[Fiction] Take a Chance
Aug. 23rd, 2009 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cantstopourlove[Peter is an NPC, Alec mentioned is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smart_alec494. Set in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wayward_au—possibly.]
House wasn’t one for crowded lecture halls or conventions, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. This wasn’t the kind of favor you could talk about over the phone. Especially when you’re dealing in information that even with his CIA clearance could get him into trouble. He wasn’t going to get Alec killed so if that meant crashing a Princeton lecture in order to see an old acquaintance, he was going to do it. He slid into the back seat of the hall, rapping his cane lightly against the floor as he listened to Walter speak—there was something about fringe science that was always entertaining, pulling the baseball cap down over his eyes as he did, not wanting to be spotted too soon. There was no fun in it if he just went over and said hello—he wanted to see if Peter was paying attention.
It wasn’t until he was getting up with the rest of the class to leave that he was stopped, a man’s leg coming out to rest in front of him, and House stopped short, before looking up at the intruder with a smirk.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to block the path of a cripple?”
Peter Bishop crossed his arms in front of his chest, smirking back at the other man as he responded. “Don’t you know it’s rude to crash a colleague’s lecture without at least saying hello?” House opened his mouth to respond to that, but Peter just shook his head, as he held up his hand. “Never mind—I don’t want to know what you could use to justify that. What are you doing here, House?” The man didn’t sound offended—more amused—so House just took that as a sign to continue. He paused for a moment, glancing around, before responding.
“Wondering if you might be interested in grabbing a drink.”
The other man was quiet for a moment, studying the doctor in front of him, before speaking again. “Sure. Know a good place?”
“Of course,” House said with a nod, before starting to hobble back towards the parking lot. “You drive.”
***
An hour later, they were getting a little slower on the glasses they were downing—House still wanted to be relatively sober while they were having this conversation—and had officially finished catching up. They were idling around the idea of changing the subject, House regaling some kind of tale about Cuddy’s ass that was at least mildly entertaining, when Peter downed the rest of the bourbon in his glass and looked at House with a critical eye.
“Alright, House. What is this really about?”
House paused for a moment, swirling the alcohol in his glass for a moment, before looking up at him seriously. “What do you know about your father’s work with transgenics?”
“Transgenics.” There was a long pause as Peter stared back at the man, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. “I didn’t take you as the type to put stock in tabloid fodder.”
“Kind of have to when you actually meet one,” House said with a sober sigh. Peter raised an eyebrow and House continued. “His name is Alec Winchester. He’s a lovely byproduct of a program called Manticore.”
Peter nodded with a bit of a scowl. “I’ve heard of Manticore—Olivia had some dealings with them back before the Pulse. How do you know about Manticore? He told you?”
“That and they tried to recruit me,” House sighed. “Plus with my CIA clearance, I have access to a lot of things that most other people don’t.”
“How did he find you?”
“His uncle came in with a chronic migraine problem, then a little while later, he came in with the holy hell beat out of him. We got to know each other pretty well, and he started talking about some of the medical problems some of the transgenics have been having back in Seattle, and wanting to see if I could help. I figured if I could pick the brain of the guy who was involved in the very early sketches of the project, he might have a better way of figuring out what the problems are and how to fix them.”
Peter nodded slowly. “So you want to set this kid up to talk to my father.”
“I figure it at least wouldn’t hurt.” House shrugged. “Worst case scenario, he learns something about himself that he didn’t know before. Best case scenario, they get real help that they can’t get elsewhere without getting themselves gunned down in the street.”
The other man was quiet for a moment, turning this over in his head. The longer the silence went, the longer House felt the urge to try and advocate some more for his friend, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that Peter would speak when he was ready and not before that. He was too careful for that.
“Let me talk to Walter and Olivia—see what they say. I’m sure Walter would be interested, but—I don’t want to cause a conflict of interest for the division. And I’m gonna want to meet him first. At the hospital would probably be best.”
House nodded. “I’ll give him a call and see when he can swing into town next.”
“Perfect.” Peter said with a nod, gesturing to the bartender for a refill before giving House a grin. “Now, I’m in the mood for something lighter, how ‘bout you?”
House just grinned, before taking another sip of his drink. “I couldn’t agree more.”
928 words
smart_alec494. Set in wayward_au—possibly.]House wasn’t one for crowded lecture halls or conventions, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. This wasn’t the kind of favor you could talk about over the phone. Especially when you’re dealing in information that even with his CIA clearance could get him into trouble. He wasn’t going to get Alec killed so if that meant crashing a Princeton lecture in order to see an old acquaintance, he was going to do it. He slid into the back seat of the hall, rapping his cane lightly against the floor as he listened to Walter speak—there was something about fringe science that was always entertaining, pulling the baseball cap down over his eyes as he did, not wanting to be spotted too soon. There was no fun in it if he just went over and said hello—he wanted to see if Peter was paying attention.
It wasn’t until he was getting up with the rest of the class to leave that he was stopped, a man’s leg coming out to rest in front of him, and House stopped short, before looking up at the intruder with a smirk.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to block the path of a cripple?”
Peter Bishop crossed his arms in front of his chest, smirking back at the other man as he responded. “Don’t you know it’s rude to crash a colleague’s lecture without at least saying hello?” House opened his mouth to respond to that, but Peter just shook his head, as he held up his hand. “Never mind—I don’t want to know what you could use to justify that. What are you doing here, House?” The man didn’t sound offended—more amused—so House just took that as a sign to continue. He paused for a moment, glancing around, before responding.
“Wondering if you might be interested in grabbing a drink.”
The other man was quiet for a moment, studying the doctor in front of him, before speaking again. “Sure. Know a good place?”
“Of course,” House said with a nod, before starting to hobble back towards the parking lot. “You drive.”
***
An hour later, they were getting a little slower on the glasses they were downing—House still wanted to be relatively sober while they were having this conversation—and had officially finished catching up. They were idling around the idea of changing the subject, House regaling some kind of tale about Cuddy’s ass that was at least mildly entertaining, when Peter downed the rest of the bourbon in his glass and looked at House with a critical eye.
“Alright, House. What is this really about?”
House paused for a moment, swirling the alcohol in his glass for a moment, before looking up at him seriously. “What do you know about your father’s work with transgenics?”
“Transgenics.” There was a long pause as Peter stared back at the man, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. “I didn’t take you as the type to put stock in tabloid fodder.”
“Kind of have to when you actually meet one,” House said with a sober sigh. Peter raised an eyebrow and House continued. “His name is Alec Winchester. He’s a lovely byproduct of a program called Manticore.”
Peter nodded with a bit of a scowl. “I’ve heard of Manticore—Olivia had some dealings with them back before the Pulse. How do you know about Manticore? He told you?”
“That and they tried to recruit me,” House sighed. “Plus with my CIA clearance, I have access to a lot of things that most other people don’t.”
“How did he find you?”
“His uncle came in with a chronic migraine problem, then a little while later, he came in with the holy hell beat out of him. We got to know each other pretty well, and he started talking about some of the medical problems some of the transgenics have been having back in Seattle, and wanting to see if I could help. I figured if I could pick the brain of the guy who was involved in the very early sketches of the project, he might have a better way of figuring out what the problems are and how to fix them.”
Peter nodded slowly. “So you want to set this kid up to talk to my father.”
“I figure it at least wouldn’t hurt.” House shrugged. “Worst case scenario, he learns something about himself that he didn’t know before. Best case scenario, they get real help that they can’t get elsewhere without getting themselves gunned down in the street.”
The other man was quiet for a moment, turning this over in his head. The longer the silence went, the longer House felt the urge to try and advocate some more for his friend, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that Peter would speak when he was ready and not before that. He was too careful for that.
“Let me talk to Walter and Olivia—see what they say. I’m sure Walter would be interested, but—I don’t want to cause a conflict of interest for the division. And I’m gonna want to meet him first. At the hospital would probably be best.”
House nodded. “I’ll give him a call and see when he can swing into town next.”
“Perfect.” Peter said with a nod, gesturing to the bartender for a refill before giving House a grin. “Now, I’m in the mood for something lighter, how ‘bout you?”
House just grinned, before taking another sip of his drink. “I couldn’t agree more.”
928 words
