"But I'm just wondering when the slash will come along... ;)"

Well, in the words of Basil Fawlty: I'm doing it now, tell her I'm doing it now!
I've decided I like where this fic is heading and dragged it out a little. So slash is set for chapter four, I think. (:

Toxicity

House's thumbs jabbed at the Gameboy, eyes fixed on the screen as the mother of Little Miss Exam Room One continued to witter on, trying to provide House with a lowdown on every aspect of her daughter's life. Watching a little plumber with an odd mustache jump strange Venus Flytraps in tubes was far more interesting than listening to what time this girl brushed her hair; to be honest, having his eyes surgically dissected would be less painful than just the sound of this woman's voice.

"Okay, so..." He didn't raise his eyes from the Gameboy. "Going back to my original question of fifteen minutes ago, what are her symptoms again?"

"Well, she's constantly scratching her head. I thought itchy scalp and bought some of that special shampoo, but it didn't work. Maybe a rash? Or is it serious?"

Hitting pause, House threw the device onto the worktop before heaving himself up from the chair and shuffling over to his patients. As described, the ten-year-old was scratching just above her ear as he surveyed the both of them wearily.

"Oh, yes Mrs. Jackson. Very serious." Reaching into a nearby drawer, House produced a pair of tweezers and positioned them above the area the girl's nails had previously been clawing at. A few 'ow's and complaints later, House was reaching once more for the Gameboy and Mrs. Jackson was peering at the set of tweezers in her hands. "You've just completely wasted fifteen minutes of my life."

As he expected, a slight squeal reached his ears mere moments after he had settled back into the game.

"A bug?" She hissed, holding the metal tool as though they were aflame. "A bug!"

"Yuh," House replied, evidently not bothered in the slightest. "A bug. Like about most of your child's school right now, she has a load of these icky little white things crawling over her head. They lay eggs, jump to another host, whatever..."

The tone of his pager soon overrid his will to continue speaking, and House tugged the offending object away from his waistband to check the display. What he saw didn't make him a particularly happy bunny, and he had soon grabbed his cane and wrenched the door open.

The mother's cries for him to get back to the exam room fell upon deaf ears.

-+-

"She's seizing!" Foreman yelled, attempting to roll the jerking woman onto her side as his fingers scrambled over her neck, trying to feel for a pulse. It was there – faint, but there. Her throat was rapidly closing, however, and nobody had arrived to help him out. What was the use of a pager if nobody was going to respond?

Still struggling to get her onto her side, Foreman felt the jerks weaken, and grunted something incoherent. Letting her go, she rolled to her back once more, and soon the jerks of the seizure had vanished completely. Manipulating her jaw, he shined a penlight into her mouth, and saw the throat was indeed still closing.

The machines and monitors around him beeped rapidly as if they too were having attacks and fits as he ripped open the Bag Valve Mask, the tubing quickly uncoiling.

"What's going on?"

The voice made Foreman jump a little, quickly turning to the door to see who had intruded. It was possibly the worst person for the situation: Wilson. Behind him, House was limping closer with Chase bringing up the rear. Good things come in threes?

Before long, Chase had bustled into the room and was talking rapidly while helping with the invasive ventilation. It wasn't going smoothly, and House was repeatedly dragging Wilson back from the room as he too tried to help.

"Just perform a tracheotomy!" The Oncologist had to raise his voice to even have a hope of being heard amidst everything. Nobody was paying the slightest attention to his suggestions, anyway.

"I can get this." Foreman grunted, grimacing as he tried to set up the artificial airway. It didn't want to work, and he was visibly struggling. Throwing up his hands, Chase practically elbowed the man out of the way to do it himself. The Australian got lucky – the new airway finally passed into the Trachea and Foreman began pressing on the bag.

The frantic beeping held up for a moment longer, then began to dip back into regular patterns. Almost everybody in the room sighed a deep breath of relief, shoulders dropping as their tension dissolved.

Everybody but House.

"The hormone test was positive?" He asked quietly, staring into the air beside the patient as his thoughts rushed. "It was positive, indicating a menopause?"

Chase and Foreman looked at each other. Neither spoke. They didn't have to.

Before any lie was even thought up, House was out of the room and down to the elevators, Wilson hot on his heels. He knew who would be found in the labs.

-+-

"You idiot!"

As the door to the lab crashed open, House started his insults immediately, knowing full well Cameron would be seated beyond them. Sure enough, as he entered he saw her drop two of the three splints in her hand as she jumped. Even though her eyes were directed down at the work surface, it was easy enough to tell she had been crying.

"You went against what I told you!" Limping into the room, Wilson was revealed to be standing behind House, dead in his tracks. It looked as though he silence had been induced by the shock.

"I had to." Cameron whispered feebly, hunching further over the equipment.

"No! You had to do what I said! Why did you put a woman's life at risk – to get back at me for something?"

"Oh, right, because the entire world revolves around you!" Swinging around abruptly to face him, she got to her feet, keeping the eye contact. "I did what I've learnt from watching you – I took a chance."

"You could have killed her!"

"I wanted to get this over quicker! I wanted to help!"

"Help?" Wilson suddenly tuned into the conversation, bristling as he repeated the word. "Trying to kill somebody I love. That's helping?"

"Keep out of it." House cut him off before he could say anymore. "Your judgment's clouded already. But you!" He focused his attentions back on Cameron, who had since folded her arms protectively. She was staring down at the floor by her feet.

"I'm sorry." Cameron muttered. "I thought if we administered the drugs quicker... I was sure it'd be positive. I..."

"Was wrong." House finished for her, shaking his head. "You realize Cuddy's gonna be on this before you can count to ten. Full investigation into the conduct of my team? Well, that's exactly what we need right now."

Cameron said no more. The matter was closed.

-+-

As they reached the elevators once more, Wilson leant heavily against the wall beside the sliding doors. A pained frown creased his brow as they waited. It was something House noticed soon enough, and he delved into the pocket of his jacket for his Vicodin.

"Here." He offered the bottle of Vicodin after downing one himself. Wilson took a pill, but just rolled it in the palm of his hand.

"It's not going to seep through your skin." House pointed out, jabbing the button for the elevator again, just in case the wires had forgotten. "Take it. Calm down."

"Are you always such a demanding bastard, or am I just noticing it more today?" Wilson shot back, but he swallowed the pill all the same. Being on edge was rapidly exhausting him, and he could already feel the firm pull of fatigue. He wanted to get home and sleep for two days straight, but knew that would never happen. As soon as he set foot through the door, nostalgia would hit him as hard as ever.

"You busy tonight?" Wilson asked, watching House hit the call button three more times. All patience seemed to have gone through the window in the last few hours.

"No. Wanna come over? The L Word's on." Giving up on the button, House turned his back on the doors and watched the crowds swanning past.

"One day, I'll figure out your obsession with lesbians." He grinned weakly as he spoke, watching the doors finally slide open.

As they stepped into the empty elevator, House chuckled some.

"Don't bet on it."