Chapter 13
When House woke up on Wednesday morning, he decided to check out her laptop for any personal information. Unfortunately it was password protected and while he tried several possibilities, like her birthdate and 'Eric Clapton', none of them worked. Even Eric Clapton's birthdate didn't work. He didn't know enough details about her past, like dead pet names or her mother's maiden name, to try the usual passwords that most people used. He'd have to try another time after he learned more about her, or hope that one day she would forget to log off and then he could take his opportunity.
It was a very long day and he didn't get home until almost 9PM. Issy had waited dinner for him, which he appreciated, but considered to be unnecessary on her part.
"Issy, there's going to be lots of nights when I'm hung up with a patient. I may come home late, or not at all depending on the seriousness of the situation. And there is an excellent chance that I will not remember to call you and tell you what's going on. So here's the deal. If I'm not home by 8PM, go ahead and eat, make me a plate and leave it in the refrigerator so that I can heat it up when I get in. Capiche?"
"Sure, no problem. So what happened today? Did you fire anymore of them?"
Between bites of lasagna and garlic bread, House summed up today's events. "We ran a few tests which revealed nothing. Then the patient had a panic attack, pulled off all her monitor leads and led three of the kids on a merry chase to the Chapel, where she barricaded herself inside. They paged me during 'Judge Judy' for this."
"Those idiots! What were they thinking?"
"They are morons. Interrupting me during 'Judge Judy' was bad enough but we also got caught by Cuddy who now demands that I put every test on paper and send her a copy. So much for secrecy."
"Oh, that sucks. What now?"
"Well, I fired Number 10 because he was the one who ratted me out to Cuddy. And then I fired Number 6 because he was annoying me and he's also a tattletale. I thought it might be liver cancer so I consulted with Wilson to see if there were tests that I could do to prove it was cancer but that weren't real tests. He, of course, would not reveal his secret oncologist tricks to me. When I walked back into the lecture hall, Number 6 had returned, but with his number upside down and claimed to be Number 9. I fired him again, but as he was walking out, he came up with an idea to stress her liver that wasn't a real test, so I let him stay."
"What did he come up with?"
"To get the patient wasted to see how her liver processes alcohol. It was a good idea. I used the non-drinking Mormon guy for a control, Number 13 was the medium drinker and I was the heavy drinker, hence the smell of tequila on my breath. I was not at a mariachi bar; I was doing my part for science."
Issy giggled: "No sacrifice too great for science."
"I'm not having any bourbon or scotch tonight; that is a big sacrifice. I know from experience not to mix tequila with anything else. Brrrr."
House gave a faux shiver and continued: "The patient developed trouble breathing and I'm sure I detected small masses in her lungs during auscultatory percussion. The problem is she won't let us do a biopsy because NASA will see the surgical scar which would require some explanation on her part."
"So what are you going to do now?"
He smiled, remembering the conversation in the lecture hall. "Number 39 is a rather devious dwarf plastic surgeon. Cosmetic surgery scars would be easy to explain away and yet give us access to the area we need to get the biopsy. Tomorrow her B cups will become C cups and we will get our biopsy."
"Oh, that's brilliant."
"Yeah, not bad. So I only fired one guy today. I'll have to do better tomorrow."
"You could have them rotate your tires. I'm sure that would annoy a few of them."
He chuckled and pulled Issy onto his good leg. "Yeah, it probably would."
As they locked lips, House pondered the other events of the day. He thought he had seen Cameron while he was outside the chapel. But Cameron was supposed to be in Arizona and this Cameron look-alike was blonde, so it must have been someone that just looked like her. And walked like her. And dressed like her. He pushed that thought out of his mind only for it to be replaced by the image of seeing Foreman walking down the hall outside of the patient's room. Granted he had had five shots of tequila at that point, but it looked so much like Foreman that House had followed him. Unfortunately Cuddy had intercepted him before he could get to Foreman. After reminding House that Foreman was now working at New York Mercy, she sniffed his breath and accused him of drinking. He had limped as quickly as possible back to the patient's room. At home, he now wondered: had he seen a Cameron look-alike? Was Foreman just a tequila-induced hallucination? There had to be a reasonable explanation for these sightings. There just had to be.
The patient had surgery the next day and lung cysts were found, just as House had predicted. While challenging his team to give him the correct diagnosis, a voice called out from the viewing gallery.
"Von Hippel-Lindau syndrome."
House recognized that wombat accent and a glance up at the gallery window confirmed that it was indeed Chase, giving him the correct diagnosis. After reassuring his applicants that he was not hiring the surgeon in the window, House felt somewhat relieved. At least he hadn't hallucinated Chase. A later confrontation confirmed that Wilson had known all along that Chase and Cameron had remained at PPTH and that Wilson had just been fucking with House about it. It seemed that Foreman really was at New York Mercy though, so he must have been a tequila-induced hallucination, causing House to swear off tequila for the rest of his life.
He got home at a decent hour that night. After a delicious artery-clogging dinner of fried pork chops and fried potatoes with onions, House told Issy the details of the day.
"Wow. So two members of your old team are still working at the hospital? How weird is that. And Wilson knew all this time and told you they were in Arizona. That was kinda mean."
"I'll get him back. The chocolate Ex-Lax trick will not work a third time, so I'll have to come up with something new."
Issy giggled and snuggled deeper into his embrace. "So, how many did you fire today?"
He smirked: "Nine more are out the door."
"So you have ten left? How are you going to decide among them?"
"Each one has some good qualities. I need to see who thinks outside the box and is willing to take chances to find out the answers. I may split them into teams and have them work against each other. That will bring out the ol' competitive spirit. I'll just see how the mood strikes me tomorrow. But in the meantime."
He slid his hand up her shirt. "I've got a different mood striking me right now."
Issy smiled and started unbuckling his belt. "You don't say."
He managed to mumble: "Less talk, more action," before her lips crashed down onto his.
HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD
It had been a pleasant evening. They'd had a nice dinner and great sex. So why did Issy find herself having an anxiety attack at 2AM?
Her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure it would wake Greg, but thankfully he was snoring as usual. She kept glancing at the door, sure that any minute it would creak open, and that Frank would creep in, slip in the bed beside her and demand that she spread her legs for him.
He's not here. He's not here.
She repeated those words over and over again, but they failed to reassure her as usual. Her backpack was lying under the bed with the dust bunnies. Should she pull it out and go into the living room and draw for a while? She wanted to, but hated the thought that Greg might wake up and catch her at it. She didn't want him to know about her anxiety attacks. She tried to take some calming breaths, but her heart kept pounding and her eyes were drawn again and again to the bedroom door. What was that sound? Was it a floorboard creaking? She trembled in fear, sure that he was coming after her.
Suddenly there was a loud snort from her bed partner and a heavy arm landed across her middle. Greg made a few smacking noises and tugged her closer. He hummed, let out a sigh and then started snoring again.
Issy couldn't help but smile. Sometimes he made the funniest noises while he was sleeping. She edged closer to him and with a feather-light touch, caressed his chest. He hummed again, a small smile on his face. His scent was familiar and comforting to Issy so she edged closer still. Finally she was close enough to rest her head on his shoulder; she snaked her arm around his waist and pulled him as close to her as she could. He responded with a grunt and a possessive grip tugged her still closer to him. Her face was buried in his neck and she took a big inhale of his manly musk. With the weight of his arm resting heavily upon her waist and his comforting scent filling her nostrils, Issy's heart rate slowed and she realized that she didn't hear any more weird noises. Greg's arms were like a talisman; no one could get to her while she was in his protective embrace, not even Frank. After planting a tiny kiss on his neck, Issy let his heart beat lull her to sleep.
HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD
The next two weeks went by quickly. House had two more cases and fired four more applicants, including Henry, the faux doctor. House had enjoyed the game with Henry, but he knew that he couldn't keep him. The remaining six were quite competitive and other hospital employees started placing bets with Chase on whom would be the next one fired. House found out that Foreman had been fired from NY Mercy for thinking outside the box, despite the fact that it saved the patient's life. He briefly wondered where Foreman would land next, but then put it out of his mind.
September rolled into October and the leaves started to fall. Issy loved running in the cool crisp air. She looked forward to when the weather turned cold enough to light a fire in the fireplace. Relaxing on the couch with Greg in front of a roaring fire sounded really nice. Issy had given up her studio apartment at the end of September. She felt that things were going well enough with Greg that she could give up her safety net. He loved her cooking, seemed to appreciate her efforts at keeping the place tidy, and the sex was fantastic. The evenings after dinner were usually spent watching TV, although he had started playing the piano a little bit too. He had seemed rather shy about playing in front of her, at first, but he had loosened up now. He didn't like being watched as he played, so she would curl up in a corner of the couch, close her eyes and just listen. It was like being at her very own private concert. If things continued like this until June, Issy was going to find it very hard to leave him. There were times when she almost forgot about their business arrangement, but then she would find the envelope containing her pay every Monday afternoon, and it would all come back to her. He was not her boyfriend, but she did enjoying pretending that he was.
Most of the time he was an easy person to live with. Issy had learned that if he had a difficult case going on that he wanted to be left alone. He needed to research his journals and think about the symptoms. Occasionally he would bounce ideas off of her, but most of the time, he wanted to be alone with his references and his thoughts. Issy would spend the evening in the bedroom, doing her homework or messing around on her laptop, checking on him once in a while and refreshing his drink if it was needed. She learned to be very quiet while he was working because he would get snappy if she disturbed him. His moods didn't bother her though because she understood that he was dealing with a very sick patient. On those nights, she often went to bed alone, but after an hour or so; he would climb in beside her, wrap his long arms around her and spoon up against her back. He'd rub his soft cock against her ass, but he didn't want sex on those nights, he just seemed to like the physical contact. Issy was always happy when he finally came to bed as she had gotten rather used to sleeping in the protective warmth of his arms.
House continued to snoop in her things but he had not had much luck. One morning, he pulled open the bottom drawer of her nightstand and found her cigar box. He thought he had really scored until he examined the contents. There were envelopes containing various amounts of cash, each one with a title and an amount written on top. He found one that said: Car insurance, $580 by Nov. 1. Another one was marked: Tuition, $5000.00 by Dec 31. So this was her little banking system. He wondered if she even had a bank account. He couldn't find a passbook or a checkbook so he had to assume that she didn't. Since most of her income was under the table, it made sense not to have one. If the IRS ever checked up on her, how would she explain her illegally obtained income?
The pile of papers under the envelopes was a bit more interesting. He found her car title, car insurance papers, and college transcripts, the last of which he read closely, pleased to see that she was such a good student. At the very bottom, he felt like he had hit pay dirt. There was her birth certificate. Isabelle Caroline Walker had been born in Akron, Ohio on May 30th, 1982. He scanned for her mother's maiden name and made a disgusted sound when he saw that it was Smith. Chances were good that Issy was not using that as her computer's password. House tried it anyway. He tried several combinations of her parents' names and her place and date of birth, but to no avail. He still could not hack into her laptop.
Judging from the life she lived, Issy probably didn't have any secrets. She didn't seem have any friends either. Absolutely no one called her on his apartment phone; her cell phone never rang in the evening. He had not once see her take or place a call or text. She even spent her lunch hour alone. One day, he had been out on the balcony and saw her walking towards a trio of park benches directly below his office. She selected the middle one, pulled out a sandwich and soda and proceeded to have her lunch. After that, if he happened to be in his office at noon, he would watch for her. Every time he saw her, she was eating alone on that same bench. Sometimes she read a paperback, or seemed to be studying some notes, but she was always alone. House didn't understand why she didn't have any friends; she was nice and easy to get along with. He had been concerned about living with someone again after all these years, but his concerns were unfounded as life with Issy was very relaxed.
Issy was definitely way easier to live with than Stacy had been. With Stacy, there had been arguments about him doing his share of the chores, taking out the trash and things like that. He didn't have those arguments with Issy because she did it all, efficiently and without complaint. If he asked for a beer, she ran and got him one. If he texted her and requested meatloaf for dinner, it was in the oven when he got home. If he wanted attention, or conversely if he wanted to be left alone, she obliged him. She never gripped about how much time he spent in front of the TV or on the Internet. The only time he didn't get his way was if she had a lot of homework and needed to study. He grumbled a bit to himself on those nights, but he honored their arrangements and left her in peace to study. After all, he did want his 'girlfriend' to make good grades. He knew that he became a growling bear when he had a case and she was smart enough to leave him alone on those nights and did not complain about being 'abandoned', the way that Stacy used to. House knew that there was a world of difference between Issy and Stacy and that he shouldn't make comparisons between them, but he couldn't help doing so.
The sex was fantastic. Issy was so responsive to his touch and he found her to be quite playful in bed. His sex drive was higher than it had been in ages and that included the last couple of years with Stacy. House had never been much of a cuddler in bed, but now he found it difficult to sleep if Issy was not spooned up against him. The warmth of her body and the soft roundness of her curves were delightful and he enjoyed the delicious tactile sensation of their naked bodies spooned up against each other as they headed to dreamland. He had vague worries about how he'd deal with her departure in June, but forcefully pushed those thoughts out of his head. June was a long ways off.