Chapter 16
Would You Like Popcorn with Your Hematoma?
I told you I have a temper. All I could see in my mind were the men and women who died fighting the disease; the people who marched right back in after the death of their friends and began fighting the disease on two fronts; the long months away from loved ones; the long shifts treating people lying in their bloody feces and the faces of family members burying their dead. This all went through my mind as I tried to understand why they had chosen House to give the keynote speech on the Ebola outbreak when he had spent maybe two hours on the wards observing others treat it. The fact that he actually accepted the invitation rather than indicate that Anna, Charles or myself would be the better choice, just sent me over the edge. I felt like everything we had done and all our hard work was being minimized by House. I don't know why it meant so much to me. Was it the lack of sleep? The anxiety I had? The stress I felt? I just knew there was a hot white flash of anger that went through me. As soon as my fist connected with his jaw and he went sailing through the air, I knew that I had forgotten my anger management exercises. I was shaking my fist and screaming, it hurt so bad from the punch. But did the pain in my hand stop me? No. I began kicking his bad leg as he lay on the carpeted theater floor. He was trying to grab my foot as it connected over and over with him.
"You Son of a Bitch. You spent two hours in the Ebola tent. You know jack shit about the disease. I can't believe that you accepted. You're a...whoaaaa."
Wilson and Toby were trying to grab my arms, but I was dodging them and kicking House at the same time. House finally managed to grab my leg. I went down like a slab of concrete directly onto him. He quickly rolled as he saw my hands ball into fists. He came up straddling me, pinning my arms to the carpet. I looked into his eyes. They were bright and wide, he was clearly shocked by my behavior. Then in less than a heartbeat, his demeanor changed and he gave me an evil, victorious smile.
"We've got her sir. Do you need help getting up?" someone asked House.
I looked up and saw a security guard, his nightstick drawn and a manager. House stood up with the help of Wilson. I looked up at the Security Guard with disgust. As I managed to stand I sneered at the guard and with venom said, "I've had Rebel Colonels hold pistols to my head and I've been shot by guerillas. You think you can stop me with that stupid nightstick?" And with that I turned and threw the final punch before I heard a crack in my ear and I blacked out.
The cameras in the lobby filmed the entire event. When I saw the video later there was no doubt that I had started the altercation without any physical provocation whatsoever from House. I took some satisfaction in the fact that my final punch had floored House again. This time I had knocked him out. As soon as I threw the punch, the security guard had wacked me behind my ear like he was trying to hit a home run. We both laid prostrate on the carpet. House came to almost immediately. The look on his face when he saw the blood leaking from my ear was heartbreaking. It was as if he knew he had done something terrible. Yet, he hadn't done it. I had.
I was embarrassed watching the tape, but at the end I saw something rather remarkable. As soon as House came to and saw me laying prostrate with blood coming out of my ear and the guard about ready to swing again; he threw himself over me to prevent the guard from doing it. I could see him screaming at the guard and then Wilson. Of course Toby, the neurologist, started giving me medical attention. The tape went on for another ten minutes before the paramedics took me to Princeton General. I heard later that House wanted to take me to PPTH, but Toby insisted on sending me to my own hospital. He didn't want me anywhere near House when I woke up.
The district attorney's office wanted to arraign me in my hospital bed, but they were having trouble with the main witness, Gregory House. They hadn't been able to locate him to get a statement or to get him to sign a complaint. The theater manager charged me with disturbing the peace, hardly worth the paperwork. Wilson refused to give a statement unless House did and Toby kept his mouth shut too.
It was Tuesday morning and a very tired Toby sat in the chair next to my hospital bed, "They've confirmed that you have a basal skull fracture. You had some swelling and have been in and out all weekend. We managed to keep the swelling down with steroids. The next 48 hours should tell us what we need to know."
"Thanks." I was tired, embarrassed and really just wanted to be alone.
"I guess that 2,000 anger management class didn't anticipate Gregory House." Toby smiled.
I needed to apologize to Toby, "God, I'm so sorry. It's just that we've all been working terrible hours, my team have been rather depressed over the quality of the patients we're getting and then he comes in, rubs my nose in it–which I could have dealt with– but then they pick him to talk about a disease that he observed for less than two hours? Especially when I know that Charles and I will both be there at the Symposium. It seemed like such an insult to the people who died over there. Oh, God. I blew it. I did just what he wanted me to do. I'll go to jail and the department here will implode."
"I think House wanted to rile you, but I don't think he expected what he got. I know he didn't want you to get hurt physically. He was very protective of you once he came to. He was barking orders and cussing the guard out. I thought he was going to jump up and kill the guy. What's really going on between you two?" He didn't ask it with any malice or jealousy, just a simple question to try and understand where he stood.
"We slept together once when I was drunk and I don't remember it. I also slept with him once when we were in Africa. I was awake that time, but I had just learned about my friends dying. It was comfort sex, if there is such a thing."
Toby smiled, "I think I understand. Why did he go to Africa? He doesn't sound like the altruistic kind of guy to me."
"He came to make sure his mouse stayed alive."
"Uh?"
"He's the cat, I'm the mouse. He wanted to play cat and mouse with me and I ran off to Africa. He wanted me to get well, come home and then he could bat me around until I was dead. Get it?"
"Pretty much sums up what he did."
"Yeah, except I hope he has a black eye or something to show that I didn't go down without a fight."
"Your boss has been hovering around while you were getting your MRI. Apparently Lisa Cuddy called and demanded that you be fired or she was taking you to the medical board and dragging the hospital through the mud."
"I'd fire me." I said quietly. He looked stunned. "It's okay, Anna said the CDC would hire me in a heartbeat. So I won't starve."
"Riley, I have to get back to Hopkins. Are you going to be okay?"
"Sure. Don't worry about me, I'm a fighter."
He chuckled, "So it would seem. I love you Riley." He leaned over and kissed me on the lips, grabbed his jacket and paused.
"Toby, thanks. It's been great seeing you. I'm glad we talked."
"I notice you didn't say that you love me too."
"I can't, not yet. I don't know what I feel about you."
"Okay, well, I'm off. I'll call you later on."
When he was gone I lay back and thought of what a mess I had made. It was so stupid. I let House have my department on a plate. He didn't even have to work for it. About an hour later David came in with downcast eyes, slumped shoulders and a sad smile.
"Hi Riley, how are you feeling?"
"I'll be okay."
"The board is meeting in an emergency session tomorrow. Lisa Cuddy has called and demanded that you be fired. If not, she's taking you up before the medical board and she promised me that she'll drag the hospital through the mud for hiring you. It doesn't look good."
"Well, don't beat yourself up over it. I'll be happy to put in my resignation and you can forget about that meeting. Can you have your secretary draft it and I'll sign it? I'd like it to say that I appreciate the opportunity you gave me, but for personal reasons I am forced to tender my resignation."
Thanks Riley. I have to say, we're getting in calls from doctors all over congratulating you. Apparently, House showed up at the medical conference on nephrology yesterday to give one of his papers and he had a huge shiner. Word got around quickly. One doctor called and said, "Next time use a gun and put us all out of our misery.""
I smiled. I saw Robert coming through the door. He had been by the previous day but I had been a little punch drunk.
"Feeling better?" he gave me a big, sweet smile.
"David, can I have a minute with Robert?"
"Sure, I'll be back this afternoon with that letter. Bye."
He left and I took a breath before I turned and looked Robert in the eye. "I just resigned."
His mouth flew open and his eyelids flew open. "No! No!" House cannot win like this."
"Cuddy is demanding that the hospital fire me. Rather than have that on my record, I've decided to resign."
"When House hit me I didn't sue him or the hospital for battery and that happened while I was on duty and inside the hospital. This thing between you two happened off campus."
"I know, but I was told that the tape makes me look like a frenzied idiot."
"I don't care, I don't want to do this without your help. We make a great team. I've learned so much working with you."
"Me?" I was surprised to hear that.
"You reach your findings in a different way from House. It might be different but you get there. You spend more time with the patient and you order more specific tests. It's great. I'm learning how to combine the two techniques and when I do, it's going to be an incredible system. Riley, you can't leave."
"I did a stupid thing Robert. I deserve to suffer some consequence for my action."
"But not losing your job."
"I didn't act professionally. No one is going to want to send their patients to a hot-heady looney like me."
"They send them to House and he's a worse looney than you."
"You got me there..."
That afternoon I signed my resignation and I was released from the hospital. The doctors had insisted that I not stay alone for the next 72 hours, but there was no one that I could really ask come stay with me except Toby and I didn't want to ask him after everything he had already done.
I went home and took a look in the mirror. I was 39 and jobless. I had enough money to live on for a year if I had to, but I'm not very happy unless I'm working on something interesting. I was just beginning to feel really sorry for myself when the phone rang. I looked at the caller I.D. and it read, Charles Marston M.D.
"Charles!"
"Riley! Hey, when's your next championship fight? I'm putting twenty on you in the first."
"Not funny. You heard about that?"
"You are the talk of the town. Everyone is talking about the David and Goliath bout at the movie theater. I could have told them. I've seen you when you get angry. Remember that teenage kid who stole the girl's wallet? I'm not sure to this day if he'll father children." He started laughing, "Tell me why you did it?"
I told him the whole story. "I would have been angry too. They should ask you, me or Anna to give the Ebola lecture. Hey, I'm calling because Mass General wants you to come up and apply. When I called this afternoon to talk to you Robert Chase told me what happened. I went to my boss and they're salivating."
"They want me?"
"They hate House. You're a hero. Bill Lerner just says, "Next time..."
"...use a gun. Yeah, heard that one already. You know Charles, House isn't that bad. He is actually very good at what he does and he can even be human. He did come and take care of me."
"Yeah, and Dracula didn't mean to suck you dry. Well, give Bill a call and set up an interview. I want you up here with me. I owe you my life, twice over."
"You owe me nothing. We always had each other's back. Tell Bill, I'm going to take a little break but I'll talk to him at the conference next month, he's going to London isn't he? Can it wait until then?"
"Yeah, of course, we'll both be there. You take care and remember to keep your left up to guard that pretty face of yours. Bye Riley."
"Bye Charles."
I had just put down the phone when it rang again.
"Hello?"
"Dr. O'Sullivan?"
"Yes?"
"This is the D.A.'s office. We have a warrant for your arrest on charges of assault and battery on Dr. House, we were wondering if we could arrange for you to surrender."
I felt funny in my chest, scared. The adrenalin started to pump into my system. My heart rate went up and I had a hard time focusing. "He's bringing charges against me? I, uh, am under doctor's orders to remain at home until Monday because of the blow to the head from the security guard. Can I come in on Monday?"
"No hurry. Monday will do. What time can I tell them to expect you?"
"By 11:00 am?"
"I'll tell them not to go look for you unless you don't get there by noon. You have a great weekend, we'll see you next Monday."
I put the phone down and it rang again. I wouldn't have answered but it was Robert.
"Robert?"
"Riley, I just thought I'd call. I'm going to pick us some lumpia, I thought you might like some."
"No thanks Robert, I just found out there's an arrest warrant out for me. Assault and battery. I'm not really hungry."
"Bloody hell. That wanker." Click. The phone went dead. I looked at it and wondered if he had been on a cell or what.
I was so disappointed, so sad. Wasn't losing my job enough for House? Did he have to take my dignity and reputation too? In one afternoon he managed to bring me down to my knees. Do I have to beg him for mercy too? Is this the man who held me, washed me, took care of me? Could I have been so wrong about him?
Chapter 17
Can't We All Just Get Along?
House was standing down in the clinic writing in a chart.
"You took my pen, I need it back." Wilson said.
"Here." House handed him a cheap Sanford gel pen."
"This isn't it, it's the Mont Blanc in your hand. The 230 Mont Blanc in your grubby little fingers."
"What's wrong? They both write." House argued.
"Yeah and a Pinto's just like a Mercedes, they both get you to the store and back.'
"Precisely."
Wilson sighed and shook his head. He put out his hand, "House!"
House put the lid on the pen and handed it over just as a loud voice rang through the lobby.
"You narcistic bastard. It wasn't enough that you humiliated her, got the idiots in London to let you speak on a topic you know she's more qualified to handle? No, you get Cuddy to call and get her fired and now she's being arrested."
Chase was screaming, his Aussie accent thicker than usual. He was really pissed off. House was trying to follow what he was saying until he saw the fist coming at him. House felt the knuckles connect with his upper jaw below the right eye socket. He felt the pain and the thud as he landed on the linoleum. He put his hand up to his jaw, rubbing it and staring at Chase.
"What are you talking about?" House asked as calmly as he could.
Cuddy came running out of the office. She looked at Chase, who was shaking his hand from hitting House so hard. House was on the floor and the security guards were ready to pounce on Chase. House shook his head at them and waved them away with his hand. The guards backed off.
Chase turned to Cuddy, his jaw jutting, nostrils flared and his eyes wide, "There, you want to call up my boss and tell him to fire me? Then you'll have what you want, the only Diagnostics Department in town. I don't understand why you did this. When he hit me I didn't file charges, I didn't turn him in, I didn't file suit...hell, I didn't even file a worker's comp claim. Well, what goes around, come around. Something bad is going to happen to you two and I'll be there laughing when it does." Chase stomped out of the clinic and into the late afternoon.
House stood up and went after Cuddy, "You called her boss? You got her fired?"
"Not here, not now."
"I told you to do nothing, that I would take care of it."
"House, not here." She could see that House wasn't going to shut up so she almost ran back to her office knowing he would follow her.
House hobbled into her office flailing his arms. Wilson ran behind, wanting to make sure that no one got hurt. He could see that House had had a bloody nose and a bruised jaw, it was a well placed blow.
"Call them back, tell them it was a mistake, tell them they have to hire her back."
"I will not. She hit and kicked you in your bad leg while you were down! She's crazy, volatile. I don't want to worry that she's going to come after you and we lose you." Cuddy looked at a very worried House, his hand rubbing his forehead. Cuddy's voice became solemn, "She obviously can't handle being your competition and she's taking it out on you."
House looked surprised. Cuddy was sitting with her hands on the desk, her shoulders in the air, like she was ready to pounce. He got down in her face. "You did this because you didn't want the competition. You were afraid of her. You didn't trust that I could win."
"Win? This isn't a game."
"No it was a benign war until you got involved. I'm not afraid of her. Our department is in the black...and it's because I'm having fun competing. What happens when you take that away? Did you think of that? Why should I bust my balls? I woke up each day and wrote those articles, spoke at those symposiums because I wanted to win. I want to her to recognize that I'm the best and that she can't do what I can do, at least not as well as I can. I didn't want to win because she lost her temper. She hit me because I gave her a reason to deck me." He could see Cuddy didn't agree, "Look, she lost ten of her friends, she was shot, her close friend was shot, she watched this disease go through hundreds of people." He paused, took a breath and lowered his voice just a little, "She watched them die while she desperately searched for clues on how to save them. I essentially spit in their face by accepting the speaker's position. The people who were there fighting it, getting shot to fight it, should have been asked to give the lecture. I know why she attacked me and I'm okay with it. What the hell have you done lately besides expose more of your breasts and raise the hem of your skirts? When you go out and wrestle a monkey, then you can call her boss and get her fired. You call them back and you make this right."
Cuddy looked down, her shoulders slumped, "It's too late, I heard she resigned."
"You work your charm." House warned her. He turned and saw Wilson who was looking very sober. House turned back to Cuddy, "Did you have anything to do with her arrest?"
Cuddy shook her head "no" and House nodded, "Okay, I'll go figure that one out myself."
As they were leaving, Wilson turned to House, "Let's get you to the clinic, you need an ice pack and some attention." House went with him to the clinic where Wilson got out a cold pack and started treating the black and blue covering his jaw.
Riley heard a knock at her door. She opened it and saw a distressed Chase. His tie was undone, hair messed, shoulders slumped. He had a hard time looking up at her.
"My God Robert, your hand!" Riley opened the door. Chase shuffled into the room. "What happened?"
Riley picked up Chase's right hand to see the very bruised knuckles. She touched the hand and Chase flinched in pain. "Can you move it?"
"It's not broken." he collapsed into the chair and then announced, "I hit House."
"What? Oh my God. Please tell me this wasn't about me." His silence told her it was. "Tell me about it."
He spent the next few minutes giving her a blow by blow description. Riley went into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of beer for Chase. He couldn't open it, his hand hurt too much. She unscrewed the cap and handed it to him.
"Is House okay?"
Chase's eyebrows pinched together and his eyes narrowed, "Is House okay? The jerk got you fired and you're worried about him?"
"I'm worried that you might get arrested for assault and battery leaving poor Blair running the department."
Chase's shoulders relaxed and he looked down in shame. "Yeah, he's okay. He was yelling at Cuddy when I left."
"Why?"
"According to him, he didn't ask her to contact General. He didn't want you fired."
"Well, he certainly has a strange way of not getting me fired."
"My sentiments exactly."
Chase's cell phone went off. "It's the hospital. Hello?"
Riley sat back and drank her bottle of water while Chase talked on the phone. It was apparent from the furrowed brow and serious eyes that something was up. Chase hung up the phone and looked at Riley, "We better go, we've got a case. Do you know Sidney Goldstein?"
"The violinist?" Riley asked. "Yes, I know him well."
"He has two blue hands."
Riley said nothing but her eyes blinked quickly in disbelief . She thought for a minute and then exhaled, "It doesn't matter, I resigned this afternoon. He's all yours, go get him tiger. Oh, and tell Sidney hi for me."
"You mean you really do know him?"
"His son and I were in the same violin class together. I had tickets to see him tonight but I obviously didn't go."
"You play violin?"
"Quite well actually, but I am a little rusty. Now get. This could be your big break."
Riley went to bed at 10:30 pm, exhausted from the emotional accumulation of the day. At midnight she received a telephone call. It was Robert.
"Riley, I really need your help. I wouldn't call but I'm stumped. On top of it, Mr. Goldstein keeps asking for you. David is in his room trying to explain that you no longer work here. Goldstein is threatening to go to PPTH. David's beside himself. He knows that this could be great publicity if we get the diagnosis right and do it fast."
"Robert, you know I'd love to help you but I'd need to come down and see the patient."
Riley could hear David's voice saying something to Chase on the other end. She couldn't make out the words because Chase probably had his hand over the mic, but she could tell from the tenor of his voice that he was upset. The next thing she heard was David's voice.
"Riley?"
"Yes, David?"
"Can you come and give us a consult. We'll pay you 500 an hour if you'll just come in and help us with this one."
Riley grit her teeth. She knew she should pull a House, wait until they had no options and force them to hire her again. But she couldn't do that to Chase or to Sidney. Blue hands probably meant something was wrong with Sidney's heart or lungs, something serious.
She shook her head, disappointed in herself and her inability to be tough, "Okay David, I'll be down in an hour. Let me talk to Robert."
"You're coming in?" Chase asked.
"Yeah, you sound surprised."
"House would have forced them into a corner." There was a pause, "You're doing this for me aren't you?"
"You, Blair and Sidney. Now, I can only assume that you've checked for cyanosis, is he getting enough oxygen?"
"His Osats are 92, so we're only slightly below average. He doesn't smoke but his blood pressure is high – he's hypertensive. His blood pH is very acidic. His blood oxygen pressure is below average, 78. His blood-carbon-dioxide pressure is a little on the high side. So he has low blood oxygen and acidosis. Maybe that accounts for the cyanosis but he doesn't look ill despite the lab results. Here's the clincher, his chest x-ray is normal."
Riley ran her hand through her hair and with her eyebrows knitted shook her head, "Wow, the Carbon-dioxide pressure doesn't jive with the low pH. Run another blood gas, I'll be in soon."
Chapter 18
On the Job
I walked through the hospital doors and, to my surprise, the doctors and nurses stopped and clapped for me. I was embarrassed, but touched. I took the elevator to the third floor and met Chase outside of Sidney's room.
The new lab results showed that the blood gases were only slightly better than the old ones. I said to the nurse and Blair, "Start him on Oxygen therapy."
Our famous violinist with the blue hands became quite an attraction around the hospital. Several doctors had their own theories which they were only too happy to share with Chase and me. Blair was completely stumped. I have to admit his comfort level, the blood gases and the other tests just didn't add up.
A couple of hours later I went in to speak to our patient, "Sidney, your blood gases are not normal, but, with these results, I would have thought you'd look and feel much worse than you do. We're putting you on blood pressure medication and continuing your oxygen therapy. It's quite a conundrum. Even your history isn't consistent with your lab work and symptoms. It says in your chart that you have no history of heart or lung problems, you had a cold two months ago and your last tour was in Europe."
"That's right."
"Let's see, no allergies, no exposure to toxins. Looking at your history, it doesn't help me." I closed the chart and pinched my lips, "The hands turned blue at your concert, right?"
"Just before. We cut one of the pieces short and came to the hospital."
She looked stunned, her eyes wide, "You played violin with blue hands?"
"Yes, but no one apparently noticed except me and my manager."
"Wow. Maybe the audience just thought they were gloves or something!"
"Sidney, I want you to know that you have our full attention. I'll be back soon."
In front of David and two other doctors Sidney said, "I trust you Riley. My manager wanted me to go see this other doctor. He was recommended to us by my physician in New York. He wanted us to see Dr. Holmes...something like that. But I remembered Jon telling me that you were now working here in Princeton so I told them to bring me here."
"Thanks, I can't tell you how much that means to me. You know Sidney, you look too well to have blood gases this bad." Riley turned to Blair, "I want you to run the blood gases personally next time we take them, say in half an hour."
The blood gases were taken again and, this time, they came back within the normal range. In addition, Sidney's blood pressure had come down considerably. But we still had blue hands.
Chase shook his head and rubbed his eyes, "You know, he looks like a lighter, weaker version of those blue men in Las Vegas except that he doesn't have it anywhere else on his body, not under his arms or on his t-shirt or any other piece of clothing."
I jumped to my feet and gave a quick screech, "Robert, you've hit on it. I've been so stupid." I ran as fast as I could to the elevator, but when I saw they were all busy, I ran for the stairwell and up the staircase to the third floor. I scared the nurses, they saw me running and thought there must be a code blue. I had a whole entourage following me. "Acetone, get me some acetone." One of the nurses ran to the lab.
"Sidney, do you warm your hands before you play?"
"Yes, why?"
"Do you stick them under your arms to warm them?" It was a common practice for violinist to warm their hands. Some always had gloves on, some put them in their pockets and other stuck them under their arms.
"Yes, sometimes. Why Riley?"
I ran to the patient's wardrobe but the only shirt in it was pink cotton. I was confused and defeated. I thought for sure I had the answer.
I turned, sighed and rubbed my chin, "Sidney, was this the shirt you wore before the concert?"
"No, I took a shower after the show and changed before I came."
"What color was the shirt you wore just before you put on your tux?"
He thought and then his eyes widened and his eyebrows went up, "Oy Vay. I was wearing a new blue shirt my wife bought me in Europe."
I grinned. The nurse with the acetone showed up. I grabbed a washcloth and dipped it in the acetone. With one wipe the dye came off in one long strip, leaving his hand pink and blue striped. The entire room went, "Ahhhh!"
"It was Chase who caught it. He thought it was a dye." I said.
Chase shook his head and frowned, "I suggested it but it doesn't make sense. He didn't have it on his armpits. How did you know Riley?"
"Oh yes it does make sense. The sweat in your palms comes from different glands and it's triggered by stress, excitement, and emotions. The sweat under your arms comes as a result of being hot. They each have their own pH and the more acidic it is, the more it will leach the dye. Sidney didn't start sweating under his arms until after he put on his tux. But his palms were sweating because he was nervous about the concert. When he put them under his arms before he changed into the tux, the got the blue on them."
There was clapping. I grabbed Chase's hand and we did a theatrical bow.
"Bravo!" Sidney and everyone yelled.
After the clapping died down, Blair asked the big question, "What about the blood gasses?"
"Improper testing by the lab. We need to trace the tech and let the lab supervisor know. I suspected improper testing, which is why I had you test the gases this time, when it came back normal. But Sidney, this trip to the hospital was divine intervention. Your blood pressure has been slowly climbing for the last year and tonight, when you came in, it was sky high. You have high blood pressure, dangerously high. You're lucky you haven't stroked out."
Sidney waved for me to come over. "My mishugina!" he exclaimed while holding my face in between the palms of his hands. He gave me a great big kiss on my lips. "You three are family. Anytime you want into one of my concerts you call Max here and he'll get you tickets. You understand?"
Chase, Blair and I nodded yes. We were very pleased with the results all around. Sidney let me hold a press conference.
"Sidney Goldstein was admitted last night with suspected cynosis. It was determined that Mr. Goldstein, like millions of Americans, is hypertensive. In other words, Mr. Goldstein has exceptionally high blood pressure for which he is getting treatment. We are pleased to report that Mr. Goldstein's blood pressure is responding well to medication."
Sidney released his own statement that he experienced symptoms associated with a lack of oxygen in his system and he was grateful to both Chase and I for discovering the cause of his problem so quickly.
I went home and tried to sleep. I was having trouble because I kept wondering if I would still be allowed to go to London the following Tuesday for the Symposium. I suspected that it would depend on when the arraignment would be held. I decided I should hire an attorney to represent me. Chase came over that night and gave me the name of an attorney that had represented House in a skirmish he had with the law over his Vicodin abuse.
"I can't represent you because it's a conflict of interest. Dr. House was my client and you're being prosecuted for attacking him. But let me give you the phone number of Ronnie Drew. He's almost as good as me." There was a chuckle. He gave me the number and I made an appointment for that afternoon.
I went to the law office of Attorney Drew and discovered that he was a short man, handsome, charismatic and funny.
He waved a video in front of me and said, "I managed to sweet talk the D.A.'s office into letting me have your video and I must say, you have a damn good right cross."
He sat back and played it on the television. I was amazed. I looked so out of control. Poor House didn't have a chance, I had jumped him with such ferocity that I didn't even recognize myself. I saw the blow from the Security Guard and all I could think was that, I'm lucky to be alive. The baton landed at the base of my head right behind my ear and it wasn't just a tap, but a full on baseball swing.
"Man, you wailed on Dr. House." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, "Now what's the real scoop? Did he sleep with you and then dump you for another woman?"
My mouth dropped open a little and my head jerked back. "We, uh, we slept together 2 ½ times."
He started laughing. "I'm sorry but I have to know how you have ½ sex."
I blushed but I knew House. He'd be more than happy to tell the whole world on the stand about our sexual encounters. "Orgasm but no penetration, okay?"
"Are we talking head?"
"No, believe me, I know head...and this wasn't head. Can we move on?"
"So you too were romantically involved?"
"Oh no, it was a 'love the one you're with' scenario. Just sex. He found out I had been shot and so he raced to Africa to take care of me. He's perverse, he wanted me alive so he could compete with me for patients when I got back to Princeton. He thrives on competition."
"And so you have sex and then hit and kick him in the lobby of the theater because he's..." he searched for what he wanted to say, "...a lousy lay?"
"Oh, he's great in bed. No, it was because he was going to speak about Ebola at the symposium next week in London."
He leaned on his desk and stuck his head towards me with his eyes narrowed, "You beat Dr. House up because you were jealous of him speaking at the conference?"
"Not jealous, angry. They asked him to talk about Ebola, but he knows very little about Ebola. When he was in Africa he had the least contact of any of us with the Ebola patients." I noticed that his lips were tight, his forehead furrowed and he tilted his head, "Oh, let me start by saying that House is a world famous Diagnostician at Princeton-Plainsboro. I just opened up a Diagnostician department at Princeton General. We're in direct competition. The night at the theater he took great pains to tell me he was asked to speak on Ebola. He rubbed in it because he knew I would be offended since there are several people who worked long and hard over in Africa fighting Ebola who are better qualified to address the subject."
"Including you?"
"Yes, no...I mean, it didn't have to be me. It's a slap in the face to the doctors and healthcare workers who died fighting the disease. So many healthcare workers died this time in Africa. Our hospital camp was overrun by guerillas and there was a massacre."
"Your camp in Africa was overrun by gorillas? I thought they were pretty docile except when directly threatened."
"Oh no, these Ugandan guerillas are vicious beasts. They roam in packs and take whatever they want and kill whoever get in their way."
"Wow, so what does a gorilla massacre have to do with House?"
"These doctors, the ones who were there and fought the outbreak on the front line, can speak more informatively about Ebola. They all sacrificed a lot over there. But what happens? The most prestigious medical conference for infectious diseases asks someone like House, who dances into an Ebola ward for two hours, to give the talk as if he's an expert on the disease. Understand?"
"Yeah, I understand that. I was just wondering if you had any photos of these gorillas that attacked you? Were they big, black males or females?"
"Males. And no, I was shot just before they attacked the camp."
"Who shot you?"
"A guerilla." I snapped. I was getting a little frustrated. He seemed somewhat dense. I was certain that most people were at least aware that there was unrest in Africa. He seemed to be surprised by it.
"Wow! You were shot by a gorilla? How did they learn to shoot a gun? How did they get it?"
"I suppose their leader taught them and they get the guns from assholes like the Chinese."
He shook his head and looked at her, somewhat stunned. "I never knew that the Chinese were involved with gorillas. You think of Chinese and you think of Pandas."
"Well, they are."
"I think I understand now. So, were you on friendly terms with Dr. House before he rubbed your nose in the London deal?"
"I was on no terms with Dr. House. We hadn't seen each other in months since he left Africa. It had been agreed that what happened in Africa between us would stay in Africa. When we got here we knew we would be rivals and the gloves would be off."
"So Dr. House has a motive for testifying? He wants you out of his way so that he doesn't have to compete with you."
"You tell me. I assume he brought the charges."
"I must admit, he looked very protective of you after the security guard hit you. Boy that guy wacked you good. You must have said something to piss him off."
"I did. I guess you should know that the CDC requested I attend an Anger Management Program after I pissed off a guerilla and was almost killed."
"Anger management for making a gorilla mad? Boy, I didn't know the CDC were such PETA freaks."
I sat there, confused. Where did that non-sequitur came from? I felt it was best to keep my mouth shut. This guy was suppose to be good. He must be trying to put things together in his head since he would be explaining this all to a jury. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing.
I was arraigned on Monday and the judge set bail at 100,000 and withheld my passport when he discovered that I no longer had any ties to the community, i.e. no job. I was devastated. I had so much to share with the medical community on all the diseases I had seen in Africa and now I would not be able to go to London. But there was nothing I could do except pay 10,000 for my bail bond.
My attorney discovered that the charges were being brought because the security guard's company was pushing the D.A.'s office to bring them. They were afraid that I was going to sue them because the guard used, "excessive force." If the D.A. obtained a conviction against me, it would weaken any claim I might have against the guard and the security company. The D.A. was afraid of being accused of not pursuing claims against people with money so the charges were filed. Money? I never thought of myself as having a lot of money, but then, I did have more than the average juror.
I arranged for Robert to take my place on the panel and then I went home. I was so depressed I didn't get up until Friday when I finally decided I stunk too much and needed a shower.
Chapter 19
Do the Right Thing
Chase arrived at Heathrow at 4:30 pm on Tuesday afternoon. He walked down the gangway from the plane and made his way to customs. Because he was a citizen of Australia, he zipped right through on the far lane reserved for Brits and members of the Commonwealth. He picked up his luggage at the carousel with a trolley and then took through the green lane and to a cab. He missed the old black cabs that used to bus the people around London. They were larger and had more personality.
When Chase arrived at the Hotel Intercontinental near Buckingham Palace, he checked in and went up to his room to settle in. Around 7:00 pm he decided to go down to the bar, have a drink, see if there was anyone he knew lurking around and then go for a meal. He entered the bar, took a seat at a table and ordered a Pimms.
He had barely taken a sip when he heard the familiar voice, "Are you here for the Vidal Sasoon Convention?"
Chase shook his head and closed his eyes. Anyone but House. Why House? He sat his drink down and turned around, looked House in the eye and started laughing. His face looked like he had gone ten rounds with Larry Holmes. The right side was a lovely yellow with some fading purple, obviously the older bruising from Riley's attack. The left side was a nice purple blue, with a spot of yellow from Chase's punch.
"You look like the picture of domestic abuse. You're going to give everyone a good laugh on Saturday, aren't you?" Chase volunteered.
House didn't bother to ask permission; he just sat down across from Chase. The barmaid walked over to House. "I'll have an Adnams Ale." She sashayed off to the bar to place the order. House watched as the barman pulled the pint of dark brown ale and then he turned back to Chase. He looked around, "So, where's Riley? I'm looking forward to heckling her on Thursday during her panel."
"You're looking at her."
House turned his head quickly and narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean, I'm looking at her?"
"Riley was arraigned yesterday for the battery charges. The judge set bail at 100,000 and pulled her passport. She won't be presenting because of you. Hope that makes your day. I'll be giving her presentation instead."
House's pursed his lips and rubbed his chin in thought . His gaze fell on the floor as he thought of all the ramifications his little joke had wreaked on Riley. He hated feeling guilty about anything.
Adults need to control their own behavior, I shouldn't have to censor what I say. How was I to know she was that volatile? Still, it meant that House's opportunity to make it up to her in London and to demonstrate his contrition, what little he felt, had flown out the door. Now this is just going to be another boring convention and I don't even have Wilson to hassle or hang with. Great, just great.
"So you'll be giving the speech on emerging diseases?" House asked.
"Yes and if you give me any bloody lip during it, I'll Marmelize you."
"I just might like being Marmelized, what does that mean...don't worry, harassing you wouldn't be half as much fun as harassing Riley. You're used to it."
"Yeah, Riley would probably find a new patch on your face to decorate." Chase stoppd smiling, took a drink and then addressed House in a serious tone, "House, Riley is one of the nicest people you could meet. She's brave, fearless, smart, helpful, funny and patient, at least with Blair and me; why would you want to hurt her? I really want to know what she did to you in Africa that you feel the need to take away her job, her reputation, her dignity and her freedom? Isn't this too a high a price, even for you?"
House rubbed his nose with his index finger and then sat back in the chair, thinking. He folded his arms across his chest and looked towards the barmaid. What am I suppose to say? He wants me to acknowledge that I'm to blame for this. He looked Chase squarely in the eye and paused, "I never wanted her fired, I never signed a complaint against her and I didn't mean for it to go this far. I didn't know she would go off like a Chinese firecracker. She may be all those things you said, but she also has a terrible temper. The D.A. saw the tape and decided to press charges for whatever reasons. Besides, Riley has to take credit for her part in this."
"Maybe. But what are you going to do about it? I left her Monday night and she looked incredibly sad. Really shattered. Distraught. I felt uncomfortable leaving her like that."
"Okay, okay...I get it. I can't do anything until I get home. I'll see what I can do then." House grimaced and then downed most of his ale. Chase backed off, that was a lot of House to admit and agree to do. Chase knew when to hold his tongue with House.
On Thursday, just before the panel presentation, Charles approached the stage and introduced himself to Chase. "Hi, I'm Charles Marston, Riley's friend. We were in Africa together."
"That's right! You were the one shot the night she was shot." Chase shook his hand.
"Yeah, I never thought my life would be saved by getting shot, but it was. Tell Riley that they still want to interview her at Mass General when the charges are dealt with."
Chase jerked his head back in surprise, "Mass General doesn't care about the charges?"
"Normally they would, but no one likes House up there. They all believe that he provoked her to keep her from competing with him in Princeton. They figure if House would stoop to that, she must be really good. I think they really want her up there. They'll probably give her a class at Harvard too." Charles paused and shrugged his shoulders. He looked puzzled, "I only met House briefly before they flew me back to the States. I don't get it. House flew down to Africa and frankly, he took really good care of Riley. Even though she was unconscious he would talk to her, clean her, read to her, play her music. I thought for sure he had a thing for her. My friends say that I must be mistaken, House doesn't love anybody but House."
Chase sighed. He knew it wasn't true about House. House did have feelings, but he was good at disguising them; so good that he didn't even recognize when he had them until it was too late. But Chase didn't feel like championing House. He was still angry at him for what he had done to Riley. "House is House. No one can quite figure him out."
Chase apologized to the huge crowd that had shown up to see Riley O'Sullivan. "I'm sorry to have to break the news, but Dr. O'Sullivan had something personal come up."
Someone yelled out, "Yeah, her fist." There was laughter. Even House smiled.
"Until recently, I worked with her at Princeton General and so she asked me to give the presentation for her." Chase began to go through the carefully prepared slide show and the written information that Riley had given him. When it came to the answer/question session one of the doctors stood up.
He addressed himself to Chase but was looking down at House two rows below him. "Dr. Chase, please tell Dr. O'Sullivan that she has our full support. We all understand how one could lose their temper in such circumstances. We just don't understand why the parties to this altercation keep persecuting Dr. O' Sullivan."
Chase watched House as the doctor spoke. House frowned, rested his elbow on the arm rest and put his hand over his mouth. He closed his eyes as he listened. When he heard the part about persecuting Dr. O'Sullivan, he just snickered, picked up his cane and left.
Saturday morning brought a good English downpour. But the conventioners all stayed warm and cozy since none of them ventured outside. Everyone wanted to be in the audience for House's talk. The word on the convention floor was that the fight between Riley and House had begun over his upcoming speech. The doctors were desperate to hear what had whipped R. B. O'Sullivan into such a lather that she had decked Gregory House.
House didn't try to hide the bruises, he let everyone have a good chuckled when he took the stage before he began. He started the discussion on other, more relevant, topics concerning infectious diseases before he turned to Ebola. He took an hour going into all of the infectious disease challenges that faced urban practices and hospitals.
Taking a drink of water, he then gave a five minute speech on the new Ebola strains and the new vectors. House looked at the anticipating audience and paused. Chase watched him closely. House looked extremely ill at ease even though House had on a well tailored suit, Bond street shirt, silk tie and Italian shoes. He looked out of place. He rubbed his mustache and beard which had been closely trimmed. The pause was palpable.
"Ebola. The recent outbreak in Africa officially claimed 259 lives. But there were 195 more Ebola victims that weren't counted because they were shot and then set on fire by Ugandan guerillas before they could die of the disease."
House started showing photos of the dead healthcare workers. Charles, who was sitting next to Chase, couldn't watch. He looked at his lap and put his hand up to his eyebrows to shield his eyes from the faces of his dead friends.
House's voice was matter of fact, calm, and clear. "These are the photos of people that I don't presume to understand. Most of them had successful practices in Paris, London, Princeton, Washington D.C., Los Angeles, Madrid, New York and other cities around the world. They were asked by WHO and the CDC to go into a country torn apart by politics, thuggery and a never ending struggle between borders. They knew the odds of dying would increase exponentially if they went. If they weren't murdered or wounded by the violence in the country, then it was possible that they would face a horrible death from the disease they went to contain. Ten healthcare workers died by gunshot or were burned alive. Five healthcare workers died from Ebola, their insides essentially liquefying and pouring out of every orifice in their body. Their skin eventually sloughed off while they were still alive. They died painful deaths.
I don't know what your definition is of a hero, maybe Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Dale Ernhardt. My definition is someone who runs into a burning building to save someone when they know the odds are high that they won't return to their cozy lives. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet my definition of a hero." The photos kept changing, they were the ones that House had taken in Africa mixed with photos provided by Anna. They were all photos of healthcare workers taking care of patients in the Ebola tents, driving ambulances or working in labs with wretched monkeys.
House stopped on the last slide. It was the last photo he took of Riley on the day he left. She was barely smiling, her eyes looking past the camera into an unknown future. She looked tired, circles under her eyes, her cheeks drawn, but she also looked hopeful, alive and sweet. He looked up at it, "This is a photo of Dr. Riley O'Sullivan at the Wamba Ebola Camp. She's served three tours in the Congo fighting Ebola. She risked her life going out at midnight with Dr. Charles Marston to collect Ebola patients knowing that there were guerillas in the area. On one of these dangerous runs, she and Dr. Marston were brutally shot by two guerillas. She almost died and yet she stayed longer than requested to assist with the outbreak."
House turned back to the audience. "This is the person who should be up here explaining the African outbreak of Ebola, not me." He unplugged his computer, gathered his things and walked off the stage.
There was dead silence, but then Chase stood up and started clapping. The rest of the doctors followed suit. House received a standing ovation, but he didn't know it. He was already out in the lobby, retrieving his luggage from the concierge and grabbing a cab to Victoria Station for the train to Heathrow. He was home by early the next morning.
House spent most of Sunday sleeping and watching television. Sitting down with a beer , he looked around. He was back, surrounded by books and music and once again, all alone. I wonder if Toby came up to Princeton to see Riley for the weekend? She could do better than him.
Riley sat on her balcony overlooking Lake Carnegie wondering how the Symposium had gone and if Chase had done well. Her eyes were swollen and her nose raw from all the crying she had done. My temper, I knew it would get me in the end. Now I have to pick up and move just when I thought I could relax and stay somewhere. She walked back into the living room, grabbed her violin and began to play the mournful strains of Mendelssohn's Violin Concert in D Major. She concentrated on the tenor of the violin, the bowing through the bridge, the sounds that resonated in her heart. It helped her cope, helped her think. When she was done, she melted into her sofa. It was time to move on, stop the self-pity game. It was time to stop crying.