Chapter 14 - Gregory House
The file hadn't escaped him. Neither did the unrest emanating not only from Chase but also from Wilson. But the thought that a new - if somehow his first - case had arrived made him feel mixed. He did not know whether he could indulge in the joyful expectation of perhaps learning something about himself through his work. The experience at Dr. Nolan still impressed him greatly and made him doubt whether he was ready for another blackout. But the curiosity was greater.
Once in his office, the members of his team looked at him uncomfortably expectantly while House himself sat down on a chair and let Chase take the lead, because what else could he do. Wilson followed and sat in an empty chair on the other side of the table.
Chase was the only one standing. His expression was serious, his eyebrows drawn low, as he turned and twisted the blue envelope, inside of which there weren't many pages, in his hands.
"Foreman has assigned us a new case," he began slowly, staring around. His eyes communicated his own displeasure all too clearly.
House looked at the others, curiously scanning the team's reactions, realizing that they didn't seem enthusiastic either.
"He's gotta be kidding?" Adams was the first to speak up and make a complaint. Her forehead was wrinkled with doubts, which stood out more clearly when Chase nodded in defeat.
"He said the department was costing the hospital too much money," he told of his superior's whims, but it was clear in his voice that he found the explanation as inadequate as anyone else present.
Except for House, probably because he felt a surge of excitement. A new case, that might mean an unexpected access to his memories. On the outside he forced himself to calm down, just rocking his stick back and forth, but inside there was unbridled curiosity.
"Doesn't he understand that we have more important things to do?" Park answered. Her voice sounded much less strong, but at least as indignant as the previous speaker.
"Foreman does what he needs to do," Taub replied flatly, giving both Adams and Park an instructive look. "He has to make sure that the numbers are correct."
"He could show a little compassion." Adam's voice was blatantly disapproving, and she screwed up her eyes and gave Taub an annoyed look.
"Compassion doesn't pay employees." Taub did the same in a provocative way. For a moment there was silence, the two doctors fought a silent fight, until House put an end to the war with his words.
"Do I have a say in that too?"
Adams and Taub let go of each other, Park and Chase also looked at the diagnostician, but House only met Wilson's doubtful but sincere gaze.
"Ultimately, the decision is probably up to the Australian, but if it were up to me I would take the case and let me work."
He shrugged his shoulders disapprovingly, threw sarcastic looks around, which no one could withstand. Instead, the team's faces showed thoughtfulness. House probably hadn't convinced them, but he didn't care because he didn't need their confirmation. He looked at Chase, waiting. He sighed.
"It's not that we have a choice," he replied calmly. "But I agree with you, maybe it will be of some use if you get back into your job." He put the file on the table. "No treatments, of course."
House rolled his eyes. Now he was speaking just like Foreman. He wasn't stupid. But he refrained from making the biting comment.
Chase opened the file, revealing the first page, which had some basic information written on it.
"Jennifer Gray, 39 years old, married," he opened. "Sudden seizures and fever." Chase paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "And she explicitly asks for House."
House limped ahead with a quick step. Alone, this time, on the way to the patient's room who asked for him.
He wasn't sure yet what to say. He'd ruled out telling her about his amnesia, though. Who would agree to being treated by a doctor who had lost all of his skills?
It might have been selfish to leave her, who put her health in his hands, in the dark about her doctor's situation, but House wanted at all costs to avoid her leaving. He wanted to use her case to get himself back in shape, or at least he hoped so.
Of course, he was not entirely abandoned by morality. Even if he didn't know his team well - at least no more - he trusted them with the diagnosis and treatment of the patient. He just had to convince her of it himself.
He quietly pushed open the sliding glass door of the hospital room. It was relatively dark inside, apart from the light from the corridor, because she had closed the curtains on the windows and was lying on the pillows with her eyes closed. She didn't sleep, though, because shortly after House entered and closed the door, she opened her eyes and turned her head.
House was tense inside. He now had to be as convincing as possible, although he had no idea what was convincing for his usual standards. He had to act and improvise.
With slightly narrowed eyes he stepped further into the room and looked at his patient, who looked at him just as interested. He stopped at the foot of her bed and took the file hanging there, peered into it, although of course he had no idea what what was written down meant.
Janine Gray. She wasn't very old yet, but she looked surprisingly young, her skin was smooth, almost wrinkle-free, and her eyes young and friendly. Her brown hair was cut short, as short as it would be considered unusual for a women, and a number of sweaty strands stood out from her head or stuck to her forehead. Still, she didn't look as exhausted as House would have expected.
After a few seconds he put the file back down and turned to Mrs. Gray.
"My name is Dr. House, "he introduced himself shortly. The patient nodded curtly. "Why are you asking for me of all people?"
Mrs. Gray narrowed her eyes, but a mischievous smile twitched around her thin lips.
"I only trust the best. Those who know something about their subject. "
House swallowed the pain that stung him when she said this, but he forced himself not to tell her anything he was thinking.
"I understand," he replied in a calm voice. He didn't even try a sanctimonious smile, but went on just as seriously as he had started. "I can assure you that my team will take good care of you."
Again he earned a scrutinizing, almost suspicious look from his counterpart. She literally scanned him, which made House uncomfortable. Had his lie been exposed?
"Of course, I only hired the best doctors for my team," he continued, a little too insecure, and straightened his shoulders when he realized that he was about to betray himself. He immediately noticed that Mrs. Gray was a woman who could read the person opposite and that she saw in his body language that something was wrong.
"You're weird," she said, surprisingly indifferent, and sank deeper into the pillows, but didn't take her eyes off him, while small wrinkles formed on her forehead. "You are very different from what I was told."
Even if House was very uncomfortable that she said that, he saw his chance right away.
"Different? How?" He narrowed his eyes and stared at his patient penetratingly and waiting.
Mrs. Gray smiled gently.
"You have been described to me as a rude bully who avoids patient contact when he can." There was something cheeky, teasing in her voice. "And now you come to me first of all things."
House's grip on his cane tightened, which Mrs. Gray luckily couldn't see. Had he failed to be himself so quickly?
Annoyed, he wrinkled his nose and snorted.
"I'm only here to let you know that you have to put up with my team. Patients don't get any special treatment here. You let me treat you through my people, or you leave," he fired back coldly and, to his own surprise, saw his patient smile again.
"That sounds more like what I was told," she replied, completely unafraid. Then she nodded. "That I've seen you and that you are working on my case is enough for me." She looked satisfied as she tilted her head to one side and closed her eyes, dismissing House.
For a moment he stopped in amazement and just looked at her. But since she made no further move to say anything, he turned around shortly afterwards and stomped to the door.
That opened just then. A young man pushed it open, his black hair curly and tousled, his eyes shining with concern. In his hand he held a plastic cup and a water bottle. When he stopped in front of House, he looked a little intimidated.
"Tim Gray," he introduced himself hesitantly. "I am Janine's husband. I was only gone for a moment to fetch her water."
House watched as he slipped past him and hurried to his wife. He didn't reply, but left the room soundlessly.
In the evening House and Wilson sat together in the living room, staring at the television again, Wilson sprawled on the couch, House in his armchair, right hand turning his cane from side to side.
"What's the next step in the plan?" he asked into the silence. He really wanted to keep working on it, the wait was driving him crazy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wilson's doubtful look.
"Don't you think it would be better if you wait a day or two? Don't forget, you passed out…" he cautiously expressed his concerns. House looked at him.
"Doing nothing is driving me crazy," he said gruffly, but he knew Wilson was just worried. His friend nodded in understanding.
"Tell me..." Carefully, House drew his friend's gaze on him. "With Dr. Nolan... during my memories, I heard a voice."
Wilson shifted his head in confusion and frowned, but said nothing, so House went on and quoted the words he had heard clearly in his head.
"You wouldn't even be able to do it for a week without it."
Since he had awakened from his faint he had thought a lot about this sentence, this voice, but had not come to many results.
"It was probably about the fact that I couldn't go a week without Vicodin, I understood that much," he continued. He watched as Wilson's gaze cleared and a knowing expression came into his eyes. "But I don't know the voice. It wasn't Adams or Park."
Wilson nodded slowly. His brown eyes were full of pity.
"That was Cuddy's voice. Lisa Cuddy. She was the chief administrator of Princeton Plainsboro more than a year ago," he explained slowly. At first House didn't understand why he looked at him so pityingly. But that soon cleared up. "You were together once."
House sighed. That he wanted to get to know her and remember her, no matter how painful it was, was out of the question. He just feared that another faint would await him.
"I want to see her." The words came out of his mouth firmly and left no room for contradiction. Still, Wilson's eyes were averse. First House wanted to flare up again, since he had made him promise that he would support him. But before his anger could get going, Wilson explained his displeasure.
"I don't know if that's possible," he said quietly. "After your relationship ended, she moved out of New Jersey and left Foreman in her position. I'm not sure if she could be persuaded to come back. "
The two friends were enveloped in an oppressive silence. House sank down. It made sense to him that one no longer wanted to see each other after a failed relationship. But leaving the city immediately seemed like a very drastic measure to him. He concluded that there had to be more to it.
"There must have been quite a fight," he muttered dissatisfied.
"You could say that," said Wilson cautiously. "You drove a car into her living room out of jealousy." He obviously found the words uncomfortable, and House shared that very well, because he felt a little nauseous when he heard about them. What had made him do something like this?
"I can understand she moved away," House muttered defeated. He felt an uncomfortable emptiness that spread and made him sink a little deeper into his chair. He took a deep breath and then sighed loudly.
"Can you try to at least get her to visit?" he asked Wilson. "If it doesn't work out, I'll have to come to terms with it. But at least I want to have tried. And I guess the chances are better if you give her a call. "
He looked at his friend, waiting, and they exchanged dubious looks with mixed feelings. Eventually, though, Wilson nodded.
"I'll try to contact her in the morning," he said.