Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, but I do own Nadia. Ask me if you want to use her.
A/N: I got some rave reviews about Nadia, and some e-mail requests to use her again. If you would like to see her fanfic origins, read Watching Your Every Move. To those of you who didn't like her, THBBBPPPT!
Anyway, this story has little to no male involvement. It's a very fluffy murder mystery about the ladies. And possibly the one time we will ever see Nadia outside of the morgue again. I really haven't got any other ideas that won't turn her into a Mary Sue.
Humor me.
Pampered to Death
Nadia scrubbed her hands with disinfectant soap before pulling on latex gloves. Her medium length dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, as it always was on these days, and her conservative clothing was covered with a yellow surgical smock. She placed a blood guard on top of her head to prevent her eyes from being hit with any fluids. Then she picked up a scalpel, and began her autopsy.
House had screwed up big time. His patient had died, supposedly of a mysterious heart ailment, and now the higher ups were calling for his head. If he was wrong, it meant his job, and possibly jail time. If he was right, no charges could be filed.
Nadia had already done her cursory outside evaluation, had run a sexual assault kit, and had dictated her findings in her native Russian language. She made the Y incision, and picked up the circular saw to begin removing the top of the rib cage.
It was at that moment that Chase chose to intrude.
"Hey, Nadia. What's new?" He said, a little louder than necessary, and forcing a jovial tone. Nadia knew he had a squeamishness about him where the morgue was concerned, but that didn't mean she couldn't exploit it if he bothered her. She picked up the battery powered saw.
"Out! Out! Get out of my morgue!" She chased the Aussie doctor all the way to the double doors that lead into her domain, finishing her rant in Russian. Her English had a lot to be desired.
She sighed and went back to work, cursing maintenance under her breath for oiling the door. The squeak that used to be there warned her when people were coming.
The saw was brand new. It purred like a very loud kitten as she started it up. The blade sliced through the ribs like butter. She finished by neatly cutting the top of the sternum, and removing the top of the chest.
She replaced the saw, and picked up a scalpel. She paused, and walked around to the other side of the slab so she could face the door. This part was delicate. If she cut in the wrong spot, she could affect her autopsy findings, and she didn't want anyone else to startle her. She began a cut into the pericardium, and then realized there wasn't one. She muttered something. House had been half right.
House's prediction had been a hole in the pericardium, causing the heart to stick and causing chest pain and heart problems. This patient didn't even have a pericardium, so that meant a hole in another membrane, as well as a whole new problem.
Nadia slapped off her gloves, and called the CDC.
"Yah. It was very important. Patient had degenerative disease that could have been contagious. Pericardium was completely dissolved. Membrane existed before, did not exist again. Could have been bacteria or parasite. Was bacteria. Is also contagious. Very treatable. Everyone in contact must have antibiotic." Cuddy sighed, listening to Nadia's tortured English. The young coroner was right, of course. It was probably very dangerous and there could have been an epidemic.
"Where's the body now?" She asked, her body slumping a little. She was tired and stressed and this whole issue wasn't helping.
"Emergency cremation. Bacteria must not be allowed to infect new person. Family understands reasoning, even if do not agree with practice. You are tired. Get more rest." Nadia stated, as if that could fix Cuddy's problem.
"Yes, Nadia. I'm tired. But getting more sleep will not help. There's nothing to prove that it will help right now. I'm just over worked. How do you handle it? You have about a dozen cases a week to determine cause of death and get all that evidence, plus you're on call with the local crime lab all the time, who give you even more bodies, and you still practice gymnastics every week." Cuddy was at the end of her rope. Nadia raised her eyebrows.
"Dead people less stressful than living ones. Living people say 'ow' when poked. Dead do not. Living people can die if make mistake. Not a problem anymore in dead person. And I have gymnastics every day. Not every week." Nadia replied with a grin. Cuddy shook her head. She loved her job, but it took a certain type to love being a coroner.
Several days later, Nadia was once again at a slab. It was an emergency autopsy from the local crime lab. The victim had been decomposing in a garbage can for quite some time, and they needed an identity quickly. The morgue stank, and Nadia had to work quickly to avoid smelling up the entire hospital. She hated working quickly.
In Nadia's mind, an autopsy should be handled slowly and delicately. This was a dead person. They deserved that much attention and respect. Quick autopsies were horrible and made her feel like the dead were undeserving of her time and attention.
She poured what was left of the poor person into a large container, sealed it, and sent it to have the rest of the decomposed flesh removed. Looking at the bones would help her more than looking at the stinking flesh. She looked up as she heard a tentative knock at the door.
"Yah. Come in if will not be sick." She said loudly. People who threw up usually did so in her excrement bucket. It was always a problem. The door opened a little. "Hallo, Doctor Cuddy. What do you want?" Nadia was irritable with her rushed job, as well as having someone intrude on her. The door opened further and Cuddy scrunched up her face at the lingering smell.
"Umm, god, this stinks. Nadia, I have three, all-expense paid tickets to a local spa for a women in medicine conference. I was wondering if you would like to join Dr. Cameron and me."
"Have lots of work here. Cannot just leave."
"You still have vacation time for both the crime lab and the hospital. A lot of it, in fact. Not to mention, the spa is only twenty minutes from the hospital. You could come back in an emergency."
"No. Is not option."
"Nadia, come on. You've worked here for almost four years, and you've taken exactly one vacation – and that was to your mother's funeral! Don't you ever get tired?"
"Yah, get tired. All-expense paid where I lived in high school meant paid only if was planning on gambling." Cuddy stared at Nadia, burst out laughing, and then choked on the smell of decomposing body.
"Nadia, Las Vegas is built around gambling. This is New Jersey. Gambling isn't even legal in most states." Cuddy stared, grinning, at Nadia's bewildered expression.
"I thought Russia did not make sense." She muttered to herself. "I will come with you, yes?"
"I'll see you tomorrow. We'll all go up in my car. Maybe a vacation is just what we all need."
"I never assume that. Vacations are always a lot of work." Nadia replied.