Hello, once more! I was pleased with my last chapter (three reviews is a huge accomplishment for me!), so I've decided to type up the next one, even though typing is a pain, and I have no idea what's going to happen at the end of this…Whatever. I like to complain. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. As you may have guessed, I ain't no doctor! I get most of my medial stuff by reading old House transcripts. But whatever. I hope you enjoy it. It's taking me forever to type, cuz I'm so slow, and I wouldn't want my time to be wasted, so please review!
Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim all of my rights to the House characters, which I created, and give them over to Fox. May they use them well.
Bonk, bonk bonk…
House didn't like the private rooms at Princeton. It wasn't the fact that they were small or felt cramped-they didn't- it was the fact that the ones in the ICU ward had one wall that was completely made of glass.
When House had woken up to discover that he was staring straight at the nurse's desk, he had, at first, been rather disgruntled. But then he had realized that, by the grace of a guilty Cuddy, he had been granted the one wall in the ward that was not a window, but a one-way mirror. In a way, this still made House feel slightly exposed, but he had always been good at making the best of things (or pretending that he was making the best of things), and in this particular situation, he had found an excellent way to keep his attention off of his almost-exposure.
When he had woken up about twenty minutes ago, the first thing he had asked of the intern who was on duty (thank God for the interns-they'd do anything he told them to do without questioning it) was to go down into his office and get him his tennis ball and his portable TV. The intern, unfortunately, had not been elusive enough to sneak the television past the nurse in charge of ICU, but nobody had questioned the tennis ball, and for the past ten minutes House had been sitting up in bed, throwing it against the glass.
The little game of one sided-tennis hadn't really gotten interesting until the ball-fetching intern had gone off duty and a newer, more timid one had come onto the scene. House assumed that this was her first day, because after a moment, it became apparent that she was not aware of the fact that the "mirror" she kept looking at was, in fact, the entrance to a room. Every time that the ball hit the glass, she would whip around, searching for the source of the noise, and House would stop bouncing for a moment until she turned back to her paperwork. Then-
Bonk, bonk-He stopped as one of the nurses, presumably the one who ran the desk outside his room came up the intern, who was practically in hysterics. There were a few frantic words exchanged between the two and the nurse shot a stern look through the glass at House and stalked over. He managed to stash the ball seconds before her head poked into the room.
"Dr House?" she said. "What have you been doing in here?"
House looked behind him curiously, then back at the nurse. "Who, me?"
The nurse raised an eyebrow. "You see that little girl over there?" The nurse pointed to the intern, who was watching them with wide eyes and wringing her hands. "This is her first day, and all I've had her do so far is file my papers. She's already convinced that she's going insane. We like to give them at least a week and maybe some actual patients to look after before they reach that stage. So could you please do me and yourself a favor and maybe get some sleep? Hm?"
"You're right," House said seriously. "I'm sorry."
He closed his eyes. He felt the nurse watching him for a moment loner, and then heard the door slide shut. He opened his eyes, watched until the nurse had her back turned, and then threw the ball extra-hard against the glass. The nurse tensed, and for a moment, House thought she was going to turn around and shout at him, but she relaxed, shook her head, and went over to her desk to call someone.
Five minutes later, Cuddy appeared at the glass. Duly, House began to beat the tennis ball against the glass once more. He'd thrown it two more times before the glass door slid open and Cuddy caught the ball in mid-throw. House wrinkled his nose at her and let his arm fall to his side.
"Well if it isn't Miss 'I Don't Give a Damn if You're on Your Deathbed.' Come to fire me, I suppose?"
"You're looking better," Cuddy said, throwing the ball back to him.
"Thank you," House said. "I'm feeling better. I must not be quite so drunk as I was yesterday."
"House…"
"You know," House continued. "I'm feeling so good, I could probably give that speech now. That's what matters, isn't it? Impressing the big, fancy investors, right?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get it! She said. "What do you want me to do, kiss it and make it all better? Grovel?"
House shook his head. "The kissing only works for open wounds. What I want is an apology. Learn you some humility."
"Oh, for the love of-" Cuddy did not look pleased with the fact that she was being preached humility by House. "I'm sorry, okay? I know you hadn't been drinking, Wilson told me. I'm very sorry. Satisfied?"
"No," said House bluntly. "Although now that you mention it, I do have a little cut on my finger. If you want to kiss that…" He grinned, waggling his finger at her.
Cuddy glared. "You scared me House," she said. "Why didn't you tell me you were really sick?"
"I was too drunk, remember?" House said bitterly, coughing a little. "Ow."
"What is it?" Cuddy asked, looking concerned.
"Just my leg," House said, realizing for the first time that he hadn't had his meds. "Where's my Vicodin?"
"Right," Cuddy said, tossing him a bottle. "I had it refilled."
"How unnecessarily kind of you," House said, popping one of the little white pills and swallowing it dry. He glanced around. "Where are my ducklings? I would have expected them to be all over this."
"Oh." Cuddy looked rather sheepish. "Oh. I-didn't-tell…them. I just wanted to wait until you came around. I want to put them on the case, but I sort of… wanted your permission. I wasn't sure if it would be too personal for you to have your team on the case."
"Just because they're my ducklings doesn't mean I'm their mother," House said. "Besides, do you know what's wrong with me?"
Cuddy shook her head at her shoes.
"Well, then what is my team for?" House asked. "Go and get them. And where's Wilson?" He glanced around the room as if he expected Wilson to jump out from behind the heart monitor.
"I paged him," Cuddy said. "He'll be here in a minute. Why don't you get some sleep? You look better, but you still look like crap."
"From shit to crap," House said. "That's an improvement."
He sighed and leaned back into his pillows He heard the door open, Cuddy leave, and seconds later, he was asleep.
"I can't believe Cuddy didn't tell us before."
"She wanted you to concentrate on your other case."
That was Wilson. And the other voice…Chase? Or Cameron? He could never tell the difference between the two. Chase had such a girly voice…They were talking about him, he knew…. He kept his eyes shut.
"How's his heart rate?"
"Unsteady. Fast then slow…His body can't find a happy medium."
"0-2 SATS?"
"Normal. We're monitoring it, but there's nothing serious going on there."
"What caused the bleed?"
"Possible liver damage. We're going to have to run the tests when he wakes up…"
"Why didn't you tell us how sick he was?"
"He didn't even know how sick he was…"
"Is he going to be okay?"
"I guess that depends on his doctors."
All four of them stopped talking and looked at House as he sat up in bed and opened his eyes. He felt worse than he had an hour ago, with his head pulsing a steady rhythm of pain, but he didn't yet feel on the verge of puking again, so he didn't complain. His team and Wilson were standing around him. Someone had brought his whiteboard, along with a few trinkets from his desk, and some things that looked as if they might have come from his apartment. Damn. He should have known that Wilson could find the spare key.
"Nice decorations," he commented. "Just how long are you expecting me to be here?"
He grimaced and groped for a Vicodin. Popping one into his mouth, he asked, "Have you actually run any tests yet?"
"No," said Cameron. "We sort of wanted to ask your opinion first."
House coughed. Then he scoffed. "You mean you wanted to ask my opinion," he said. "Well, don't count on it. I consider this a vacation, and I'm not planning on helping you in the least. You're all good doctors, and for now, I'm the patient. Figure it out yourselves."
Chase and Cameron looked at each other doubtfully, but Foreman didn't blink.
"All right," he said. "We're going to need a blood culture and a few other tests. We're going to do a scan to test for liver damage, and possibly for clots. We're also going to test for the flu to explain the fever. It's been going around lately."
"And we've all agreed to take shifts in the clinic to fill in for you," Chase piped in, obviously very keen on contributing to the conversation.
"Oh, thank God!" House said, faking extreme relief. "I was so worried. What would I have done if no one could have taken over at the clinic for me? I probably would have had to have gotten up and done it myself if it weren't for you, Dr. Chase. Thank you, you're a real life saver."
Chase looked uncomfortable. The rest of them did their best to look casual.
"I'm going to get the rest of the stuff for the blood test," Cameron said hastily, turning to go. The other ducklings followed her.
"Hey, wait!" House called after them. "What about the twins?"
The three of them looked confused for a moment. Then Chase remembered.
"Oh, yeah, the girls. They're doing better, but the lab is being lazy, we haven't gotten the test results back yet."
"They're backed up," Cameron amended, shooting a glare on Chase's direction. "They'll page us when they've got it."
"Well, get down there and wait until you have the results. Once you know what's wrong with those patients, you can come back and take as much blood as you want." He gave them a half-smile. "I promise I won't go anywhere."
"Don't worry," Wilson said, finally speaking up. "I'll keep an eye on them."
"All right," said Foreman, with a disapproving shake of the head. "We'll be back in about an hour."
They left. House let out his breath in one deep whoosh, and relaxed back into his pillow. He closed his eyes.
"How are you feeling?" Wilson asked.
"Like shit," House said. "So I went from shit to crap to shit all over again. But that's enough about me. How was your day, honey?"
"You scared me, House," Wilson said seriously. "I didn't know… You were pretty shaky last night. And you puked up a hell of a lot of blood."
House opened his eyes a fraction of an inch. For the first time, he noticed how tired Wilson looked. He wondered vaguely how late Wilson had stayed at the hospital last night.
"Sorry," House mumbled. "I didn't mean to…Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Wilson said. "It's not your fault. Just don't joke about it, okay?"
"Deal." House was almost whispering. He was starting to feel warm and sleepy. "How many sedatives have you got me on?"
Wilson smirked. "The nurse requested that we turn them up," He said. As he stood up, he clasped House's shoulder, and turned for the door. "I've gotta go, but I'll be back later. Try to get some sleep, will you? You look dead on your…back."
House didn't need telling twice.
"I don't think House makes such a bad patient," Cameron said, consulting her chart. The three of them were leaning against a wall outside the lab, having been ushered out rather rudely by the runner when they had burst in, demanding their results.
"Fifteen minutes!" The man had snapped, shoving them out of the way.
"Yeah, that's because the exhaustion was starting to kick in," Foreman said. "I'm just still shocked that House could get so sick."
"Everyone gets sick," said Chase. "Even House. It's a law of nature. Just look at his leg."
"Excuse me."
An elderly nurse with a pleasant face came up to Foreman and handed him a file.
"Your test results, dear," she said.
"Oh," said Foreman, taking the file. "Excellent."
"I wouldn't be so sure, dear," said the nurse with a sympathetic smile. "It's all negative."
"All of it?"
"I'm afraid so. Well, take care, hon."
The nurse walked back to the lab.
"Now what?" Cameron asked.
"We go to plan B," said Foreman.
"What's that?"
"To make a plan C."
"Well, let's go talk to the parents, for starters," Chase said. "Maybe there's something that they've both gotten into."
"Yeah," Foreman said. "Having never met each other, they just happened to get into the same thing at the same time. That sounds likely."
"Coincidences happen," said Chase defensively.
"Especially to twins," said Cameron. "Besides, what other options do we have?"
Foreman sighed. "Well, then let's go see the parents. The girls were moved this morning, they're just down this hall."
They found the room without any trouble. The father of the girls was outside of it, pacing a hole in the carpet. When he saw them coming, he stopped pacing and approached them eagerly.
"What is it?" he asked. "Did you find out what's wrong with them?"
Chase sighed. "The test results all came out negative. This suggests that the disease may not be hereditary. Sorry."
The father's face fell. "But…" He looked absolutely crestfallen. "How could that possibly be? I mean… I thought that…"
"Don't give up hope yet," Chase said. "Your daughters' conditions are stable, they've even shown signs of improving. We're doing everything we can, and-"
"Yeah, but you're just a bunch of kids," the distraught parent interrupted. "I came here because I heard that you had the best diagnostician in the state! A Harper, or a Heart, or…"
"Dr. House is ill," Foreman said. "He's not going to be able to take any cases for a while now."
The man looked at Foreman as if he was insane. "Dr. House is ill?" he repeated incredulously. "My daughters are lying on their deathbeds and your boss won't take care of them because of what? The flu? A head cold? I don't really care what it is, I want him here to fix my daughters!"
The man's eyes were shining with tears, but the young Doctors ignored him. They were ruffled by the sudden attack on their boss; they could think of nothing to say. Except Cameron.
"Dr. House was admitted to the ICU ward yesterday for internal bleeding," Cameron said coldly. "In fact," She checked her watch. We have to be getting back down there now to check on him. We'll update you as soon as we can. Have a good day, sir."
She turned and stalked off. Chase and Foreman cast apologetic looks in Mr. Wilcox's direction, and then headed after him.
"That was a little cold," Foreman said as they jogged to keep up with her brisk walk.
"He was more that a little cold to House," she snapped.
"Well, yeah," Foreman agreed. "But, uh, Cameron, his daughters are dying."
Cameron pursed her lips and continued to walk.
"Sixty-eight bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-eight bottles of beer…God, I am so bored. Oh, good, you're back."
House looked up as his three employees walked into his room, their arms full of specimen tubes.
"What took you so long?" House asked. "I've been bored out of my skull here."
"Cameron got into a fight," Chase said, tying the tourniquet on House's arm.
"Aww…" House simpered in Cameron's direction. "Did you have to go see the principal? Did he give you a scolding?"
Cameron scowled. "It was not a fight. It was a verbal disagreement."
"What, no face slapping and hair pulling?" House looked from Chase to Foreman. "Must have been a bummer for you guys."
"Flex your hand," Chase said. "And relax."(1)
House winced a little as Chase inserted the butterfly needle to his arm, then leaned back. Chase filled one tube, and attached another.
"So what about the girls?" House asked. "You get the results from their parents?"
"Negative," Foreman said. "Whatever they have, it's not from those two.
"Hm." House looked thoughtful. "Ah!"
"Sorry, did I hurt you?" Chase asked, looking up. House didn't answer. His BP monitor suddenly went crazy, and his body tensed, his eyes wide open, staring at nothing as his body jerked and spasmed.
"He's having a seizure!" Chase said as Cameron and Foreman hurried forward.
"Dr. House?" Cameron asked, shining her penlight in his eyes. "Dr. House, can you hear me?"
His heart rate was plummeting. Suddenly, the BP monitor gave several loud, frantic beeps, followed by one wailing one as House's heart ceased to beat.
"Cardiac arrest! Get the paddles!"
His eyes were still open, but they had lost the shine that they'd once had to them, and had taken on a dull glaze.
"Come on, House! Don't you die on us!"
A/N
I have no idea if they still use the tourniquet to draw blood. I saw this in an old MASH episode, and that's supposed to take place in the 1950's, so I'm probably wrong about that.
Hope you enjoyed, though. I wrote this while watching "Napoleon Dynamite," so there might be a few mistakes made due to my lack of attentiveness towards what I was doing. Reviews are appreciated!
Jujubee.
Update, 11/13/05 Okay, I fixed a few medical errors ( I finally did some research! Yay!) and made the seizure an actual one to fit with the symptoms. Ta!
Jujubee