Chapter 7

Don counted himself lucky that he had found two seats together. He wasn't thrilled that they were in the very last row in coach, but at least they would get to see Charlie tonight. Knowing that he would have a hard time sitting still for the five and a half hours they'd be in the air, he had insisted that his dad take the window seat. Alan had had the forethought to pack a carry on with books, a walkman, and some snacks that would pass the TSA screening. Don had stuffed a few unfinished reports, a Jack Higgins novel and his Ipod into his briefcase. He didn't think he'd be doing a lot of reading, but he was even less likely to be able to sleep.

Alan fastened his seatbelt and took a sudoku book and a pencil from his bag. "Donnie," he said softly.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I just wanted to thank you for getting us on this flight. I know you're busy at work..."

"There's a whole office full of people who can handle that stuff. You and I are the only ones Charlie's got." He thought back to how Charlie had sounded, and wished that there was some way to get there even faster.

Alan seemed to read his thoughts. "I can't believe you found us seats on a non-stop flight with such short notice."

Don smiled, "Yeah, I expected to have to resort to extreme measures to get us out there today."

"Extreme measures?"

Don shrugged. "Well, I am an employee of the federal government."

"So you could pull rank?"

"Not that there's much rank to pull, but, yeah, I could have told a little white lie..."

"You didn't, did you?"

"No. Luckily they had these seats available." Don took his Ipod out of the briefcase and slipped it into his pocket and took out a folder before sliding the briefcase under the seat in front of him.

"You're not going to do work, are you?"

"Probably not. But it gives me something to stare at for five hours."

"He's in good hands, Son."

"I know. This Dr. House is apparently the best."

Meanwhile, 2500 miles away, Dr. House was leaning forward, both hands on the head of his cane, staring at the monitor. "Stop. There. Get me a sample of that lesion."

"What is it?" Foreman asked, maneuvering the probe.

"If I knew what it was, I wouldn't need you to sample it. Okay, keep going."

Charlie stirred in his sleep and moaned. Amita touched his cheek and murmured, "Shhh. It's okay."

"There," House said. "Get that one too. I want several of them so we can see what we've got." He looked up at Cameron. "Did you start him on antibiotics yet?"

"Not yet," Cameron said, "We've been running the tests..."

"Foreman and I will finish this up. You get the antibiotics and get them in him."

"Now?"

"Now! How do real doctors say it? Stat?"

Something in House's tone alarmed Amita. She looked up at him, trying to read his expression. Finally she said, "Dr. House?"

"What?" He said, not taking his eyes from the monitor. "The antibiotics? There are some nasty bugs that could be taking up residence inside your boyfriend, but I'm afraid that while we're waiting for all the test results, those bugs could kill him. So, we're going to start treating him before the bugs do their dirty work."

"Oh," Amita said.

Charlie tensed and groaned. His eyes opened and he said, "Amita?"

House said, "Foreman. Stop right there." He eased himself painfully to his feet and walked around to stand behind Amita, and looked at Charlie's face. "Foreman, did Cameron up his pain meds?"

"Yeah. I watched her do it," Foreman said. "Why?"

"He shouldn't be feeling a thing right now." He hobbled back to his seat. "Let's finish this up. Any mention of drug use in his file?"

"No," Foreman said, "and the blood work was clean too. So I'm not just taking his word for it."

"You're catching on," House said, "People lie. Wait." He poked a finger at the monitor. "What's that?"

Foreman made a few adjustments and the picture zoomed in. "Can't tell. Want a piece of it?"

"Yes. Then get out of there. We've seen enough." He stood and limped from the room without another word.

Foreman sighed and removed the scope. He covered Charlie back up and met Amita's gaze and smiled. "House takes some getting used to. But he really knows his stuff." He peeled off his gloves and took a quick look at the monitors and IV bags. Then he wheeled the colonoscopy equipment from the room.

Charlie shivered and moaned again. Amita brushed the curls back from his cheek. He was burning up. She looked up as Larry entered the room.

"How's he doing?" Larry asked.

Amita shook her head. "He's still out from the sedative they gave him. But he feels really hot. They're going to start him on antibiotics."

"Have they discovered the cause yet?"

"No. But Dr. House believes that if they wait for the tests, Charlie could die."

"Oh, my." Larry dropped into his chair. "Poor Charles."

A few minutes later, Dr. Cameron returned. She saw Larry and Amita's expressions and bit her lip. "Don't worry. Dr. House..."

"Everybody keeps telling me he's the best, "Amita said, "but so far all I've seen is a pill popping creep who seems to hate everybody. I thought doctors were supposed to care about people." She stopped, tears running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron, I'm just really upset."

"I understand," Cameron said., injecting the contents of two syringes into the port in Charlie's IV. "Listen, Dr. House is not easy to get along with or understand, but he's got an incredible mind. I understand Charlie here is a math genius. There are probably times people find him hard to understand. I'm guessing there are even times he's not that easy to get along with."

Amita laughed as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I'm sure you've noticed that House is in constant pain, too. I'm not excusing him. His behavior is reprehensible. But in spite of his failings, and they are many, he will grab hold of a problem and he will not let go until he's solved it. Charlie is in the best possible hands. And once these antibiotics start working, he should be feeling a lot better."

"He feels so hot," Amita said softly.

"Well, let's check," Cameron said, pulling an ear thermometer from her pocket and checked Charlie's temperature. "Hmm. It is a little higher. We'll see what we can do to lower it."

"Dr. Cameron," Larry said, "may I ask which disease you're treating Charles for?"

Cameron looked at the door, then, apparently satisfied House wasn't going to pounce, she said, "Dr. House believes there's a possibilty Charlie has gastrointestinal anthrax."

"Anthrax," Larry gasped. "Oh, my."

"We won't know for sure until the cultures are finished. But if it is anthrax, it has to be treated immediately, or..."

Larry waved his hand. "I don't want to hear the 'or,' Dr. Cameron. Thank you for being honest with us. Now I understand why Dr. House is convinced Charles has been out of the country." He looked down at Charlie's sleeping form. "Oh, Charles, where have you been, and why can't you..." Larry stopped and looked at Agent O'Connell. "You're the reason he won't tell anybody where he was last week."

O'Connell met Larry's gaze. "Dr. Eppes was in Washington, DC last week. He has not been out of the country since 2004."