Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! I much appreciate the time you take to give me feedback, and the compliments just made my day. Anyway, here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy it.
Wilson was busy examining Mrs. Steinbeck in room 215, and it was all he could do not to gag. Her putrid stench and gruesome excuse for hygiene were easily the only problems she had to worry about. No, scratch that – there was also the fact that she'd been sitting around eating ice cream for approximately 53 years. She was a large as a building!
"So doctor," she said, her voice sounding wheezy and sickly sweet. "What's the problem?"
"Well," he said slowly, knowing women didn't take kindly to being called fat. "Mrs. Steinbeck, I must be very frank with you in order for us to be able to maintain your health. Do you understand the term 'obesity'?"
"No, no, no, not that problem," she corrected him. "I mean, you seem kind of spaced out today, distracted."
House, he thought. The man's addicted to the pills. Vicodin controls his life. And Cuddy's using it to destroy him! How did I end up working with these people?
Mrs. Steinbeck leaned closer, and he wasn't sure, but it looked very much like she had just winked at him. "It's okay, you know," she whispered.
"What's okay?" he asked, afraid of the answer.
"I won't tell," she assured him softly. "Even doctors can't be immune to sexy older women, you know."
Oh, God. He was going to hurl. He was going to vomit all over her chocolate stained dress. He was going to…
"Wilson!" Never had he been so happy to hear that man's voice. "Go to room 213. Take care of Julia Peterson. I can't do it." House shoved the file in his direction.
"What do you mean you can't do it?" Wilson asked.
"I refuse to do it," House said sharply. He glanced at Mrs. Steinbeck. "I'll take care of Mrs. Clause here. What, has your hubby been sneaking all the cookies back to you? No wonder he was looking a little thinner when he slid down the chimney this year."
She sniffed disdainfully at him and stomped out.
"Good job," Wilson said admirably. "But I don't get it. What's wrong with this Julia Peterson?"
"She's crazy, that's what," House exclaimed. "She…" He couldn't bring himself to say it. She thinks she's my daughter. "She's madly in love with me. It's like having a thousand Camerons following me everywhere I go."
Wilson rolled his eyes. How egotistical could the man possibly get? "Alright, fine, I'll go take care of her. You just stay here and recover from that horrific experience. I'm sure it must be very traumatizing, having all these gorgeous young women trying to seduce you constantly."
Of course, Wilson meant that sarcastically, but House shouted, "Thank-you!" as he left. As soon as the door clicked shut, House went and laid down on the examination table. He replayed in his mind the conversation that had ensued.
"Yeah," she had said softly. "I'm your daughter."
He wanted to die. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, just like in that "It's A Wonderful Life" film at the part with the pool. His first instinct was to deny it. It was crazy…and yet, unfortunately, also very logical. It was possible, he had to admit.
"So, what do I call you?" Julia had continued. "Daddy? Papa? Father House?"
He regained his senses very quickly. "If you refer to me as anything other than Dr. House, I will beat you to death with my cane. I'm sure I can come up with some extra punishment before you draw your last breath if you use that last one. Father House."
"Look, Doctor," she countered sarcastically. "I know this is probably hard for you to accept. You thought you were alone in the world, and now I show up. Let me assure you, I'm no big responsibility. I'm a good kid, pretty self-sufficient. I just wanted to see the part of me that wasn't Mom." Silence. He couldn't think of anything to say. For once in his life, Gregory House was speechless. "And I really do have symptoms that I'd like you to take a look at," she tried. "You're right, I do think you're very intelligent. Your credentials are impressive. That's the way it is with genius." More silence. The girl just confirmed his worst fears, and now she expected him to help her? "I'm sorry," she said finally, sounding regretful. "I am a stupid woman for thinking I could handle this. Forget I ever came. You don't have a daughter. I don't exist. Everything is just…just fine…" She looked ridiculous, smiling and sobbing at the same time. This was what denial was: saying everything was fine and wearing your happy face when tears were streaming out of your eyes like they needed to escape.
"If you were my daughter, you wouldn't be crying like this," House informed her coldly. "Any offspring of mine would be stronger than that. They would understand that you don't need anyone else. You only need to function, and everything is okay. Emotions are useless."
"If that's so true," she spat at him angrily, swiping at her cheeks, "then why do you look so surprised? Why aren't you doing your job like you're supposed to?" She paused, then continued in a strange voice. "Why did you leave Alma?"
That was the question that sent him running. Down the hall, searching for a hiding place. Wilson, his comrade through good times and bad. He'd take care of this…this…thing that had just gotten the farthest into his heart anyone had ever gotten. He'd never have to see her again.
House recalled his own words. "Emotions are useless. You only need to function."
They still rang true for him. It was official: the child wasn't his. (Should he refer to her as a child? She was almost a lady. She could have been one if she hadn't been so dirty in that fight. She sounded just like him…)
Still, it wouldn't hurt to run a test or two. Just to make sure.
He smiled. Thank God there was science on his side.
Julia sat on the examination table. She must have been crazy to think this would turn out okay. It was a terrible idea, she could see that now.
The door opened. She held her breath. Was it House?
"Julia Peterson?" No, it wasn't. It was another doctor. He obviously didn't know what was going on. He wouldn't have been smiling if he had. "I'm Dr. Wilson. Dr. House asked me to see you. He's an extremely busy man."
"I can see that," she said, deciding not to say anything about their relationship. "It's good to see you, Dr. Wilson."
"What brings you to us today, Ms. Peterson?" he asked, prepared to take notes on her medical history. Hell, House hadn't bothered with that. Maybe he wasn't such a good doctor. Maybe this was God's way of telling her it was better if she just let him go…
Julia began coughing violently as she opened her mouth to answer. Dr. Wilson stood up and patted her on the back. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, embarrassed.
"I'm assuming that must be at least part of the problem," he said with a chuckle. "That's a very nasty cough you've got there. How long have you had it?"
"At least four weeks," Julia answered promptly. "Maybe more; I wasn't really keeping track until I noticed it wasn't going away."
"Understandable," Wilson said, nodding. "Any other symptoms you'd like to share with me?"
"All kinds of things," Julia told him. "This is going to make me sound like the biggest spoiled brat."
"Why do you say that?" he asked good-naturedly.
"All the complaining, and none of it seems justifiable," she answered. "It's just getting to be a real drag, very inconvenient."
Wilson nodded again. "If these symptoms have been persistent and have been getting in the way of your everyday routine, we do need to know about it. You're doing the right thing."
Julia smiled gratefully. "Okay, here goes. Lately I've been so tired. Not just worn out – I mean, from the moment I wake up in the morning, I'm counting the hours until I can go back to sleep. I've lost weight in the past few months with no real effort on my part aside from…" She giggled. "Well, I make some very inventive promises to God, but I don't think that's it. Maybe 15 pounds so far. And it always seems like I have a fever. Like right now, as a matter of fact. I checked it before I came in. 99.6." She paused, allowing Wilson to finish writing. When he glanced up at her, she asked, "Shall I continue?"
"There's more?" he said in mock horror.
"Unfortunately," she replied, sending him a wry smile. "There are times when I'm not really doing anything that I notice it's getting so hard to breath. Like, I'll be doing the laundry and all of a sudden…" Julia trailed off, then continued. "Eating isn't even simple anymore. It just hurts to swallow, you know? That sounds like such a small thing to be worried about, but it's so painful." She paused again, licking her lips. "I also get a whole lot of these terrible headaches. I've never gotten a migraine or anything like that before; no one in my family has. And they just started so suddenly, and get so intense. Any one of these things could have been easily dismissed it wasn't for everything else, you know?"
"What you're telling me is very interesting, Ms. Peterson," Wilson observed, eyeing her like she was some sort of lab rat. It didn't bother her, necessarily, but she did notice. "I'm not sure what to tell you. You say these symptoms have been persistent and have lasted a very long time?"
"Yes," Julia confirmed. "No conditions or illnesses or whatever come to mind?"
"Several, actually," Wilson said, smiling. "The thing is, some of them don't include all the symptoms, and some have more that you haven't mentioned showing, and some are all possibilities. However, in order to get the right treatment, we need to know exactly what's ailing you."
"So…" Julia said nervously. "Does this mean we need to run a whole bunch of tests or something? You need my blood?"
Wilson smiled again, relieved. "Yes, if you don't mind. You don't like needles?"
The corners of Julia's mouth turned upward, forming just a hint of a smile. "I'm not crazy about them, but then, there are worse things that could happen to me than getting a shot." She held out her arm, index finger pointed and raised upward. "Take what you need. I've got plenty."
Wilson obediently cleaned the area and inserted the syringe. He collected the blood, withdrew the needle, and wiped the drop of blood coming from the point where he had stuck her clean. "You like band-aids with Dora the Explorer or Buzz Lightyear?"
Julia laughed, a pleasant sound after watching her face as she rattled off everything that worried her. "Buzz, if you don't mind."
Wilson put the band-aid on and held out his hand to shake hers. "We'll be in touch as soon as we –"
Julia, who had taken his hand, began to shake violently.
"Julia?" he said, alarmed. She fell to the ground, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Julia!" Certainly she won't mind if I call her by her first name. Wilson pushed her onto her side, knowing that if she threw up, this would keep her from choking on her own vomit. He grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open. "Someone get in here! I've got a seizure!"
Dr. Foreman was walking down the hall at that exact moment with nothing to do. He heard Wilson's frantic cry for help and turned in its direction. "Coming," he called. Foreman raced into the room. "Who's this?"
"Julia Peterson, age 19," Wilson told him, busy trying to push things out of the way that might knock into her head. "She came in complaining of some long-lasting symptoms. I drew some blood, was about to tell her good-bye, and then she started seizing."
Foreman put himself between her and the examination table, reaching out and arm to try to keep her in one place. "Strange," he commented, not knowing what to make of it.
Julia's shaking began to slow, and then it stopped. She let out a whimper and glanced at Wilson. "Oh, my God," she rasped. "Did I just have a seizure or something?"
"Yeah," Wilson told her helplessly.
"Dear God," she said, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She smiled sheepishly, looking very pained, both physically and emotionally. "How embarrassing."
"No problem," Foreman said, thinking she was very mellow about the whole thing. Still, he'd take mellow over hysterical any day, no doubt about it.
"I don't think we've met," she continued, trying to make light of the situation. "I'm sorry my first impression wasn't exactly the one I usually give to others. Julia Peterson."
"I'm Dr. Foreman," Foreman told her. She's a strange one, he told himself. Obviously doesn't understand the severity of the situation.
"You mind if I sit in here for a few minutes?" she asked Wilson. "Just to catch my breath. I'm not sure I can drive home right now, after that whole episode."
"You're not going home for a while," Wilson informed her. "Foreman, go make sure there's a room in the ICU for her." Foreman nodded, then went to do as he was told.
"Why not?" Julia asked suspiciously. "You mean I have to stay here?"
"Combined with all your other symptoms, this could be very serious," Wilson said as he helped her to her feet. "I'm checking you into the hospital for a few days. We're going to figure out what's wrong with you."
"But…" Julia stammered. How do you protest against someone who actually has your best interests at heart?
"Julia," Wilson told her firmly, staring her straight in the eyes. God, those eyes...theylook familiar. "I swear to God, Julia, you will be healthy."
A/N: Wow, very authoritative for Wilson, yes? Don't worry, all of our favorite characters will find a way into this story and will all play a major part. Hopefully I can keep them true to the way they were created in the show. There will be a little bit of romance somewhere along the line…I'm very excited about that, and I hope it plays out well. Thanks for taking the time to read, and chapter three will be up in a day or two if you'd like me to continue.