I don't own any character in this story
At the "soon to be the patient's" place:
Sam tried to unlock the door but his hands were shaking and so he had trouble finding the right key. Finally he was successful and limped down the corridor as fast as possible.
"Andrew! Where are you? You are late!", he yelled angrily and entered his guestroom.
There he found him lying in the bed face down. The floor was covered with clothes, dirty plates and empty beer bottles. The smell alone indicated that he had drunk too much last night, again.
Now Sam got angry.
"I don't believe it! How could you get drunk? It's the day of his funeral. He was your brother, too. And you got nothing better to do than getting drunk?"
Andrew moaned and opened his eyes.
Sam shook his head. "I've had it with you. I can't do this anymore."
"I'm sorry", his brother mumbled and sat up to find his first cigarette of the day.
He looked awful and his dizzy head was no help at all.
Sam had tears in her eyes. It was always the same story with Andrew.
He had lost track early on in his life. When Sam had been nine their father had left the family to start a new life with his girlfriend in Canada. But he had never missed him. He had often been violent and had treated his kids like shit. Their mother had worked in three jobs to pay their bills. But when Sam was 14 she had died in a car crash. At this time his brother Andrew had already been in constant trouble. He had dropped out school and had already developed a drinking problem. Usually he had worked in a low paid job for a couple of weeks before he got fired. Michael, their oldest brother had taken care for Sam after their mother's death and made him finish school. He had insisted on him going to college. Sam always had part time jobs to support him. Michael had also tried to support Andrew but finally he had given up on him.
Nowadays Sam was working as a teacher at Princeton High School teaching biology and chemistry. Every now and then Andrew would show up at his door asking for a place to stay for a couple of days. He would occupy his guestroom, ransack the fridge and steal his money. Five days ago they had received the news of their brother's death and Andrew had once more moved in with his little brother. Two cops had shown up in Sam's school and informed him about his brother's accident. Sam caught himself wishing that it was Andrew but when the officer told him it was Michael it had pulled out the rug from under his feet.
Today was his funeral and Sam had instructed Andrew to get in decent shape. He had spent the last days at a friend's house since he couldn't see Andrew any longer. When he had not shown up at the funeral home this morning he was actually not surprised and knew immediately where to look for him.
Now he looked down at his brother. He was three years older but Sam had been taking care for him all the time. And he was fed up with it.
"I wish it was you lying in that coffin", he said sadly and was about to leave the room.
Suddenly he heard him throwing up and turned around. Andrew retched and spit out in a poor try to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. Then he fell back on the mattress and sighed.
"Maybe I'm already on my way there", Andrew mumbled and wiped his mouth.
But Sam didn't listen to him. He looked at the puddle of vomit. Either his brother has had too much strawberry lime last night or he was vomiting blood.
"We've got to get you to the hospital", he decided and put down his cane in order to help him sit up.
He shook his head. "No insurance", he mumbled.
Sam sighed. Of course not.
"But you've got to see a doctor. We'll go to that free clinic over in Plainsboro. Don't worry about the bill."
He handed him a clean t-shirt and helped him up. After a stressful struggle they were finally in his car and Sam drove to PPTH.
In the very same hospital a certain doctor was busy avoiding his clinic duty. But since his boss had a very sharp eye on him concerning that matter she had finally dragged him away from his TV and right into the clinic. Now House was sitting in exam room two handing over the third prescription for flu medication this afternoon. And no, it was no problem that this moron teenage girl had just sneezed on him. Damn it!
"Oh, I'm so sorry, doctor!", she mumbled and searched for a napkin in her purse.
House looked pissed. "Don't worry. It was my own fault!", he told her, ripped the napkin from her hands and wiped his face.
She looked confused. "Why would it be your fault?"
"Because I was stupid enough to come into a clinic full of morons who don't know the first thing about hygienic and disease transmission."
He got his cane and was out of the room a few seconds later.
House banged the file on the nurse's counter. "Ok, I'm out of here. See you guys next week", he announced.
"No, you are not. You've just been here for half an hour. Oh and FYI you got two more clinic hours this week!", Cuddy told him and shoved another file into his hands.
House rolled his eyes.
"Oh come on, Cuddy. How long do we have to play this game until you realize it's just a waste of my talents treating all these sniffels!"
"Not until you realize that it is a waste of both our times. Instead of arguing with me all the time you could have treated another patient already", she told him and sent him on his way.
"That argument would only work if you would force me to treat a certain number of patients in here. But you only tell me to stay for two hours. Whether I treat one or ten patients isn't important, I'll just walk out of here at the end of my shift."
Cuddy looked irritated for a moment before her facial expression turned into a smirk.
"Good thinking, House. I think we'll make a change concerning your work in the clinic. How about ten patients a shift? No, wait. You're the expert on diagnosis. Let's make it 20."
House cocked his head. "You do know what you are enabling here, right?" He pointed at the waiting room. "Diagnosing 20 morons will give me a free pass out of here? Hmm, I wonder if I'm the kind of doctor who would neglect the appropriate contribution if it gets me out of here sooner?"
He rubbed his hands. "Let's find out right now. Do you mind taking the time? I'm competitive and maybe I can beat my own time next week."
He took his cane and was ready to go but Cuddy held him back.
"Ok. I get it. Maybe we should keep the old system."
"The one where I make you angry so you yell at me giving me an opportunity to inspect your hot cleavage?", House smirked.
Cuddy rolled her eyes but had trouble to suppress a smile. "Go treat a patient. Now!", she gently sent him on his way and went back to her office.
In the meantime Sam was busy filling in some forms he had received from the nurse. Andrew sat next to him and felt really horrible.
"List all drugs you've taken recently", he could read now and looked at his brother.
"Pump his stomach and tell me!", he wrote down and went on with the next question. He didn't realize the weird guy with the cane who observed him while taking a pill.
After his discussion with Cuddy House had scanned the waiting room and felt once more like in hell. There was a boring nose bleed, a disgusting looking rash, some more colds and there was obviously a broken ankle wrapped up in an ice pack. But wait a second, what was that?
He looked at a young man sitting right next to a man who was apparently fighting his hangover. The interesting thing about him was the obvious absence of a grandfather, no visible injury on his leg but the presence of a cane.
House cocked his head and screened him for a moment. Could be interesting. So he walked over and stood right in front of him.
"You are next!", he told him. Sam looked up.
"I'm not done with this form yet", he told him.
House shrugged. "That's not necessary anyway since nobody will look at it."
Sam saw that the guy was obviously very interested in his leg since he couldn't get his eyes off it. He didn't miss the fact that he was dependent on a cane, too.
"So, you are a doctor?", Sam asked him now.
House rolled his eyes.
"Look, you can either see a scruffy doctor right now or you wait for one in a lab coat. Given the number of sick people in here it will take about two hours", House explained.
Sam gave it a thought and finally he nodded. "Alright. Thanks"
He turned to his brother. "Come on, it's your turn."
Now House looked confused. "Wow, wait a second. Who's the patient here?"
Sam smirked. "Maybe you should read that form sometimes. It's my brother."
House didn't care for the guy. Probably just too much booze the night before.
"What's wrong with your leg?", he asked directly now. Sam smirked.
"I'm rather interested in what's wrong with his stomach. He vomited blood only an hour ago."
House smiled. "How about you tell me all about your leg in exchange for a physical exam for your brother?", he offered.
Sam nodded. "It's a deal. Right after you fixed him I'll share my secret with you."
House signaled Andrew to follow him and they vanished into exam room two. Only five minutes later the doctor came out and approached the nurse to give her some orders. He also made some notes in the file and came back over to Sam where he took the empty seat right next to him.
The young man was lost in his thoughts and didn't notice the limping doctor at first.
"So, where were we?", House started while unwrapping a red sucker. "Oh right, you were about to tell me about your leg. Go ahead."
Sam looked at him worried and a little confused.
"What's wrong with Andrew?"
House shrugged. "No idea. But I ordered some tests and had him admitted. Which brings us back to our originally topic. Your leg."
Sam shook his head. "We had a deal."
"Yeah, and I kept my part."
"No you didn't. I said you have to fix him not just take a look at him and let the lab or some nurse do the rest of the work."
House pursed his lips. "Maybe I should introduce myself finally. My name is Greg House and I'm very good in my job. My best friend thinks that has something to do with my obsession about things. Probably he is right because it makes me working through nights and to take roads most doctors wouldn't even consider because they are unethical or simply illegal. Unfortunately, if my obsession focuses on the wrong things like let's say a young man with a cane it can get really counterproductive since I can't concentrate on my actual case. So what I'm saying is, tell me about your leg if you want your brother to come out of this alive."
"So it is really serious? He could die?", Sam was really shocked now.
House didn't answer but kept checking out Sam's right leg. He got the hint and sighed annoyed.
"I had knee surgery a couple of weeks ago. I exchanged my crutches with this cane in order to have at least one free hand."
"So you rather walk around with grandpa's cane?", House wondered.
Sam got annoyed. He was not in the mood for this. His brother was sick while they missed their other brother's funeral. Wrong day for that smart ass and his dumb questions.
"Look, if you need some cripple therapy group, I'm sure they offer them somewhere around here. I don't have time for this. So will you tell me about my brother or not? Maybe you are a good doctor but you really suck as a human being."
House cocked his head for a moment. Then he smirked.
"This leg won't heal, will it?"
"Of course it will. Couple of weeks and everything will be fine."
The diagnostician shook his head. "You just called me a cripple. Only cripples would do this. Other people don't have the guts."
"Or I just want to insult you since I'm really getting annoyed. Are you sure it's just your leg that's messed up?", Sam asked. House just stared at him and Sam lowered his head finally.
"Fine. The offer still stands. Save my brother and I'll tell you everything. And don't waste your time searching for my patient file. I wasn't treated here!"
House agreed and went to meet with his team to run a ddx.
What House didn't see was that his best friend had observed the scene between him and the young man. When House was out of sight Dr. Wilson attended the nurse at the counter and asked for the file of House's last patient. He was worried that House might get distracted by the brother's leg.
The fact that House had admitted Andrew as his patient although even the oncologist could diagnose him within a minute confirmed his assumption. Usually House wouldn't even think about his latest patient after the puzzle was solved.
"Please hurry up, Dr. Wilson. We have to get this file to the diagnostics department", the nurse approached him now.
"Oh don't worry. I'll deliver it myself. After all it's right around the corner from my office, isn't it?"
"Thank you, Dr. Wilson", the nurse told him and attended the next file in front of her.
Thank you for reading! Reviews are welcome. :-)