One Little Mistake – Part 3
/OK, this is it/
House was mad. Where were 2/3 of his ducklings? Even though it's true there was nothing to do, seeing as their latest case was just discharged… Still, taking a two hour lunch break was more his style!
He truly couldn't care less about Foreman's whereabouts, but the other missing one was his favorite…
Well, that, plus - Chase was really getting on his nerves, lounging around with his feet on the conference room table.
"Hey, sleeping beauty! Why don't you page our errant children while I go take a look around", House reached for his cane and pulled himself up with a groan, "they can't be far".
Popping another Vicodin, House limped out of the room, all the while muttering under his breath about stupid missing doctors and why it is always the cripple that has to go round'em up.
Before House could step into the elevator, he heard the telltale sound of a beeper going off in one of the rooms. He turned back and headed toward the room, but couldn't see inside with the curtains drawn. Just as he was reaching for the door handle, another beeper went off, joining the first and creating the most irritating duet, until finally both were shut off.
"So this is where you've been taking cover!" House burst into the room with his usual dramatic flair. "What's the matter? Cuddy—"
For the first time in a really long time, Greg House was speechless.
However, that is a very rare and also fleeting state. In those three seconds, the synapses in his brain were firing millions of neurons everywhere, trying to interpret the unpredictable visual stimulus before him.
"I am so sorry…" House drawled, giving the - no doubt correct - impression that he was anything but. "Am I interrupting anything?", he managed to spit out between clenched jaws, his right hand gripping his cane so hard, he thought he might snap a bone.
He might have found the way both Cameron and Foreman's heads snapped guiltily in his direction hilarious under any other circumstances… However, the majority of his higher thought processes were occupied at the moment with sorting through the many, many ways he could choose from to make sure Foreman dies a slow, painful death.
Today.
Right this minute.
It took about five more seconds and a pointed frown from Foreman for his testosterone-laden brain to determine that although Cameron was lying on the bed, her shirt bunched up below her breasts, her pants open and Foreman's hand resting suspiciously low on her stomach… /Get your hands off her, you moron, there were extenuating circumstances. Namely, the ultrasound machine up and running on the other side of the bed.
Well, he couldn't help but think, that is unless there's some kind of weird fetish thing going on. But he dismissed the thought instantly, Yeah, right. As if straight laced Cameron was into this sort of thing.
Trying to push aside the images his mind couldn't help but conjure up in response to that idea, House loudly cleared his throat.
His now relaxed fingers let go of the door, allowing it to close behind him. House hobbled to the foot of the bed, inquiring gruffly "Are you OK?"
His voice seemed to spur Foreman into action, and he reached for a sheet to cover Cameron's bare abdomen, all the while making sure he wasn't looking House in the eye.
Sensing the tense atmosphere in the room, House's diagnostic brain started to run through all possible diseases known to men which manifest themselves with lower stomach pain. House was sure his suspicions were confirmed when Cameron, still lying down, turned her head away and closed her eyes, refusing to look at him as well.
"Dr. House, would you mind leaving? This has nothing to do with you." Foreman stated in a polite, yet chilly tone.
Houses eyes flew to Foreman's face. "As a matter of fact I would!" he barked, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pressure in his chest. /Must be indigestion/…, he tried telling himself.
Moving to Foreman's side, House tried to instill his voice with confidence, wishing for the first time in his career that he'd paid more attention to his bedside manner lectures back in med-school.
"I'm sure it's nothing!" He spoke with what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "For the life of me I don't know why you let a neurologist take a look at your stomach!" He turned to Foreman, pulling the ultrasound emitter unceremoniously from his hand, exchanging it for his cane. Using his now free hand, House gently pulled away the sheet covering Cameron's stomach. "Do you even know which organs you're looking at!" he couldn't help but add.
Not waiting for a reply, House started running the ultrasound over Cameron's stomach, while making a mental note to take another look at the pile of applications sitting in his desk drawer. /A neurologist on my team?… what on earth was I thinking/
/Thanks a lot for the help, Foreman, Allison thought as she was trying to get enough leverage to sit up and push House's hands away from her stomach. Her heart was beating rapidly /He can't find out… not now… not like this/ but before she could do anything, House's questing hand stopped, and he was staring open mouthed at the monitor.
With tears burning in her eyes, Cameron waited a few seconds before following his gaze, already knowing what he was looking at.
Staring unblinkingly at the screen, House caught his breath. It was as if years had passed before he finally acknowledged what he was seeing, and admitted that the rapid "thump, thump, thump" in the background wasn't just the sound of his own blood pumping really really fast…