Chapter Two

"House." Cuddy stepped in his office.

House looked up from absent-mindedly throwing his oversized tennis ball against the wall and caught it, just before it hit him in the head. He placed it on his desk.

"Cuddy," he stated.

"Where's… the team?" she asked, looking around at the emptiness.

"Cameron's at Chase's apartment. Foreman's doing a tox screen. You know the rest."

"You think it's drugs?"

"Right now, I do. The symptoms are pointing to drugs-"

"Not drugs," Foreman said, "Not really anyway."

"What do you mean 'not really'?"

Foreman handed House the document of the tox screen. The phone rang.

Meanwhile, Cameron stared in Chase's fridge, pale. He had quite a bit of alcohol in his fridge. Whiskey, wine, beer, scotch, gin and tonic…. All kinds of alcohol. Either he was going to throw a huge party or he had some problems. Cameron's mind was set on the latter. She whipped out her cell phone.

"House, it's Cameron," she said with an air of seriousness.

"Darn. I was hoping it was Carmen Elektra," House whined. Cameron rolled her eyes. "I bet I know what you found," he finished.

"He's got a lot of alcohol in his fridge," she said, going through the bottles, clinking and clanking.

"Bring me back one of each kind he's got."

"Okay," Cameron said, putting various bottles in a bag.

"And check his medicine cabinet," he sounded almost amused.

"Okay," Cameron sighed, putting the large bag against the wall for the moment.

She began sifting through his bathroom. His apartment was dreadfully small. She believed that he wasn't rich. Even if it was for one person, hers was bigger than his shabby little flat. Yes, it was quaint, but small, especially for a doctor. Her concern grew. She searched each drawer and below the sink and found nothing. Then she opened the mirror. She interrupted House's speaking to Cuddy and Foreman.

"I… I think I found it," she said, her voice sounding far away as she pulled out three or four bottles of pills.

"Anti-depressants!" House stated, a little overzealously for such a dark word. He wrote it up on the white board in bold letters, along with ALCOHOL. "And he's a heavy drinker too. Who knew?"

House pulled a beer out of the bag Cameron had brought, popped the top, and took a swing of it. "Good choice of beer. He must be an alcoholic. Knows his stuff."

"House, I thought you wanted the beer to analyze," Cameron said.

"Nope. Free beer. You know…" he pulled a bottle out, "I always expected Chase to be a wine-guy."

"Look, the alcohol and the antidepressants don't explain all the symptoms," Foreman said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but they do explain SOME of the symptoms, and that's a start."

They looked at the board:

HEADACHE

FAINTING

MOOD SWINGS

HALLUCINATIONS

ALCOHOL

ANTI-DEPRESSANTS

"By the way, Cameron," House said. "Did you get the history?"

"No, he got mad at me. Wouldn't say anything."

"What about his memory…" House was deep in thought.

"He didn't remember anything," Foreman said, "I could tell. Didn't even remember punching you. Though he pretended he did."

"Well, I did," House complained. He grouped up HALLUCINATIONS, MOOD SWINGS, and then added MEMORY LOSS too the group, drew a line, and wrote DEMENTIA.

"Dementia?" Cameron questioned, surprised, "That's a bit severe."

"Severe, but suiting," House said, underlining the word.

Cuddy was leaning against the glass wall of the office. Apparently, the case interested her as well. That, or she was making sure House wasn't going to kill one of his staff. Either way, Cameron and Foreman appreciated her appearance.

"So, dementia, headache, fainting…" Cuddy observed, "I don't think anti-depressants can cause that."

"Alcohol can cause all those symptoms of dementia. It might not be dementia, just alcoholism," Foreman suggested.

"Alcohol would've shown on the tox screen. He hasn't had it in a short while. It's not alcohol."

"The anti-depressants showed?" Cameron asked.

"Not much, but yeah," Foreman slid the paper over to her.

"That's not enough to cause anything, not even mood swings," Cameron said.

"We need more. It's missing something…" House said, scratching his bristly chin. "Go talk to him."

"He hallucinated last time we talked to him," Foreman argued.

"Well, get it out of him BEFORE he sees his imaginary friend again," House said with finality.

Cameron and Foreman got up and walked out of the office, figuring they'd rather not complain.

"I'm gonna get a consult," House said to Cuddy, smirking.

She knew. House needed to speak to Wilson. "Go on, but make it quick."

They glanced at each other. "Got it."

"Wilson," House knocked on the door.

"With a patient," he called.

"It's important."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Five minutes please?"

The patient smiled. "That's fine."

He stepped out of his office. "What is it, House?"

"I got free beer in my office," he said.

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "That's it?"

"Nope. Came from Chase's apartment. Free AUSTRALIAN'S beer."

"House-wait… why do you have Chase's beer?"

"He's an alcoholic!" House said excitedly with a large hint of sarcasm, "And my patient for the time being, but that's not important."

"Chase is sick now?" Wilson' eyes widened.

"You didn't hear? He passed clean out in the hallway this morning."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah… well, it's not looking good. The symptoms are missing something…."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You always do. What's wrong with him?"

"Something," House said vaguely, then limped off.

Wilson sighed, "Two diseases and a shooting…. House, you're team is insane…" He was glad House had come to him to vent for a moment though.

Chase lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling with a deadpan look. He was trying desperately to summon something in his mind, something recent, but there was nothing. Just blurs and wavy voices. He heard the small beep of the monitor next to him. His eyes moved lazily over to Cameron who had walked in the room. Foreman waited outside this time.

"What now?" he asked, exhausted.

"Hey," Cameron said gently, "How are you?"

"Crappy. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Chase," Cameron sighed, taking a seat next to his bed. "Just let me talk for a minute, okay?"

"What?"

"Chase, I just… wanted to know what you saw… in your hallucination. I thought it might help you… get past your hallucinations."

"That's not what you want to talk about."

"Okay… no, it's not." Cameron, looked down, "But I wouldn't mind you telling me."

"Don't pry, Cameron. You tend to do that," Chase sighed, agitated.

Cameron closed her eyes. "Chase…"

"What?"

"House told me to check your apartment…"

"You went in my apartment!" Chase's eyes showed fury.

"I had to! What if your life is on the line?"

"I'm guessing I know what you're talking about then."

"Chase… you had a LOT of alcohol in your fridge."

"I knew it," Chase said, sighing.

"Chase, why was there so much alcohol in your fridge?"

"I like a drink now and then? What's wrong with that?"

"Chase, your fridge was FILLED with it?"

"You want me to go to AA or something?" Chase said quickly.

Cameron shook her head. "Have you had trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, I told you that. That's probably what's messing with my head."

"No, it's not."

"What would you know-" Chase had tried to lift himself up on his arms, but the gave quickly beneath him.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asked.

Chase was silent.

"Lift your arm," she demanded.

Chase's fingers twitched slowly as he tried to lift it. It hardly moved off the bed. Fear flashed in his eyes.

"Can you look at me?" she asked.

"M-my neck's a little weak… a little stiff…" Chase said, closing his eyes.

"I'll be back," Cameron said.

HEADACHE

FAINTING

DEMENTIA

ALCOHOL

ANTI-DEPRESSANTS

MUSCLE WEAKNESS

House drew an arrow from MUSCLE WEAKNESS to STIFF NECK. "That could be part of it…"

Cameron and Foreman waited patiently.

"Get a spinal tap."

"What?" Foreman stood up, aghast.

"It could be meningitis. Get a spinal tap and find out."

"But that's a painful procedure that's not necessary. He doesn't have enough symptoms to bring that conclusion!" Cameron said, angered.

"Do the spinal tap," House said seriously. "If he HAS meningitis, we need to catch it early so it doesn't spread throughout the hospital. DO the test."

"No!" Cameron yelled. "That's not enough proof! The test is too painful to just assume he has meningitis."

"Okay, Cameron. But think about it-not the moral part-the medical part! The more symptoms he shows, the more chance he has of giving it to the staff, the patients, everything! Do the test, or your fired."

Cameron gave him an incredulous look, those green-blue eyes wide and upset. She turned quickly and walked out of the office. She saw Cuddy speaking to Wilson at the bottom of the staircase.

"Cuddy!" Cameron exclaimed, rushing up to her. "I need to talk to you."

"What is it?"

"House wants to do a spinal tap on Chase," she said, eyes burning, "But he doesn't have enough symptoms to confirm meningitis."

Cuddy shook her head. "How many symptoms?"

"Two…" she paused. "…Three…"

"You'll have to do it," Cuddy sighed. "I can't risk infecting the entire hospital."

"Cuddy!"

"I'm sorry, Cameron. Even if he doesn't, the test could prove useful."

Cameron glowered at Cuddy, not noticing the sympathetic look Wilson gave her. She was certain Cuddy would've agreed with her! She seethed, making her way to Chase's room. Might as well give him the news…