It was a normal day at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and the team was working on a normal case. Well, as normal of a case as House's team could ever expect. A woman's niece had brought her in when her speech began to slur, but the ER had ruled out a stroke. So far, nothing apparent jumped out at them.
Dr. Cameron walked into the room, listening to the woman give her niece advice. "That Chris isn't husband material anyway, sweetheart. Let him marry Amber or whatever her name is. You'll find someone eventually."
"Excuse me. I've got a few questions for you."
The girl turned around, nodding. She followed Cameron into the hallway, pushing a strand of ginger hair out of her face as she asked, "Do you know what's wrong with her? We were having coffee, talking about her book club, and the next thing we know, we're here."
"I need you to tell me the whole story. I know you told the ER nurse, but maybe if we heard everything, we'd be able to piece it together," Cameron offered, taking a seat beside her. "Don't leave anything out, no matter how trivial it might seem."
"Okay. We were in her sitting room when it happened. She'd just come back from getting her hair and nails done like she does every few weeks. She was in her usual sewing chair, and I was across from her, on the couch. She picked up her coffee, and that's when I noticed her hands were shaking. I figured she was just dehydrated, and went to get her a glass of water. That's when she said she was fine, but it came out so slurred that I barely understood what she was saying. She tried to stand and would've fallen over if I hadn't caught her in time. On the way here, she kept saying her throat was dry and she needed a drink. She wasn't sick all morning, or at all yesterday." The woman glanced back into her aunt's room, checking to see if she was okay.
"We've got her on IV fluids now, just in case it is a simple dehydration case, but that's not very likely," Cameron admitted as she made some notes. "We also have her on broad-spectrum antibiotics. The team should have a diagnosis soon."
As Cameron stood to leave, the woman stopped her. "Be honest with me. How bad is she? I've heard Dr. House only takes strange or interesting cases. This can't be simple dehydration."
"We should know that soon."
When Chase knocked on the door, the woman was asleep, her niece restlessly flipping through a medical journal. "Hi. Ms. Hamilton? Dr. House is looking for you." Is this guy a doctor? He sounds like a pro surfer.
She set the magazine down, looking up at her aunt's vitals before following him into the hall. "Call me Alice."
"Chase," he smiled as they walked down the hall. "Dr. Robert Chase."
"Have you figured out what's wrong with my Aunt Elle?"
"That's what Dr. House wants to talk to you about." He stopped outside of an office. Inside, a man was bouncing a tennis ball off of one of the glass walls. "I'm going to warn you, he's not one of the most likable people you'll ever meet. He can be a bit… well, rude is the best word for it. I've got to run down to the lab, but I'll be back in a minute or two. Do you want me to grab you a coffee or something?"
"Cream, one sugar," she smiled.
"Not a problem."
"I see you've met young Romeo," the man in the glass office said. He stopped bouncing the tennis ball, turning to her instead. "This had better be good. I don't like patients wasting my time. Does your aunt do a lot of drugs?"
"What? She's never picked up a cigarette, let alone done heavy drugs." Alice took a chair opposite his desk.
"Her symptoms are consistent with a barbiturate overdose. Sleeping pills? Anxiety meds?"
"No."
"Heavy drinker?"
"Dr. House, she has an occasional glass of wine, nothing more. Is this going to be of any help?"
"You've convinced me to order a CT scan." He pages his employees, instructing them to complete the scan.
"Well? What is it?"
"Sarcoidosis. We an confirm with the scan. It's a disease that causes abnormal-"
"Inflammation in certain areas of the body, sometimes brought on by an antigen, which is what you believe is causing all of her symptoms," Alice concluded. "Sorry. I've got a doctorate in forensic psych. Part of it was a regular medical rotation."
"Cool."
"Who are you?" she asked bluntly.
"Dr. Gregory House, head of-"
"No, who are you really? What I see is a man with a limp that's addicted to prescription painkillers and cynicism, even if he refuses to admit it. I also see a man who refuses to admit that he's surprised a random person off the street knows what sarcoidosis is. I also think you need to change the way you walk or you'll have that limp forever, and bad arches to boot." She pushed her glasses up on her nose to emphasize her point.
Another doctor knocked at the door, announcing that, "the CT came back clear. It's not sarcoidosis."
"Damn it. This is Dr. Foreman, by the way. Foreman, Dr. Hamilton."
"Nice to meet you. Your aunt's the one down the hall?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Chase." Chase had followed Foreman in, handing Alice a cup of coffee.
House glanced at his pager before giving more instructions. "Chase, get down to Mrs. Hamilton's room. Her lung function is decreasing rapidly. Help Cameron slow it down. Foreman, run every blood test for toxins you can think of. Hurry." Alice stood, ready to follow them. "You stay here."
She sat back down obediently, waiting. House folded his hands on the desk. "Do you know what I see?"
"What? A girl whose aunt is dying because you idiots can't figure out what's wrong with her? Someone who would love to be anywhere but here right now? Someone with a relative with a good 20, 30 years left but is dying down the hall?"
"Mmm, not exactly. I see an overtired and over-stressed young woman who is between jobs and itching for excitement. I see a nice young girl who clearly thinks the hospital man-whore is cute. And I see someone who's just gotten a job." He leaned back in his chair, waiting for a reaction.
"Excuse me?"
"Dr. Chase. It's clear you think he's Dr. Sexy."
"No. The last part."
"You're hired. I've been looking for someone who can do forensics. We get an interesting amount of patients who have been victims or committed one crime or another. I need a good legal brain on the team. As for the medical aspect of the job, I expect you're a bit out of practice, since you've spent the last couple years asking Mr. Dahmer just why he killed all of those people, and not actually treating patients. I'll arrange to have you shadow Dr. Sexy. That'll make for some good team drama."
"You mean it? The woman who raised me is dying, and you're offering me a job?"
House nodded. "Pretty much. Get out there on the ward. I'll let Dr. Sexy know as soon as I can."
"What the hell is wrong with her? You have no clue, do you?" Alice asked Dr. Foreman. He had run into her outside of her aunt's room after he'd been forced to set her set up on a respirator.
"No. We're still running tests. Is there anything you haven't told us about her? Anything at all. Operations, illnesses, allergies?"
"No, not that I know of."
She had been sitting with her aunt for a few hours, chatting and reading her things from the gossip magazines a nurse had brought in, when Dr. Chase came by, knocking on the glass door before walking in. "May I talk to you?" Her aunt smiled weakly, gesturing for her to go. They stepped into the hall, where Chase asked if she wanted to grab something to eat. "It's nearly nine-thirty. The hospital cafeteria should be pretty cleared out."
"Sure. Just give me a sec, I've got to tell Aunt Elle that I'm going."
They walked down the corridor a few minutes later, Chase casually mentioning that "House says you're shadowing me."
"Yeah, apparently he needs me to work on your crime victims. I think it's more the psychological aspect. You don't deal with a lot of normal, living people in forensic psych. Most of the guys I work with don't have physical illnesses. House says I'm supposed to follow you around, basically."
"How am I going to be able to work with such a pretty girl following me around?" Chase laughed.
Woah, he's flirting with me. What. He held the door to the cafeteria, which was empty except for a few tired-looking parents dozing off over cups of coffee. He knocked on the door to the kitchen, a rather round woman opening it after a moment.
"Hello, Chase, dear. I'm afraid all I've got is coffee, tea, and leftover pizza. We reopen tomorrow at eight."
"Pizza's fine, Mary. Thank you." She handed over two plates, raising an eyebrow. "This is Alice, our new forensic psychology something or other with Diagnostics. She's shadowing me and probably half-starved by now."
"Alright. I'm heading out soon. You two behave yourselves." Mary bustled away into the kitchen.
Alice and Chase grabbed a booth near the coffee machine, away from the few people who were still in the cafeteria. "So, Dr. Robert Chase, what's your story?"
His cheeks already full of food, he tried to speak. "I had a rubbish childhood and no-good parents. I raised my sister, and went off to become a priest. That didn't last long, as you can tell."
"Have you saved many lives?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"I guess you could say that. I'm an intensivist, so it doesn't always happen," he admitted. "The people I normally deal with come with high mortality rates. What about you? How does a beautiful girl end up interviewing serial killers all day?"
"My parents died when I was four. I went into forensics because it was cool. And now I'm here, talking to a handsome young gentleman, and a doctor at that, in the cafeteria of a hospital while my aunt is dying of some unidentified problem."
Chase's pager went off. "Speak of the devil."
"What is it?"
"Her respiration is getting worse. We've got to go," Chase stood, Alice running after him towards the elevator. While they waited in the elevator, Chase asked if there could be anything her aunt had done the day before that was out of the ordinary for her. "There's got to be something. If it was environmental, you'd be sick too."
"She just went to her hair appointment this morning. She got her nails done and oh my god, Chase!" She bolted out of the elevator as the doors opened, yelling to Cameron to "Get her on Heptavalent antitoxins, Trivalent if you don't have them!"
"What is it?" Chase asked, catching up to her. House had come out of his office to watch the commotion.
"Onabotulinumtoxin A," Alice explained, pulling her hair up and putting on a pair of gloves. "She gets Botox injections. She was telling me about the new guy at the salon, learning how to do them today. Someone needs to call the salon and tell them that he isn't preparing them properly."
Twenty minutes later, Alice sat in the diagnostics conference room, trying not to fall asleep. Her Aunt Elle was responding well to the treatment. She would be off the ventilator and breathing on her own within an hour, and would likely be moved into a different room the next morning. If all went well, she would be released within a few days. "That was some brilliant thinking," Chase said, leaning on the doorframe, watching her yawn. "You look like you could use a nap."
"Yeah, considering I've been going crazy almost all day. It's got to be near 3 AM. Why are you still here?" She yawned again, running a hand through her hair.
Chase shrugged. "I guess it's all the excitement. Pretty girl comes in with a dying aunt, I get a new colleague who is supposed to shadow me, not my average day. I was just dropping by to say that I'm heading home since this has all quieted down. I can give you a ride if you want."
"Thanks," she smiled, "but I think I'll stay here. If she's transferred in the morning, I'll head home. I'm sure House wouldn't object."
"Alright. Have a good night." She watched him walk down the hall, smiling as his coat flapped behind him.