Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: My many thanks. Many, many thanks! Lisa, you rock.

A House is Not a Home

by Kristen Elizabeth

"Think of the Asherman's as the beer goggles that blinded us." Standing at the whiteboard, House began writing symptoms. "Now that it's morning and our heads are clearer, we've discovered that we're in bed with something truly nasty."

"Persistent cough with blood, night sweats, confusion, seizure, sporadic fever," Cameron read out loud. "Did the doctors in Vegas rule out TB?"

"I hope so," House said, capping his marker. "Or, man…is Chase's face gonna be red."

"They did," Foreman said, holding up a page from Sara's medical records.

Cameron frowned. "What if we're looking at this completely wrong? She's a scientist, right? She works in a lab. She's been exposed to God only knows what kind of chemicals."

"I know what kind." Foreman held up another sheet from the file. "Does that make me God?"

"God is a black woman," House reminded him. "Wait…you could be!"

With a grudging grunt of amusement, Foreman glanced at the paper. "On a daily basis, she comes into contact with phenolphthalien, cyanoacrylates...which I guess is just hot glue fumes...and print powder. None of which are toxic if properly used."

"Are we sure she properly uses them?" Chase asked.

"Something tells me Sara lives to follow protocols. It's probably why she jumped into bed with her boss. Inside every good girl, there's a bad girl just looking for a way out." House cocked a glance at Cameron. "A good thought, but no go. What else?"

"Clearly she has some kind of infection," Chase said. "Most likely in her brain."

House nodded with too much seriousness. "Brain infection. Sounds serious. Hope there's a cure for that."

Chase tossed down his pen in defeat. "I was going to add more."

"Good for you." House turned to Cameron. "Tap her spine. Foreman, get another CT. Chase, pout if you must, but when you're done, get another blood culture. And let it fester for a little longer this time."

"Do you expect something to have grown since the last one?" he muttered.

House paused on his way back to his desk. "That might just be the first smart thing you've said today."

On her way into Sara's room, Cameron passed by Grissom in the hall. He was sitting up in his chair, his stubbled chin resting on his chest, a sleeping sentry protecting Sara from a distance.

Sara was awake, staring out the window. As quietly as possible, Cameron set down the LP tray. "Sara?" When the woman slowly turned her head, Cameron offered her a warm, sympathetic smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I had a seizure," Sara said flatly. "And no one can tell me why."

"Not yet, but we're going to figure it out." Cameron pulled on a pair of gloves. "Dr. House wants to do a lumbar puncture to test your spinal fluid for infection. I'm going to numb your lower back before I start, but it can still hurt." She indicated the man in the hallway. "Should I call him in?"

"To hold my hand?" Sara shook her head. "No, thanks. He doesn't need to see me in pain again. The whole post-kidnapping recovery hurt him even more than it hurt me."

"It can't be a bad thing to have a man who wants to protect you."

"It is when he practically follows you around with a pillow in case you trip." Sara sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just move onto your side and round your back as much as possible," Cameron instructed. "Don't hurt yourself, okay? Just go as far as you can."

Wincing, Sara began shifting onto her right side, drawing her knees up a bit. "So, a lumbar puncture…the CT a little while ago. Does Dr. House have any theories or is he just on a fishing trip?"

"I'm sure he does, but he's not really good at sharing. He likes us to run our own tests and come up with our own theories, so he can tell us why they're wrong." Sara jerked at the cold prick of the local Cameron administered after she wiped the exposed skin with iodine. "Sorry. It should start to kick in soon."

Sara let out a breath. "If I asked, would you tell me why Dr. House needs a cane?"

"I might." Cameron pieced her lumbar needle together. "But before you do, you should know that it's not the reason he is the way he is. I've been assured that he was a jerk way before it happened."

"Do you really think he's a jerk?"

"Why do you say that?"

Sara lifted her slinged shoulder a bit. "You just look at him like…" She stopped.

"How do I look at him?" Cameron asked quietly.

"You look at him…like how I imagine I used to look at Gil. When he wasn't looking, of course." Her lips curled up. "Or at least when I thought he wasn't looking."

Choosing to concentrate on her test and not her patient's words, Cameron centered the long needle just over Sara's spine. "Okay. I want you to take a deep breath and then let it go. Try to relax, but keep still. I'm really good at this and it won't take long."

Sara inhaled and exhaled slowly. When the pain came, she gripped her pillow tightly and bit into her lip hard enough to taste blood. By the time Cameron bandaged the puncture site, the fabric beneath Sara's cheek was soaked through, but she never made a sound.

"I'm going to get this to lab," Cameron said, labeling the vial of clear fluid. "I want you to lie on your back, pretty much like you were before. Try not to move. Call a nurse if you feel a headache or a backache or any tingling in your extremities."

"No problem," Sara whispered, letting herself roll back flat on the bed.

Cameron collected her equipment and disposed of the used needles. Once she was done, she hesitated. "If I asked you a personal question, would you answer it?"

Sara swiped the back of her hand over her wet cheek. "Depends on the question."

"Dr. Grissom…" the younger woman began. "How did you…I mean, what was it that…" She stopped with a faint sigh. "Never mind. I'm sorry." She faked a smile. "Get some rest."

"Dr. Cameron," Sara called out before the doctor reached the sliding door. "It took seven years, three brushes with death, one psychotic rapist and more beer than I care to admit."

"In other words, yours is not the example to follow?" Sara inclined her chin. Cameron smiled again, this time genuinely. "Would you like me to send him in?"

A second passed before Sara shook her head. "Not yet." Cameron lingered at the door, like she wanted to say something, but couldn't quite work up the nerve. "You think I'm punishing him?" Sara asked.

"I think…in the end, you'll punish yourself more if you can't forgive him. And if you want a living example of that, I can page Dr. House."

Sara looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. "Would you ask him to come in, please?"

Through the glass wall, Sara watched as Cameron went to Grissom and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He woke with a start and Sara read her own name on his lips. The young doctor said something to him and a second later, he was on his feet, heading into Sara's room.

The last thing Cameron saw on her way to the lab was Grissom sitting on the edge of Sara's bed, holding her palm against his cheek.

"Did you know that the man who invented the modern lumbar puncture was kicked out of Harvard for performing the test on children, and subsequently formed Johns Hopkins Medical School?"

"A proud start for any educational institution," Chase mumbled, peering through his microscope.

House shook Vicodin into his mouth directly from the bottle. "Why do you think I went there?"

Chase glanced up from his samples. "Didn't they kick you out?"

Cameron quickly changed the subject. "I've already told you that there's nothing more than a slightly elevated lactate count in her CSF," she told their boss. "So is there a reason why you're still hanging over our shoulders?"

Limping over to her, House leaned in a close as possible. "Your hair smells pretty?" he guessed. Noticing how suddenly stiff she became, he backed off. "Maybe I just don't trust the two of you in here alone. Too many flat surfaces."

"Who needs a flat surface?" Cameron asked sweetly.

House blinked. "What've you got cooking over there, Chase?" he abruptly asked.

"Nothing. Same as before." With a sigh, Chase pushed away from the counter. "It's not an infection that's showing up in her blood."

"Keep it baking." House glanced back at Cameron. "They say good things come to those who wait."

Cameron looked him straight in the eye. "They also say 'don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today'."

Before House could reply, Foreman burst into the lab. "Got the CT results." He stuck the film he carried up on the nearest light board and turned it on. The team gathered around to examine the images of Sara's brain.

"Well." Cameron shook her head after a long, silent minute. "That explains the high lactate level. An abscess."

"Didn't you have Wilson check her test from Vegas?" Foreman asked.

"How could Wilson have missed that?" Chase wondered.

"Because it wasn't there." House pulled the film down. "Which means it's developed in a week. Which rules out cancer."

Chase smiled triumphantly. "And rules in an infection of the brain, thank you very much."

"Figured out a name for that infection yet? Or how it's causing her to cough up blood?" House asked, heading for the door. Chase scowled, more at House than himself. "No? Then get back to work."

"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.

At almost the exact same time, all four of their pagers went off. House pulled his out first. "I'll be with the patient," he said after checking it. "Trying to get air back into her lungs."

"If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends."

Grissom looked up from the book, expecting to see Sara watching him as he read. But she was looking out the window and had clearly stopped paying attention to Jane Eyre.

He cleared his throat and the slight noise nudged her out of her thoughts. She glanced back at him. "It'll rain again tonight," Grissom said, closing up the book.

"I forgot how much it rains on this coast," Sara murmured. She coughed a second later, which made her still-sore belly suddenly ache. "I want to go home."

"Soon, Sara," he promised. "Dr. House is going to find out what's wrong with you and you're going to get better." Grissom's mouth twisted into something halfway between a grimace and a sneer. "No one can be that much of an ass and not be a genius to make up for it."

Sara smiled. "You're a genius and you're not an ass."

"I can be," Grissom reminded her. "Most everyone has the capacity." He reached for her hand. "Except maybe for you, my dear."

"I can be a bitch. You know...when I..." Her chest suddenly felt heavy, but she ignored the strange feeling. "When I need to be."

"A bitch wouldn't let me be here, holding her hand after...everything."

At the same time Grissom lightly squeezed her fingers, pain blossomed just below Sara's right breast. Gasping, she shot up and clutched at her heart.

"Sara?" Grissom's eyes were wide and scared. "What's happening?"

The monitors recording her vital signs began beeping incessantly. "Can't…" Frantic for air, Sara struggled with each word. "…breathe!" Everything hurt and the more she struggled, the less oxygen her brain received. She felt herself growing heavy, slouching over….everything turning white. Her name was being shouted over and over again, but she was floating and couldn't feel anything anymore.

The cold stab of a very thick needle into her chest brought her crashing back down into the pain. Her whole body jerked as air flooded into her lungs. The white haze faded away with each gasping breath she managed to take. After glancing down and seeing the needle still sticking out of her body, Sara looked back up at the ceiling as her chest rose and fell.

An unshaven face suddenly appeared above her. "Don't do that to Gil again," House warned her. "I don't want to give him mouth-to-mouth when his heart gives out."

To Be Continued