AN: Stupid computer -hits computer- I mean, no good computer, good computer….please don't die!
CHAPTER 2
House, in a pretty good mood, limped into Examination Room #2 where an anxious mother and an irritated teenage girl seated in a wheelchair waited for him.
"Oh good, you're here," the mother gasped frantically. "My daughter, Lily, was in an accident recently which put her in her…condition." This merited a disgusted look from Lily. "And now she can't speak! She can't talk at all! You have to help her!"
House glanced from the frantic mother to the chair-ridded Lily who flashed her mother a scathing look that said something all too familiar: screw you.
House raised his eye brows skeptically, "Can't or won't?"
The mother frowned, "What are you saying? She can't talk, something's damaged her throat."
House shrugged indifferently, "I dunno, if I had a mom like you I wouldn't be talking either." Lily smiled in agreement and her mother flushed angrily, not seeing her daughter's smirk.
"If it is a medical problem, however, I'll look it over. But it's probably her hormones, and if it is, you're in the wrong department."
Not leaving any room for argument, House left the room, parting a worried, but now doubtful mother staring dubiously at her sulking daughter.
X x X
In another room, another anxious mother sat by her daughter's bed.
"As of right now, we're not particularly sure what it is," Chase hooked a bag of fluids to a tube leading to an IV in the unconscious Rand's wrist. "But we're going to try to put her on some antibiotics and see what happens."
The older Rand nodded mutely, her face showing concern and confusion. Finally she asked softly, "When will you know?"
Chase smiled reassuringly, "In a couple of hours we should know if the treatment is working."
Mrs. Rand nodded her understanding but it didn't ease the worried look on her face.
"Hold still, I won't be able to see if your head keeps moving like that," House snapped, his good mood long gone – along with his patience. He was given the difficult task of trying to inspect the swollen ear of a five year old boy with the attention span of an earthworm. Not only that, but the kid would not shut-up.
"What's that?" the boy turned to face the instrument House was trying to put in his ear.
"Something that will tell me what's wrong with you, with the exception of a short attention span and the inability to stop talking," House muttered, squinting into the boy's ear.
"Oh." The boy sad, kicking his legs against the leg of the table he was seated on. "Why do you guys put paper on the tables?" He squirmed again, causing House to drop the instrument. Cursing silently, he picked it up and jammed it in the boy's ear.
"It's because there people are paranoid," House replied absently.
"Hey, aren't you supposed to wash that before sticking that in my son's ear?" demanded the father, who had been silent until now.
"Not if I don't want to," House murmured.
"What does 'paranoid' mean?" the boy asked, finally holding still.
"Stupid," House replied shortly, putting the instrument away. He turned to the father, "Your son has a standard-issue ear infection. Go to the drug administration counter and there's some stuff to clear that up." The pain in his leg combined with his head to create one big throb. He pulled out his pills and popped one into his mouth.
"What're those?" the little boy jumped down from the table.
"They're my special candy. Mine. They're like…special jelly beans," House stopped realizing what he had said.
"I don't like jelly beans," The boy responded.
House's voice softened ever so slightly, "Nah, me neither."
The little boy detected the glimmer of sadness behind the irritable shield, "Do jelly beans make you sad?"
The sadness vanished and the annoyance returned. "No, but your questions make me mad." In his pocket, House's pager sounded. He checked it, then started for the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, my patient's having a seizure."