"When a good person dies, there should be an impact on the world. Somebody should notice. Somebody should be upset."
1988
Blinky or Muffin? Muffin or Blinky?
She had been mulling over this choice for the past ten minutes or so, when she had realized that, try as she might, there was no way that they were both going to fit into her backpack – at least not if she wanted to bring her colouring book, markers and Walkman with her too.
Her mom had packed her clothes already but had left what was turning out to be the far more daunting task of choosing which toys she would be bringing with her in her hands.
From his seat on her pillow, Muffin stared up at her with black, glassy eyes, full of sadness at the prospect of being left behind. She picked him up, hugging him briefly, straightening the bow around his neck and smoothing his fur before stowing him in her backpack and zipping it shut, leaving Muffin's head poking out so he could see, then hesitated.
She was going to be at Daddy's all summer and Blinky had never been away from her for more than a day, not since Grandma had brought it to the hospital the day she was born.
Despite Jason's teasing that nine was way too old to still bring a stuffed animal with her almost everywhere she went, she couldn't bear to part with him, not yet.
Mom liked to joke that they were going to have to sew Blinky into her wedding dress.
Grabbing Blinky in one hand, she hurried down the stairs, hoping that there was still some room in her big suitcase for him.
"…solutely not!" Mom was yelling at somebody over the phone, "I will not put them through that. Ally's too young and I'm not going to drag Jason back from college when there's nothing he can do!"
Although she knew that it wasn't polite to eavesdrop, or to interrupt somebody when they were on the phone, Ally tugged on her mom's hand.
"I've got to go." Mom's smile was wide, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "All packed, sweetheart?"
"Almost, but Blinky won't fit in my bag." She held him out. "Will he fit in the case?"
"I'm sure we can find room for him." Mom promised, folding Blinky into a neat square before glancing down at her. "Everything okay?"
Ally nodded. "Uh-huh. Mom," She hesitated before continuing, not wanting to get into trouble for eavesdropping but concerned about what she had overheard. "I really am old enough to go on a plane by myself, I'm not little." She spoke the last word as though it was the vilest of oaths.
Mom smiled faintly. "You'll always be my little girl, no matter how old you are."
"But I'm still big enough to go on a plane and Daddy will meet me at the airport," Ally persisted, "you don't need to get Jason to bring me." She had a pretty good idea what kind of mockery she could expect if her older brother had to be called in to babysit her for a plane ride and no wish to experience it.
Mom paused a moment before speaking. "Yes, of course. You're right, Ally, I'm sure you'll be fine by yourself, I'm just being silly." She pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. "I'm going to miss you."
2005
"Thirty-four-year-old female diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma two months ago," House said by way of greeting as he entered the room, with Wilson following, "told she had a year to get her affairs in order. Rushed in today, her condition rapidly worsening. Turns out she also has breast cancer." He tossed a copy of the file on the table.
"For the record," Wilson cut in during House's brief pause for breath, "she was actually told she had a good chance of making a full recovery within the year. It was an early catch. Also, she was in here for radiation treatment last week, and felt fine. We ran all the standard tests while she was here. There was no second cancer. Today, it looks like it's been there for months. Given how quickly this has cropped up, it was thought all around that it'll have to go right away. A mastectomy's been scheduled for tomorrow."
"Any other symptoms?" Chase queried.
"Malar rash, and she's complaining that her hand is cramping up."
A few surprised looks were exchanged between House's team. "You've already seen the patient? She must be pretty hot," Foreman suggested.
"I was looking for him." House nodded toward Wilson.
Cameron flicked through the file, pausing on a page from a lab report. "Protein in her urine. With the rash and arthritis, that's lupus."
House squinted at her and cocked his head slightly, as if looking at a puzzle and hoping a different angle would make it easier to solve. "What odds are we giving on lupus these days?"
"There's a pool?" Wilson arched an eyebrow.
"Well, if not, there should be."
"Lupus fits," Chase agreed. "A ruined immune system would certainly explain how she's suddenly a cancer-farm."
"You're supposed to be kissing my ass," House scolded. "You can't just latch onto hers because it's prettier. The ass-kissing clause in your contract is very specific."
He turned to Foreman, who simply shrugged. "Maybe not lupus specifically, but definitely autoimmune, and the symptoms do suggest…"
"Oh, come on!" House screeched, furious at this sudden mutiny. Of course, it was nothing new for them to be against him, but they were usually against each other, too, which could be a lot of fun. "When is it ever lupus?"
"Any patient that wants to get into a clinical trial for lupus needs four from a list of eleven symptoms," Cameron lectured, clearly enjoying the moment. "I see three, and if you really want to make a bet, the fourth is there, and so is the diagnosis."
House could practically feel Wilson smirking behind his back. "Tell you what," he announced, "how 'bout these odds?" He plucked a crumpled fifty dollar bill from his back pocket and dropped it on the table. "If I win, and it's anything but lupus, anything including another autoimmune disease, you each owe me fifty bucks, and you divvy up my clinic hours for the next two months between you. If it is lupus, you guys will have ten grand to split between you!
"I'll take those delighted grins as agreement. Now go."
Three Hours Later
House sat on the counter smugly pouring himself some coffee while Chase, Foreman and Cameron sat at the table, all looking thoroughly annoyed.
"You know what?" House asked cheerfully. "I think lupus needs a song. 'The Lupus Song', or some variation of that Irish one. The 'No, Nay, Never' thing."
The door swung open, and in walked Wilson. "Got the results from the ANA and AENA."
"Ah, the deaths knell!" House hopped down from the counter, suddenly realised he'd left his cane behind, and quickly plucked the file from Wilsons hand before falling against the table to catch himself. "And the winner is…" He paused, stunned and gaping at the lab results.
Snapping the file shut and slamming it down on the table, he limped back to the counter, pulled himself up onto it, then yelped and leapt to his good foot again as his mug full of steaming hot coffee spilled all over his leg. Slowly he raised his eyes towards the group at the table, and instantly wanted to wipe the grins off their faces with something sharp.
"Pay up, sucker," a delighted Cameron demanded, while Chase and Foreman just laughed themselves silly at the look on his face.
"Ho, ho, ho…"
"House Smash Puny Underlings?" Wilson quipped.
"Fair enough. A bet's a bet," he conceded grumpily. "You'll get your money tomorrow. In the meantime…Cameron. Go tell mommy she's screwed. Lupus plus cancer-times-two, I give her a month at the very most."
"'Mommy'?" Cameron wondered aloud.
"The daughter's with her. Ten, I think. You be sure to join in the waterworks on behalf of all of us."
A strange expression passed briefly over Cameron's face, but she left without a word. Wilson followed.
"I'm sure the rest of you can find something useful to do," House hissed nastily at Foreman and Chase as he switched on his portable TV and went into his office.
"Then there's nothing anyone can do?"
In her current condition, Rachel Hudson looked far older than thirty-one. Her ten-year-old daughter, Rebecca, sat beside her on the bed, shaking silently as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Cameron struggled with the words. "At this point, pain management is about the only help we can offer. We'll do everything we can to make sure you're comfortable. But with the lupus, no amount of chemo, radiation therapy or anything else can help. You're immune system is just too heavily compromised." She looked nervously at Rebecca, but with a nod from her mother, continued. "It may take a couple of weeks. A month at the outside, but I've never seen any cancer advance so quickly. For all we know, it could attack your heart tomorrow."
Rachel took a moment to absorb the blow. She wrapped an arm around her daughter, holding her close. "Could you give us some time alone, please?"
Wilson was standing at the admit desk, going over the file of another patient. "How'd they take it?" he asked when Cameron emerged from the room.
"How does anyone?"
"You okay?"
Instead of answering, Cameron asked "Have you met the kid before?"
"Rebecca? Yeah. She's been here every time her Rachel came in for treatment. Refuses to go to school while her mom's here. Once she was forced to go. Actually made it all the way there. Then she climbed out a window and walked here."
"Pretty brave kid."
"I don't know if this is good for her, though. It's one thing not to want to be kept in the dark and force-fed some fairy-tale, but she doesn't need to see all of this. It's too much."
"It's her choice," Cameron said forcefully. "She's old enough to decide what she can handle."
"Again," Wilson asked, slightly taken aback by her tone, "are you okay?"
"Do you have time for lunch? Some place away from here?"
"You mean away from House?"
"That, too."
TBC. Please review.