A/N: Okay, broke this into 2 chapters, partly because of limited time available today to write things down in, partly because it was getting a bit long with plenty of meat on it already. Next chapter, possibly Monday . . . Hail to the Chief! (with a few surprises for all).

(H/C)

As it turned out, House didn't have to call Jensen. The staff had barely finished getting Mark stabilized and had just moved him to a gurney when his cell phone rang. House, with a fair idea of the caller, lifted it off Mark's still body as nimbly as a pickpocket and glanced quickly at the caller ID as he was already pushing the button. Yes, it was Jensen, his twin radar obviously sounding a red alert even from the next state. House raised the phone to his ear, ignoring looks from two of the hospital workers and an eye roll from Brenda.

"He can't come to the phone right now," House started, "but I do have a message."

Jensen's voice was tight with concern. "What's wrong? Something happened. He . . . just switched off."

"Pretty close, actually. He went into 3rd-degree heart block and collapsed."

The impact of that ricocheted around in silence for a second. "He had a heart attack?"

"Not quite; this is electrical, not ischemic. His heart completely lost rhythm. There's a short somewhere. We defibrillated him and got it back, and EKG now isn't showing any permanent myocardial damage, but it's still not normal, either. Until we can be sure of the reason this happened and get it fixed, I need to put in a temporary pacemaker. There is definitely something going on with his heart; I was narrowing it down to that on exam before he collapsed. But it's not CHF, and the EKG doesn't look suspicious for CAD. He also had a seizure when he collapsed. That could have been caused by the heart block, could be a separate issue, and we need to work that out, too. The differential is just starting. He's stable right now, but he definitely needs admission, and he needs to be on constant telemetry until we track this down. It wouldn't be safe for him to leave the hospital." Brenda was looking at him curiously now, wondering to whom he was giving this amazingly thorough and amazingly nonsarcastic and even perhaps sympathetic-toned update.

Jensen audibly took a deep breath. "If he'd gone into heart block outside the hospital, he could have died, couldn't he?"

"Total heart block like that, yes, easily. Unless he'd conveniently been standing next to a paramedic at the time."

"I'll come down to Princeton," the psychiatrist said quickly. House couldn't help a quick comparison to Wilson earlier. Jensen's voice was taut, his own stress level obviously climbing, but he was still functional, working out necessary details. House had no qualms about Jensen driving from Middletown to Princeton, although he would probably make excellent time getting here. But Wilson was on the edge of freaking out, truly unsafe to even drive around the block. Of course, Wilson was dealing with the crushing weight of guilt in addition to a possible medical crisis for his child.

Wilson. Had to check on Sandra and Wilson. It was starting to look like House would be forced into two cases at once, something he hated, but he couldn't very well drop either of them under the circumstances.

"You can even help me out down here," House said, returning his attention to Jensen. "He wasn't the picture of cooperation when he was awake, and he was in the process of walking out on me when he collapsed. He needs somebody he'll listen to to give him a swift kick. Meanwhile, I never actually got data or paperwork from him, and he's unconscious. I don't even know his wife's name. We need authorization from somebody to really get rolling on diagnosis and treatment."

"I've got proxy," Jensen replied quickly. "Me and his wife jointly, in case one is unavailable. I'll try to contact her, but I give you full permission right now to go ahead and do anything you think needs doing."

"Thank you," House said. Everybody around the gurney now was watching him, and the rare phrase drew a stare from two aides and a doubling of the curiosity quotient from Brenda. "See you in a few hours." He hit off and pointedly returned Mark's cell phone to his pocket. "Before we move him upstairs, let's give him another good boost of Ativan."

"But the seizure has stopped, Dr. House," an aide pointed out.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." All of his sarcastic bite was back in his tone there.

"You don't want him to wake up," Brenda deduced.

"We can't rule out the chance of another seizure popping up at some point. Might as well act preventatively."

"And you don't want him to wake up," Brenda repeated, not wavering.

House relented. "His next-of-kin is a hell of a lot more cooperative than he was being. At the moment, I've got carte blanche, and I don't want to waste diagnostic time trying to convince him he's really sick, just in case nearly dying wasn't a strong enough hint. Relax, I'll let him wake up in a few hours." Just as soon as Jensen was here to apply more leverage to his brother than House had.

Brenda sighed and fetched a loaded syringe, giving Mark another shot. House looked at the gurney non-pushers. "Come on, let's get this show on the road. It has wheels for a reason." The entourage made their way out of the clinic, and Brenda collected her thoughts and then did her best to return her attention to her work. At least the clinic wasn't quite as insanely busy now. Some of the patients waiting had left during the crisis, as if Code Blues might be contagious. Picking up the next chart, she gave one final look back at the doors. House had already disappeared.

"The one morning in a year he's been down here, and. . ." she muttered under her breath, then raised her voice. "Mrs. Brown, you're next. Exam Room Two, please, and the doctor will be right with you."

(H/C)

Foreman and Taub came from different directions in response to House's page and nearly collided in the door of the ICU room. House was standing inside at the foot of the bed, eying Mark and the monitors in turn. With some chemical assistance, Mark's heart rate was higher than the first reading in the exam room before it had crashed to zero, but the cardiac rhythm still wasn't normal. House heard the footsteps behind him and pivoted to face his team. "Meet our patient!" he announced brightly.

Taub gave a purely professional look at Mark and then the monitors, but Foreman did a brief double take. House ignored him. "40-year-old male, previously healthy other than hypertension controlled on Norvasc, has been having myalgias, nonrestorative sleep, and low energy for the last few weeks. Bradycardia on initial exam. Not that he admits to much of that; he doesn't think anything's wrong and was saying that right up to the point where he went into complete heart block, collapsed, and had a seizure. Defibrillated him, sedated him, and pumped his heart rate back up. Oh, and there was a mildly positive chess test earlier."

Foreman came to life. "You mean stress test."

"No, I mean chess test."

Taub gave an inward sigh, but House was just waiting to be asked. They had to play his game sometimes to make any progress in conversation. "Okay, House, what was the chess test? Did he lose to you?"

"No, he beat me easily. Both games." That startled both of the other doctors. "He's a former state chess champion; I never expected to win. I was just performing a chess test. And in that test, he had a little bit more difficulty than he should have focusing on his game while I was doing my best to pester the hell out of him every time it was his turn."

"And this is supposed to be diagnostic of?" Foreman asked.

"General offness and slight irritability, trouble multitasking. He wasn't feeling well, even though he insisted he was. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, as they say. Okay, now you know the symptoms. Go."

Taub kicked it off. "Heart block can be either congenital or acquired, but 40 is awfully late to have a congenital case present initially. Whole string of possible reasons for acquired - infection, medication reaction, lots of things. Norvasc could even be the cause; we should definitely stop that for the time being. Seizure could have been cardiogenic kicked off by the block or could be a separate problem."

"House . . ." Foreman started reluctantly.

House ignored him, as the tone had been personal and not medical, therefore most likely irrelevant. "So, we put in a temporary pacemaker to keep him from shorting out on us again. CT head to rule out acute intracranial reason for a seizure. Start complete lab workup and studies to try to find the root problem."

"House," Foreman insisted more loudly.

"What is it?" House asked, annoyed. "Something to do with this medical case?"

"Yes, actually. I hate to bring it up, but . . . do you really think you are capable of working objectively on a case where your psychiatrist is the patient?"

Taub's head snapped up, and he looked from Mark to House and back to Mark.

House's voice was more annoyed now. "He's not my psychiatrist."

Of all possible objections, Foreman hadn't imagined that one. "But . . . I saw him that day in court, and when we were treating his daughter, too." Taub was starting to put it together, now, but since he had not been in court at the Chandler hearing, and he and Thirteen had been on the Middletown end of Cathy's case, Taub actually had less previous direct exposure to Jensen than anybody else on the team. Jensen had been around the hospital after the car accident when Abby was born, but he had been specifically publicly tied to Wilson, not House, hadn't been part of a case directly involving the fellows, and that had been over a year and a half ago.

"He's not my psychiatrist," House insisted. "One more point to the history; the patient is an identical twin." Foreman relaxed slightly, the light dawning. "And you could have raised that concern privately."

"I'm . . . I apologize," Foreman covered. "It was relevant to the case, though. And nobody was in the room but Taub, and he already knows everyth. . ." Too late, Foreman realized that he shouldn't have said that either.

House glared at him. "Yes, the whole hospital knows that I'm totally screwed up, but I am still the best damned doctor on the place, as well as your supervisor, and if you want to keep your job, start doing it. And anytime you think you need to question my personal involvement on a case, you ask me that privately." He started toward the door of the room abruptly. "Get to work on this one. I'm going to go check on Sandra and Wilson."

Taub had been feigning deafness out of self-preservation for the last minute, but he came back to life there. "What's wrong with Sandra and Wilson?"

"She came into the ER with premature labor, and he's chewing himself into worry fits." House left out the additional reason, which wasn't general knowledge outside of Sandra's medical records. "If the kid is born with complications" - at which point the additional reason would become relevant knowledge for the team - "we're taking that case, too. Get busy." House left the room, still annoyed, and it showed in his shoulders and stride.

Taub watched him leave, then shook his head. "Nice going, Slick."

"It was a legitimate concern involving the case," Foreman protested.

Taub didn't answer, and after a moment, Foreman, too, moved in for closer evaluation of their patient.

(H/C)

Sandra had been admitted, and House found them up on the OB floor. He stood unnoticed in the door of the room for a moment. Sandra looked pale, drawn, and frightened, smaller and more fragile in the hospital bed. Wilson was sitting next to her, holding her hand. Wilson looked pretty strung out himself, but he was clearly trying to stay calm and focus on his girlfriend. House cleared his throat, and they both looked up. "How's the kid?" he asked.

"Okay on fetal monitoring," Wilson said. "They've put Sandra on antibiotics, steroids, and tocolytics IV."

House walked over to lean on the edge of the bed, facing Sandra directly. "Wilson asked me to take the case if the child has problems."

She relaxed a fraction at that, though she still looked scared. "Yes, please. I'd feel better knowing that myself."

"I just got reminded of something by Foreman's nonsubtlety on another point, though. Wanted to make sure you both realized this. If the team takes this case, they will get the records, and they will know everything."

Wilson flinched but then held steady. "If you could help the baby, that doesn't matter. My reputation doesn't matter if our son is safe." Sandra squeezed his hand lightly, appreciating the decision.

"Okay," House said. "How are the contractions?"

"Slowing down now," Sandra replied. "They never were regular, but they were real contractions, not just Braxton-Hicks. My BP was up some at first, too." As one, all three of them looked at the monitor.

"Well, just rest and think non-contractile thoughts. But page me if you need me. Got to get back to my patient."

"Thank you, House," Sandra said, with Wilson as a near-simultaneous echo. House was most of the way out of the room when Wilson spoke up.

"House? What about Jensen's brother? Were you examining him medically earlier?"

House stopped and turned back to face them. "Yes. He went into 3rd-degree heart block and collapsed."

"Did you get him back?" Wilson asked sharply.

"Yes, but he's got something shorting his system out. I'm working on tracking it down. Jensen is coming down, by the way, but he'll probably be totally focused on his brother."

Wilson took a deep breath. "Of course. Hopefully I won't need him." He looked back at Sandra, feeling his heart sinking again. She was doing better now on meds, but if things went south . . . if she went back into labor . . . if the baby was born now . . . if there were problems, it was all his fault. The sword was swaying overhead now, its movement stirring up threatening air currents to swish through his mind.

"James?" Sandra was squeezing his hand, and he looked up. House had left the room, and Sandra was watching him closely.

"I'm okay. I just hope . . . he is." She looked away, and he saw the open fear on her face. "Hey, remember, House is on the job if we need him. And there are a lot of other possible answers. Everything could be perfectly fine with the baby. Just relax right now, okay? You need to rest, for you and for him."

She gave a tight smile. "Right. Everything could be perfectly fine."

Neither of them truly believed it.