Miss Cellaneous - A veritable grab-bag

Came home, slumped onto the sofa and didn't leave it for quite a while. Class plus little sleep does not for a fit Mona make.

***

God, I've missed this show. (And how could I forget it in my earlier meme list, along with The West Wing? *sigh*)



House: *dramatic* "... but a romantic weekend getaway could change all this!"
Wilson: *open-mouthed; points finger at self, then at House* "You...me?"
House: *glares*

Mona: *dies*

I was giggling with delight because they love us, oh, the writers love the House/Wilson fans, indeed. They also love all the other fans, of course, see last episodes' House/Cam moments, or the spiffy, spiffy interaction with Chase and Foreman and while I'm at it ("it" being my slutty, slutty view of House), I cannot wait to see where they are taking the pregnancy storyline, i.e. I am shamelessly hoping for a House/Cuddy lovechild (hatechild?) in the future. Okay, back to canon: Where is the good House/Wilson after this ep, folks?

Not that I didn't love my girl Cameron in this episode, but then, I do that a lot.

House: *re: Wilson & blond nurse * "Why is she always here, if no one's hitting that?"
Cameron: "I'm hitting that, and it's so good."

Mona *falls off sofa, and possibly in love*

Snarky, snarky Cameron, who's back in doctor lingo without missing a beat after that. I suspect all the people who love to hate her will sneer, but I found this a nice follow-up to everything that has happened, very much in-character. She's not House's little baby any more, and while she cares for him, she's definitely taken off the rose-coloured glasses from Season One: Cameron is well aware that House in all his glory is a pretty nasty creature, that his decisions will frustrate her. She knows she won't stop disagreeing with him over medical (and other) issues, but also knows how to handle him pretty well by now. I have no doubt House could still make Cameron very miserable, of course...but I doubt that he wants to do that. Very much doubt that.

Back to the "handling" part, how much did I love Chase here? "They are too ethical, and I am too afraid of being sued." Oh, lookit that – he's deadpan and honest and oddly at ease here. He knows House will never love him the way he wants House to love him – and I don't even mean that in a slashy but merely a mentor/student and possibly a surrogate father/successful son way – but he's sucking it up and relaxing, finally finding his stride. I approve.

Foreman, Foreman...I feel guilty for not caring more about his storyline, but the whole relationship part of the episode left me pretty cold. I found his empathy for the brother engaging, though – did I miss clues as to why he wants to help the boy, why he claims, loudly and more than once, that their love is real, that this isn't real incest? Foreman and the idea of star crossed lovers, of emotions and romance flying in the face of genetics? Never thought I'd see the day.

And ooh, the final scene: So much for coming back to bite you in the ass as payback for your earlier maltreatment of such body part. This show is hardly the pinnacle of realism when it comes to professional consequences, but I foresee more than just a slap on the wrist this time. I seem to recall illegal possession of narcotics don't fly in the US, and the whole pity-for-a-cripple element may be apt on his own turf but might be a threadbare kind of armour once he's actually dragged to court.

Maybe he can get conjugal visits, and that's how the House/Cuddy lovech...um, sorry, am composing bad fanfiction in my head again.




Which brings me to the fanfiction actually envisioned: The first three meme responses; I'll work my way through them as I can – I hadn't thought there would so many folks interested.

Fox Mulder & Charles Gunn (TXF & AtS, rated G, no spoilers, 300 words)

He's leaning against the wall, staring at the heap of ash. No, those teeth hadn't been cosmetic, the piece of wood his sudden saviour had rammed into the creature's back not a gimmick stake.

Mulder is possibly feeling a little faint. If not faint enough: "Fox Mulder, FBI. Identify yourself!"

The incredulous glance that follows isn't exactly a law-abiding reaction. But the man – tall, dark, and handsome – doesn't run, which is good, as Mulder couldn't have pursued him, anyway. "That the first question you have after seeing this?"

Come to think of it.... "The vampire?"

"Yeah." The man frowns, looks up and down the alley. "You don't seem surprised. Good. Keep being careful. This is not the safest area." A twist of his mouth, ironic yet unamused. "And not for the reasons you think."

He gives Mulder a nod and begins walking away.

"Wait!"

The man doesn't stop. The line of his shoulders tightens, though; it takes Mulder a moment to realise he still has his gun, could shoot the stranger. Who knows just that. Who is still turning his back to him.

Things like that always happen to him.

When Mulder opens his eyes again, the street is empty

Rodney McKay & Veronica Mars (SGA & VM, rated G, no spoilers, 370 words)

Click, the camera goes, and Rodney blinks blindness away. "You," he snaps, "just destroyed a sizeable portion of my retina."

"Sorry." Young voice, female voice, and when Rodney can see again, the girl behind the camera, he's just a little bit sorry for what he said, because she's cute and blond and doesn't look half-dumb, if much (much, much) too young. He can also see she doesn't seem particularly sorry at all. "If I don't bring home enough physicist photos, my ten children will starve." She smiles, brightly, and it would be a convincing little joke if she didn't peer over his shoulder, eyes sharp and clear, tracking movement.

Rodney turns and follows her line of sight – quickly, thanks to Wraith and Genii and crazed natives out for blood. None of those are here, in a huge hall at Caltech, of course, but he can see Dr. Stockard ambling away, Stockard the Stuporous who's been sitting right next to him until just a few seconds ago, for the duration of a conference Rodney wishes he'd never deigned to grace with his genius. "Right," he says, narrowing his eyes at her. "You weren't taking my picture but his."

The girl, already stepping backward, stops, freezes; for all her savvy demeanour, something here gives her away. Hah, he knew it. Of course he did. "If you knew anything about, or cared for astrophysicists of the highest calibre, you wouldn't have done that." He crosses his arms in front of his chest and gives her a mild version of his glare. "I actually can't believe you'd even think of taking his photo when you could take one of me to, what, publish in your college newspaper? Glossy magazine?"

She's biting her lip now, and pretty hard at that. "Oh," and that smile is a little smug, almost, "I really didn't know; of course I'll be happy to take your picture instead."

Very well. Rodney settles into a proper pose, and, click again.

"So," the girl says, "I'm afraid I really don't know enough about physicists; glad I found someone knowledgeable like you. That Stockard fellow, he sure isn't, is he?"

Rodney just snorts, and begins to tell her how much he isn't.

Rita & Angel (Dexter & AtS, PG, pre-series for Dexter, 491 words)

"Stop it -- I said, Stop it!" High voice, rising in pitch, and there's fear in it, too. If his heart wasn't inert, it would probably beat faster, clench, do any of a hundred things brought forth by memory, recognition. By lust.

Angel just turns – the corner, and there they are: A woman, small and blonde, one arm lifted as if to protect herself. A man advancing on her; he smells like booze – cheap booze at that – and, beneath, a cocktail of amphetamines. Once upon a time, that would have been tempting, but Angel knows now, Druggies are bad for you.

"Leave her alone!" By their side in what must look like one single step to the naked human eye, one step from a tall, broad stranger in a black coat. He feels satisfied by the man's reaction, the way he flinches, stumbles over his feet, backwards.

The woman exhales, stares at him with wide and weary eyes. Up close, the resemblance is even stronger. Eerie. Angel's seen dopplegangers, pre-existing human masks worn by demonkind, but no, no, she's real, she's human, she's – not Darla.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't – please don't," she says, hurried, worried.

This isn't how the lady in distress is supposed to react; it's also not in any way how Darla would react, in any moment, whether human or vampire. Disappointment is flooding him, along with something that feels almost like relief. "I'm not going to hurt you." He smiles. Look, Ma, no fangs.

Now she looks bewildered but catches herself again. "I meant, don't hurt my boyfriend."

"I'm not going to." Angel frowns, stares at the guy. "Probably not."

Stubble, a resentful glare but nothing beyond; the guy's not coming closer. Not going between his girlfriend and her failed dark avenger, either. He's not trying to hurt her, though – not hitting, not even crowding her. But Angel knows his sort; hell, he's been his sort, so he narrows his eyes and, head turned so only the man can see, lets one fang flash for just a second. "You take care of her."

Bad boyfriend blanches, manages to nod. Oh yes, he's understood. Creature of the night as much as Angel is; maybe he even knows his kind: maybe that will make him toe the line for a while.

"I'll be around." Angel lets no emotion colour his voice; it's more effective this way.

The woman, though – she stares at him, emotions flickering across her face too fast for him to follow. She's holding herself upright, too stiffly, perhaps, but still upright between two men three times her size, one unknown, one known and feared because of that. Maybe she's more like Darla than he thought she was.

"We won't be. This is just – we're on vacation."

Pride, nervous exhilaration, and now – now he can hear it, beneath the harsh breaths, beneath the loud and lovely pumping of blood through their veins.

Another tiny heart-beat, impossibly fast.