Hi. Sorry for the long wait. This chappy is pretty short, but it broke my writer's block, so more should be on the way soon….
(Oh, one thing – if anyone here also reads Harry Potter, I'd love any comments on my newest story, "Samuel".)
Slight icky bits…you have been warned…here we go…
"Why are we doing this?" Chase lounged in the back of the car, yawning. "I mean, so what if he's not in work? Why is that our problem?"
"Because Cuddy threatened to divide his owed clinic hours between the three of us if he's not in to do some this afternoon." Foreman answered, rolling his eyes at Chase's moaning. "And I checked, and he owes 97 hours. You want to do an extra 32 hours in the clinic?"
"And twenty minutes" Cameron murmured.
"What?"
"And twenty minutes. 97 hours divided by three is 32 hours and twenty minutes."
"Riiiiight..." drawled Foreman, as Chase said "but why doesn't Cuddy just ring him? And why do we all have to go drag him into work? It's not gonna take three people…"
Cameron sighed, turning back to face the Australian. "Cuddy did ring him. No answer."
"As for why it's gonna take three of us" Foreman added, changing gears, "it's not, but if you wanna stay in the office with Cuddy in that mood, you're either very dedicated or a fool. And hey, aren't you curious about House's apartment? Think of all the blackmail material we could find…"
Chase grinned. "That's true. Wonder why he's not in, though? Think he's got a hooker round, or something?"
"Nah, he'd ring. I reckon he's so hung-over he can't find the phone. He looked smashed yesterday. Good job Cuddy didn't come up, or she'd have chewed him a-"
"He wasn't hung-over, he was sick. Couldn't you tell?" Cameron interrupted "Wilson thought so too, didn't you see how he was staring at him?"
"Sick? House doesn't get sick!" Chase snorted "I'm with Foreman. He's probably blind drunk, passed out on his couch"
Cameron scowled at him. "You think? Okay, then – left here, Foreman, then second right – I bet you fifty bucks that he's sick."
Following her instructions, Foreman glanced up at her, "I'll take that bet. I'll bet you another fifty that he's hung-over."
"You're on. Chase, you in?"
"Yeah" he replied confidently "House is never sick…"
Several blocks away, House would have found it difficult to agree with him. His alarm had gone off hours ago, but he had yet to get up. He felt, if possible, even worse than the day before. The headache was now rivalling the pain in his leg during his detox. Unfortunately, the gating mechanism he had applied at that time did not seem to be working. His leg hurt just as much, if not more, than usual, and in fact seemed rather to be enjoying the company. The cough had worsened, and he was experiencing sharp pains in his chest and shortness of breath. He didn't dare take his temperature, as that would undoubtedly confirm his early diagnosis – he was sick.
And, he was forced to admit, if this had started off as a cold, it was certainly not going to continue as one. At first, he had suspected bronchitis, but as his fever had steadily risen, he had been forced to reconsider. Add to that that the pain in his chest was on one side rather than the centre and the general aches and pains permeating his body, he was starting to suspect either a bad chest infection, or pneumonia. As his thoughts processed along this vein, the tickle in his throat returned, and he was again thrust into a fit of painful, body wracking coughs. After five minutes, the coughs started to fade, and he grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table, spitting a wad of mucus into them. Critically examining the colour, he silently prided himself on the diagnosis. Pneumonia, then. Wonderful.
Looking at his clock, he realised that he'd better get to work soon, or Cuddy was going to yell at him for missing clinic duty – and it was that time of the month, so she'd yell really loudly. Dreading the thought of the effect of her voice on his headache, he decided that that was something to avoid. And he should probably run some tests and get some antibiotics. Better get going, then. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to think of ways to avoid Wilson and fool his team into thinking he wasn't ill. That train of thought was rudely interrupted by yet another coughing fit though, and he hardly noticed, when it was finally over, that he was drifting…off...to...sleep…
Well, there you have it, chapter four. Hope you liked it, bit of a filler, I know, but I'd appreciate any comments.
The next chapter will be up soon. Maybe. I hope.
Aqua Mage
Review Responses:
Rose12345: Thank you sooooo much! I was getting all depressed, thinking the last chapter was rubbish, and your review really cheered me up.
The Swordsman: Thanx. As you can see, the diagnosis so far is pneumonia, but I won't say whether or not House is right…
House Calls: Thanx. The characterisation was important to me, I'm glad you think it's done ok.
kitkat11: I read your story, and it was great – I followed it from about half way through. Hopefully this one will not be too like it though, I don't want to plagiarise! And here you go, another hour or two duly sacrificed! Thanx for the review.
obsessedwithstabler: As you can see, Cameron will be making a House Call – but with the others. This is non-ship, and I think I'd find it hard to write Cameron alone with House in his apartment while keeping to that! Thanx for the review.
MisunderstoodandForlorn: Thanx sooooooo much for the kind words. Hope you like this chapter too.
boredum: Here's the update – thanx for the review.
Izzfrogger: Thank you very much indeedy.
If I forgot anyone, please feel free to flame me...I'd deserve it!
