Chapter 1
Upon ducking his head down, Gregory House was able to avoid the harsh early morning air that threatened to sting his face, and make it safely to the front doors of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. With a shove of his shoulder he made his way inside the seemingly unpopulated entrance hall, and it was not exactly to his surprise. Cuddy had beeped him and his team excruciatingly earlybefore the sun's rays even peeked over the horizon.
He stood in silence for a moment, and leaned on his cane as he stared up at the horrific two o'clock displayed on the clock. He couldn't help but ponder why he had forced himself out of bed to come help this one person who probably had nothing more than an odd looking rash.
The recognizable sound of briskly clicking heels was enough for House to reach into his coat pocket and coil his fingers around his trusty bottle of Vicodin. It was not long before the sour expression of Cuddy rounded the corner.
"Did I or did I not page you over two hours ago?" She asked angrily approaching him.
"Dr. Cuddy," he greeted, popping a pill into his mouth, "You did, but gosh-darn-it this leg of mine just doesn't move as fast as it use to."
His sarcasm covered response drew out an exasperated sigh from his boss, "Your team is waiting for you upstairs. An eleven-year-old boy was brought in by the police around midnight." She handed him a manila folder, "I suggest you get up there before your patient gets worse." With that she began to head back to the clinic.
"This kid better be puking up urine, otherwise I see no reason why I have to be here," House commented after her.
Cuddy began walking backwards in order to face him, "Maybe if you had been here on time you would know exactly why he is your patient." She turned back in the opposite direction and disappeared around the same corner she first emerged from.
(Meanwhile...)
"I don't know why we even bother to come in when asked; we all know House never shows up on time," Foreman pointed out as he looked to Cameron at the counter. She glanced over at Chase as she poured her third cup of coffee that morning; he was seated at the table with his arms folded and eyes closed.
"Because if we didn't come in," she began with a softer tone, "then we would be just as bad as House. I don't know about you, but I take my job seriously; even if that means coming in at the crack of dawn to do nothing but wait."
"I do take my job seriously," he turned his attention away from Cameron and gestured to the sleeping Aussie, "It's just that I'd rather be-"
"Rather be what?" House asked walking through the doors, "Spending the night getting wasted and jumping cars with your homies?" He walked over to the counter next to Cameron.
Foreman rolled his eyes, "You're late. As usual." In the midst of pouring his coffee, House stopped to think.
"If I'm usually late, then why take the time to remind me of my habits?" He looked at Foreman, "I'm pretty sure I know them by now."
"I'm reminding you because obviously you haven't gotten the concept in the past, oh I don't know, several years that being on time is important when having a job; especially in the medical field."
"I love this," House said to Cameron, "The ex-convict is going to start lecturing me on ethics."
"I just think you need to be here when asked; what if it's crucial?" He asked.
"Oh, well if it's crucial then our intensivist," House explained nodding to the dozing Chase, "can take care of it until I get here. Though you might want to give him a lecture on the importance of not sleeping on the job."
Cameron took a seat at the table as she sipped her coffee, "You can't blame him; none of us got any sleep last night." Ignoring Cameron's excuses, House walked over to Chase to inspect him. His head was now bent over his folded arms, causing his long locks to conceal his serene face; his chest rose and fell at an even rhythm that revealed a sign of deep sleep.
"You should wake him," Foreman suggested, "We have work to do."
"Oh, but he's so cute when he's sleeping," House commented before jabbing his cane into Chase's ribs, and jerking him out of his dream state.
"Oi," Groaned the Aussie as he rubbed his side, and sat up a bit straighter in his chair.
"Rise and shine my little wombat. Did you dream of frolicking through fields of gumdrops and lollipops?" He asked while watching Chase struggle to rid himself of the disorientation that fogged his mind. With out a word, the lethargic doctor got up from his spot at the table and grabbed a mug off the counter.
After a few moments of nothing but the sound of Chase pouring his coffee, Foreman became impatient, "Jake Leider, eleven-years-old. He was at his friends house having a band practice when neighbors started to complain. The police said they came into the garage and he was on the floor, out cold."
"Parents?" House asked, tapping his can on his shoe. Chase retook his seat and opened his copy of the case folder.
"Not there," he finally spoke, "apparently absent on business."
"Smart. Let a bunch of puberty-driven boys stay home alone," House commented.
Cameron spoke up, "None of the parents knew there was no supervision. Miss Leider said that Jake swore there were going to be adults."
"And she believed him?" House inquired with surprise.
"He's her son," Cameron argued.
House looked to Foreman, "What is another one of my habits? I think it's a saying," He paused to think then landed his gaze on Cameron, "Oh yes, everyone lies."
"So what are you saying? Parents shouldn't ever trust what their sons or daughters say?" She asked angrily.
"No kid is going to tell their parents that they are going to an unsupervised party or that they are doing drugs," Chase explained. "They're bound to lie."
"Some kids may lie, yes, but I'm sure parents would like to hope for the best in their own children," reasoned Cameron.
"Right, so parents should have the mentality that a lot of kids lie, but theirs are not capable of it," Chase mocked lightly before habitually gnawing on his pencil.
Cameron looked to him sternly, "That's not what I meant."
"As much as I enjoy seeing my ducklings debate," House broke in, "Let's try to stay on topic."
Chase leaned back in his chair, "Jake came in with a hundred and two point four fever, slight tachycardia, and a terrible headache."
"Don't forget the muscle rigidity and irregular breathing," Cameron added as she looked to House, who was jotting the symptoms on the board.
"Why are you writing these down?" Foreman asked.
House furrowed his brow in confusion by that question then turned to him, "I'm sorry, it's a nasty habit I have."
"But there is an obvious answer. Fever, headache, stiffness? It's meningitis," Foreman explained.
Chase shook his head, "The boy can hardly breathe on his own, not to mention he's eleven."
"That is a very unusual age for meningitis," Cameron agreed, looking to House who was busy concentrating on the board.
"Simple, but it almost fits," House thought aloud, "If it weren't for the minor detail of the inability to breath properly, I could get the kid on Ampicillin, and go home."
"It's possible the meningitis caused an asthma attack," Foreman suggested.
"Does Jake even have asthma?" Cameron directed at the neurologist, "Who took the history?"
"I did," Chase answered, "No record of asthma anywhere in the genetic line."
"If it is meningitis, it's contagious," House turned to his ducklings, "Get the mother on ciprofloxacin to prevent her from getting it, should he have it."
"His sister is in there too, she should get some rifampin to fight off the infection as well," added the allergist.
Chase dropped his head back momentarily in frustration, "It's not meningitis," he lifted his head to look squarely at Foreman. "The patient doesn't have asthma, therefore there is no explanation for his breathlessness."
Foreman sighed, running out of options, "Well, it could be-"
"He's right," House nodded to Chase as he cut him off.
"Thank you,"
The Aussie exasperated, setting his pencil down on the table, "Now
I was thinking-"
"Chase," House interrupted yet again, "Get
some ciprofloxacin and rifampin, and pay a visit to Leider's room."
Chase looked at him in disbelief, "But you just said-"
"I said you were right that there was no excuse for breathlessness. Oh yeah, and get some CSF while you're in there," With that House limped into his office, and flicked his TV on. A loud sigh escaped his mouth as he lounged back in his chair, and propped his feet up on the desk corner. The opening music to one of House's favorite soap's drifted into the main meeting room.
"I can't believe this," Chase verbalized as he stood up to gather his papers.
"Which part?" Foreman asked with an amused smile. "The part where you are wrong? Or the part where you have to do everything by yourself while we sit and enjoy another cup of coffee?"
"Actually," Chase began as he stuffed everything into his folder, "I meant the part where I have to give a lumbar puncture to a boy who obviously doesn't have meningitis."
"We are just covering all the bases," Cameron assured. "When the tests come back negative, we can move on to something else."
"Except for the coming back negative part, I agree," Foreman commented. "Come on, you guys, this is the easiest diagnosis to give on the face of the earth. What medical schools did you two go to, that you can't even recognize meningitis when it's staring you in the face?"
"Sorry, I'd love to talk about this more," Chase replied as he walked to the door, "but I have some unnecessary drugs to shove down some patients throats." Cameron couldn't help but smile at the House-like comment that rolled off the intensivist's tongue.
