House was slouched on the couch, staring at the TV without really seeing anything when he heard the sound of a key in the front door. He looked over in time to see Wilson walk in and raised an eyebrow at the other man's demeanour. Wilson looked exhausted and just a touch frustrated.
"You survived," House observed before turning back to the TV.
He heard a sigh and the sound of a largish bag dropping to the floor behind him and then another bag being dropped on top of that.
"I think so," Wilson replied wearily. "She guessed."
House didn't need to ask what had been guessed. "You always were a terrible liar."
Wilson walked around and collapsed bonelessly onto the couch. "I suppose so."
"Is she coming over to remove my testicles?" House asked. "Because I'm sure she blames me."
Wilson gave a snort that might have held some humour. "No, she seems inclined to leave your testicles where they are."
"Ah, good," House said sagely. "I might find some use for them at some point and I'd like them to be where they're supposed to be."
"So would I for that matter," Wilson said with a ghost of a smile as he let his head drop down onto the back of the couch. "I do have some plans for those testicles."
There was a moment of gratifying silence from House and Wilson felt his smile widen into something more genuine.
"So how bad is she going to make this?" House asked after clearing his throat.
"I think this one is going to be relatively painless," Wilson replied, scrubbing his face with one hand and briefly regretting the end of the banter. "I think she's been seeing someone."
"She's having an affair?" House sounded surprised.
"I didn't ask but from the expression on her face at one point I'd say it's a good chance. She looked a little guilty," Wilson said heavily. "She wants the house though."
"I didn't think you'd want it," House replied.
Wilson let a smile drift across his face. "No, she's welcome to it. I don't need it and it's got too many stairs."
House scowled briefly, knowing what that last comment meant. He grabbed the remote and, with a curt motion, switched the TV off. Wilson looked up at the sudden silence and sighed at the expression on House's face.
"Would you really want to leave here?" he asked pointedly. "I thought you liked your apartment."
House scowled again and shrugged. "The acoustics are good."
"Exactly," Wilson said. "I don't want the house, Greg."
House dropped the remote on the table and leaned back on the couch. "Guilt offering?" he said a little snidely.
"Practicality," Wilson replied, unperturbed. "If I wanted to make a guilt offering, I'd have to go back further than Julie."
House gave his friend a startled look and Wilson smirked.
"How long?" House demanded.
"If I'm really honest with myself, before the infarction," Wilson admitted. "I just didn't want to admit it to anyone, let alone to myself or you. I was married, you had Stacy," He gave House a challengingly look. "What about you?"
House looked rather uncomfortable. "You stayed," he said quietly. "You were the only one. The only one I couldn't scare off and the only one where in the end, I didn't really try."
Wilson gave House a wry smile. "I'd have stayed even if you had tried." He paused and the wry smile became mischievous. "But do you mean to tell me we've been wasting all this time?"
The sly comment seemed to bring House back to himself and he pushed himself to his feet. "Well, let's not waste any more," he said with an exaggerated leer as he limped towards the bedroom.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "What am I getting myself into?" he muttered as he obediently followed.
The next morning Wilson woke to the sound of House's pager going off. The man in question was draped partially over him, his bad leg resting on top of Wilson's own. He drew in a startled breath when House's arm suddenly stretched out and grabbed the pager from the bedside table. He hadn't realised that House was awake.
"What now?" House muttered as he stared at the number displayed on the pager then in a careful move he rolled over, making a strangled noise as his leg announced itself for the morning.
Wilson slowly sat up as House grabbed the phone and jabbed at the number pad then turned the bedside light on.
"What is it?" House barked down the phone as Wilson reached over for the orange bottle sitting next to the phone.
He picked the bottle up and opened it, briefly counting the number of pills then checking the date on the label.
"When?" House said sharply. "Alright, I'll be in soon. Admit her."
House thumped the phone down and looked around to see Wilson holding a single Vicodin out to him, a neutral expression on his face. He took the pill and quickly dry-swallowed it.
"I didn't take one last night," he said flatly as he reached for his cane. "Can you drive me in?"
Wilson blinked as he realised House was right. From the moment he'd gotten to the apartment until he'd watched House fall asleep from satisfied weariness, the older man had not taken one of his pills. He gave House a look of surprise.
"I didn't need one so I didn't take one," House said with a scowl as he headed for the bathroom. "I'm an addict but I'm not that much of an addict." He poked his head out of the bathroom and smirked. "Besides you're almost as good as prescription drugs." He disappeared back into the bathroom.
Wilson snorted and put the bottle back down, unsure as to whether that was a compliment or not…though knowing House, it probably was. He glanced at the clock and winced. It was just after half past five in the morning. He crawled out of the bed and walked into the living room to grab his bags. He returned to the bedroom and pulled out a suit, tie and shirt from one of the bags and the rest of what he needed from the other. He then headed for the bathroom himself.
Half an hour later both men were walking out of the door and they headed for Wilson's car.
"You're not going to drive the 'Vette in?" Wilson asked with mild surprise.
House shook his head. "Too soon."
"You've driven after taking Vicodin before," Wilson observed as they got in.
House grimaced. "Not in the morning. I usually allow myself more time."
"Ah," Wilson said in understanding. "I take it you've got another patient."
House nodded. "The roommate of the second girl was brought in about an hour ago. She was staying with some friends and she woke them up when she punched and kicked a hole in one of the walls. Then she attacked them before chewing off her bottom lip."
"The roommate?" Wilson said with disbelief as he drove. "If two women presenting with Lesch-Nyhan is heading into the realms of the impossible then where does this lie?" He frowned. "It almost sounds like an infection of some kind."
"I know," House replied. "But I've never heard of a virus or bacteria causing these symptoms. They're too specific."
The rest of the trip was made in silence and when they reached the hospital, House limped quickly up to where his latest patient was resting. He stood outside until his team saw him then headed for his office. He wasn't at all surprised to see Wilson had gone straight to the Diagnostic Medicine office and he spared his friend a brief smile when he was presented with a cup of coffee. When his ducklings arrived, he levelled an arch look at them.
"Well?"
"Susan McIntyre, twenty year old Commerce student and roommate of Rebecca Upjohn," Chase began. "She was brought in by a couple of friends this morning. She stayed at their apartment last night because she was upset about Rebecca and they were woken by the sounds of thumping and swearing. They walked into her room to find her kicking and punching the wall and swearing violently even though most of her bottom lip was gone. When she saw them, she leapt at them and punched them as well. They threw her off, she hit the wall then collapsed."
"We've run the same tests on her as the others," Cameron added. "Her urate to creatinine ratio is two point six and her HPRT activity is low but higher than the other two."
"The lab's running the genetic tests on the first two women," Foreman said. "But it'll be the end of the day before we get it. They're treating it as a priority," he added at the expression on House's face.
House turned to Cameron. "What did you find out?"
"Sarah Hooper lived a pretty routine life," Cameron said. "She worked, went home, came back to work. Brought lunch in from home. Occasionally went out with her co-workers on a Friday night. Not much change to her routine. The only thing different this week was that she went on a date two days ago."
"Where did they go?" House asked. "And who was he?"
"Dinner and a movie," Cameron replied. "Her co-workers said she was late in the next day and they're of the opinion that she…er, got lucky. She didn't give them much in the way of details about him. Just a name. Michael."
Cameron looked slightly awkward for a moment but shoved it down when she realised that House was not paying any attention to her.
"Did she tell them where they ate?" he asked.
"That new Italian place, Centrale," Cameron replied.
"What about where she lives?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Chase replied. "No medications other than over the counter paracetamol and ibuprofen and contraceptives. Pictures of her parents and what looked like a brother. No indications of Lesch-Nyhan. The brother looked like he was in his mid-twenties when the picture was taken."
"Found a couple of photo albums," Foreman added. "No indications of anything genetic in those either."
House frowned. "What about the second girl?"
"Nothing unusual in the room," Chase said promptly. "Again only over the counter paracetamol. Both girls were using contraceptives. We spoke to Susan McIntyre last night. She said that they were living a pretty routine college life. Classes and parties. Rebecca worked weekends at a clothing shop downtown. Susan worked three-four nights a week behind the bar at a place called the Hairy Canary. They went to a frat party a couple of nights ago that lasted until dawn and got pretty drunk, had some fun, apparently fooled around a bit then went back to their dorm. Nothing much other than that."
"No commonalities between Sarah Hooper and the two college girls," House mused.
"Not that we could find," Foreman said. "But without being able to speak to them it's a bit hard to tell."
"They're still unconscious?" Wilson asked.
Cameron nodded. "They haven't shown any signs of waking either."
"Start them on IV fluids and Allopurinal," House ordered. "If we let the uric acid build up, they'll end up with kidney damage…and gout. And find out how the lab is going with those genetic tests."
The trio of doctors nodded and rose. House's voice stopped them before they got out of the door.
"And get blood cultures from all three."
They stopped and turned to face their boss who was standing and scowling into his coffee.
"You think they have an infection? Viral or bacterial?" Cameron asked with surprise.
"I don't know," House replied with exaggerated patience. "That's what the blood cultures are for. Well? Get on with it."
The trio walked out the door and House limped into his office and sat down in his chair behind the desk. Wilson had followed him in and settled in the chair in front of the desk.
"Do you really think they have an infection?" he asked.
"Don't you have patients of your own, Dr Wilson?" House growled.
Wilson didn't react; he knew that growl. House was frustrated that he couldn't get a handle on what was happening with these women. He glanced casually at his watch instead of moving and took a sip of his coffee.
"It's not even seven yet," he said calmly. "My patients probably won't be awake at the moment. And the coffee here is better."
House gave a half-heartedly scowl then grumbled under his breath. "I don't know if they have an infection. The fact that the roommate showed up with the same symptoms says it's a possibility but the symptoms match Lesch-Nyhan which, frankly, none of them should have."
"There's not some obscure disease that could cause these symptoms?" Wilson asked, more out of curiousity than because he actually believed it was possible.
"If there is it's so obscure I haven't heard of it," House grumbled. "And I've spent the better part of the last day looking for it."
Wilson nodded then frowned. "Weren't you meant to be in the clinic yesterday?"
"I had something better to do," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"And does Cuddy know that?" Humour was laced through Wilson's voice.
"Actually, yes," came House's surprising reply. "She came up here with whip and chair in hand…" He trailed off. "Now there's a mental image," he continued after a few moments thought. "Anyway, she came up here with whip and chair in hand to beat me into submission."
"And you told her about your two patients," Wilson prompted when House didn't continue.
"Eventually."
Wilson considered that response then shook his head. "Something tells me I really don't want to know."
"Chicken," House said with amused scorn.
"What I don't know I can't lie to her about," Wilson pointed out. "I presume she let you off clinic duty then."
"For now," House replied looking reasonably pleased. "Even better, I don't have to make the time up."
Wilson blinked. "How did you manage…wait, nevermind. I don't want to know."
House rolled out that look of amused scorn again then his attention was drawn by movement in the corridor. Cameron was actually running towards the office. She burst through the door, looking shocked.
"There's been a fourth woman brought in with the same symptoms," she gasped out. "And Sarah Hooper just woke up."
House looked intent. "Has she said anything?"
"No but she did try and bite Chase," Cameron replied. "She's fighting the restraints."
"Interesting," House observed, putting his coffee cup down with a bang and pushing himself to his feet. "Get the new one admitted and run those tests on her."
Cameron nodded and left. Wilson rose and walked along side House as they headed for Sarah Hooper's room. They arrived at the room just in time to see Sarah take another bite at Chase as he tried to tighten her restraints. The young Australian doctor skipped out of the way with admirable agility and shot a wide-eyed look at Foreman who was tightening the restraints around her ankles. Both of them barely spared House and Wilson a glance when they walked in.
House limped over to the side of the bed, rather warily staying out of range of both Sarah's violent attacks and Chase's evasive tactics.
"Miss Hooper," House said patiently then he suddenly barked, "Sarah!"
The woman's head jerked in his direction and then, much to everyone's surprise, she began to mutter, her voice sounding slightly odd due to the missing section of bottom lip.
"Sorry! Sorry!" she gasped, her gaze turning to Chase. "Don't….mean…don't…want…"
House leaned forward, his expression intent. "You don't want to hurt him?"
Sarah nodded jerkily. "Stop…me!"
Then much to the horror of everyone in the room, she began to gnaw ferociously on her top lip. In seconds, the lip started to bleed and Chase leapt forward to try and stop her. His movement instead distracted her and she once again strained against the restraints and snapped at him. He lurched backwards and only Wilson's quick grab and yank sideways stopped him from careering into House.
House stepped back against the wall and ordered Foreman to give her Diazepam as Wilson steadied Chase. He then stepped forward and drew Sarah's attention as Foreman administered the sedative. They all stepped back as they waited for the diazepam to take effect.
Sarah slumped back onto the bed rather suddenly and her eyes became hooded and dull. House stepped forward once more and her gaze shifted over to him again. Wilson and Chase tensed as Foreman watched warily.
"Sarah?" House said.
Sarah blinked slowly. "Help…me," she whispered.
"Do you know Rebecca Upjohn?" House asked.
Sarah was quiet then she shook her head slowly. "No."
"Susan McIntyre?"
Again Sarah shook her head.
"Who did you go on your date with?" House asked.
"Mi…Michael," Sarah slurred.
"Michael who?"
"Michael…Larette," she whispered.
"Did you have sex with him?" House asked intently.
"Yes," came the slow answer.
"Do you know where he lives?"
Sarah shook her head. "Picked…me…up…work."
The woman's eyes fluttered momentarily then closed and a long, deep breath escaped her as she settled back into unconsciousness. House stared at her with frustration for a moment then looked over at Chase.
"Yeah, I know," the intensivist said with a world-weary smile. "Go and find out everything I can about Michael Larette."
"See? They can be trained," House observed to sardonically Wilson as Chase left the room.
Wilson's lips twitched. "So you've finally got Chase House trained. Well done."
House's lips also twitched and low amused snort came from Foreman. House's gaze flickered over to the other member of his team.
"I've got a long way to go with that one," he said archly, gesturing with one thumb.
"I think Foreman's feral," Wilson said with an amused glance at the neurologist.
House's response was interrupted by the arrival of Lisa Cuddy.
"You have four patients with the same symptoms," she said without preamble. "Is this a problem?"
"Well, of course it's a problem," House responded. "I'm sure these women didn't plan this. Particularly since they don't know each other…except for the two college girls."
Cuddy's lips thinned slightly. "Is this caused by a disease? Do we need to put these women in quarantine? Or call in the CDC?"
"I'm still waiting for test results," House replied with a hint of frustration. "So if you want throw some influence behind that."
"House!" Cuddy said sharply. "Do we need to call in the CDC?"
"I don't know," House replied acidly. "The women are presenting with all the symptoms of Lesch-Nyhan which is marginally impossible but I won't know what's going on until I get the lab results back."
Cuddy stared at him for a long moment then nodded. "I'll go and speak to the lab techs."
She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room after one brief, worried glance at Sarah Hooper.