In the title of this chapter, I mean row like in a fight. There was some apparent confusion in some test readers, but once they figured it out, they liked the title, so I'm keeping it. I guess I just need an explaination.
House stood outside Tritter's room, staring in at the cop who'd made his life absolutely miserable two years ago. Unfortunately, his curiosity and the damn Hippocratic oath prevented him from just watching Tritter die to see what progression the disease would take. At least he didn't look comfortable.
"Is it true?" Wilson asked from behind him. Wilson came to stand beside him and looked in at Tritter.
"Fever, rash, stomach issues, and headaches. I'm having him tested for drugs, STDs, and allergies, and it's rather fun," House said. Wilson huffed and shrugged.
"Did you take him so you could stand there and watch him squirm while you treat him?" Wilson asked.
"You have to admit, it does have a certain amusing quality to it," House answered.
"Didn't he originally come to you with a rash?" Wilson asked.
"Like I remember. I probably couldn't have told you while I was examining him, either, though, so I don't know if that counts," House answered. Then he paused, frowning. Tritter was shifting a little, obviously uncomfortable. Good.
"Was it a rash?" he asked. Wilson shrugged.
"Tritter said he's been having these issues 'for years'. I thought he was exaggerating, but maybe he wasn't," House continued, staring in at the cop thoughtfully.
"Gee, I wish you would look at me like that again," Wilson joked. A nurse brushed passed them to check on Tritter. House watched her.
"Looking at her like that is ok, isn't it?" House asked. Wilson shrugged.
"Tell Cuddy to keep the hot nurses out of Tritter's room. I want him to suffer," House said. Wilson snickered. The nurse, a cute little Asian girl with a nice ass, did a double take at Tritter's temperature.
"I assume he has a fever. Fever plus what looks like mild pain, over long periods of time equals what?" House mumbled to himself. Tritter was now shifting more, tossing the sheet aside. The nurse darted for the door. House opened it for her and heard Tritter let loose a low groan. The nurse almost ran face-first into him.
"Dr. House, he's got a temperature of 104 and…look," she said. She looked slightly pale.
"What?" House growled, shoving her aside and entering the room. Tritter's face was draining of color.
"House…what is wrong with my feet?" Tritter gasped. House frowned and yanked the sheet aside. Tritter's feet were normal.
"Nothing, you moron!" House snapped. The nurse motioned higher. Tritter grunted in pain. Frown deepening, House moved the sheets aside. Tritter's legs were covered in an ugly, purplish legion.
"Is it the rash that hurts?" he asked.
"No, it's my feet! They feel like they're being broken bit by bit," Tritter snarled.
"Was this here before?" House asked, motioning to the purple stippling across Tritter's legs. Tritter shook his head and gasped again in pain.
"How bad is the pain?" House asked.
"How bad do you think it is, House!" Tritter bellowed.
"Well, since I know how much you dislike painkillers, I don't want to give you any unless I'm sure you need them. I don't think the pain is all that bad, so…" House said meanly. Tritter made an attempt to lunge at House, but the nurse and the pain restrained him back to the bed as Thirteen entered the room.
"House, what are you doing?" she asked. Tritter let out a strangled cry of pain and pushed towards House hard enough to knock the nurse off her feet. House turned on his heel and began to leave.
"House!" Thirteen and the nurse shouted in unison.
"Oh, stop, I wasn't really going to leave. Give him a good shot of morphine for that twitch. Or better yet, why don't we give him some Vicodin?" he chuckled over his shoulder. He turned the corner and almost knocked Cuddy over. She was glaring at him.
"What are you doing? You're withholding treatment?" she hissed.
"No, of course not! I want to do lots of gross, invasive, and impressively cool tests on our new little monkey! And he wouldn't tell me how bad the pain was, so I didn't know what to do, give him an aspirin, leave him alone, or give him morphine!" House replied.
"Well, do you know what he has yet so we can get him out of here? I want to be able to sleep at night, knowing he's gone!" Cuddy said. House shrugged.
"I don't want him here anymore than you do, really. Aside from how fun it is to watch him squirm in pain, I'm not directly responsible for the pain, so it's not as enjoyable as it should be," House answered. "No, I don't know yet, and you probably wouldn't accept it if I said he just has the flu and we should give him some penicillin and send him away?" Cuddy huffed in exasperation and stomped off down the hall. House stared after her. The fact that he really didn't know what it was bothered him a
little, and not just because it would get Tritter out of the hospital and out of his life again if he figured it out.
"What about Cobb's Syndrome? Accounts for the rash?" Kutner suggested an hour later.
"No, that doesn't come with the pain, GI issues, or the fever," House answered. "And he's too old."
"Fabry's?" Thirteen asked.
"Once again, he's too old," Taub said. As the team continued to argue House's beeper went off. He cocked an eyebrow at what he read on the display. He turned and added it to the whiteboard. The team stopped abruptly to read what he'd written.
"Lymphedema?" Taub asked.
"Yep. Apparently, his right leg was a tad swollen and no one noticed it until we took a closer look at the rash and noticed the size difference," House said.
"Well, doesn't the lymphedema explain everything? The fatigue, the fever, and the added stress from the slight weight difference could explain the GI problems if we want to dig at it," Kutner suggested.
"Doesn't explain the rash, though. That rash bugs me," House replied. His pager went off again, as did the rest of the teams'.
"Well, looks like we can add yet one more thing. Tritter's having a heart attack," House muttered.