DISCLAIMER: I don't own House. But I do watch it religiously. Oh, but I own Walker and James… unfortunately.

Q is for Quarantine

Chapter Five: Chase and Cameron's Coffee Chemistry

"So what did the test results for Cosgrove show?"

The typical House response set the ducklings sighing inwardly and restraining themselves from rolling their eyes. It was just like him to put them in suspense like that, then divert the attention away from the obviously guarded subject with an irrelevant remark or comment.

"Filovirii present in the blood," reported Chase dutifully. "Guess that means that Ebola could be the cause."

"Plus there was an onset of fever and development of maculopapular rash on the skin," added Cameron, remembering the scores of red spots she had seen on Cosgrove's body. "Could also indicate Typhus fever."

"Were Rickettsia bacteria present in the blood?" asked House. Cameron scanned her notes, but her boss had already dissmissed her idea. "No, there wasn't. Typhus gives us an explanation for the fever and rash, but not the haemoraging. But the filovirii gives us something interesting to examine."

"I thought you said it wasn't Ebola?" said Cameron.

"Really? I had no idea I was saying it wasn't Ebola after the first fifty times or so," said House sarcastically. "And here's time number fifty-one; it's not Ebola."

"How about Dengue fever?" offered Foreman. "Explains all the symptoms, the haemorrhagic fever and the flaviviriruses in the blood."

House smirked at him. "Someone's gotta clean out the wax in their ears," he remarked, deliberately slowly, as if talking to a deaf person.

"Huh?"

Chase answered for House. "There are no flaviviruses; it was filovirii."

Foreman looked dumbfounded and shook his head. He got up and crossed the room, muttering, "I need a cup of coffee…"

Chase gave a suggestion as his colleage stocked up on some much-needed caffeine. "It could be the Marburg virus," he said thoughtfully. "It also belongs to the filoviridae family, looks identical to the Ebola virus, and it triggers all the same symptoms as Ebola, just not the same antibodies."

"The internet is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Learn tonnes more there than in med school," said House, circling the word 'Marburg' on his whiteboard, just as Foreman sat down, cup of coffee in hand. House turned and spotted the mug. "Cameron, I need some java," he said to her expectantly.

"Why didn't you ask Foreman to get it for you?" she answered back irritably.

"He doesn't make it nearly as well as you do," House complimented her with big appealing eyes.

"I feel so special," said Cameron, getting up and going to do as she was asked, huffing annoyedly as she went. A smile quirked at House's lips, but he said nothing, and didn't thank her as she handed him a steaming mug.

"Oh, Chase, did you want one too?" Cameron asked suddenly, as if just remembering he was there.

"No, no thanks," he said, politely refusing her offer, though he was dying for caffeine to kick his senses awake. "I'll get some later."

Cameron shrugged in a 'suit yourself' manner, and returned her attention to House, who was now writing up lists of symptoms on the whiteboard. High fever, his untidy scrawls read, haemoptysis; headaches; nausea; vomitting; chest and abdominal pains; rash; diarrhoea; haemorrhaging…

"How do we know he was experiencing pains and headaches?" questioned Cameron, frowning at the board. "He's been unconcious the whole time since he was admitted to the hospital, he couldn't have told us this information."

"Hard as it may be to conceive," said House, scribbling the words 'joint pain' across his board, "that ugly blood fountain actually has a girlfriend sitting in Cuddy's office who's been reporting everything that's happened to her dear boyfriend for the past few weeks."

"She's with Cuddy?" said Foreman.

"Nuh-uh, past tense, Foreman, past tense; she was with Cuddy, but now she's probabaly been abducted by the CDC for testing and such… which reminds me, I wonder when Walker's coming for us? Hmm, I don't fancy meeting him again; I guess I'll be seeing you guys around then." With that, House began to stride out of the room with surpirsing speed, all three legs contacting the ground with hard thumps. Cameron, Chase and Foreman all oggled at his retreating back.

"But we haven't finished diagnosing the patient," Chase yelled after his boss. House paused and turned, an unreadable expression etched into the lines of his face.

"It's Marburg fever," he said confidently. "And it's also Coccidioidomycosis – that explains the haemoptysis."

"Wait!" shouted Cameron as House turned to leave again. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

He sighed impatiently. "Coccidioides immitis is a fungal disease that resides in Arizona, Nevada, California, Texas, and some other states - coccidioidomycosis has symptoms consistent with those that of Cosgrove and all the other patients. It happens when people inhale fungal particles called arthrocondia, then bingo, you develop coccidioidomycosis. Cosgrove's girlfriend said they'd been to Nevada a while ago. Anything else you need to know? No? Ok, I'm off. Oh, and by the way, if anyone asks, you didn't see me here and this meeting did not take place." He started to hobble away again. "Also, if I catch any of you telling Walker what we have just discussed, you might find yourselves on the wrong side of the hospital bed. Let him treat the patients as he wishes. We'll see who's right in the end, once the whole hospital's full of corpses!" House cackled wildly as he disappeared out of the door and down the corridor.

The ducklings were left, speechless, in the office. They looked at each other, astounded that House had just come to a conclusion so quickly about such a confusing and complicated case.

"Wait," cautioned Foreman as they began collecting up their notes. "Neither Marburg fever nor coccidioidomycosis are airborne diseases. How could the other five patients have contracted the viruses without having contacted any infected fluids from Cosgrove?"

Chase and Cameron mulled over this new piece of information. Before either of them could put forward any more suggestions, someone came into the room.

"Has anyone seen Greg?" a British voice accompanied the sound of footsteps coming closer. Walker had just walked in.

Foreman regarded the CDC director without changing the expression on his face. "Is the matter urgent?" he asked, forcing his vocabulary and tone to become more polished, in light of Walker's posh English accent. He could see Chase holding back a snigger unsuccessfully in the background, and Cameron nudging him in the ribs, though she couldn't stop herself from smiling as well.

"It's concerning the epidemic of Ebola that has spread around PPTH," said Walker, looking at Foreman strangely. "Is Greg hiding from me? I suppose he'd rather die than admit he was wrong and receive treatment from me."

"How do you know he's wrong?" Foreman found himself challenging the other doctor. I'm defending House, of all people, he thought to himself, today is definitely the turning point of my life. "How did you conclude that it was Ebola?" he ventured another question in his newly acquired tone of voice. Will Chase and Cameron STOP laughing!

"Well," said Walker, still looking at him as though he was a bit odd. "Filovirii were present in the samples of Cosgrove's blood, and Ebola comes under the same bacterial family. We are not sure of the strain, though we believe it to be Ebola Zaire. Tests will confirm our theories when they are completed, later."

"If that is what you believe," said Foreman, guarding his tongue and the discussion they had held with House just minutes before.

Walker smiled. "If any of you see your grumpy boss, let me know. But for now, I suppose we'd better start on you lot."

"Excuse me?" said Chase, recovering from a snort of laughter. "What do you mean by that?"

"The CDC needs to run some tests on those who were in close proximity with the patient, ASAP. We've already rounded up some of the nurses and lab technicians who handled his body and his blood, and, it's come to our knowledge that Dr Foreman also contacted some of his blood," Walker explained patiently. "All three of you came into close proximity of Cosgrove; it's important we screen you for possible viral infections."

Cameron sobered. "What are the chances of us contracting the disease?"

"Contracting Ebola?" Walker reminded them of what disease he thought they were dealing with. "Not very high at all," he said in relation to Cameron's question. "Unless you had direct contact with any of his body fluids." Foreman blanched, but nobody noticed (it was kind of hard to tell).

Cameron and Chase racked their brains for any memory of whether they had done such a thing, and found themselves praising the person who had invented rubber gloves and protective lab coats. It seemed as though they were safe; neither of them had touched blood or any other fluid from Cosgrove.

"We need to run tests anyway, quarantine protocol," informed Walker. "Everyone will be examined, even Greg," he added with a smug smile, reminiscent of House's when he had proved everyone wrong with one of his whacko theories. For once, the ducklings hoped his latest 'wacko theory' was just as right as all his previous diagnoses. Then again, Marburg's was about as lethal as Ebola, so if they were infected with the disease, they would be fighting for their lives anyway.

The ducklings filed out of the office, morose and depressed - not to mention in serious need of sleep - but nevertheless staying awake, as a cold trickle of fear made its way down their spines as their minds returned to the recurring thought: Do I have Ebola? Or Marburg Fever?

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"Think he'll find me here?" House said to Wilson, pretending to be terrified at the thought of Walker finding him at the oncologist's office.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm your best – and only – friend," he said, mockingly, "Surely there's no way that he'll connect you to me and find you here."

House frowned. "What do you mean you're my only friend?" he demanded, ignoring the last comment about Walker discovering his hiding place.

"The fact remains, Greg; you're socially retarded," was the simple reply.

House put a hand over his heart. "That hurts," he said, as if he had been fatally wounded. "Though you being my only friend, as you so nicely put it, makes you socially retarded also."

"No, that makes me the popular guy who hangs out with the outcast, to make me seem even more popular than I already am," corrected Wilson.

House shook his head. "You're using me?" he said disbelievingly.

"'Fraid so," said Wilson, grinning.

"Then I guess it's too bad I only use you for your money," House said with a casual shrug.

"Eh, it's a win-win situation," said Wilson. "I use you to boost my popularity and you use me for my bank card. Everyone's happy."

"Oh stop," said House, as if Wilson was flattering him. "You're making it look as though you're Paris Hilton and I'm Nicole Richie."

Wilson laughed, then frowned a little. "Hey, didn't Paris dump Nicole a while ago?"

"Yeah. D'ya think it's a sign?"

"Haha. Nice to know that's how you think of our friendship. But I'll check my horoscope for any 'signs' of turbulence for our relationship ahead, just in case."

"It's impossible to get a rise out of you," sighed House. "Oh, and read mine while you're at it," he added, referring to the horoscopes. "Check for something along the lines of 'beware the killing of an Englishman committed by your own hands' or 'one who loves you will come begging for your love in return.' Something like that, or I really don't wanna know."

"I was joking about the horoscope thing," said Wilson sheepishly. "But what's this about the 'one who loves you' thing?"

House looked at him like he was stupid. "Three guesses, genius. Here's a clue: I only go on about her ten times a day in every conversation we have."

"Oh!" Wilson exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Cuddy!" House looked stricken, then started to repeatedly knock his stick against his head. Wilson grinned and said, "Look, I know you're depressed about Walker and all, but self-harming is really not the key. And I know you're not talking about Cuddy; we all know how you obsess over our favourite lawyer."

"I do not 'obsess'," protested House, ceasing the bashing of his head with his stick. "She's the one who's obsessing over me; she can't enough of me. Right now, she's playing hard to get - you know - she's holding herself back, trying to get me to snap first. But I'm not that desperate. She'll be the one who's crawling back to me, begging me to sleep with her within no time, you'll see."

"She's got a husband," Wilson pointed out like he had done on so many other occasions.

"You've got a wife; and you get along fine with all your little affairs," countered House.

Wilson grimaced. "Ok, ok, no need to delve into my personal life as well."

"I've always said people should steer clear of private lives." House turned and stiffened as he noticed a strange doctor walking down the hallway outside Wilson's office. Wilson peeked out from behind House; the doctor outside worked for the CDC, he could tell by the ID tag. "Hey, Wilson, let's go walkabout; Walker's bound to come looking for me here," House said suddenly, and with that, he strode out of the head oncologist's office, checking carefully that the coast was clear of the CDC doctor he had just witnessed ambling past (and was especially alert for patrolling Englishmen), before starting down the hall with his friend ambling in his wake.

They went some time without making any conversation, House peering around every corner like a rabbit trying to escape capture though already caught in a big cage. Every now and then, they'd come across a CDC doctor and abruptly turn back the way they came, keeping their eyes downcast and making as little noise as possible. Wilson kept sniggering as they did this; it was like one massive game of hide and seek – on the run and in a quarantined hospital.

After a particularly close run–in with that Doctor James they had met earlier, House and Wilson took a sharp turn and found themselves looking onto a testing session through the glass of the observatory area they were now situated in, originally looking over an operating room. Foreman, Chase and Cameron were the current specimens for the CDC's research.

"Hey, is this going to be a live dissection?" asked House excitedly, rubbing his hands together in mock anticipation. "I want to see if Chase has a brain or not."

"Why is Foreman separate from Chase and Cameron?" Wilson wondered to his colleague.

"The CDC just doesn't want the black people mixed with the white," said House matter-of-factly.

Wilson glanced over at his friend. "One of these days Foreman's gonna complain to Cuddy about frequent racial abuse."

"Heh, he's a coward. And he doesn't care."

The two doctors watched the other three shuffle restlessly in the cells that the CDC had created for them in the operating room; they had erected temporary walls to cut the room in half. In one half, Foreman waited impatiently for doctors, who were across the room from him with their backs to him, to continue sticking needles in his arms and in the other half, Chase and Cameron sat in cold silence, dwelling on the events of the night and the unfolding day, also waiting for doctors to come in and start performing tests on them.

"Can't you just feel the sexual tension in that room?" House whistled, looking intently at Chase and Cameron.

Wilson squinted at the couple. "I'm gonna assume you were talking about Foreman and that CDC person, because I can't see a lot of action between Cameron and Chase," he said sceptically.

"Argh, what do you know? They were flirting earlier on, you know," he added slyly.

Wilson raised his eyebrows, listening with renewed attentiveness. "Flirting in front of you? Who would be mad enough to do that?"

"FYI, Cameron offered Chase a coffee."

There was a pause. "I'm sorry, what?" said Wilson, face incredulous.

"I said: she offered him a coffee."

Another pause. "House, you're turning into a senile old man," said Wilson. "The offering of coffee is not flirting." He looked House up and down. "No wonder Stacey resists you; your ideas of flirting are about as non-existent as an outfit that covers Cuddy's cleavage – fully."

Cameron and Chase had started talking to each other during this brief interlude between House and Wilson. Chase was nodding at something his co-worker had said and sweeping strands of hair out of his eyes as Cameron bit her nails in an uncharacteristic way to indicate nervousness. Both appeared to be whispering in low conspiratorial voices, as if afraid of being overheard. House watched the two doctors interact with unconcealed interest.

"They are not flirting," Wilson stated firmly. House waved a hand at him to make him shut up. "What? It's not as if you can hear them talking anyway."

"Just watch the way they look at each other. They're shamelessly flirting and no one else can see it."

Chase was yawning and Cameron was now fiddling with the end of her lab coat. "Yeah, I can see them at it now," muttered Wilson sarcastically.

"You should have been there for the coffee incident," House said adamantly. "Then you'd believe me."

"Yes, because coffee is the ultimate way to declare your affection for another person."

"It is for me; Cameron gets me one every day. If that's not devotion, I don't know what is," replied House.

"I said 'affection' not 'devotion' – two completely different things."

"Not for me."

"Whatever you say." The oncologist and diagnostician paused to watch the ducklings again. Cameron was smiling at something Chase had said, though a small amount of anxiety bloomed in her eyes. Chase sat up straight, and appeared to be saying something of great importance, judging from his stature. Then they both burst out laughing. Chase made a face, saying something incoherent again, and it made his co-worker laugh harder.

"Don't go pretending you didn't see that," House said, gesturing through the glass. "They're so hot for each other, and you can't deny it. The evidence is right there!"

Wilson sighed. "They're two colleagues about to be tested for a deadly disease for which there is no cure; it's considered a normal thing to try and joke with your co-worker and keep the atmosphere light when something like this happens."

House looked at Wilson shrewdly. "Then why aren't you joking and lightening me up?"

"Trying to lighten you up is like trying to sweeten a lemon," retorted Wilson. "At least we can still joke with each other, though."

House snorted. "I joke," he corrected. "You just make stupid comments where you see fit."

"And you interfere with your employees' personal lives because yours is non-existent," said the oncologist, continuing their childish banter.

"It's for their own good," insisted House.

"Oh, sure." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Now that you're convinced that Chase and Cameron like each other, you're going to make it as difficult as possible to make sure they don't get together, which, might I add, was never going to happen anyway, since they're not attracted to each other."

"We'll see," said House, "we'll see. Fifty bucks says that they'll be together by the end of the month… If they're not killed off by Marburg Fever, that is," he added, scowling.

"Nuh-uh," said Wilson, shaking his head. "As I said, you'll find a way to split them up, even if they were intending on getting together. It'd be a waste of fifty bucks."

"Eh, you'd have given me that money for food and stuff anyway," shrugged House.

Wilson chuckled amiably, and his friend recommenced watching the three doctors in the newly created cells in the operating room. A CDC official had just entered Chase and Cameron's section of the room, announcing something to them both; the two doctors nodded and stood up, listening carefully to what the other doctor was saying. In the other half of the room, Foreman was getting more bottles of blood extracted from his arm, looking irritable and extremely bored, as the CDC bustled around him. All of them had one thing in common though; they seemed to all have huge question marks stamped across the top of their heads, floating around their ears like brooding, dark clouds… clouds raining torrents of worry and doubt, bringing constant negative emotions pounding their thoughts. The ducklings' hooded eyes were enough to send anxiety crawling along the skin on Wilson's arms, leaving a trail of Goosebumps where it had travelled. House remained poker-faced, but solemn; joking time appeared to be over, and the atmosphere had gone from edgy to a form of tense that was breath-holdingly suffocating.

"At least, if they do die of Ebola, you wouldn't have to worry about your employees screwing up a case," said Walker casually, coming up behind them, as if he was part of the conversation all along. Wilson jumped and backed away from the CDC Director slightly. House tore his eyes away from the ducklings to survey the unwelcome Englishman, who was watching him expectantly. He had just glided up upon them quietly, like a wraith slithering in for the kill, and they had not even noticed his appearance until he had made it apparent.

"We didn't hear you come in," said Wilson, regaining his composure.

"Freak," House spoke out derisively, "I bet he gets it from practising to be a stalker."

"Thanks, Greg," said the CDC doctor.

"And you keep popping up everywhere," House complained, annoyed. "Like a fly that needs to be squished."

"I'm pleased to see you too," simpered Walker. "But we may as well jump to the chase; why don't you be a good little doctor, and come down to the labs for some routine checks?"

"Over your squished body," sniffed House.

"I had a feeling you'd react that way," said Walker, sounding disappointed.

"Really, I didn't think I'd been that obvious."

"So I came with a deal," said Walker, stunning House into silence. He carried on, "This is of great interest to you, Greg, so listen carefully. I'm going to make sure you comply with everything I say from now on…"

A/N: I'm currently swimming in a sea of lists of symptoms and the diseases they correspond to; I'm trying to make this fic as medically accurate as possible – not easy when I have absolutely ZERO knowledge of these matters. Note to self: become a doctor so you can write better fanfic. Anyway, that's another chapter completed (phew) and I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are very welcome (unlike Walker; is the author allowed to hate one of their characters?) and thanks to all those who reviewed the previous chapter! Keep on reading!

Daygoner