Well, I have been successfully procrastinating on my NaNoNovel by writing two more chapters of Toxic Lives...but somehow I don't think any of you are going to complain! Enjoy!

Chapter 6

House limped into the Diagnostic Medicine conference room to find Foreman and Chase poring over a file, their backs to the door.

"Cameron talking to the boy?" he said, enjoying the way they jumped in surprise.

"Uh, yes," Chase said, visibly collecting himself. "His parents are here as well so she said she'd speak to them while she's there."

House waited expectantly, trying to ignore the growing ache in his leg. "And?" he finally prompted sharply.

"And what?" Foreman asked, once again watching House closely.

House's expression practically screamed 'Oh Lord, save me from these idiots I must endure'. "I believe we still have a patient. Thallium boy. Remember him? I don't suppose either of you happen to know how he is?"

"Uh, he's not showing any signs of improvement yet but he's also not getting any worse," Foreman reported.

"Good," House muttered as he limped towards his office. "Keep the treatment going. His recovery's likely to be lengthy."

Foreman and Chase nodded and watched as House limped more heavily than he would have liked into his office. As they continued to watch, House collapsed heavily into his chair.

"What's going on with him?" Chase asked, having noticed the pronounced limp.

"I don't know," Foreman replied thoughtfully. "I think his leg was hurting a lot earlier."

"His leg always hurts," Chase said, sounding unimpressed.

"Yeah but he didn't take any Vicodin," Foreman replied.

Chase looked surprised. "That's strange. He's not detoxing again, is he?"

"I don't think so. He's not acting like he is."

"Yeah and Dr Wilson hasn't taken up residence here either," Chase mused.

The two young doctors looked over at their boss through the glass walls. As they watched, House dug the pill bottle out of his pocket and stared at it for a long moment before popping the lid off and swallowing a pill.

"Well, there's proof he's not detoxing," Chase said then he shrugged. "Maybe he's cutting down."

Foreman snorted. "How likely is that?"

Chase gave a small laugh. "Good point." He checked his watch. "I've got clinic duty. See you later."

Chase walked out of the conference room leaving Foreman to stare speculatively at House. Finally the neurologist gave his head a small shake and left to check on their patient.

House had, for once, not noticed any of this. He was slouched in his chair waiting for the Vicodin to take effect and wondering whether he was actually capable of cutting down and whether he had perhaps developed a tolerance for the pain killer that would make cutting down extremely unpleasant. He eventually breathed out as the Vicodin wound its way around the pain in his leg and dulled it down to a vaguely tolerable ache.

As the pain dulled, his thoughts began to roll around his head more rapidly. Wilson had caught him by surprise earlier with his declaration and it had taken all of his self-control not to run or lash out cruelly in some way. Love was something he was deeply suspicious of now, being a firm believer in the once bitten, twice shy adage. And yet…

And yet there had been a part of him that had liked hearing that. That had been pleased to hear that. That had wanted to respond in kind.

He snorted lightly. Clearly Wilson didn't believe in once bitten, twice shy. Three wives, who knows how many girlfriends and now House himself were testament to that. But something made him believe what Wilson had said, all of what he had said. He knew Wilson would not press him to say anything in return until and if he was ready. But being ready to say…that in return would require him to actually acknowledge to himself how he felt and he'd spent far too many years shoving his emotions into small boxes to be able to easily do that.

His internal musings were interrupted by the arrival of the person who had triggered them. Wilson pushed the door to his office open and strode in, a file in his hand.

"I've got a second patient who has tested positive to the Nocardia," the oncologist said without preamble. "Forty-eight year old woman with advanced breast cancer. She was showing signs of pneumonia so I had her tested on a hunch. I've already started her on the antibiotics and I hope we've caught it before any abscesses occur."

"Has she had any contact with your other patient?" House asked, sitting up a bit with interest.

"They're in the same ward and probably have some of the same personnel looking after them but otherwise no," Wilson replied, almost falling into his chair.

"Nocardia is most often transmitted by breathing in the bacteria," House mused. "So if you've got two patients who aren't related showing symptoms then it can't be something from their homes."

"Unless the gardens of both homes have the bacteria in the soil," Wilson pointed out.

"True," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But both patients have been confined to the hospital recently. That would make their chances of contracting it from their homes pretty slim."

"Then it has to be coming from somewhere in the hospital," Wilson said grimly.

"Check your staff," House said shortly.

"For what?" Wilson asked.

"Cutaneous nocardiosis," House replied. "Person to person transmission of Nocardia has never been reported but there's always a first for everything. Look for skin infections that might have been diagnosed as something else. They'll most likely be on the arm and legs, especially the feet." He pushed himself to his feet and started limping back and forth. "It can't have progressed too far or they'd be off sick so they can't be showing any of the advanced symptoms. They may have a fever though."

Wilson shook his head. "It can't be that. Everyone in Oncology is very careful about being around immunocompromised patients with any kind of illness or rash. If someone had a fever they would take time off and see a doctor immediately."

"Check them anyway," House demanded. "Better to be safe than sorry."

Wilson nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he said, conceding the point.

"I'll get my people to do a more thorough check of the hospital gardens…" House's voice trailed off as he thought for a moment. "I'll also get them to check with the lab. See if anyone's been culturing the stuff lately for anything other than the tests we ordered."

"If this turns out to be nosocomial, Cuddy's going to burst a blood vessel," Wilson said as he stood.

House snorted. "Nosocomial outbreaks of infection happen no matter how good your cleanliness is. Though that reminds me, I'll get them to test the air and surfaces in the rooms in the Oncology ward as well. If it's nosocomial we should find it in the dust." He paused and smirked. "Though watching Cuddy's brain explode would be quite entertaining and potentially very messy."

Wilson chuckled. "Do you want me to organise the testing of the rooms?"

"Nah," House replied as they walked out of the office. "Gives my ducklings as you call them something to do while we're waiting to see how thallium boy responds to treatment."

"I'm sure he has a name," Wilson chided.

"Probably," House replied as he headed for his patient's room. Wilson grinned and walked off in the opposite direction.

As he limped along the corridor, House saw that Foreman was in with their patient and he slid the door open and walked in. He glanced over at the unconscious form on the bed then at the rather tired-looking young woman sitting next to the bed holding the patient's hand as Foreman looked up.

"Foreman," he said sharply, startling the woman. "Find Chase and Cameron. Wilson's got another patient with Nocardiosis. Test every garden in the hospital then test the air and surfaces in the rooms in the Oncology ward."

"Uh, okay," Foreman said slowly. "Andrew's hair is starting to fall out."

House stared blankly at Foreman until the neurologist indicated the patient on the bed. "Ah!" House said with understanding. "Alopecia is expected with thallium poisoning. Assuming the treatment works, it'll pass. Hair grows back."

"Who is he?" the girl sitting next to the bed demanded of Foreman.

"This is Dr House," Foreman replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh!" the girl said, blushing. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dr House. I didn't know. You don't look like…" Her voice trailed off and Foreman smothered a snicker. "Um, how…how long until Andrew starts getting better?" she stammered nervously.

"That'll depend on how much thallium he has in his system," House replied. "But expect it to take some time." He turned to Foreman. "You are measuring the thallium concentrations in the blood and urine, aren't you?"

"Of course," Foreman replied irritably. "We sent the first lot off this morning and we'll repeat them every two days."

House grunted. "Good. Get those tests done for Nocardia." He turned to limp out of the room.

"Dr House?" The girl's voice had him pausing with one hand on the door. "How did this happen?" she asked.

"Well, I'm not psychic so the answer to that had better come from him or you," House replied. "Thallium used to be used in ant, rat and cockroach poisons and is used in low concentrations in nuclear medicine. Anything ring a bell?"

The girl frowned. "No, not really," she said slowly.

"Then start thinking," House said before limping out of the room. He paused in the corridor then returned. "Where does he work?"

"Uh, he's…a life guard at our local pool," she said, sounding a little confused.

House frowned then left the room abruptly, trying to work out how a twenty-four year old life guard gets poisoned with thallium. If he had been working in a smelting plant it would have made more sense but a pool?

House limped into Wilson's office just before six that evening and found his lover poring over a file. Wilson looked up when he came in and gave him a small tired smile.

"I decided to test all of the patients in the Oncology ward," he said. "Three more came up positive but aren't showing symptoms as yet. It must be nosocomial."

House sat down opposite Wilson. "Seems likely with that number of positive tests. Foreman and the others came through?"

Wilson nodded and started to pack up. "They tested the rooms to the nth degree. We probably won't get those results back for a day or two. I'm surprised we didn't hear the howls of anguish from the lab about the workload from here."

"About time they started earning their money," House replied as he stood.

Wilson gave him a look and refrained from making pot and kettle comments about workloads in favour of finishing his packing. The two them headed out the door and down to the car park.

"I heard you went to see your thallium patient," Wilson said as they got into the Corvette.

"I went to find Foreman who happened to be in thallium boy's room," House corrected as they pulled out of the car park.

"You spoke to his girlfriend."

"Foreman has a girlfriend?" House said with surprise. "He's working for me. He's not meant to have a life."

"The patient's girlfriend," Wilson said with amusement.

"Oh, her, yes," House replied. "She didn't think I was a doctor."

"Can't imagine why," Wilson replied.

"Exactly," House said with an admirably straight face.

"So what did she want?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged. "What else do patient's loved ones want to know? How long until they're going to get better?"

"Did you give her an answer?"

House was silent for while as he concentrated on driving.

"There is no answer," House finally replied to Wilson's question with a scowl. "He'll get better when he gets better. It largely depends on how much thallium he has in his system. And there's no guarantee that there won't be lasting effects."

Wilson nodded. "Yes, I looked it up today."

"Just answer this for me," House said with frustration. "How does a life guard at a pool get poisoned with thallium?"

"Angry girlfriend?"

"She didn't seem that angry," House replied.

"What does thallium look like anyway?" Wilson asked. "Maybe he mistook it for something else?"

"It's a bluish-grey metal," House replied. "But there's a powder form which is white."

"That could be your answer," Wilson pointed out. "Maybe he got his hands on the powder but didn't know what it was."

House was silent as he pulled into the car park out the front of his apartment. "That's a point," he said finally. "I'll have Foreman speak to the girlfriend tomorrow. I read about a group of Russian soldiers who found a tin of thallium powder and didn't know what it was. They put it in their tobacco and used it as a replacement for talcum powder on their feet."

"You're kidding?" Wilson said with a laugh.

House unlocked the door and limped inside. He dropped his bag at the end of the couch and pulled off his jacket.

"Who can tell what goes on in the military mind," he said as he limped around and collapsed onto the couch. "Though they were conscripts."

Wilson picked up House's jacket and hung it up with his own. He headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Did you want a beer?"

"Why not," House replied, slouching down a little further. He propped his bad leg up on the table and let his head fall onto the back of the couch.

Wilson walked out of the kitchen, his expression softening when he saw the weariness in House's pose. He knew that cutting back on the Vicodin would take its toll on the other man but felt it would be worth it in the end. It had always been an ongoing fear of his that one day he would come into the apartment and find that House had misjudged his mix of drugs and alcohol and since it was unlikely he could convince House to stop drinking, he would work on the part he might be able to influence. He wiped his expression clean however as he handed House his beer, knowing his lover wouldn't appreciate any sympathy he was prepared to offer right now.

"Why were they putting the powder in their tobacco?" he asked instead.

House snorted as he opened the bottle and tossed the lid in the direction of the table. "They were young Russian conscripts. Who knows why they do anything?"

"Good point," Wilson said with a laugh. "I did some pretty stupid things when I was a teenager."

House took a swig of his beer and raised an eyebrow at his lover. "Really? Care to share?"

Wilson blushed. "Not really. Though I've no doubts my mother would love to regale you with the stories if you ever ask her."

"Your mother doesn't like me."

Wilson frowned. "What gave you that idea?"

"Your last wedding."

"You were the best man and you popped a pill in the middle of the ceremony," Wilson pointed out. "My mother has always been one for proprieties. She thought it was inappropriate but she doesn't hate you. She thinks you're wonderful."

"You were the one that made me stand for that long," House replied almost sulkily.

"I offered to make arrangements when I asked you to be my best man," Wilson replied. "You said no. Rudely."

House rather loftily ignored that then he grinned. "You know, I thought it was the bride that was supposed to run off with the best man in all those clichéd tales, not the groom."

"Since when have we ever done anything normally," Wilson replied with an answering grin then he got to his feet. "Pasta for dinner?"

"You're cooking?" House said with surprise.

"It's pasta," Wilson replied a fraction indignantly. "Boiling water, pasta, pasta sauce. It can't be that difficult, surely. Besides I think its time I learnt."

House looked dubious then grabbed the remote. "Don't destroy my kitchen," he said as he flicked the TV on. "And the fire extinguisher is in the closet."

"Ha, ha," Wilson said dryly as he headed for the kitchen, pulling his tie off and rolling up his sleeves.

House kept his attention on the TV and studiously ignored the clattering and occasional curse that was coming from his kitchen. He wasn't sure if that was because he genuinely didn't want to know what Wilson was doing in there or because this was disturbingly domestic. He wasn't even sure he and Stacy had ever been this domestic. He scowled at the TV; then again, he and Stacy had been a lot more active. They had both played sports of various kinds and had enjoyed going out. Sport was now purely a visual thing for him and going out was usually more tiring than fun. He flinched away rather abruptly from those thoughts.

Against his better judgement he leaned over and looked into the kitchen. Everything seemed to be running smoothly at the moment though Wilson had an expression on his face that spoke of some previous frustration. House let himself admire the view; he had always preferred the more casual, slightly ruffled Wilson he saw in private over the neat and almost pristine version that roamed the hospital with him.

He relaxed a bit and turned back to the TV, taking a drink of his beer. No matter what happened at the hospital and what revelations he got lumbered with he was just happy to have beer, dinner and Wilson in his evening. Preferably in that order though he'd accept a few more incidences of Wilson in that sequence as well. As he started flicking through the channels it occurred to him that there were people, such as Cameron for example, who would tell him that that kind of happiness was generally called love.

He snorted into his beer then sobered. Maybe they were right. He felt something in his chest clench and lurch at that thought then he closed his eyes and shook his head. No, he wasn't ready to think about that; not yet, maybe not ever. He determinedly pushed the thought away and concentrated on the TV until Wilson brought out the bowls of pasta.

He accepted the bowl and fork he was handed with a quirk of a smile and looked down at the pasta. "You survived the kitchen or the kitchen survived you. Now is it edible?"

"Of course it's edible," Wilson said with exasperation.

House smirked then twirled some of the fettuccine on his fork making sure he caught some of the sauce before eating it. He chewed and swallowed then pretended to consider the matter for a moment. He raised an eyebrow at Wilson who seemed torn between trying to ignore him and wanting to know the answer.

"Not bad," he said. "Maybe you really do deserve that Boy Wonder tag."

Wilson laughed and threw one of the beer bottle lids at him then they settled in to eat their meals.