Thank you all for your lovely reviews! My ego is incredibly inflated – a feeling I'd recommend to anyone:)
I'm fixing Foreman's age here to be the same as Omar Epps' and I'm also making Marcus the older brother. If that's against canon, then by now I'm pretty AU anyway with this story and the changes the kiddies have caused in House and the rest of them, so I don't really care.
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House limped into Marcus' room past the officer standing guard at the door. Marcus was in bed, as was expected since he was handcuffed to it. He looked bored and angry. And a lot like Foreman, only older – more than the three years between them really merited. He looked more like 47 than 37.
"Great! Another whitey! Don't you have any black doctors in this here hospital?" Marcus scorned.
"Yeah, but since we fear they might help you escape, they are not allowed anywhere near you," House told him. "We know how you homies always stick together."
"Hah," Marcus gave a short laugh. "At least you don't try to go all sensitive on me. I haven't seen you before have I? Who the hell are you?"
"I'm actually your doctor, the one in charge," House said. "The ones you've seen so far are just my minions. I'm House."
"House," the name seemed to give Marcus a pause. "My brother's House?"
"That almost sounds like you were talking about a building," House couldn't resist pointing out. "So in that sense, no. But yes, Eric is one of my minions. However, as he is your brother he is not allowed to be involved in your treatment."
"Does that mean he is not allowed to come see me either?" Marcus demanded. "Or is it that you fear he will be sure to help me escape as he is not just a brother but really my brother?"
"Not as far as I know," House revealed. "But he is having hypocrisy issues."
"He always was a hypocrite," Marcus scorned, but there was hurt under his tone.
"Not really," Hose mused. "He does sometimes fail to see how his actions might not quite match his previous words, but all in all hypocrisy hasn't been his problem. It's more that he fears the appearance of it so much that it sometimes blinds him to the real issue. See, there you are languishing in prison and Eric doesn't write, doesn't come see you, has pretty much written you off as a bad bargain. Then you go and land yourself as a patient in his hospital and he doesn't quite see how he could suddenly start hovering over your fevered brow like there's no tomorrow without looking like a hypocrite."
"And what, in your great, white wisdom do you see he fails to see here?" Marcus asked with heavy sarcasm.
"That bad bargain or not, you're still his brother," House stated. "And he cannot change that, like it or not."
"Bah," Marcus huffed dismissively. "Did you come here to just chat or do you have anything interesting to tell me. Like what's wrong with me."
"I suspect plenty," House observed. "But yes, I do know what is medically wrong with you."
"So, get on with it!" Marcus demanded. "Tell me what it is and then get me out of here. I may not like prison but at least there I can move around more."
"Well, you're not going back for a couple of days, but I'm sure you'll be happy to know that now that I have the diagnosis we can move you to the psych ward. We have nice padded and padlocked rooms there and you can stay in one until we are ready to let you go," House promised.
"If you have the diagnosis, why do I need to stay? Do you need to operate or something?" Marcus wanted to know.
"No, but we need to start specific medication and we need to check that you won't have any immediate adverse reactions to them," House informed him. "You are suffering from Alzheimer's."
Marcus stared at House for a long time letting the word sink in: "Like my mother?"
"Yes, like your mother," House agreed.
"But I'm only 37! It's old people's illness," Marcus insisted.
"In most cases, yes, but there is a variation that affects young people as well," House clarified. "Youngest known case was 29 so you don't even set a record yet. You medical record would suggest that your case has been speeded up by the earlier concussions and your drug habit."
"So you're telling me this is all my own fault?" Marcus accused.
"Well, your lifestyle has definitely contributed to the fact that it's starting this early, but other than that, you had no say in this," House said.
"You know, some of those concussions I got from white cops," Marcus complained – mostly to fill in the silence and avoid thinking.
"Cops can be like that," House shrugged earning an interested look from Marcus.
"Most whiteys want to know what I did to deserve it," Marcus commented.
"Well, I'm not most whiteys and I'm also not quite the favourite person of the cops either," House noted. "It's not that long ago one of them was after me."
"You're a famous doctor," Marcus wondered. "I would have thought you could get away with pretty much anything. Why would he come after you?"
"I forgot a thermometer in an inappropriate place," House confessed.
"What could be inappropriate enough to get a cops attention?" Marcus sneered.
"Up his ass," House remarked earning a short laugh from Marcus.
"That I would have liked to have seen," he sighed.
"I must confess, that even with everything that followed it still is a fond memory," House smiled. "Do you think you have stalled enough now? Are you ready to talk about your medical condition?"
"Alzheimer's, huh," Marcus said almost to himself. "So they finally managed to beat some docility into me."
"My guess would be not," House contradicted. "If you're thinking of your mother, her docility is not a result of her illness. Alzheimer's doesn't usually cause personality changes; what it does is that it pares it down to a few basic traits. If your basic character is optimistic, kind, caring and trusting those are the things that guide your reactions to the changes in your life. If, on the other hand, your normal reaction to strangers, to loss of control, to different degrees of confusion is suspicion, aggression and rejection, then those traits are the ones that govern your behaviour. In your case, I suspect you will eventually get violent – unless the head injuries kick in causing a real personality change, but it's more than likely that that would have happened already."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Marcus exclaimed. "My mother has changed. Yes, she was always the peacemaker and boy was she trusting, but even so she is no longer herself!"
"But her basic personality has not changed," House insisted. "That is a different matter, medically speaking, than what has happened to her due to the illness. Alzheimer's does change you because it robs you of huge chunks of your past, your life experiences, all those things that have made you the person you are. It steals your life and, yes, eventually your personality, too. And once all that is gone, it starts to steal everything else as well. It robs your free will, any control you have over yourself, even your bodily functions; it robs you off hope, dignity and eventually all you have left is the ability to breathe – until it takes that as well. And all this it does excruciatingly slowly. Unless fate is merciful and the heart fails before that."
"That's a cruel picture you're painting," Marcus said tightly.
"It's a cruel disease," House answered. "And I don't believe in lying to my patients – well, not once I have diagnosed them. Pretty words and lots of sympathy won't change anything. And you already know quite a lot about this, so it's also a waste of time. Of course, since you're already going to the psych ward you will have a shrink or a therapist come see you and help you deal with this, but I just give the news."
"So, do you think that fate will be merciful to me?" Marcus asked. "Is my heart going to fail?"
"Your heart is regrettably strong," House informed him. "Though there is a chance that your liver might fail at some point. That isn't a very pleasant way to go either, but it is fairly quick."
"Huh," Marcus made an uncertain sound. "Are you telling my father this?"
"I'm telling him that you have Alzheimer's," House nodded. "But I doubt I need to explain more to him."
"He will want to take care of me," Marcus pointed out. "His conscience will demand it."
"He can't," House stated. "And I will make that quite clear. Even if your mother wasn't ill he could not take you home. You will be too dangerous to him if this thing runs the course I'm expecting. Home is no place for you."
"Yeah, I'd probably end up killing him and that would help nobody," Marcus agreed. "But he is a stubborn man. How do I make sure he won't try once I'm too ill to have any say myself?"
"I can ask the hospital lawyer to come and see you," House advised. "You can have him write papers that state clearly what you want done and not done."
"I don't trust lawyers," Marcus muttered.
"Nobody does, but they do have their uses," House agreed. "Besides this is a fairly simple thing and you'll be happy to know that the hospital lawyer is black!"
"Ok, I'll see him," Marcus accepted. "But I won't be seeing any shrinks!"
"Yes you will," House informed him without even a pause. "It's mandatory. You won't have to say anything but see one, you will. I will be back later, not that there is a need, but your father will want to know how you're doing and I might as well indulge him since I have nothing better to do now." House limped to the door. Before he opened it her turned back to say: "I expect Eric to stop by some time soon. I still need him so don't kill him."
"I doubt I'll see him," Marcus growled.
"I really ought to make you bet on your opinion, but that would be like taking candy from a child," House said. "Not that I object, kids should eat more fruit anyway, but still, it would be too easy." With that he limped out.
Outside he saw Eric hovering uncertainly in the corridor. As soon as Eric saw House he said: "Cameron is watching Aiko."
"And you couldn't stand her caring looks and concerned questions and sympathetic advice?" House ventured.
"No, I couldn't," Eric admitted. "It was getting a little heavy in there."
"So you came here, to hover outside your brother's room. You do know that you can go in?" House suggested.
"I'm not sure I want to," Eric glared at him.
"Oh come on, Ewic," House simpered. "He's not heavy, he's your brother!"
Eric turned to glare House straight in the face ready to reply with angry words, but regardless of the flippant tone the cliché had been delivered in Foreman suddenly saw something in the blue eyes staring back at him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something serious and understanding and almost expecting. It was something he had no idea what it was but still he felt he recognised it. He couldn't come up with anything to say, because he wasn't sure what House was telling him.
"God, you annoy me sometimes," was all he managed to huff out.
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not god," House queried. "I understand how the error might occur but really, take my word finally: I'm not god." Eric rolled his eyes at House but didn't say anything. House became serious. "Look Eric, you think too much. You know that he has Alzheimer's. And you know it will rob him of the past. You need to let go of it too. No matter what it is. You only have this moment. Right now is all you will ever have with him again. So take it, right now."
Eric stared at House almost rebelliously, but finally he just turned without a word and walked into his brother's room. House watched him close the door and then he nodded with finality.
As House turned to limp back to his office he came across Wilson.
"You'll be happy to know that I have now one more person in my team," House trilled at Wilson. "I hired Hitler."
"Hitler?" Wilson stared at House.
"Dr Petra Gilmar," House clarified and Wilson had a sudden memory of himself escorting a shapely woman doctor out of House's room and turning to exclaim to House that's our Hitler.
"Of the shoes?" Wilson wanted to be sure.
"Yes, that's the one," House confirmed.
"But I thought you didn't like her shoes?" Wilson wondered. "What has changed?"
"There is nothing wrong with her shoes," House informed Wilson facetiously. "That is as long as she is filling Foreman's. It was as Cameron's replacement that I didn't like her."
"You are hiring her to replace Foreman?" Wilson asked.
"Yes," House nodded. "I will expect that she will disagree with pretty much everything I say. Mind you, I suspect that I may have got two at the price of one. In a pinch I'm sure she can produce a very creditable moral outrage, too."
"And you will certainly do your best to test that theory," Wilson sighed wondering if he ought to have a word with Dr Gilmar before she was thrown into the lion's den.