A/N: Hi all, sorry for the short chapter, but it made the most sense to break the story this way. Thanks heaps to all of you for your reviews and support.

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Monday

House woke at eight, stiff and sore from his night on the couch, but at least he'd got a decent few hours of sleep.

He stretched and groaned, massaging his leg to try to work out the knots of pain. He automatically reached for his Vicoden, but then realised the vial was in the bedroom.

With a grimace, he rose and limped up the corridor, dragging the blanket behind him. He found the bottle lying open on the bedside table next to Chloe, grabbed it and swallowed two pills quickly.

House looked down at her, her sleep-flushed face pretty in the morning light. She'd flung the covers back at some point and he could just see one shapely leg and the neck of one of his t-shirts poking out from under the navy blue sheet. He still didn't understand the fondness she had for sleeping in his clothes. Especially when he'd much prefer her to be naked.

He was a light sleeper and he knew she'd had a bad night. She'd been up walking around at least twice and then of course there was the broken coffee mug – he glanced over and saw it sitting on the dresser.

He gave her a nudge, reluctant to disturb her sleep, but they did need to get moving.

Chloe stirred half-heartedly and buried her face in the pillow with a groan.

"No," her voice was muffled.

"Come on, time to get up. Do you want the first shower?"

"Nee' sleep. You go," her sleepy voice slurred.

House left her, seeing no harm in giving her a little longer to sleep. He showered and dressed and then made coffee. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, sipping from his cup. She'd fallen back into a sound sleep and he decided it wouldn't be a big problem if he was late – he had wanted to check in with the team on the progress of yesterday's patient, but he figured if anything important was going on, they'd call. He walked back into the lounge and picked up a journal to catch up on some reading.

Once it reached nine he went back into the bedroom.

"Chloe, time to get up, you've had an extra hour to sleep."

She murmured something incomprehensible.

"Get up or you'll miss your appointment."

Chloe moved an arm out of the bed, flinging the sheet back. Satisfied that she was moving, House turned and went back to his reading in the lounge and a few moments later he heard the sound of the bathroom door closing. After turning a few pages House suddenly realised that he hadn't heard the sound of running water as he'd expect if Chloe was in the shower – he was going to kill her if she'd gone back to bed. He sighed and got up to check.

"Chloe, if you're not getting ready you're going to be late," he said warningly, rapping briefly before opening the bathroom door.

As the door swung open he saw Chloe sitting on the floor, leaning against the glass of the shower screen.

"Are you OK?" House knelt down awkwardly next her, wishing he had a dollar for every time he'd asked her that question in the past forty-eight hours.

Chloe had her eyes screwed tightly shut, but tears were still managing to leak out.

"I couldn' get any further. Hurts so much." Her words were still slightly slurred and to House's practiced eyes her breathing seemed faster than normal.

"It shouldn't be this bad," House frowned. "How many Percocet did you take?"

"Don't really remember," she said, sounding almost drunkenly confused. "Four, I think," She held up four fingers to help explain. "And maybe a couple of Vicoden too."

"Fuck Chloe, that's enough to down a horse." House leaned in and pulled her eyelids up, checking her pupils. As he did, he felt the heat of her face.

"And you're burning up." He ran his hands over her feverish face and neck, guessing 102 at least.

"Have you been vomiting?"

Chloe nodded, aware enough to take in his worried expression.

"When?"

She frowned, trying to concentrate on forming an answer.

"Last couple of days," she murmured, closing her eyes again. "And last night, before bed."

"What, here?" House asked, disbelieving.

Chloe nodded. "I was quiet." She smiled weakly.

House sat back, remembering her pale face when she'd returned from the bathroom. He sagged, mentally kicking himself for letting things get this far. How could he have missed it? After a moment he decided that now was not the time for self-recrimination. Bringing himself back into the present, he considered whether to call the paramedics or drive her to hospital himself. Driving would be faster, but he couldn't carry her and if she passed out on the way to the car he'd be stuck. Paramedics it would have to be.

"Jesus," he muttered, half to her and half to himself, "when my neighbours see you being taken out of here on a stretcher again, they're gonna call a hotline."

He rose and went into the lounge to make the call, sighing loudly. He shook his head, wondering what he'd done to deserve this happening to him, not just once, but twice.

Chloe moved her head, trying to press her face into the cool glass. She felt groggy, whether from the pain or the drugs she didn't know. She knew she shouldn't have taken the second lot of pills but it had been five am and the pain just wouldn't go away…

House returned to the bathroom. Chloe was still sitting wedged between the basin and glass screen. He thought briefly of putting her under the shower to bring down her temperature, but decided that would make it harder to move her when the paramedics arrived.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here." House grabbed her arm, planning to move her out to the lounge where it would be easier to get her on to a stretcher. His hands slipped against her dead weight.

"Chloe, you have to help me here," he said irritably. This was the bit of doctoring he always did his best to avoid in the hospital – dealing directly with sick people. Being forced to do it in his own home made it no more pleasant.

Chloe nodded. She still couldn't think very clearly, but understood he wanted her to stand up and walk. She managed to haul herself up, the pain of it making her head spin.

House wrapped an arm around her waist and balanced himself against the wall. Moving slowly and awkwardly he managed to get them both out of the bathroom and into the corridor.

In the lounge he set her on the floor, sliding her down against the back of the sofa before returning to the bathroom. There, he grabbed two towels and wet them under cold water, wringing them out hastily. Limping as fast as he could, he returned to the lounge and wrapped one towel around Chloe's wrists and put the other around her neck. She shuddered at the icy wetness, but pressed her hot face against the cold of the towel.

"Sorry… I didn't want… bother…" she murmured.

When House noticed the smear of blood on her foot his first thought was that she must have cut it somehow – maybe on last night's broken coffee cup. Then he saw that it came from a dark-red rivulet running down her leg.

Feeling for the pulse in her neck, he found the tachycardia he'd expected. He didn't need a whiteboard to start forming a theory about what was wrong with her.

And what had probably caused it.

If twenty-plus years of medical practice hadn't already taught him that sex was trouble with a capital 'S' he needed no further proof. He sent a short, ridiculous prayer to a higher power he didn't believe in, asking for the paramedics to hurry.