Chapter 10

The Truth

That night House drove to Statford Manor, stopping at the gates. There was no intercom connection directly with the caretaker cottage anymore; it had been rewired to the Manor and caretakers house which now sat outside the gates. If he wanted in, the Manor was going to have to let him in. He didn't think MacBeth would let him in if she knew he was coming so House had to convince the Manor that MacBeth knew he was coming. He hit the intercom button.

"Stratford Manor. Who is this?"

"Dr. House, I have MacBeth's prescription. She asked me to bring it to her."

"Are you from Nurse Bernal's clinic?"

House was surprised. Who is Nurse Bernal? And what clinic? "Yes."

"Ok."

House heard a buzzer and the gate opened. So much for security. He drove in and parked a little north of the Cottage. Getting out of his car, he walked to the Cottage in the moonless night. The front room light was on and the curtains were open. Creeping up to the window, he looked into the living room. Without warning, his stomach knotted and he began to sweat. There was a blazing fire in the fireplace and MacBeth was sitting cross-legged on the sofa in a tank t-shirt and pajama shorts. Her legs were skin and bones, about as round as his wrists, her upper arms seemed even smaller. She was swimming in the tank top. But what made him stop and stare was the nakedness of her. She had no makeup on to hide the circles around her eyes, the white translucence of her skin, the bruising up and down her arms and the lack of hair made him wince. He was the world's best diagnostician and she had fooled him. She had used her foolishness, her childlike behavior and crazy identities to throw him off. He was pissed--at himself.

He went up to the door and didn't bother to knock, when he threw open the door she screamed thinking he was a burglar or rapist. Realizing who it was, she grabbed her hair and began to cry.

This wasn't what he expected. In his mind she was just playing him, putting one over on him. Now he could see, this wasn't a game to her, it was her coping mechanism and he had just destroyed it. He saw her crying and wasn't sure what to do.

"Hey, come one, you look like Mr. Clean on a bad hair day, so what? What's wrong with you?"

She continued to cry, burying her face in a pillow and sobbing. She felt so incredibly vulnerable, more vulnerable than she had been since she had been told she was sick again. House had violated her, invaded her privacy just when she had let her guard down, had allowed herself to breathe in the safety of her own home.

He rolled his eyes and walked over, took his coat off and sat down next to her. Hesitating, he finally reached over to the tiny hunched woman with her face in the pillow and grabbed her as if he were picking up a dirty shirt. Pulling him to her, he put his arm around her. Sighing to himself, he took a deep breath, held her and began patting her boney shoulder. House pulled the pillow away from her face and said, "Look, I'm a doctor, you don't think I haven't seen cancer patients?"

Red eyes stared back and he thought she resembled an alien from Close Encounters, all eyes and skeleton and no hair. But there was something he recognized that he hadn't seen since she was at Princeton Plainsboro. It was the same sadness in her portrait.

"What type?"

"Chronic myeloid leukemia, second time around."

Second time? Not good. Her best chance is a bone marrow donor but she doesn't have siblings and her parents are dead. I wonder how many of the rich relatives had actually bothered to get tested. If she dies, they probably inherit her wealth.

She was so exhausted from crying that she couldn't even sit up so she leaned her emaciated body up against House's chest. He stopped patting and just held her. This night wasn't going at all like he had expected.

"Who's your doctor?"

"Armitage out of Nebraska."

Can't get much better than that. He just about wrote the book, hell, he did write the book on leukemia. "What's your treatment?"

Sighing, MacBeth desperately wanted to lie down. Instead she leaned back under his arm and propped her head on his shoulder, smelling his musk as she did. It brought back memories of the night of the party, when she had been feeling so much better. "Ceflatonin and Gleevec. Interferon wasn't working."

He nodded his head. Both were good drugs, but strong. "You're not eating. Doesn't anyone cook for you?"

She chuckled, "I have people cooking for me all the time. I just throw it back up."

"How long has it been back?"

"Since June."

Why go through the charade, the wigs, the makeup, the outfits?"

"When I first got it, it was a way to keep people from asking questions. Everyone just assumed that I had gone through some wacky transformation. I didn't want pity or people to think I was weak. I'd rather they think I was odd. The world—our business partners had to think I was healthy."

"You had me fooled."

"I thought the night of the party you might discover everything, but you were too drunk."

"I have dreams where I'm...well, where I'm screwing you but you're still clothed and so am I. It doesn't make sense."

"It didn't make sense at the time. You simply pulled my pants down and when you were done, zipped up and fell asleep."

"Sounds romantic."

She laughed at the sarcasm in his voice. "In a strange way, it was very romantic. You were looking into my eyes the whole time. I couldn't look away."

"What led up to it?"

Now she let out a short laugh, "It was just a 'love the one you're with' moment. I think I could have been any female lying there and you would have done the same thing."

She was probably right. But even though he had been drunk, the dreams of what happened had been torturing him for weeks. "You might be right." He was going to apologize for screwing her but it would sound false, he wasn't sorry.

"Have you thought about paying your relatives to get tested as a bone marrow donor?"

"Surprisingly, the majority of them were tested out of fear that if they didn't I'd do something strange with all my stock." She let out a little snicker. "I have to admit, they're good at keeping a secret, business would really suffer if some people found out I was this ill."

"Have you got a drink? I really need one."

"Sure, in the cabinet in the dining room."

He gently deposited her on the back of the couch and went over to the cabinet. Inside the cabinet was a bottle of Laphroaig. She has good taste. He grabbed it and then noticed the large pouch. He opened it up and discovered 10 fat doobies. Now her marijuana smoking made sense. It helped calm her stomach after chemo and helped cancer patients eat to keep up their strength. California had actually voted to allow the consumption of medicinal marijuana. Of course the feds said no to that, but, as usual, the Californians ignored the feds.

He grabbed a doobie, the bottle and a glass. Pouring the whiskey in the glass, he walked over to the fire and found a splinter of wood, lit the splinter and then lit the joint. He took a good drag and held it in. "Whoa...this is good shit."

Walking over to MacBeth, House sat back down and handed her the joint. She took a drag and handed it back. While she held in her breath she tried to say something but then waited until she let out the smoke. "That's pretty strong. I get it from the best dealer on the east coast. He likes me; I won his daughter's lawsuit. They awarded her $78,000 for a minor car crash she was in. He makes sure I get the best but I think it might have hashish in it."

House was already feeling it and had no doubt it was the best dope he had ever smoked. He could see her relaxing so he decided that now might be a good time to get her to eat. He handed her the joint and went into the kitchen scrounging through the cabinets and refrigerator until he found some chips, dip, cookies, crackers and cheese. Sitting on the couch, he started to feed her and she started giggling.

"I can't eat a whole chip at a time. Little bites over a longer period or it comes back up."

He nodded and ate the chip he was trying to feed her. He grabbed a broken chip, put some cheese dip on it and fed her the chip. She ate it and then licked the cheese off of his fingers.

He narrowed his eyes and gave her the hint of a smile. "Are you trying to seduce me? Because there's no way in hell I would sleep with you now, I'd break you."

"Well, I was just going to give you a second chance."

"At what?"

"Repairing your reputation."

"What reputation?"

"You wouldn't want it to get out that you're selfish in bed do you? You fell asleep right after coming and left me strung out."

"Mmm. Eat some food for the next few weeks and maybe I'll give you an orgasm."

"Oh, wow--an orgasm." She said it dreamily as she stared up to the ceiling. "I don't think I've had one of those for over ...yeah, a year, and even then I gave it to myself."

"A year? Couldn't you buy yourself a dildo for your birthday?"

"Too much effort. Having orgasms takes too much work when you have so little energy to get through the day."

He shook his head like he hadn't heard right. "I don't think I would feel normal unless I jerked off in the shower each day."

"Yeah, maybe that's why they call you a jerk."

"Eat." He put some cheese on a cracker and stuffed her mouth.

It was nice and warm in the house. He felt strangely comfortable and understood why she had chosen to move into the cottage. The Manor was formidable.

"Were you raised in the Manor?"

"Yes, more or less. I was away at school a lot. But this was my playhouse as a kid. It used to be the caretaker cottage but my father built a new one just outside of the gate when I was born. You probably saw it, a two story house with the white picket fence."

"It's a big house for a caretaker."

"Our caretaker at the time had 5 kids and he had been with us for ten years. We built a five bedroom house for him and I got this one to play in."

"This is bigger than two of my apartments put together and it was your playhouse?"

"Now it's my home. I feel safe here. At least I did feel safe until tonight."

They talked for several hours, especially about the trial. He didn't realize it was almost midnight until he saw how tired she was. "You need some sleep."

"Stay over in the guest room. It's too late to drive that far." When she saw his hesitation she said, "I like having company. You'll find a new toothbrush in the top drawer in the bathroom."

He could see that she genuinely wanted him to stay. "Why do you really want me to stay? We haven't exactly been close since you arrived at Princeton Plainsboro."

"Gee, do you say that to all the women you sleep with?"

"You know what I mean. Answer the question."

The smile dropped from her face and she said with brutal honesty. "I'm just afraid that I'll die and there will be no one there to mark it."

He didn't have a response. He was hoping she'd say something like she'd had the hots for him for a long time. This was a real splash in the face.

"Christ. You're not going to die, especially not tonight."

"Please stay. I'll have my staff make you anything you want for breakfast."

He paused, he really hated sleeping in a strange bed unless it was with a woman, but she seemed to want company and he had been the one that had destroyed her evening. "Ok. But I sleep in the nude so no wandering into the guest room late at night."

"That's ok, I won't be up to see it."

"Up? Aren't you going to bed?"

"I can't make it up the stairs tonight, I'll just crash here."

He got up with his cane, balanced on one leg and tossed her over his left shoulder. She was so light, maybe 90 lbs. at most, that it shocked him.

"Dr. House, you shouldn't try this, we could both get killed."

He held onto the banister and with his cane easily made his way up the stairs. When he got to the top he took her into her bedroom and dropped her on the bed. When he looked down at the same bedspread and the same eyes that had been in his dreams, he gave her a sly smile. She knew he was thinking about that night.

"If you want to sleep in here you can. I don't think I'd be much good at anything tonight but we could just be together."

He was grateful that she didn't use the word cuddle, cuddling her would be like holding a bag of Lincoln Logs. He saw that she really wanted him to say yes, her whole body was waiting for the answer. But he just couldn't stomach the thought of being naked next to her in this condition.

"I think it's best if I use the guest room. You know, you are my attorney."

He wished he could take it back. The look of utter disappointment, the knowing that he found her so repulsive he couldn't even climb in bed with her, enveloped her face. She tried to hide her bony arms and body by wrapping the throw around her.

"Yes, of course, what was I thinking? Too much marijuana. Goodnight Dr. House."

Dismissing him, she refused to look up into his eyes. He wanted to apologize, say something to give her back her femininity but there was nothing left to say tonight. He went into the guest room, got ready for bed and went to sleep.

When he woke up he got dressed and peeked in her room. She appeared to be asleep, but he wanted to make sure she was still alive before he left. Her comment about someone marking her death had gotten to him. Wilson had told him how cancer patients just don't want to die alone. He walked over and put his hand on her head. She was on fire. This was not good.

"MacBeth? Can you hear me? MacBeth?..." he tried to get a response but he wasn't getting one. He wasn't sure where the nearest hospital was, but she needed one. He called the manor.

"This is Dr. House, MacBeth needs to get to a hospital. What hospital does she use? We need to call them."

"She gave us instructions not to take her to a hospital but to call Nurse Bernal."

"Well then, give me her number."

House dialed this elusive Nurse Bernal and was shocked when the University of Nebraska Medical Center Cancer Center answered. House asked for Armitage.

"James Armitage."

"This is Dr. Greg House, I'm at Stratford Manor..."

He interrupted and with a sad voice said, "MacBeth. Has she gone into a coma?"

"She is unconscious but I'm not sure that it's a coma. She has a high fever. I was going to take her to the hospital but I was told to call you first."

"They won't take her. She left instructions last month at all the local hospitals that she is not to be admitted or given any treatment; it's in writing, they won't touch her. I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She won't accept any adjunct treatments that I suggest. I haven't given up though. She hasn't been on the Ceflatonin combined with the Gleevec long enough to know if it's going to work. Obviously the fever and infection have to be brought under control and she'll need to be in hospital to do that."

"I understand, I'll call you from Princeton Plainsboro. Can you email her file? .org."

"You've got it."

House grabbed the throw blanket, pulled MacBeth out from the covers and wrapped her in the throw, found some socks, a knit hat, some gloves and put them on her. He threw her over his shoulder and made his way down the steps and out to the car laying her down in the back seat. He called Cuddy.