Chapter Text
This crime looks like a child forcing two barbie dolls to kiss, the killer is far more juvenile than a normal adult. The question is, did he know these people? Or was it truly as random as it seems.
“Will.”
No, he definitely knew them, they just didn’t know him. The killer had some sort of obsession with them. Childlike and brutality clashed in an abnormal scene. The killer wanted these two to be together, but the victims drifted apart in adulthood. The killer is someone their age, went to school with them or knew of them in passing, the real reason-
“Will!” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. But they knew better than to bother him when he was profiling, so what could be the problem?
“We’re at the clinic, are you evening paying attention?” Beverly asked.
He was in the car with Beverly Katz. He looked at the clock 4:20pm, blaze it, he thought, he may be losing time but at least he had his keen sense of humor. No longer at the scene, where were they again?
“Come on, trust me the sooner we get you in there the sooner this’ll be over.” Bev stated, giving hardly any hints to where they were going.
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House had not been happy to be working the clinic today, like any other day he worked at the clinic.
He had been especially unhappy to see the FBI making a stop by, perhaps some type of crime that would keep him out of the clinic for an extended period of time, he thought hopefully.
But alas, all that greeted him was some sweaty man, who had apparently collapsed and contaminated a crime scene, goody!
William Graham, male, 35 years old, DOB: 2/19/77, no family history of cancer or heart disease in the father and no medical history of the mother.
Mommy issues, that explains the severe looking woman in the leather jacket that seemed to have all but dragged him into the clinic. Interesting. Not enough to make House want to do his job, but interesting, nonetheless.
“Yoohoo, what’s wrong with the baby? Got a tummy ache?” House questioned as he entered the room.
Will Graham hardly looked up and preferred staring at the ground and sweating some more.
The woman was much more alert and gave house an ‘are you serious?’ look that he had become quite accustomed to.
“Are you the doctor?” she asked incredulously, giving him the once over.
“No, I just like playing pretend. I’m Dr. House, what’s wrong with the boytoy?” House responded.
“... He fainted and has an obvious fever. Who knows what else is wrong with him.” The woman seemed annoyed but more concerned with Mr. Graham to put up a fuss with the doctor.
“Can he speak for himself or was that not programmed into him yet?” House gave Graham a look as he continued to stare off into space.
The woman stopped for a minute then turned to face Graham, who seemed to be unaware of the entire situation. His eyes are unfocused and his hands shaky, low blood sugar possibly, the guy doesn’t seem to take great care of himself maybe he just needed a snacky.
But there was something odd about the way his eyes seemed to focus and unfocus on different spots of the room, seeing and unseeing. His hand trembled slightly leading him to hold onto the chair’s arms for support.
The woman nudged him which did nothing to get a response out of Mr. Graham.
House slammed his cane onto one of the cabinets nearby. Making an abrupt ‘Thwack!’ that seemed to jolt Mr. Graham out of his haze.
“... Sorry, uh, what was the, uh, question?” Mister Graham seemed to finally find his words.
"What kind of panties are you wearing? Tell me why you're here, your little girlfriend doesn't have to do all the talking for you." What is up with this guy? Is he an idiot or is it something more serious? For his sake he hopes it's the former but that never seems to be the case.
"She's not my-"
"-Ah, not what I asked, why are you here, matter of fact, where are you right now?" This guy was clearly disoriented; he'd be surprised if he even remembered his own name.
A beat. Hesitation.
"... Princeton General Hospital?" Educated guess, at least he was aware of the city he was in. Still wrong name.
"Wrong. Let me take a look at your eyes." He flashed a light at his pupils, dilated, strange. And the hand tremors remained. He could have gotten a concussion when he fell, causing the dilation, but the tremors were concerning.
His eyes darted to the corner of the room, and started to pant, small, short breathes, looking between the corner and the bright hospital lights of the clinic room.
"Mr. Graham, do you have any neurological conditions?" This was more than a concussion or dehydration.
"No, no, I, uh, had a brain scan, recently, they didn't find anything." Not helpful.
"Any history of mental illness then?" Mania would explain the pupil dilation, hallucinations could be causing the rapid eye movement, schizophrenia perhaps. That would be fun.
"I mean, they've suspected personality disorders, but none have given me a diagnosis, my psychiatrist doesn't suspect anything." Bingo.
"Psychiatrist? I didn't know they let nutcases work for the FBI, sign me up!"
"Hey, don't talk to him like that aren't you supposed to help him?"
"To help him I've got to get to the root of the problem and if he's a headcase it could all be psychological." Not necessarily true but sometimes getting information meant getting a reaction.
The woman rolled her eyes, her phone rang, she answered.
"Jack, yes. We're there now I-"
Mr. Graham made a strangled noise, stood up abruptly and looked around wildly.
"Hey buddy why don't you have a seat and we'll-" House began.
"Don't- don't you see it? He's looking right at me." His pupils were even more dilated. His is so looney. Called it.
"What are you on about? Sit down, I'll-"
Unfortunately, the world hates House, and Mr. William Graham does not sit down and starts seizing accordingly. Eyes rolled back and shaking, exorcist style. It's over before it starts and they lay him back on the exam table.
"I've never seen that happen to him before. What's wrong with him?" The woman asks.
"Okay, well it's not just psychological I suppose," House calls out to the nurses and doctors outside the room "Admit Mister Will Graham to room 5, keep him from anything sharp, my bet is he's a wacko."
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