Chapter 8:
"Run a test for iron levels." House said as he passed the room where Massé was being treated. He didn't take the time to stop in. He had more important things to do.
He walked, as fast as he could hobble, down to the nurses' station in the clinic.
"Do not let a young, blonde girl in here, okay?" He growled at the new nurse, who just kept on doing what she was doing in the first place.
"Why?" Was her smart remark.
"Because she's got a fetish for older men. Keep her out." He turned to walk away, but spun right around. "And if she asks for Doctor Gregory House, give her my pager number. It's 13865, okay?" House turned once more and grinned secretly to himself. Muahaha.
A few minutes passed, which soon turned to hours. House found himself in his office, in front of the computer once more, on that site that kept him so amused. He had lost track of time about...an hour and a half ago.
His pager vibrated and he jumped to get it. He had been sitting on it the whole time. The back pocket of his jeans was his favorite place to keep his pager. He pulled it out like a pro and read the screen.
It said: Massé is in arrest. Room 2564. It was from Cameron.
House jumped up as fast as he could, seeing that he was a so-called cripple, and lumbered over to the coat hanger that stood next to the glass door. He pulled his lab coat on and opened the door to let himself out, letting it shut closed on its own.
It never did.
Chase ran by House's office, and stopped short when he saw the computer screen on and the door wide open. He was far too nosy. He slipped inside.
"It won't matter if I stop in for just a second," He whispered to himself.
He ran over to the computer screen.
It was set on a picture of a girl. She was pretty. Blonde hair that was pretty long, and shiny. Eyes that gleamed like topaz, and a smile that seemed to be beckoning. Creepy. She was only, what? In her teens or something. What did House want to do with this girl? Why was he looking at her profile on MySpace?
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"Get the paddles!" Chase cried as Massé lay still in her bed. The EKG machine was beeping as the heart rate that was being measured fell steadily. 55, 52, 40, 47, 44, 41, 30...
Normal heart rate was around seventy.
Cameron pulled the paddles
off of the crash cart and handed them to Chase. She lubricated them
and Chase cried out. "Charging! Clear!" Everyone around the
patient stepped back, removing all metal equipment from their hands.
Chase pressed the paddles down on Massé
and she was jolted from the shock. The heart rate rose and
then fell again. "Again! Charging! Clear!" Again she was shocked,
and this time, the heart rate rose a little farther.
"More lubricant!" Cameron squeezed the tube of lubricant on the paddles, Chase rubbed them together, and cried out once more. "Charging! Clear!" This time he didn't really yell it though. Everyone was standing far away, staring in awe. A famous musician was about to die in front of their eyes.
"She's stable!" Cameron reported. House was standing nearby, in what seemed to be a darker part of the room. When he stepped out of the shadows, he turned heads.
"It's not liver failure." House said. "It's something wrong with the brain. What was she doing before she crashed?" He asked, glancing around the crowded room.
"She was listening to music. I was here, talking to her about what we found. The spot, I mean. In her brain." Cameron piped.
"What kind of music?" House asked suddenly.
"Classical. It was really high. So high that I thought that my ear drums were going to explode." House began to wonder.
"Give me the CD." House ordered.
Cameron reached for the CD player that was hooked up to a speaker. She pushed the eject button, and the CD came out. It was chamber string music. She haded it to House.
"What? No case?" House turned around and headed back to his office.
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House was sitting in his chair, listening to the CD that Cameron gave him. It was very high. He was getting a headache. He popped open a medicine bottle, and shook it upside down until three vikoden came out. He threw them in his mouth expertly and didn't even care to wash them down with anything to drink.
It was super high, actually. THEN! House got it! He realized the connection! It was that very same note that she began to sieze before on. She had been playing the violin at that time. He realized htat he had to talk to Cuddy. PRONTO!
"Lisa," He said urgently. "I need you to get down here as fast as you can."
"Why?" Was her ornery response.
"Because you can run faster than me." House hung up the phone and closed his eyes to listen to the high pitched notes dance around the room. He waited like that for only about a minute until he heard his glass door open. How he did, I have no idea. But he did. His eyes flew open and he looked Cuddy straight in the eyes immediatley. He staggered to get himself on his feet. Lisa didn't do much to help him up. He snatched his cane from where it was leaning against the side of his desk and hobbled past Lisa.
"Why did you order me down here? So you could have someone see you leave?" She bit her tounge when she saw House turn around with this wicked smile on his face.
"No. I have the answer."
"To what?"
"The reason for living." House joked sarcastically. "No, the reason that Massé is having seizures. It's her music."
"We went over this before. We ruled out music-"
"But what part of the music?" House tested as he began to walk. Cuddy followed, replying.
"All of it-" Again she was cut off by the all-too-smart-doctor.
"Ah, do you even play music?" House began to test her patience. And knowledge.
"Well,"
"The recorder doesn't count." House said. That shut Cuddy up for a moment. "Alright. The pitch matters, now doesn't it? She began to seize at what part of the concert?"
"The part where the instruments went higher in pitch until it was almost deafening."
"Exactly. Since you don't play any music-besides the recorder-you wouldn't be able to tell me what note it was on when she began to seize. Anyway, I can tell you that it was the rarely used high-high-high E-flat."
"What?"
"Exactly. I knew that you had no musical history or knowledge."
"So? That made no sence!"
"To you maybe. Maredeth will know what I am talking about."
"You, you read her chart!"
"Of course. Good doctors read charts." House had reached the elevator. He punched the button for the correct floor when Cuddy had made her way into the elevator.
They entered the musician's room together, and thanked God above that the doorway was wide enough so they didn't have to touch eachother. Neither of them were in a good mood. Neaither was Maredeth.
"Oh, what do you want now?" She wailed.
House hit the CD player with his cane, knocking it to the floor.
"What are you doing?"
"Saving your life." House hobbled over to her rental violin. He broke a string. The highest string on it.
"I'll have to pay for that now!" She sat upright in her bed. The uncomfortable lumpy thing that doctors call a bed.
"That, or you can pay for brain surgery. Or open heart surgery."
"What are you trying to prove, House?" Cuddy whispered in his ear. His hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stood on end.
"Ira Gershwin once said that a song without music is a lot like H2 without the O. But what is a woman without music?" House turned to look at Maredeth, who was sitting in her bed still, prone and angry. What did this moronic doctor want? What was he getting at? Was she going to die without music?"
"Apparently, she's pretty healthy." House surprised her. Music was killing her?
"Music is killing me?"
"Yes." House kept his face straight. "But not all of it. Have you ever played a high high high E-flat?"
"Only in one piece." She said.
"Have you ever listened to any pieces with that note in them other than the one that you were playing?"
"No. Just that one."
"Then only one piece is killing you." House turned and took in a deep breath to begin to explain his diagnosis. This was going to take a while...
