Julie (j_daisy) wrote,
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Consider This One A Treat...

I have a Halloween fic for everyone! And, lo and behold, it's a parody! They're so much fun to write, you guys, and I hope that you guys have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Title: The Corpse Sue
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.
Notes: This was written for the Halloween fest on finally_tuesday. If you miss the Original Recipe Ducklings, you should head on over to that community because not only does it have so truly great authors, but is also a Chase/Cameron community (although the fic is ship-lite).
Warnings: Innuendo. Also, I didn't have a beta.
Summary: Cuddy needs to get rid of her. Wilson needs to her to abandon ship. Chase, Cameron, and Foreman know something is wrong with her. And House just wants to hook up with her. She is… The Corpse Sue.


There was only one light on in the morgue that Halloween, and it shined eerily down at House’s former patient. It was unusual - usually the fluorescent light was anything but flattering on someone’s face, especially that of a dead person’s, but this particular corpse seemed to glow beautifully under its cheap and environment-friendly illumination. If fact, Mali Suu looked absolutely perfect.

House grinned down at her as he slipped the cool body block underneath her back. His fingers lingered at the zipper for a brief second - it was almost as though he was ashamed of his own unworthiness to be in the presence of such a beautiful woman. But his disgrace was quickly overcome by a drowning desire to rapture this gorgeous damsel, to make sweet, sweet love to her, to sensuously rub embalmment chemicals on her-

His chain of thought was interrupted suddenly by a daydream about babies, fluffy bunnies, and rainbows on parade. House must have forgotten that even Mali Suu, despite her obvious flawlessness, couldn’t convince the fandom to get into necrophilia. Yet.

So instead of fulfilling his fantasies, House instead mourned her death and his inability to save her. He began to cry - this was completely normal for him. At least, it had become completely normal since meeting Mali three days ago. As her perfect symptoms had increased, House had fallen more and more in love with her. Her high levels of Wikipeditis made his heart race and even her dangerously swollen Gluteus Madeupwordus made him forget to breathe. But alas - her case of Sham Syndrome was simply too advanced to treat.

And so here he was, with only a corpse and his own tears as comfort.

Footsteps suddenly interrupted their three-day anniversary (it was the one of silent sobs; paper was one year). House had never been less pleased to see Wilson.

“Ahoy, bucko!” Wilson greeted, dressed in full pirate regalia. “I didn’t know ye last patient ‘ad walked the plank. Sink me! I thought I just saw ‘im leaving.”

House stared at the exaggerated beard, the eyepatch, and the walking peg Wilson was swinging around liberally. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.

Wilson grinned at him, showcasing a few more gold teeth than necessary. He walked over to the body, and House suddenly felt himself choking on a swell of anger - how dareperfectly) fluttered open her gorgeous violet eyes.

“She’s alive!” House yelled, his voice full of joy.

Wilson, Jack O’Long Suffering, shook his head tiredly. “Ye be three sheets to the wind today?” he asked, wondering why he hadn’t immediately guessed that House had, once again, come into work drunk. Deciding the answer wasn’t worth hearing, Wilson left to - well, he left to do whatever he does when he isn’t following House around.

House smiled in a completely sober way. He was high, not drunk. And he was sure, undoubtedly sure, that Mali had just winked at him.

*

Cuddy sighed for the eightieth time in the last hour. She was tired, exhausted even, of Foreman asking why he was getting his job back. It was so simple, yet it seemed to make zero sense to him. Couldn’t he see that he was the least-qualified, the worst diagnostician, and biggest jerk that had ever worked for House? Couldn’t he understand that his unwilling, ungrateful nature was exactly the kind of personality that PPTH harbored and spent - and lost - millions of dollars on?

“I just don’t get it,” Foreman was saying. “I’m smart, but not genius enough to compensate for my attitude. I’m black, not crippled. I don’t even have expressive cerulean eyes. What could I possibly do for this hospital?”

Cuddy sighed again, and gathered her hair in a high ponytail. “Foreman, I can’t have this argument with you anymore. Your next paycheck will be in your mailbox Monday morning, whether you show up at work or not. Now I have a meeting to get to, so you can just go to the employee cafeteria and steal all the food you want. The code to the hospital bank account is 9-1-8-1-4, so feel free to empty it. Enjoy your afternoon.”

“But you’re just throwing money away on a useless idiot!” Foreman yelled after her - but it was no use. Cuddy was already out the door. Her but still had a little ways to go, though - Foreman supposed he could argue with that.

But no - that thought was inoffensive and rude, and Foreman had to fight his instincts previous boss’s influence on his life.

Now if only he could find a cause to guide him down a path of righteousness…

*

House couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Now that Mali was alive again, everything was right in his world. With her at his side, he suddenly knew the cause of every malady to ever exist (she had whispered it in his ear, that Mali was so smart!), his demeanor had turned decidedly sunny, and he had even kicked his Vicodin habit – amazing! Mali had made the pain simply disappear.

House threw his down his cane, which fell to the floor with a lonely, cast away sort of clanging sound that made House pause for a second. Something just didn’t seem right – something was off…

Mali beamed at him, reading his mind. “You just want to tell someone the good news!” she announced.

House grinned at Mali – he was so relieved to have the puzzle solved! “You’re right,” he said. “Now who should we tell? Wilson won’t believe us… Cuddy might complicate things… oh! We could tell Chase and Cameron! They would love to know our business!”

Mali agreed with him telepathically, so off to the sleep lab they went. But not even their firmly happy outlook on life could prepare them for what they saw…

Chase and Cameron looked awful. Truly, truly awful. When Cameron climbed off Chase, House could see her ribs protruding from beneath her skin and when Chase sat up, his hair thoroughly mussed, House noticed thousands of cuts on his wrists, hips, and other places that made even House blush to think of. Mali, shocked into silence, flicked the light on which revealed tear tracks down both Chase and Cameron’s faces.

“My pretties,” House murmured, completely stunned. “What happened to you?”

“It’s the authors,” Chase said in a low, throaty voice that made House wonder if his former employee had taken up chain smoking. “They’ve – they’ve taken over the hospital.”

“How do you know?!” Mali demanded instantly, her violet eyes flashing like a strobe light, which resulted in House tripping over Cameron’s shirt and falling on the floor in an undignified manner.

“Look at us!” Cameron cried. “I’m anorexic. Chase is slitting himself into ribbons. Sure, we may have some serious personality issues, but not this bad!”

“It’s true,” House agreed, seeing a light in the far off distance that was beginning to illuminate Mali’s yellowing teeth, greasy skin, and matted hair. “They were much less dysfunctional working for me.”

“No! It’s not true! You guys just – you just don’t understand the story.

“What story?” House asked.

The light switched off immediately and Mali, oddly enough, was suddenly more beautiful than ever before.

“Nothing,” she told him sweetly, touching her fingers to his lips. “Nothing at all, Greggy-poo.”

“Oh G/d,” Chase said, sounding as though he were about to vomit. “She’s one of them!”

“You’re right!” Cameron said, looking thoroughly horrified. “House, you’ve got to listen to us! This demonic wench here--”

“My name is Mali Suu,” Mali growled.

“She didn’t even try to hide it!” Chase groaned.

“Ok, this Mali here,” Cameron continued. “This Mali isn’t what you think she is! She’s dangerous, House. She’s really dangerous. Look how sappy you already are!”

House stared at Cameron blankly.

Cameron turned to Chase, tears springing to her eyes. “What do we do?” she sobbed.

“Uhh…” Chase was really bad with crying women and pitiful twelve-year-olds. “Umm, ok, let’s try and explain this in simpler terms. House, how did you and Mali meet?”

House grinned. “It was this morning, when she came back from the dead,” he explained proudly.

“It’s worse than we thought,” Chase whispered. “It’s only been a couple of hours, and he’s gotten so stupid.”

House frowned – out of the blue, he had grown extremely tired of Chase and Cameron’s wacky conspiracy theories. So what if he and Mali had a unique love story? Was there anything wrong with that? Was there?

No, House decided triumphantly. There wasn’t.

And so he stormed out, with Mali hot on his trail.

*

“House has got a what now?”

Chase and Cameron glanced at each other, wondering how they could possibly explain what was going on in the hospital. “A Sue,” Chase explained to Cuddy. “House seems to have encountered a Mary Sue.”

“And has completely walked into her traps!” Cameron added.

“I see.” Cuddy leaned back in her chair, turning the unusual situation over in her mind. “Could you please elaborate on what a Mary Sue is, exactly?”

Chase smiled – it appeared they were getting somewhere. “Well, a standard for the breed is perfection. All Sues are brilliant, loyal, honest, loving, and instinctively know what the right course of action is.”

“And all the Sues are female?”

“Not necessarily,” Cameron said. “Sometimes there are Gary Stus – they are always handsome geniuses, and usually have a One True Love.”

Something Cameron couldn’t quite identify flickered in Cuddy’s eyes. “You two seem to have acquired some expertise on the subject.”

“Well,” Chase stammered, “we are often victims of them.”

“Oh. So would you be able to tell me, Dr. Chase, if these Gary Stus have any reputation for being… fertile?”

Chase and Cameron stared at Cuddy for a second, their jaws slack. “Oh, for goodness sake!” Cameron yelled. “Cuddy, Mali is probably going to sleep with House. And then she will have his babies. And you will be relegated to a reliable babysitter. Is that what you want? Is it? Is it?”

Cuddy had jumped up from her seat at the word “babysitter.” “You’re right,” she said. “This is unacceptable in my hospital. We need to get rid of Ms. Suu and we need to do it fast.”

Chase and Cameron both sighed, relieved. But Cuddy was not so content. “Is there any method that can guarantee getting rid of this devil spawn?”

“We didn’t think you’d approve,” Chase said quietly, crossing his fingers for good luck. “But there is this one thing…”

He and Cameron leaned over the desk and whispered their plot to Cuddy in hushed voices, knowing that anyone could be infected. When they finished, Cuddy grinned and nodded at them. “Perfect,” she said.

*

It had been a little difficult finding Foreman, but somehow, Chase and Cameron had managed it. First they checked the chapel, then the lab (they were kicked out by the technicians there, who claimed that they could do their jobs for themselves, thank you very much), then Wilson’s office (who had, with a wink, demanded their booty), then finally found him in House’s office, brooding handsomely.

“What do you want?” he asked them coldly in lieu of a friendly greeting.

“The hospital is in danger,” Chase said quickly. “And you’re the only person who could save it.”

Foreman stared at him with a nasty glint in his eyes, then sighed and shook his head. “Come on. You guys know I can’t save anyone.”

“That’s right,” Cameron answered, beaming brightly at him. “You can’t. You’ve made bad call after bad call and have managed to stamp out interest in any subject you touch. Don’t you see, Foreman? We need you. This hospital needs you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t!” Chase exclaimed happily. “Cameron, I told you he’d be perfect for it. Foreman, you have a unique talent for killing patients. Really killing them. And there’s this one patient that – well, you’ve heard of Mary Sues, haven’t you?”

“I have some experience with them…” Foreman began, but was interrupted.

“Great!” Cameron said. “Well, there’s this particularly nasty one that’s managed to ensnare House. We don’t know how, and we don’t know why.”

“What we do know is that her medical records indicate she was given the right diagnosis and the proper treatment.”

“I understand,” Foreman said quietly. “So you need me to incorrectly decide what’s wrong with her and prescribe something fatal?”

“You could do that,” Cameron answered. “Or you could do something equally stupid and selfish.”

Foreman raised his eyebrows. “Such as?”

Chase seemed unable to contain his joy. “Well… have you got any infected needles handy?”

*

The six of them gathered around Mali’s dead – really dead – body, expressions of shock, disgust, and awe on each of their faces. They couldn’t seem to take their eyes off of her. The image was gruesome and fascinating the same time. It was so simple, yet so…not - Mali was lying on the linoleum floor in the shape of a fallen angel, except she smelled like something that had been rotting for years and her hair was knotted and dry and she had warts on her legs.

“I can’t believe it,” House said, staring at Mali. “I can’t believe I really fell for it.”

Cuddy patted his shoulder bracingly. “I’m sure it happens to the best of us.”

“Aye,” Wilson agreed sorrowfully. To respect Mali, he had taken off his eye patch and was holding it over his heart, but he couldn’t seem to stop his pirate-isms.

Chase shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “You guys are sure she’s dead now, right?”

“Yep,” Cameron said, glancing at the numerous stab marks that were all over Mali’s body. “She’s dead. Foreman did a real number on her.”

“I suppose I was a little enthusiastic,” Foreman admitted sheepishly.

“You did what you had to do, mate.”

“I guess. So,” Foreman said, facing everyone. “What do we do now?”

Everyone had their own ideas: “We prepare for the next one!” “We go to therapy!” “We abandon these landlubbers and send the Sue to Davy Jones’ locker!” “We find some other girl who is willing to sleep with me!”

Foreman smiled at them. “We’ve all had a rough day,” he said. “Why don’t we just forget all about it and get drunk? House’s treat, since he’s the one who got us into this mess.”

Chase, Cameron, Cuddy, Wilson, and House agreed with him. After all, it was the first good idea Foreman had had in a very long time.
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