leading to his heart stayed constantly in further connection with her.

It had been in the woman's locker room at Princeton Plainsboro. He had to go to the third floor for some x rays to be run and had taken a wrong turn, and with an unwieldy gurney being pushed by some overly eager orderlies, Ossel found himself behind a head of beautiful chocolate brown hair which smelt distinctly like his sister's.

"Lena-" he had begun to whisper, the cramped space in the elevator filled with both people and gurney and Ossel hoped that his sister would not make a scene.

Yet she hadn't turned around. He sniffed the air in one large gulp. No, there was no mistake, it was the exact same brand of floral shampoo that his sister had been using since her teenage years.

Looking around the elevator, he realised that not one of the people who were in it were connected to the person in front of him. His sister's fame and fortune on television shows such as Alias made it virtually impossible for her to travel light, as he'd noticed at the few family gatherings she had attended last year. Not one tall muscularly suited guy with dark glasses or some overly fashionable stylist nor a dorky looking columnist.

It was then that he knew that this person in front of him would be his next and newest obsession.

The elevator doors then opened and she stepped out, turning to whom Ossel now knew as Greg House. She spoke and Ossel knew for sure it was not his sister.

"I'll let you know when I get those results."

She responded by nodding in reply, "You know where I'll be."

Before the doors shut, Ossel jumped out of the elevator in the nick of time and began to nonchalantly trail a little ways behind her purposeful stride. His x-ray now forgotten, he watched as she entered the women's locker room and once the hallway was clear, he snuck in behind her.

xXx

19:00
THE HAIRY BOAR
CORNER OF SIXTH AND SEVENTH STREET,
PRINCETON

"So you and House. What happened to that?" inquired Foreman as he took a sip of his beer. It had been a while since the two of them had gone out for a beer- Chase had pulled out at the last minute, something about a date? Either way, Foreman was glad that he had managed to get Cameron out to a place that was neither home nor work.

"There is no 'me and House'." she replied, shaking her head in disbelief that Foreman would bring up such a sore subject.

"You are a lousy liar, you know that?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." Cameron shook her head and bit back her tongue. She didn't want to jinx Friday in any way possible.

"And I think I owe you another round of beers." At Foreman's suggestion she opened her mouth to protest. "Relax you from the stresses of the day… loosen your lips." He grinned at her feigned expression of shock.

"Oh so that's your plan? Uh uh papa bear I am in lockdown mode." Cameron said as seriously as she could yet still allowing a smile to escape, already a little tipsy.

"Whatever you say," Foreman said agreeably, waving over the bartender to take their order.

xXx

Her hair.

It's what drew him to her in the first place, long and chocolatey brown, silky and curled at the ends. The kind that listened, mostly, to what its owner wanted it to do, the kind that needed monthly trims to keep in shape, the kind that demanded a certain kind of shampoo and conditioner.

The kind that Ossel knew from experience would she'd every month, clogging the drains with clumps of brown string that clung to one's fingertips when wet, as though an invisible free flowing glue stuck it there. The kind of hair that would tangle if a brush was not dragged through it gently from tip to top each morning, filling its bristles with old strands, allowing the scalp to be replaced with the new.

Ossel rubbed a certain kind of oil proudly onto his shiny bald head and had been doing so every day since his fifteenth birthday, in a silent vow to never allow one wisp of hair to grace his body since.

It had been the one thing that made him different and special from his sister, had caused shock and surprise at the dinner table and got him noticed for once.

Ossel hated to go completely unnoticed.

He wrapped his windbreaker tight around his thin, boyish frame and kept one eye trained on the friendly pair that sat at the bar towards the back, the warm lighting and mahogany decked interior was a direct contrast to the cold night and bitter wind, reminding the current population of the winter that had just past.

He hated that others could be chummy with her when all he was at present, was an outsider.

'Now was the time to change all that,' thought Ossel to himself as he settled lower on his bench and peered deeper into the room.

xXx

08:05
5TH MARCH
DIAGNOSTIC DEPARTMENT
PRINCETON PLAINSBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL

'She's wearing that skirt again,' was all House could think about when he saw Cameron walk in through the glass doors that morning, the first of his underlings to arrive.

Getting up from his desk he made his way through to the break room and sat down on one of the chairs that surrounded the glass table and threw a pale yellow file onto the table top.

"What's this?" Cameron turned from making the first pot of coffee of the day and coming to stand behind House she flipped the folder open to the first page.

"New patient, seems interesting."

"Shouldn't we be waiting for Foreman and Chase?"

"Oh, you're right- we should just let the poor guy suffer for a few minutes longer to avoid pissing off our fellow colleagues. Glad to see you have your priorities straight."

Cameron rolled her eyes and placed a red mug of coffee in front of House and turned to make her own.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" She threw over her shoulder.

"That envelope on the table- you didn't see it yet?"

Sitting on the glass table top was an inconspicuous looking A4 envelope, unsealed with the name Allison written in a small, neat block letters at its top right hand corner.

Turning around, she froze when she saw it, heart pounding in her ears she couldn't help but feel a chill come over her skin.

House glanced up at her expression, her wide eyes and sickly pallour informing him of the nature of what might be in the envelope.

She stood as still as a rock, and noticing that Cameron seemed to be moving away rather than towards that which was addressed to the only Allison in the office, House moved to pick it up.

"No!" she jumped forward and placed her hand atop his right, "I- I think you should at least use gloves."

"How many of these have you received?" House asked turning towards her.

"This would be the third one. They, they all say the same thing except, except for the last line." House moved around her to the sink and took out a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on before pulling out a chair and making Cameron's rigid frame sit beside him.

Gesturing towards the envelope and at her nod, he slid it towards them and took out the sheet of paper within. House began to read aloud;

"Hello, Allison"

the scrawl mocked, written in block letters and ball point pen assuming a personal relationship. The blank white sheet yet impeccably straight lines of print, each letter lacking any trace of the personality behind its meaning.

"It won't be long now, until we'll both be happy

together.

Our small, humble lives will be reunited with an event not to be missed.

One that everyone will notice

I watch you from afar, with a lust that no man could ever understand. Your silken locks remind me of a time that must be forgotten and re-written into the history books.

Take Care.

O."

Immediately, Cameron pushed her chair back, metal on tile contorting into a sickening screech she leaned against the sink in an effort to move as far away from the offending object as possible.

House could feel the bile rise in his throat as he re-read the last few lines before tossing the letter back onto the table.

The glass door swung open, House and Cameron looked up to see Foreman and Chase entering the room and coming to a stand still beside the table.

"What's up?" asked Foreman, looking down at the paper that House and Cameron had been staring at moments before.

"I think you should call Cuddy." House instructed, "Tell her to bring security up here ASAP."

End Part One