DISCLAIMER: BY NOW IT IS CLEAR THAT I DON'T OWN HOUSE.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HORSES

'What does he need?' Cameron asked, rolling over to see House's face.

'Our patient is in a coma. We need to go to the hospital.'

'Now? It's like, three in the morning!'

'Wow. I thought you'd be out the door already. It's supposed to be my job to stay in bed and refuse to wake up!'

'I guess you're beginning to rub off on me. Fine, let's go.' Cameron gave House a quick kiss than began to get dressed for work, again.

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'Where is Chase?' House asked, throwing his bag across the office. 'If we all have to be here, he should too. It's just not fair!'

'He's examining the patient.'

'You haven't already done that? Jeez, I thought by now the neurologist would know that when someone falls into a coma, they need some form of examination.' House turned to Cameron and pretended to whisper, 'Maybe we should get him to repeat a year of doctor school!'

Foreman groaned. 'Again. He examining her, again.'

'She's a 6 on the Glasgow Coma Scale!' Chase practically screamed as he walked into the room.

'You look like crap,' House said.

'That's impossible. She was hardly an 8 an hour ago!,' Foreman said, ignoring House's comment. 'Whatever this is, it's going to kill her before we can diagnose her. We need an MRI!'

'I thought we already had this conversation. Maybe he missed it. Cameron, please tell the class, again, why we can't do an MRI.'

'She has a metal plate in her head. We'd kill her faster doing the MRI.'

'Isn't there some other way to look at her head?' Chase cut in.

'Nothing with the amount of detail we'd need,' Foreman informed.

'Okay kids, stop arguing. Differential diagnosis. What has 'really bad coma' as a symptom along with all of her other things?'

'Meningitis,' Chase suggested.

'Already ruled that out yesterday. Come on!'

'Encephalitis?' Cameron asked.

'Okay. I like it. Get an LP.'

'We can't do a lumbar puncture,' Foreman said.

'I thought it was my job to shoot down all possibilities and take away all hope of life from the patient.'

'We can't see her brain. If there is oedema, we could paralyse her.'

'On the upside, she'd be alive.'

'We could get an EEG. It might help. If it is abnormal, chances are she has encephalitis,' Cameron said.

'Go. Get an EEG.'

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House was sitting at his desk in his office throwing his over-sized tennis ball up against the wall. His TV was on, although he wasn't watching it.

'She had another seizure while we were doing the EEG,' Cameron said as she walked into House's office. 'The EEG was abnormal though. It's probably encephalitis. I'll start her on Prednisone and acyclovir since she probably has a viral infection.'

'Fine, go do that,' House mumbled. He didn't seem to be paying attention. His gaze was focused on some spot in the middle of a wall.

'What's wrong?' Cameron asked. She walked over to his desk and sat down in one of the chairs in front of him.

'I'm fine.'

'Sure.'

'Encephalitis doesn't go from 0 to 60 in less than 24 hours. It must be some rare form, or something else.'

Cameron bit her lip. 'I don't know what else we could do. She is dying, fast. You never want to take the safe route. You say the best way to diagnose someone is by treating. If she gets better, obviously it was the encephalitis.'

'Yeah. Go start her on the meds.'

'Are you sure you're okay?'

'Yep.' House faked a smile.

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'She's not responding to the treatment,' Foreman announced as the team walked into the conference room.

'She's only been on it for a few hours,' Cameron defended. 'She was really sick. It's just taking longer.'

'You keep on thinking that. Her coma would have gotten better, a little. It's no different.'

'It hasn't gotten worse! That's a good thing. It had progressed to a 5 when we gave her the meds. It should be almost a 3 now, but it's not,' Cameron continued to argue.

'Chase! What do you think?' Foreman asked angrily, wheeling around to face Chase.

'I think Cameron is right. We should keep her on the current treatment for a few more hours and see what happens,' Chase said. Foreman looked pissed.

'Do we need to separate you three? Foreman, do you need a time-out?' House asked as he joined the other three in the conference room.

'She's not doing any better!' Foreman announced again.

'I know. I heard your screaming through the walls. Glass walls...not as sound-proof as you might think.'

'So, what should we do, oh powerful House?' Foreman asked sardonically.

'A bit sarcastic, are we?' House said. Chase stifled a laugh. 'Keep her on the current treatment, unless you have some awesome diagnosis that beats encephalitis.'

'Fine. You are killing her.'

'Or saving her.' Foreman stormed out of the room.

'Where is he going?' Chase asked.

'He has to use the little men's room,' House said. 'We need to narrow this down. Encephalitis is a large field. It's like 'colours.' We need to find out if it's red or blue...or fuzzy.'

'Some form of viral encephalitis is most likely,' Chase said.

'Yeah. I think we got that. Cameron started her on acyclovir for the possible viral stuff.'

'Then we need to find out what virus it is so we can be more precise,' Chase said like he had just found the meaning of life.

'Yes. That's what I would do. That's what we're trying to figure out now,' House said.

'St. Louis encephalitis?' Cameron offered. 'It fits the headache and the fever, and in rare cases can cause meningoencephalitis.'

'Or West Nile. She could have picked it up from a mosquito in New Orleans,' Chase said. 'It could cause encephalitis.'

'Or LaCrosse encephalitis. So, we've narrowed it down from 'colours' to 'not black or white,' House said. 'Up the dose on her acyclovir.'

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'She's still not responding to the treatment. The coma hasn't gotten worse, but it hasn't gotten better either.' Cameron was standing in the doorway to House's office. 'I brought you a coffee and a bagel. It's the best the cafeteria has.'

'Thanks,' House said. Cameron walked over to him and handed him the 'gourmet' food.

'Have you thought of anything else?' Cameron asked.

'No. The ones we came up with are probably the most likely. We'll wait and see what happens,' House said. Cameron's phone rang.

'Excuse me.'

'Hi, Stacy...Oh, that's fantastic...I bet she is thrilled...When is the banquet...I'll see if I can come...Well, I have to go. I'm in a meeting...Tell her congratulations for me...Bye.'

'Stacy?' House asked.

'My sister.'

'What did she want?'

'She wanted to know if I could come to her daughter's awards banquet.'

'Awards for what?'

'She was Champion in her division for horseback riding.' House narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking really hard. 'What's wrong?'

'We have our colour.'

'Huh?'

'Tell the team to come to the conference room.'

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'Test time, class. Here on the board we have the symptoms. All the things that it's not are crossed out, so don't pick something with a big black line through it.'

'Um,' Chase groaned.

'You're grade gets lower with every clue...Giddy up!'

'Eastern equine encephalitis?' Cameron asked.

'Bingo!'

'But, there have been like 200 cases in the last 40 years,' Chase said.

'We love rare! Look, it fits all the symptoms. And, she was in New Orleans. She easily could have been bitten by an infected mosquito there.'

'But there's no treatment for EEE,' Chase stammered.

'Get an LP. Check her CSF, and that should confirm it.'

'We could paralyse her,' Chase said.

'Foreman said that earlier. But, since he is apparently not here, his vote no longer matters. Get an LP and page me when the results come in. In the meantime, increase the Prednisone and rub some prayer beads.'

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'House!' Chase said. 'Her CSF showed signs of EEE. Cameron is telling the family now. You were right.'

'Damn straight.'

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'Mr. Farley, I'm sorry. Your wife has an extremely rare condition called eastern equine encephalitis. She was probably bitten by a mosquito carrying the disease, and it caused her symptoms.'

'Is there a treatment? I mean, you...you can't just do nothing, can you?'

'There isn't a known treatment for EEE. We're going to treat the symptoms, so we are keeping her on the anti-inflammatory medication to try to reduce the inflammation in her brain, and we are going to keep her on life support. But, this disease is extremely deadly. The death rate is about 33. I'm sorry. The best thing you can do is stay with her and pray for her.'

'And, if she comes out of it, she'll be fine, right?'

'Mr. Farley, she is very ill. And, her coma is very severe. I'm afraid, even if she is able to come out of this, she will have some brain damage. But, we' won't know the severity until later.'

'And, you say she got this from a mosquito?'

'That's how the virus is transmitted.'

'I told her she shouldn't have done it. I told her going to that dirty, filthy, disgusting city wasn't good for her. I told her it was dangerous! I told her! But, she can't listen to me, can she. Now she is dead!'

'She's not dead yet. Don't give up. And, it's not her fault. What your wife was doing was amazing and selfless. This is not her fault.' Mr. Farley froze for a minute. His expression went from denial, to depression, to anger.

'No!' he screamed. 'It's not her fault at all.' His voice was now eerily calm. 'It's yours! You and your whole fucking team. The flu. The flu! You said she had the flu, and now it's too late. It's your fault. Bitch!'

Before Cameron could react, Mr. Farley's fist crashed hard against her cheek. The force of the impact threw Cameron to the ground. A group of people flew to the scene of the incident. Some people were restraining Mr. Farley who was still screaming 'bitch' over and over again. Cameron moved her jaw back and forth to make sure it wasn't broken or dislocated. A nurse helped her back up to her feet. A chorus of 'are-you-okay-s' and 'did-he-hurt-you-s' flooded around her. 'I'm fine,' was her response. She could see the angry man, now verging on psychosis, be escorted to another place in the hospital by large men in blue security uniforms.

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'You are going to have a nasty bruise there for a while,' House said. He and Cameron were in one the exam rooms in the clinic. 'What happened?'

'I told him about his wife, and he punched me. It probably wasn't his fault. I basically told him his wife was going to die.'

'He still shouldn't have hit you.' House found an ice pack and applied it to the right side of her face. She flexed away from the object. 'Does it hurt?'

'A little,' she said.

'We should go home. It's almost 5 anyway, and we've been here since...really early a.m.'

'Good idea.'

A/N: Please review...pretty please with sugar on top! Thanks!