Title: Mockery of the Mirror
Author: Angel Leviathan
Disclaimer: The characters of House and Atlantis aren't mine.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Set three years before the first season of House M.D. Spawned partly in reference to the throwaway comment in 'The Storm' in Season 1 about Elizabeth's knee. Prequel to another fic, entitled, 'Better Than Vicodin'.

Prologue

"You're interested because she's you. She has the potential to be you. Except she has a soul."

The pale brunette in the bed was entirely still and silent. It made a change from the past few days, during which her behaviour had ranged from hours of incoherent rambling to all-out screaming in agony. Drugged into a coma, she no longer fought the doctors who attempted to treat her and the nurses who attended to her.

She wasn't responding to treatment. Not in the correct, expected, ways in any case.

"You stole her file."

Leaning against the back wall of the room, House refused to react when said file was waved in his face by one of his colleagues. Mock-anger wasn't the newcomer's strong point and besides, House knew he had been sent by higher powers. He snatched the file away and opened it, dropping his eyes to the documentation within.

"She's not your patient. Cuddy's furious," Wilson stated.

"If Cuddy was furious, she would be here right now in all her raving glory and instead she's sent her lapdog," House shot back. "Why's this one so important anyway?"

Wilson twitched his shoulders. "She was on duty in Asia. Diplomat. The member of her team who brought her here headed back three days ago. She's meant to be one of the best, apparently."

"One of the best who failed to remember to get inoculated against Japanese Encephalitis."

"She did get inoculated. And she still has a central nervous system infection. When she was admitted, she thought she was speaking English when she was speaking fluent Mandarin."

His eyebrows rose briefly at the information, but House continued to skim the file. "Says it started with headaches. By the time she admitted them, her left arm was dead and by the time they got her here she was paralysed from the waist down."

"Hardly anybody's got a coherent sentence from her since she's been here, even before the fever hit. Then she started seizing." Wilson approached the bed, staying a few paces back as if he were afraid the patient might wake. "Encephalitis meds are working on some levels, but Cuddy had her put out when she started screaming."

"'Permanent damage'..." House read aloud.

"It's a possibility. If she doesn't start responding soon, there'll be more damage than we're already expecting."

"And when she does start responding, her immune system's going cripple her again." He snapped the file shut. "Secondary damage."

Wilson sighed. "Nothing we can do. At least she's sleeping through the worst of it."

House grunted a non-committal response. "How come you're so up to date on her case anyway?"

"Like I said, she's one of the best. Her file's been passed round every department in-case someone's missed something. Which you'd know if you'd bothered to-"

"She's an idiot. Who ignores their arm going numb?"

"Who drives away the woman who saved his life?" Wilson shot back.

Stacy. Two years and it still stung. As if he wasn't left with a permanent, agonising, back-throwing reminder with every waking moment. "You get to play that card once a year," the diagnostician muttered.

"Gladly."

"It doesn't add up. CNS infection alone wouldn't do this much this quickly..." he mused aloud. He dismissed the idea. "Doesn't matter what we do. Immune response will finish off her chances of a full recovery before we get her out of the woods."

Flabbergasted - yet not surprised - Wilson stared, his voice rising in accusation. "You're not even going to try? You bother to come and ogle the woman and you're not going to try?"

"Heard she was important. Thought her chances of being hot and important weren't so great."

Spending so much time with such an unfeeling bastard was doing no favours for Wilson's blood-pressure. "And?"

House threw the file onto the bed. "Tell Elizabeth Weir that she isn't going to walk again."