A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! And I really appreciate you all taking time to read this. I'm so excited for this next chapter, so let me know what ya think! It is in the works! Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!
Disclaimer: I don't own House!
Chapter 4
"You know, House started, biting into a chip, "You are much better company than the coma guy." He was lying on the bed next to John eating a late night snack.
John looked at House with tired eyes. "Coma guy?" he asked in a barely audible voice.
"Yeah. He's who I normally eat with." House replied. "Especially when Cuddy's after me."
John attempted at a smirk. "You're life must be…" he drew in a wheezy breath, "…real exciting."
House ate another chip with a loud crunch."You could say that."
He was mostly in there to keep an eye on John's vitals. They hadn't been able to treat him for radiation sickness because they weren't entirely sure that he was suffering from that. When Dr. Terzi spoke to him earlier that day, she said that her superiors had said no to the treatment.
"Not until we've found out with it is for sure, " she had told him with a sigh. "They don't want to risk hurting him even more-…"
House cut her off. "Treatment for radiation poisoning isn't going to hurt you!" he exclaimed. "They're idiots. Everyone knows that…"
"Well, they have reason to believe that it could harm him."
"Reason? Like what? You just said, we have no idea what it is! So how could they have reason? And who the hell are 'they' anyway? I thought you were in charge of this case."
Terzi nodded and rubbed her forehead with a sigh. "For the most part. Brian O'Connel, the Director, has taken a personal interest on this case. Apparently, it's important that John comes out of this. His mission is still incomplete-…"
"-And he's the only man in the world to finish the job, yadda yadda, I get it." House rolled his eyes. "But is O'Connel a doctor?"
"No, but…"
"Then who is he to be making calls with this man's life?"
Terzi continued, "But,he is fully aware of the whole situation and the risks."
So now, House was sitting in the bed next to a dying patient, trying desperately to figure out this whole thing before his superiors let him die. House was a puzzle solver, but no one was giving him enough pieces to put everything together. It was extremely frustrating. He ate another chip.
"So John," he began, but stopped when he realized John had dozed off. He groaned as he rolled off the bed and limped to the door. Making sure that no one was coming, he shut it. Time to interrogate the spy, he thought to himself. He made his way back over to John's bedside. "Hey," he said, poking him. "Wake up."
"What…?" he moaned.
"Stay awake for me for a few, ok?" House said very loudly, causing John to flinch slightly. "What were you doing in Asia?"
John shook his head.
"John-…or whatever the hell your name is, I'm trying to help you, alright?" House said impatiently. He already despised talking with normal patients…now here he was, trying to pry information out of a CIA agent. Yeah, this would be loads of fun. "What were you doing in Asia?" he said with more force this time.
"Just…researching-…"
"Cut the crap, I know you weren't doing that. It had something to do with a chemical lab or something. You must have been exposed to something. Do you have any idea what it could have been?" House paused before he thought of something else. "Or was there anything…weird that you might have eaten? Something you could have touched?" he tapped his cane on the floor for an impatient second or two…waiting for some sort of reply.
John took a deep, wheezy breath. "If I was exposed to something…I wouldn't have any idea what it was," he said weakly as he closed his eyes. "I'm no biologist…so, I dunno what they were doing…"
House leaned his cane against the wall, then reached into his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. "Oh gee, that's helpful," House said, dry swallowing a pill. He prodded him again, causing John to open his eyes. "Not done yet-…"
John murmered something as he rolled his eyes.
House raised an eyebrow at the incoherent comment. "…what?"
A flash of annoyance crossed John's face. "What else do you want…" he coughed, "…to know?"
"Anything. You people are useless. I need something to work with here."
"Really, I'm not supposed to be talking about this stuff…" John took another deep breath, "I had to tail a guy…where I was at…and there was this forest or something in the mountains…he had a house there and I camped out there for a few nights…" he tried taking another deep breath, but ended up coughing it up instead. House sighed and gave him some water before he continued. "Thanks. So, I had to camp out there for a few nights-…"
"Did you eat anything out there?" House asked quickly.
"Besides the power bars I brought, I might have had some nuts…"
"Doctor House," a voice said from the doorway.
"Little busy here!" he said, not turning around. He didn't care if he was caught harassing a patient…he had to figure this out.
"I think you should leave our patient to rest."
House looked over his shoulder to see that it was Agent Jackson speaking to him. He loomed in the doorway, looking slightly disheveled. He loosened his tie as he slowly stepped into the room. House picked his cane up from its position against the wall and limped towards Jackson. "Funny, first you made a pathetic attempt to threaten me, to get here to save this guy…and now you're telling me to leave?"
"He needs to rest, Doctor." Jackson said coolly.
House knew he was right, but he wasn't going without a fight. He had to get to the bottom of this. "He needs to get treatment for something! You people drag me here to help and now you're not letting me do my job." His blue eyes flashed with annoyance.
Jackson said nothing for a moment. He simply rubbed his chin, where some blonde scruff was just starting to grow. "I suggest you tread carefully, House. This isn't your territory. You can't break rules and get away with it here."
"What, are you going to give me clinic duty too?" House snapped back with an attitude.
Jackson smirked, deciding to end the bicker. "Goodnight, Doctor."
House didn't look at him as he hobbled past towards the door. However, the fight wasn't over just yet, he decided.
-----
It was late. The halls of the CIA were mostly empty; say for a few nurses and personnel popping in and out of random rooms. Beyond the walls of Langley, a storm had blown in and the pounding rain could be heard from deep within the building.
There was a growl of thunder as Doctor House cautiously opened the door. The lights were out, and he assumed that no one was planning on returning for a while. Taking one last glance out into the hall, he stepped into Doctor Terzi's office.
He leaned his cane against the chair that he sat in earlier that day, and then hopped behind her desk, seating himself in her squeaky chair. His mind wandered back to the time he broke into a psychiatrist's office to read Stacy's file. Now, here he was, breaking into classified CIA records.
He grinned as he opened the drawer. Lo, behold, there was the tan folder, with big red letters stamped across the front that read 'CLASSIFIED'. He wiggled his fingers eagerly as he snatched it up and plopped it on the desk before him. Now, to find out his actual name, he thought.
Phillip Bridges. Age 36. Caucasian male…Yeah, yeah, I know he's white. Where's the good stuff? House flipped through a couple of pages until he found some mission reports. It seems that, Phillip had made his way round the world a good few times. He had been to Japan, France, Israel (twice), Iran, Africa…he had been a busy guy. Finally, House found the most recent report.
Shanghai, China. House raised an eyebrow. Interesting. Phillip had been undercover there for the past 11 months as a chemist. Apparently, the lab there is where many terrorist organizations get their supplies from. Not just weapons, but bio-warfare as well. Phillip's mission was to climb up the ranks and find out who was in charge of the whole project. Apparently, this evil mastermind was heading all sorts of bio-labs such as this one all over the world, supplying terrorists with whatever they needed.
In the meantime, while Phillip was there, he was able to give the CIA plenty of information on what exactly these labs produce and he had slowly been sabotaging some of their projects. Phillip had returned to America for a week, supposedly doing 'business' for the lab, but really was updating the CIA on his mission, when he fell ill.
House rubbed his forehead before continuing. There was a crack of thunder and he looked up in thought as he realized something.
"I'm no biologist…so, I dunno what they were doing…"
The file said that Phillip had been undercover as a chemist. And…surely, he thought, surely if he was stationed there undercover for 11 months, he had to have had some knowledge of a chemist/biologist/whatever. As he pondered what John/Phillip had said before, he also realized that there are no mountains or forests anywhere remotely near Shanghai. It was a city out by the ocean.
Everybody lies. Of course they do, but why would he lie about that? If it meant saving his life? Patients are idiots, that's why, House thought grimly.
As much has he hated the thought of it, House was rather confused. On any other case, this would be the point where he'd send someone out to go snoop around the patient's home. Where's Foreman when you need him? He thought gloomily. House flipped through the file some more and found a page listing all the details of Phillip's return to the CIA and found just what he needed. He put the file neatly back in the drawer as he found it. He quickly got up and snatched his cane as he left the office.
As House stepped out into the hall, he noticed that there wasn't anyone around. Pretty normal at…(he glanced at his watch)…three in the morning. He smirked. Funny, just 24 hours ago he was being awakened and dragged into this confusing case…
He caned his way through the quiet corridors of the CIA, looking for Storage Room 24B. Fortunately, it did not take long to find. Once again, he glanced down the hall, making sure that no one was coming, before he jiggled the door handle open and stepped inside. It was mostly a giant closet, with rows and rows of shelves filled with all sorts of random things. House smirked as he noticed the back corner filled with an assortment of weapons. But he focused on the task at hand. He slowly limped down to row 8, second shelf…-
"There you are…" House muttered, grabbing a large duffle bag from the shelf. It was Phillip's bag from his stay there. Well, one of many. He was there for 11 months. House figured he may not be able to break into his patients home to snoop around, so this was as good as it would get for the moment.
Clothes…clothes…pocket knife…gun…shouldn't that be on the other shelf?...shoes…more clothes…But House stopped at a wallet. He roughly opened it, revealing many fake IDs and some sort of currency. It took him a moment to realize that it was something other than yuan, the Chinese currency. He tossed it aside and picked up another item out of the bag.
A passport…and along with that, a plane ticket. However, House raised an eyebrow. It was a returning flight from South America. Brazil, to be exact.
It was somewhat puzzling, at first. There were many items in this bag that pointed to places other than Shanghai. Or the continent of Asia, for that matter. He stuffed the bag away and began for the door.
Time for another chat with the patient.
-----
"You've never went to Asia, did you?" House said loudly, walking through the door of Phillip's room and approached him. Outside, there was a flash of lightning, followed by a low grumble of thunder.
The man in the bed moaned. "Was die Hölle?" he mumbled, just barely loud enough for House to catch.
House leaned forward on his cane. "Was that German?" he inquired.
"Why…can't I just…rest…?"
House paused before he began, working out one last thought before starting. "Look, Phillip,"
The patient opened his eyes, slightly alarmed. "How'd you find that out?"
"I'm a naughty boy and break rules. Funny, we seem to have that in common, don't we?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Except…youare a spy for a Euro terrorist organization…or something. I'm guessing European, with the German and all. See, I only break into offices and read classified files." House paused and waited for some sort of reaction. Phillip's face hardened, but said nothing, so House continued. "I'm guessing you'll be in more trouble than me, though. Double agents aren't popular here, you see."
"You…" Phillip coughed, "You know…nothing!"
"Drop it, already." House snapped. "Right now, that doesn't matter. I know you weren't in China…you were in Brazil, right?"
"I was in Shanghai, China for the last 11 months." Phillip replied stiffly.
"Then what's this?" House held up the plane ticket from Brazil. Phillip's eye twitched as he saw it. "And surely," House started pulling out the wallet as well, "if you were in China for nearly a year, you'd have some Chinese money in here, right?" He pulled out the cash. "Wait…this doesn't look Chinese, does it?" he looked at it with a sense of sarcastic shock. "How bizarre!"
Phillip struggled into something resembling a position and looked House in the eye. "That proves nothing."
"Well, I think it'd be enough to start an investigation." House tossed the ticket and wallet on the bed beside Phillip and resumed his position leaning over his cane. "'Course you need to be alive for this investigation…and that's where I come in. Really, I don't give a damn what you do, I just need to figure out what's wrong with you…"
But House trailed off when he saw Phillip reach under his pillow and pulled out something he'd hope to never see pointing at him again.
A gun.
Never visit patients again. He told himself as he slowly stepped back. I don't care what Wilson says… Never ever. "One of the nurses drop that while giving you a sponge bath?" he quipped lightly, keeping his eyes on the gun pointed at him.
"I…" Phillip wheezed out a breath, "…don't think you are in any position to make jokes, Dr. House."
"Look, I-…" But House stopped suddenly when a sound other than thunder exploded through the room.
-----
TBC