Disclaimer- House isn't mine. Hey, he isn't yours either, you jerk, so why are you laughing?

(Not you, readers. My muse.)

Cameron stared at him. "What boyfriend? The one that got brought in… yesterday."

House sighed, his eyes mirroring the irony in his words. "Yeah. That was why I wanted all the details first. Her history says she doesn't have a boyfriend. And I had no idea that this guy got brought in. You could have woken me up, I'm sure it was important enough."

"Actually, we couldn't."

House swiveled in the office chair, looking at the speakerphone. "No? Why? Foreman, did you see the witch cast a big evil spell on me? Anyone noticed any poison apples cleverly disguised as Vicodin? …I was tired, not suffering from exhaustion. An aching rib does not a sleeping beauty make. Which means…" He scowled, stressing the meaning behind his words. "I was drugged."

"You were hurt. You suffered a traumatic experience. I think –"

He should have expected Cameron to speak up, but he found it difficult to listen to her without thinking about the past. "Yes, it was traumatic," he snapped. "And nine years ago, I was drugged after a 'traumatic experience' and woke up with half my leg missing. You don't think that influences my thinking? You don't think I might want to avoid that kind of situation in the future?"

"I think –"

He cut her off again. "I think we should focus on the patient. Reminiscences are useless in a differential, and now that I've lost two days, we have even less time to diagnose her."

Chase raised his hand off the table in a slight gesture that he obviously intended to be a neutral-looking agreement. House raised an eyebrow.

"Fill me in," he sighed. "Start from the beginning."

"Wednesday morn –"

"From the beginning. I want an overview. I've been off the case for two days and I need a refresher. Go."

Chase straightened in his chair. "Three days ago Andrea Cathanis was flown in to the ER for a hiking accident. She had severe trouble clotting, and was admitted by a Dr. Robison. Once able to give a history she revealed having a having high fevers for the past few weeks. Her urine was noted as being rust-coloured. She was treated for thrombophlebitis in her left thigh, referred here later when three ultrasounds revealed no clots, and blood cultures came back negative. Tests showed she had hemolytic anemia, and she was given a transfusion.

"…Possible diagnoses included neoplasia, rheumatologic disease, G6PD deficiency, transfusion reaction, and infection. We ruled out neoplastic reactions, G6PD, a reaction to the red-cell transfusion, narrowing it down to lupus, and a normal white blood cell count ruled out most bacterial infections."

House drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And while I was out?"

"Her fever spiked at one-oh-four degrees Fahrenheit, and she started seizing. We gave her ten cc's diazepam, and put her in an ice bath to regulate her temperature."

He caught his breath and looked up, his eyes on the whiteboard. "And the boyfriend who isn't a boyfriend? Similar symptoms, or does his disease look like an imposter too?"

Cameron flipped through a file. "Some similar symptoms. Orange tint to the urine, slow clotting, and skin lesions. None of them related to what's killing him right now, however. The report says he was found at the same hiking spot where she was found, also caught in the rockfall. Emergency crews couldn't get to him until an hour and a half later. An airlift was transferring him from Princeton General when they had to turn back because of the approaching storm. He's got massive internal injuries and we don't know if he's going to make it."

House extended his hand, waggling his fingers to indicate that he wanted the patients' charts. Papers in hand, he flipped through them. He spent a few minutes staring at the boyfriend's history. "Paul Orcino… Outdoors enthusiast and naturalist… works for the EPA. You think there's some connection between her dating him and the fact that she's a Greek hippie?"

Chase smiled slightly. "EPA officials date Greek hippies?"

"No, Greek hippies date EPA officials. Get into someone's pants, you get into their politics. Makes it easier to influence the way decisions are made." House shut the file, letting it drop to the glass tabletop.

"If they've got the same thing, it might be infectious – "

"I kind of figured that. What infectious diseases do you know that present with a normal white count?"

"Hep A, Epstein-Barr…"

Cameron continued from where Chase had trailed off. "We discounted it before, but perhaps an E. coli infection. It accounts for the anemia, fevers, and the blood in the urine, and her immune system might not have caught on yet, therefore normal white count."

"Nope. E. coli comes with thrombocytopenia. Our patient has thrombophlebitis. Way different. Besides, there's…" He paused, staring past Cameron's head and into the hallway. "There's no renal impairment." He rose to his feet, grabbing the IV pole and hooking his cane over it. "Think about it, and go run more tests. Foreman, hang up, save your minutes or switch to a better service. Chase, you're wrong too, but feel free to get official lab results to confirm it. …This may take a while."

Cuddy was waiting for him outside.

He pushed open the door and limped through. "Are you gonna yell at me, or can I have my turn first?"

She ignored his comment and stared at him critically. "I allow you to get up to go see your friend, and I come back half an hour to find an empty bed."

House shot her a mocking pout. "Apparently you still haven't gotten over the 'empty bed' thing. I was still in the house, you know, fixing something up for you…" He clapped his palm to his forehead comically. "Oh, you're talking about today! Well, it still applies…"

"Your rib still hasn't healed. I let you leave that room against my better judgment."

"A room I intend to go back to, to sleep in tonight."

"A room that hospital rules demand you spend your recovery time in."

"I recovered, I'm fine. I don't think my rib'll be too happy about taking the bus home, but if I have to, I will. I've still got a case to figure out, in case you haven't noticed. I'm very much alive, and she's dying. Remember? Oh yeah, and so's her boyfriend, so you might consider the idea that it's infectious."

"I'm not letting you leave here –"

"…without a fight? Oh, is this one of those days where I have to argue you into letting me do everything. Well, as much as it may surprise you, I don't feel like it. My ribs and my leg hurt like hell, yes, but weighing that against a life, I'd say I can live through it. The question is, can you? Are you really holding my wellbeing against a patient's life? Is that in any way professional?" House cocked his head to the side, watching Cuddy try and formulate an answer. For a moment he felt a spike of regret settle into his stomach. Had he cut too deep? He was just opening his mouth to say something that would take the edge off his words, when she shook her head.

"Fine," she said softly, and for a moment he could see past her professionalism to a shade of hidden emotion. He held his tongue.

He let his head drop a fraction, pulling the glass door open to allow her into the now-empty workspace. He wasn't too surprised when she complied, sitting in the spot that Cameron usually occupied. He spared a glance at the morphine drip, and settled down, his fingers playing over the cold metal of the stand. He let the silence sink in, letting the silence calm her more than his words would have. He wondered if she was as worried about Wilson. He wondered if he should speak. He decided to.

"Got anything to add to the differential?" House berated himself for speaking too loudly, and shrugged inwardly, his right hand resting lightly on the button that would increase his morphine. There was a dull, throbbing ache in his chest that signified the only significant mark that the accident had left on him, an unceasing pain that seemed to conspire with his leg to distract him. It left him restless, and he felt a need for his Vicodin. He wouldn't use the morphine. He wouldn't. It left him too detached, and that was exactly what he didn't need. Of course, thinking about it wouldn't help him either. "I mean it's okay if you don't, I thought any input might help."

"No, just… give me a moment to think."

House looked up, surprised at the tone in her voice. "Cuddy," he said quickly, "relax."

"No, it's not that…"

Oh god. Here it comes.

"I'm just glad to see you both alive…"

Thank whatever personal deity you hold dear for professionalism. "Yeah, so am I. Did the tornado hit you hard? I haven't exactly had the chance to look out a window since I woke up, so…"

"No, it… passed us by. We had to put up with severe thunderstorms, power outages."

"That's good." He leaned forwards and rested his arm on the table. "It's all over now, and all right, so we'll probably be dealing with casualties for the next couple of days, but 'the storm has passed,' so to speak."

"Neither you or Wilson called in sick –"

"It's all over now." He cut her off, his fingers gripping the edge of the table with enough force to turn his knuckles white.

"I was worried, I thought something might have happened. I was waiting for one of your calls telling me that you had decided not to show, or maybe you had both conspired to go see a movie on worktime…" She raised her head in a half-shrug.

"That would have been a nice alternative. I should have done that instead. Instead, silly me, I scheduled myself for a car accident. I can pencil in that movie next month though." He paused. "…That's actually a good idea. Hmm…"

"I waited eight hours to hear from you."

He scoffed. "Eight hours? Really. Felt like eight, but I'm sure it was four."

"House."

Ooh, Administrator voice. "Still here. Actually, there's a question. Seems about now that I'd usually be down in the clinic – is there any way I can hang out up here? It's comfier, got better lighting, less sick people…"

"House, you're going to have to think about this some time. You saved a man's life in the middle of a tornado –"

"And you want the press coverage. Big friendly reporters come in and make your hospital look good on the front page, sing praise of the puppy-loving doctor who saved his friend."

She straightened, crossing her arms defensively. "No, I didn't want the press involved, but the news is already out there and it's going to be an issue that needs to be dealt with. As soon as you two were brought in, out came the reporters on the trail of a good story."

"This is not a good story. This is a scandal waiting to happen. You saw Wilson's chart, didn't you? Saw his blood alcohol level? They're gonna make him into the bad guy and twist the facts." He narrowed his eyes, wishing that he could ignore the heavy feeling that had just slipped lower in his stomach. "You know there's going to be a hearing as soon as he's well enough to face the Board."

It was her turn to look away. "It's my job."

"Yeah." He leaned forwards. "And it's a bad idea to let the press get involved."

She raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "If I don't do anything, they make up their facts or get them somewhere less flattering."

"Then make an official release. Hospital business is confidential."

"They're going to want to hear from you, hear your side of the story."

House leaned back in his chair, one hand rubbing nervously at the aching tissue in his right leg. "They'd be better off interviewing some hometown Dorothy who got picked up and dropped in Aussieland. I'm no hero."

"That's not how it looks to everyone else."

There was a moment of silence, and House found himself looking anywhere but at Cuddy. His hands found the IV and he toyed with the idea of pulling it out altogether, just taking a few Vicodin instead. "This is what happens when I care?"

"People care. You're a doctor at this hospital. You save people."

"Aaand back to publicity. This is obviously gonna happen no matter how much I tell you it's a bad idea. I can deal with a few cameramen, but I don't want them to get into Wilson's life. They'll tear him apart. You know they will."

Cuddy rose to her feet and pushed in her chair, nodding quietly to him. "I'll do what I can to make sure things stay quiet for him, but you're going to have to deal with his half, too."

He groaned, a long, drawn out sigh. "Great. Yeah, okay, I'll deal. I'll also deal better if I have less interaction with people. You know, if they know me… it'll be harder to avoid them… So, no clinic duty."

"Fine."

House turned sharply, forgetting his leg, his ribs, everything. "What? That's it? Just…'fine,' and no arguing?"

"Yes. Your team can cover them for you. After all, they weren't involved in the recue, so they should have no problems from the press. They'll come in under the radar, and your job still gets done. Sound good?"

House shrugged and immediately winced, rolling his shoulders forwards before glancing up at her. "Sure."

"Great." Cuddy turned to leave, and paused, her eyes on the whiteboard. "And about the differential - cytomegalovirus, maybe, or a protozoal infection." She let a small smile creep onto her face, crossing her arms. "…lupus?"

House followed her gaze and chuckled. "No, I don't think it's lupus. I just wanted to throw it out there, get it over with. Someone was gonna say it, so…" Grabbing hold of the IV, he limped over to where she stood. He sighed purposefully.

"What is it?"

"Vicodin."

She frowned. "You've got morphine. Morphine trumps Vicodin any day. You're usually "

"Yeah. It numbs the pain, which is the idea. However, the bad thing is, it numbs everything else, too. Mainly thinking. Bad thing for a guy like me, whose job depends on the power of thought. So, I'll pull out the IV if you'll promise me I can have it back whenever I need it."

"Whenever you're injured and need it," she clarified.

"Yeah. That's what I meant."

"Of course. Now, would you mind giving me a hand here, otherwise, who knows, I might actually do myself an injury getting it out. Then where would I be?" He smirked, and held his arm out at shoulder level, and was actually surprised to see Cuddy leave the doorway. "After all, if I'm famous now, there's no sense doing things for myself. That's what all the celebrities are doing, you know. Having other people do things for them."

Oops. Guess I went a little too far there, too. He cocked his head and watched her turn on her heel and retreat to the doorway once more.

"I'm sure you're perfectly capable. World-famous doctor like you, and everything."

"Oh," he scoffed, "of course. And do you know the first thing I'm gonna do with all this free time that I suddenly have?"

Cuddy was wearing her 'humor him' expression. "What?"

"Have lunch." He smirked darkly up at her. "After all, a full day spent in a drugged sleep can do that to a person. Hungry like a lion. Driving me bananas. Might actually bite someone's head off." He waved her out. "See you later."

Author's Note- Yeah, this chapter was sort of a day or two late, and not as action-packed as it ought to have been. Buuuut, I had three tests to study for, so this chapter came a little further down the list of things to do than it usually does. Latin, math, and accounting. Those were the three classes. Yuck.

Thanks to IceStar4621, Bloody Koalas, 'Katie the Anonymous One,' thatonegirl005, leana901, Boys Don't Cry, Miyth, and Blackrose Kitsune for reviewing, with a special thanks and welcome to DragonHunter200 and Lexi. Sit back and kick your feet up. Refreshments to the left, Vicodin to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with my computer. Or something of the like.

Next chapter… three words… 'Silver, off-putting, cold' and the phrase "Universally absorbed in their pathetic coolness, they were bound to notice him."

My muse says hi. My muse also wants you to see the very shiny legal bindings that I broke last week by not actually stating that I didn't own House. I think they're very pretty. I'm making a necklace out of them.

P'Bantonox