Rash Decisions
Summary: After treating a man with a mysterious aliment, Cameron becomes a patient herself, prompting House to reevaluate his actions.
A/N: In all fairness, Niff deserved a co-author credit on this story because she was an invaluable help with the medical aspects of the story. Since she refused, I'll have to settle by offering her my thanks. And thanks to Gibby and Ann for their beta services. All mistakes are mine; I don't share.
Rating: Eh, let's go PG-13 for language.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely connected to this show. I haven't even seen all the episodes yet. I hope I have the characterizations right, but let me know if I screwed something up. I'm not a doctor, but I write for fictional ones. Don't trust my medical presentations to be completely accurate.

Chapter 4

Leaning against the wall, House tilted his head as he tried to get a better look. The blinds to Cameron's room had been drawn but not completely closed. The result was a zebra-striped view of Wilson as he completed a basic neurological examination. Or so he thought; it was really hard to tell.

House began to tap his cane absentmindedly as he continued his clandestine observation. He wanted to know her progress. Logically, he knew if her condition was serious, he'd have heard by now, but he also knew logic wasn't causing his stomach to twist into a Möbius strip.

The mix of emotions assaulting him was disturbing, but his mind kept coming back to the same question: why didn't she want him to treat her? If she was upset over how their date turned out, this was an immature way of showing it. He let out a brief grunt. Cameron was the nice one. He didn't believe she'd play a game like that. But the alternative wasn't much better.

House was ready to walk into her room when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He didn't have to look down to see who had moved to his side.

"You're not treating her," Cuddy stated simply.

"Of course not! I'm just holding up this wall. Serious lack of maintenance, wouldn't you say? Wait a minute! Isn't maintenance one of those things you're supposed to be in charge of? Dr. Cuddy, I'm disappointed in you."

"I'm serious, House."

"Really? Does that mean all the other things you've hounded me about weren't serious? I can ignore those? Cool!"

Cuddy lifted her eyes to him with a long-suffering patience. "Believe it or not, I'm looking out for you. God know why I bother, but I am."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, and you're about one complaint away from being forced to go to the Disciplinary Committee. I wouldn't be too confident about the outcome when you do finally do get called to a review. This may come to a surprise to you, but most people despise you," she pointed out.

"I can't imagine why," House said dryly. "I'm such a loveable fellow."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that because of you, we lost Volger and his donation."

"So?" House asked with an annoyed look. "People should be glad Volger's gone. He was an ass."

"No, you're the ass. He was the one hundred million dollar ass," she answered curtly.

"The money again."

"Yes, the money again. This hospital doesn't run on fairy dust. It's expensive as hell. That type of money covers a lot of treatment, and that bought him tolerance for his attitude. You don't have that luxury."

House let out an irritated grumble. "You'll notice I'm outside the room. Never stepped inside. I'm not treating her. I do know something about medicine. You don't upset patients with head injuries."

To his surprise, Cuddy gave him a compassionate look, and that made him uneasy. "Look, I don't know how you managed to screw up your date…"

"What makes you think I did?" he asked hotly.

"Because she doesn't want you around. I think that rules out 'good date' right there. It can't be too bad. I know for a fact that Yule at Jefferson tried to lure her with a pay raise after she agreed to come back here."

"Really?"

Cuddy turned to him with a calculating stare. "Of course. She's an excellent doctor, with great references. I'm assuming you didn't hire her because of her looks."

House forced an innocent expression as he tapped his chest with his fingers. "Moi? Would I do something like that?"

"Stay away from her. Go to the clinic and get some of your hours covered," Cuddy said, rolling her eyes at the face he made. "I'm not joking. Don't go in there."

"I'm waiting for Wilson," he said. "We still have Kelleher to treat, and we're a doctor short. I wanted to get his input."

"Right. Go up to your office. I'll tell him to go there when he's done."

House pushed off from the wall, and then he turned towards it, patting it carefully. "I think that will hold until Maintenance gets to it. You really need to worry about what your job covers," he said with a disapproving scowl.

Chase sat at the desk, spinning a paperclip on the top of it in slow circles. Foreman paced the floor in front of him, every so often stopping to tap the top of the desk. "That is annoying," Chase finally told him.

"Sorry. Seeing a friend with the crap beat out of her always upsets me."

"I know how that is."

"Yeah, I know you do," Foreman said.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I stopped to get a cup of coffee."

"I'd say you've had enough caffeine," Chase noted when his colleague kicked at a trashcan angrily.

"Not now. Earlier. I was supposed to help with the lumbar puncture, but I stopped for a cup of coffee on the way. If I hadn't done that, I would have been there when Kelleher had his episode."

"Oh, the knight in shining armor! Except you'd have been charging a Sherman tank. He would have wiped the floor with you."

"And Cameron would have sedated him while he did it. Hey, here comes House."

"What are you doing in here?" he asked as soon as he limped into the office.

"Kelleher is with Psych. They're doing their own exam," Foreman explained.

"That's a waste of time. He's not schizophrenic, and if he were Sybil in disguise, someone would have noticed by now. Besides, the very first thing they'll do is rule out physical causes. What we're supposed to be doing."

"Cuddy ordered it. Probably has to do with the liability."

"And they're saving us the trouble of ordering PET scans and an MRI," Chase said.

"That doesn't mean you can't be working. We were looking for the wrong diagnosis earlier," House said. "I want you to go back over all the results, and see if there's anything that could be causing the transient neuropsychiatric syndrome."

"We're not better off than we were when we thought he had seizure," Chase said. "The number of causes…"

"Are legion. I know. I went to medical school, too, genius."

"We're all worried. You don't have to snap."

"But it makes me feel so snappy!" House said sardonically. "It's not withdrawal. His, not mine. I still have my happy pills."

"Well, his sugar levels were normal. It wasn't caused by hypoglycemia," Foreman said.

"His liver functions were off. Virus," Chase added.

"Both West Nile and Lyme's disease can present neuropsychiatric symptoms."

House grudgingly listed them on the white board. "So does AIDS, syphilis, Borna and a bunch of other viruses."

"What about Gerstmann-Straussler-Scheinker disease?" Chase asked. "It doesn't necessarily show on an EEG. He has the muscle weakness but no ataxia."

"That's right up their with Cameron's earlier suggestion of mad cow. It's weird. I like weird, but not in his case. It's almost always inherited, and there's no family history of neurodegenerative diseases," House noted. "What else?"

"Exposure to a toxin could cause the liver functions to be off," Foreman suggested. "Wilson."

House and Chase did a quick double take before noticing the other doctor heading towards their office. He entered and smiled as soon as he did. "I just checked up on Allison again. She's going to be okay. The confusion is starting to clear up. She can probably go home tomorrow; a couple days of rest, and she'll be back to work."

"Does she remember what happened to her?" House asked softly.

"Not really. That's … weird."

"That's actually normal with a concussion," Foreman said with a confused look.

"Right. But she knew your boxer had transient neuropsychiatric syndrome."

"Wow. And I thought the 'Dead Zone' was a work of fiction. Do I have to give her a pay raise if she's psychic now?" House deadpanned. "Oh, relax. She noted the mood change on the chart, and she obviously realized what his condition was."

"And that's where the weird part comes in. She's convinced there's something that she needs to tell you. Even after I told her you figured out the TNP, she still thinks there was something else. And it's frustrating her that she can't remember."

"Again, not unusual for a concussion," Foreman said.

"Does she have any idea at all what it is?" House asked, suddenly serious.

"Not a clue."

"It's probably the TNP. Before the attack, she'd have known it was something important," Chase said.

"Yeah. Probably," House said without much conviction. "When do we get Kelleher back from the men with the funny white jackets?"

"Probably not for a few more hours."

"Okay, in the meantime, you two go over all the labs, the scans, everything again. If the lab still has any of his blood, start running the gels. Start with West Nile and Lyme's; they're the most likely in this area."

House headed into his own office, scowling when Wilson followed. "Don't you have a wife or something?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Cameron kicked you out of the examination room. You're not fine, and if I know you, you're really pissed that she didn't want you for her doctor, forget all the butterflies and rainbows lovey-dovey stuff."

"Her brain has a boo-boo. Clearly, she's not thinking straight."

"I'm not sure it's her head. I'd go with the heart."

"A boo-boo to the heart? Oh, bad condition. Well, you heard her. She doesn't want me to be her doctor. Nothing I can do."

"I don't think that's a condition where a medical degree comes in handy."

"Then I'm really not the one to help. What's that?" House asked, staring at the folder in front of him.

"What does it look like?" Wilson asked with a grin. "Personally, I'd say it looks like a copy of a patient's file."

House blinked once before snatching the folder and quickly reading the contents. "I'm actually surprised at you."

"Why? If I didn't give you a copy, you'd steal one."

"Not steal. I'm a doctor here. I can read records. It would be snooping. There's a fine ethical difference."

"I didn't know you knew what 'ethics' meant," Wilson said with a grin.

"I know what it means. I just don't care. You didn't do head X-rays."

"No, I didn't. I spend all that time around those cancer patients; just can't bring myself to expose someone to unnecessary radiation. I'm weird that way."

"She hit that wall hard."

"Maybe hard enough to get a skull fracture. Yep," Wilson said calmly. "And so what? It didn't cave in, so she doesn't need surgery. There's no swelling of the brain. And it's not like we can put a cast on a skull. They heal on their own."

"Still…"

"Okay, before you go with something weird like leptomenigeal cysts," he started, counting out on his fingers. "One, that's rare. Two, there's no way to predict or prevent them even if there really is a skull fracture. And three, if she starts growing bumps on her head in a couple of months, I'd think she'll let us know. She will realize they aren't supposed to be there. I'll wheel her up to a neurosurgeon myself to get them removed."

House merely glared over the top of the folder for a minute before resuming his review of the file. "There were a lot of syringes flying around in there. She didn't get injected by accident?"

"No. You know, all this concern is really sweet, but I'm already taken. Why don't you go see her yourself?"

"Oh, and I can see that now. What do you think Cuddy would do to me if I tried to treat a patient who said she didn't want me around? I don't think it would be fun. For some reason, she picks on me."

"She doesn't pick. She does her job. And you are pathetic," Wilson said, shaking his head in mirth. "You can't figure it out. Okay, doctors and nurses can see patients. Who else can? Hmm. Let me think. I know! Visitors!"

"Visiting hours are over. It would be abusing my position to go now. Oh, don't look at me that way. You fight dirty, using puppy dog eyes. Some poor dog is going around blind now. Go home," House said, turning his attention back to Cameron's file.

"I told you he cared," Chase said quietly as they re-examined Kelleher's CT scan.

"I never said he didn't care. I said their getting together was a bad idea," Foreman responded.

"Why?"

"Well, I'd go with the fact that House is an arrogant, heartless, condescending jerk for a start."

"Cameron doesn't agree. And you just admitted that he cared."

Foreman shot him an annoyed look. "Technically, no I didn't. I never said he didn't care. Doesn't mean that I think he does."

Chase turned from the scan to regard his companion closely. "Are you in love with her?"

"What?" he exclaimed, his eyes opened wide in surprise.

"You don't want her to be with House. She wants to be with him. As a friend, if she thinks that's what will bring her happiness, then you should support her. Unless you don't want her to be happy with him."

"Okay, back up. She's my friend. I do want her to be happy. But what I care about is that she doesn't get hurt, and there's no way being involved with House would lead to anything but pain," Foreman said, giving the other doctor a questioning look. "And you think their getting together is a good idea?"

"What I believe is that people should be able to pursue what they want. Personally, trying to bag House wouldn't even make the bottom of my list, but it's her choice. I have no reason to think she's incapable of deciding that for herself."

"She thinks there's good in everyone."

"Uh, huh. Of course, there's the flip side. You hate House. You don't want him to be happy, so you don't want Allison to try. You think she'd be able to get through to him, and you'd rather he be miserable."

"Please," Foreman said impatiently. "If I thought for a minute House could be un-miserable, I'd tell her to go for it. That might mean he'd actually start acting like a better doctor around here. He'd actually consider the patients. I'm all for that."

"Okay. Well, that brings us back to whether you're in love with her yourself," Chase quipped with a broad grin.

"Oh, shut up!"

House stood in the doorway for a long time, just watching Cameron. Her eyes were closed, and she'd yet to react to his presence, but her vitals were normal. When a nurse started to walk up to him, he held out his hand and shook his head.

He made his way to her bed, sitting down on it softly. She slowly turned her head towards him, but didn't say anything. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his flashlight while his other hand pushed a lock of hair from her face. He looked back in shock when her hand weakly pushed his away.

"Don't," she said quietly.

He cringed slightly at the rough sound of her voice. "Sorry, reflexes. I do those doctor things without thinking. Crazy, I know. I'm not here as your doctor. Because Cuddy would throw a fit if I was. No need to mention it to her."

"So, why are you here?"

"Can't I come visit a friend?"

Cameron looked at him incredulously. "You don't have friends."

"Never thought that would be a drawback," he said, adding a playful waggle of his eyebrows. When that didn't produce a smile, he frowned. "Is it really that hard to believe that I'm here for a visit? Well, don't answer that. It probably is, but I am."

"Thank you," Cameron said as firmly as her injured throat allowed. "But I don't think I'm up for this."

"This what?"

"Whatever it is you're doing."

House dropped his head and stared at his hands for a moment before looking up again. "Then I'll make it brief. I think we have a serious problem. I'm your boss, and you work for me in a medical surrounding. If you don't trust my medical judgment, then that's not good."

"I trust you," she said earnestly. "I just don't want you for my doctor."

"Why?" When she made no move to answer, House let out a sigh. "That's my last question. I'll go as soon as you answer it."

Cameron stared out the room's glass wall for a moment before turning back to him. Her hesitance was noticeable, and he nodded slightly.

"Okay. Hypothetical situation: you have two people. The first person likes the second person. Now if that second person likes the first, but he pretends he doesn't, that's, well, shy, silly, immature. Take your pick. But if the second person doesn't like the first, but he pretends to care when the first person is sick – that's just cruel."

House sat there, his mouth opening slightly, unsure how to respond. Before he could think of something, Cameron asked how Kelleher was doing. He gave his head a shake, as if he were trying to clear it. "We're still trying to find out what's causing it. The peons are reviewing the records."

She closed her eyes, and House stood up to leave, but he noticed her mask of concentration. "Wilson said you thought there was something else."

"No, I don't think there's something else, I know there is. It's in here," she said, pointing towards her head. "It's like it's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't wrap my mind around it. Damn."

"You can't lie very well, do you know that? It's all the goodness fluffed inside you. Keeps leaking out. You have an idea."

"It doesn't fit, though," she said. "I don't know why I keep going back to it. It doesn't make any sense."

"What?" House urged.

"It's stupid."

"So? You have a concussion. You're allowed to make one stupid statement. I won't hold it against you. At least not in public," he said, pausing before continuing with a lecherous tone. "Unless that's what you're into."

Cameron opened her eyes and looked at him uncertainly.

"I promise I won't laugh."

"Malaria," she sighed.

TBC