A/N: Here you go. A nice new chapter as a reward for the reviews. I appreciate it. The ending may make the pairing obvious but don't get too comfortable. After all, it wouldn't be interesting if it wasn't dramatic.
Disclaimer: Maybe for Christmas.
Dr. Wilson didn't look any better but he also didn't look any worse. He was holding at a steady 103.4 degree temperature and he hadn't vomited in the last three hours. I stopped by his room on my way out of the building. Greg had almost been right; with all of my problems, I had nearly forgotten about James.
He was awake when I got down there and, when he saw me stop in front of his room, he tried to sit up. I held up a hand and motioned toward the entrance chamber. I would suit up and go in to talk to him. I needed to take advantage of the fact that he was awake.
After putting on all of my protective gear, I went in and checked his stats, "Looks like the Ribovirin is finally helping. How do you feel?"
"How do I look?" His voice was hoarse and he was lying on his side, holding his abdomen.
"You're going to be okay. Your test results should be in soon and that will tell us what we're dealing with. Since the Ribovirin is working, I'm going to guess it's a mutation of Lassa. It explains why it went through Vince so fast and why you started vomiting so early. Unfortunately, we don't have CDC backing anymore." His eyes were closed but I knew he was listening to me.
He turned to look at me after hearing about the CDC and I took the opportunity to check his eyes for broken or dissolved blood vessels, there were none, "What happened?"
"I got fired, not surprisingly. I knew it was coming." He closed his eyes again and looked exasperated. In fact, he looked how I felt, "You should try to get some rest. I need to go check out of my hotel and get my stuff together. I'll be back later this afternoon."
His eyes shot open again and he gave me a desperate look, "You're leaving?"
He tried to sit up like he was going to stop me and I just held up my hand, "I'm not leaving, I'm just relocating. Since the CDC decided to fire me I need to change my living arrangements."
He relaxed and lay back down, closing his eyes and sighing. I stood up and made my way for the door, "Rita?" I turned back around and looked at him.
He paused for a minute and I thought that something bad had happened, "James?"
He opened his eyes and looked at me pleadingly, "Never mind."
I tried to smile at him as he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. The poor guy was scared and lonely. I made a note to make sure to sit with him tonight for a while. At least to make him feel supported.
I got all of my stuff together and changed my clothes before heading out of the hotel. I changed from my fairly conservative slacks and button down blouse combination to a simple pair of jeans and a Northwestern sweatshirt. I stared at my auburn hair in the mirror and pulled out a couple more grey strands before pulling it back into a ponytail and sighing at myself in the mirror. I looked like I couldn't afford a loaf of bread, which was pretty much the truth. I had about 300 to last me until I got another job and a paycheck. That was if the hospice didn't demand more money. My sister was getting worse and we'd have to move her into a full time care facility soon.
By the time I was checked out and ready to go back to the hospital, it was three in the afternoon. I stopped by McDonalds on my way to pick up some french fries in order to quell the hunger that was starting to distract me. My phone buzzed at me as I was pulling out of the drive through and I thought about ignoring it. With my luck this was the hospital calling to tell me Dr. Wilson had crashed, my sister had died, or worse, it was Greg calling telling me he'd thought about his offer and decided that it was just as bad an idea as I'd suggested.
"Rita Johnson." I pulled into a parking space and put the car in park. Better to park than try to drive, eat, and talk on the phone. I pulled out a couple of fries and stuffed them into my mouth.
"It's me." I sighed with relief, it was Jack.
"Jack! Oh thank God! Finally someone who doesn't want to ruin my life calls. What's going on? How's Germany? How are you?"
"Whoa! Hold on. I'm fine and I'm back in D.C. They called off the Germany project after you left; shut the whole thing down. You really pissed Macintosh off, Rita. I heard he fired you, I'm sorry. He was talking about trying to get your license taken away but I don't think he can. He's going to blacklist you, Rita." I couldn't breathe and I didn't know why. It wasn't as if I wasn't expecting this. I knew he was going to fire me; of course he'd blacklist me too.
I tried to breathe and I realized I was crying, "Rita? Are you there?" I couldn't see through the tears and I was sobbing loudly. A couple who was standing next to my car looked in on me in horror and confusion. I cried for everything. I cried for myself, alone and penniless. I cried for James, sick and scared. I cried for Rebecca, dying and without family. Most of all, I cried for Greg, crippled, angry, and alone in the world. I realized in that small moment of turmoil that I wasn't in New Jersey for me or for the Lassa virus that was killing James. I was in New Jersey for one reason.
I was there for Gregory House.
I hung up on Jack and put my car in reverse, heading for the hospital with renewed confidence. I knew what I was going to do.
