House had assumed that clinic would be boring as usual, but he was beginning to doubt that assumption as he watched the unfolding scene. The pediatrician, a radiologist and a portly woman who appeared to be a social worker were fighting with a crying Latino couple over what they apparently claimed were signs of abuse on the baby girl the mother was desperately trying to get back from the rotund advocate of child welfare.
"She has three broken ribs and there are signs of possible wrist and ankle fractures." The radiologist was relaying to her over the racket.
"Her weight is low." The pediatrician added, seeming to think it was important to get that in. He was a short man, House observed. So was Napoleon.
"We love our child! We didn't mean to hurt her!" the woman was sobbing, while her husband shook his head absently, seemingly in a stupor.
"I… I must have squeezed her too hard… when we were playing…" he mumbled to himself, trying to solve the puzzle.
House watched as the caseworker clicked her pen, obviously jotting down the man's comment.
"When you say that you squeezed her-"
"Oh shut up!" House finally shouted, fed up with the whole ordeal. All eyes turned to him, including Cuddy's, which were full of fire and brimstone.
He limped over to the assembled group and stopped in front of the father giving him a long-suffering look. "You squeezed her too hard?" he rolled his eyes. "That's pathetic. Ah, but what do I know?" he shrugged. "Maybe she's a real tough cookie. She'd have to be not to let on that her ribs were breaking."
"She- She's just a baby…" the dumbfounded father stammered.
"And babies cry." House told him pointedly. "If you broke her ribs, she would have cried."
"House-" Cuddy tried to interject.
"Oh, so you're doctor House." The caseworker addressed him, her free hand on her jutting hip. "I was warned about you. You've got quite the reputation for protecting child abusers."
"Yah, yah," he brushed her off. "But Uncle Frank was really such a nice guy and he always gave me candy afterwards. Gimme the baby."
The woman hesitated.
"No, really." He told her. "I'm a doctor. Do you need to see my name badge? I think I left it up in my office."
"It's alright." Cuddy told the woman. "Let him get it out of his system."
The baby squealed angrily as she was passed over to the man but settled to a low, tired burbling soon after.
"Hello there," House addressed the baby, passing one finger of his free hand before her eyes, which she seemed to ignore. He tapped her cheek and a few seconds later, she recoiled slightly. "My name is Dr. House." He introduced himself. "And I'll be your attending doctor this afternoon." With that, he turned towards the elevator, baby in hand.
"Wait, what- House!" Cuddy called after him. "What is going on? You don't need to diagnose a fracture!"
"The x-rays show three fractured ribs with a possibility of wrist and ankle injury!" the radiologist restated in his nasal whine.
"And she has a low-"
"Yah, yah, yah, low weight, right?" House cut off Napoleon the pediatrician.
The man nodded, a little put out.
"Very observant of you both. What you've neglected to notice, however," he pointed out, "Is that she is also tired, irritable and generally unresponsive."
"She's a baby! It's called being cranky!" the caseworker exclaimed. "They get like that from time to time."
"So do women." House pointed out. "But we call it PMS then." He hefted the baby in his arms. "Low weight gain suggests a decrease in appetite." He glanced to the parents.
"Yes!" the mother exclaimed emphatically. "That's why we brought her in!"
House gave Cuddy his token I-told-you-so, look before continuing. "Add the irritability, malaise, unresponsiveness and brittle bones and what do we have for you Johnny?" he asked the radiologist in his best Bob Barker impersonation.
"Uh…"
"Not a new car." House hinted. "Come on, it's an easy one." He gave them one more second's pause. "She has Osteomyelitis." He declared. "A bone infection. And I'm going to need to start her on a broad spectrum antibiotic so we can test for Osteogenesis imperfecta." He turned to the mother again. "Any history of bone disorders in your family, particularly the women?"
"My… my mother has osteoporosis." She told him.
House turned back to the now humiliated doctors. "It's so important to get an accurate family history." He sighed with a pained expression, handing the baby back to her mother. "Second floor, Nurse Cathy here will get you a room with a view."
With that, he turned to the remaining clinic nurse. "Dr. House checks out, 12:54, write that down."
-scene-
House was admittedly less tense with a case finally in his hands and an excuse to avoid clinic for awhile, even if most of the fun of diagnosing and humiliating was already over. There was still the question of which infection little baby Lopez-not Lopez; as Cameron had adamantly pointed out that not all Hispanic people were named Lopez, had contracted.
"Okay, so we've ruled out the possibility of any of you actually coming up with an idea." House huffed at the assembled group.
"Well it would be easier if we had something more to go on than a few broken bones!" Chase exclaimed, exasperated.
As if on cue, all four of their beepers started to chirp and chime in unison.
House raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you got your Christmas wish!" he grinned, then promptly began whistling "hark the herald angel sings" as he limped from the room to NICU.
Nurses were rushing uselessly around the baby on her tiny hospital bed. Her hands were grasping wildly. She wasn't breathing.
Chase pushed through the group, quickly taking charge. This was his specialty. He opened the baby's mouth, swiping at her throat with one finger. "It's her lungs." He deduced. "Her trachea's collapsed. We need to intubate, now." The process was quick, but frantic as he slid the tube delicately down the infant's fragile throat to her lungs. After a moment, the machine had her breathing normally.
House approached the bed, listening carefully. There was a rattling to her breath. "She has pneumonia…" he affirmed with interest.
Back in the diagnostics room, House was becoming more and more irritated.
"All I'm saying is that it's foolish to completely rule out abuse! The signs are still there! What is the point of curing a baby only to send her back to parents that will cause her to suffer the same or worse injuries later?"
"They won't." House said simply. "Abuse doesn't cause pneumonia."
"It does if her lungs are damaged!" Cameron argued.
"But they're not." House contended firmly, an aggravated edge to his voice. "The MRI revealed no lymphoma, no lesions and no damage. That. Rules. Out. Abuse." He slammed down his cane for emphasis. "Either figure out an infection that causes both brittle bones and pneumonia, or find some one else's patient to social work."
"I think-"
"No." House cut her off. "You're not thinking. Go start the baby on a broad spectrum antibiotic. Chase, go with her, make sure she doesn't harass the parents. Foreman," he pointed to the man. "You go get a bone marrow sample. I want it tested."
The man nodded, standing to do so as Chase escorted a fuming Cameron out of the room.
-scene-
"So that's when I thought it was probably infected." The young man finished, pulling his pants back up.
House continued to stare, a slightly horrified look on his face. "Okay. I understand all that, but what I'm curious about is …what made you think it was a good idea to pierce it with a nail gun in the first place?"
The kid shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Yyyah…" House drew out the word thoughtfully. "So did disco and communism, but there are a lot of things that, while attractive on paper, just don't work out in practice."
"So um… can you do something about it?" the kid wanted to know.
"Mm-hm." House nodded, scribbling a few prescriptions and referrals, handing them to the kid.
"What's this?" he asked.
"The first one's an antibiotic." House told him. "The other one's a contraceptive."
The young man raised an eyebrow. "A… contraceptive?"
"It's for your mother." He told him. "The world can only handle so many… forward thinkers."
The kid opened his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to agree, but House would never know, as at that moment, his beeper, mercifully, went off.
"Ooh, sorry." He grinned appologetically. "I have a non-power tool related case to take care of. You understand." With that, he limped quickly from the room.
-scene-
"Who beeped me?" House demanded, entering the baby's room.
"She's gone septic!" Chase exclaimed, changing tubes and fluids quickly, trying to buy time for the little girl. "The antibiotics aren't working. They may even be making it worse."
"We need that bone marrow report." House glanced to Foreman.
The man shook his head. "Not enough time! It takes at least 48 hours to process. We don't have it!"
"Dammit." House cursed under his breath. "Then we need to diagnose her now."
"With what?" Cameron wanted to know, exasperated. "We don't have any more information than we did before!"
"Then we need to find more information." He growled. "What do we already know?" he demanded.
"Uh… she's dying?" Chase shot back sarcastically.
"Wrong." House replied. "She's septic. She's septic, she has pneumonia, and a bone infection, which, by the way," he turned to Cameron, "does confirm that it's an infection and not abuse."
She bit her tongue, but clearly wanted to retort.
"Come on!" he demanded. "What else do we know? Start basic."
"She has a fever?" Chase volunteered.
"Good!" House exclaimed. "And?"
"Ah… I don't…" he shook his head.
House turned to Foreman, gesturing impatiently, like a teacher calling on his next student.
"She's… nauseous? She's been throwing up since around noon yesterday."
House stared at him. "No one told me this?"
"It could have been the food. She's lactose intolerant and she was given-" House made a quick gesture cutting him off.
"Where's her formula?" he demanded.
Foreman blinked.
Not waiting for an answer, House shoved open the door, storming up to her parents. "Why didn't you tell me she was on formula?" he demanded. They blinked, unable to comprehend his sudden fury.
"We… we didn't think it was important!"
"Never mind." He snapped. "Do you have any with you? A sample?"
The mother quickly fished a small canister out of her purse. House snatched it, rushing to the lab. Testing bone marrow might take 48 hours, but testing baby formula would only take a few minutes.
-scene-
"Trimethoprim-sulfamethoxazole." House exclaimed, returning to the diagnostics room. Chase blinked at him. "Well go on!" he shooed him with his hands. "Start her on it."
"What? But we tried the-"
"You tried the other anitibiotics." He replied. "Just because they didn't work, it doesn't mean she doesn't have a bacteria. Just not one they cure."
"Are you saying it could be E. Coli?" Cameron asked.
"No." he replied. "I'm saying it is E. Coli. And you can treat it now, or keep questioning my competence while her liver fails."
The team jumped up quickly, going to do as House commanded.
-scene-
"So you saved a baby's life." Wilson addressed the older doctor.
"Mm-hm." He nodded, leisurely leafing through the pages of the latest sport's illustrated, sprawled on the hard wood floor of his living room.
"And gave a family back their little girl for Christmas."
"Uh… yup. I guess so." He turned a page.
Wilson hesitated. "And that doesn't make you feel warm and fuzzy at all?" he asked, sounding a bit incredulous.
"Nope." House agreed. "But this does." He grinned, producing a bottle of spiced bourbon.
Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What's the occasion?" he asked.
House gave him a disbelieving look. "I saved a baby's life!" he exclaimed. "Gave a family back their little girl for Christmas. Jimmy, where's your sense of holiday spirit?"
The man rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Do you want a glass?"
"I want two." House replied. "I'm not drinking alone. It's Christmas eve! I don't care if you are Jewish. You're having some too."
Wilson chuckled, heading for the kitchen for the requested glasses. He handed them to House, letting the man pour before accepting one back.
"A toast." House proposed, raising his glass. Wilson followed suit. "To whatever makes us feel warm and fuzzy." He said this, gazing at the man interestedly.
Wilson blinked, his cheeks coloring slightly. "A…a toast." He agreed, clinking his glass against House's before taking a long draw.
"And to you getting some less hideous ties this year." House added.
Wilson snorted, almost choking on his bourbon.
They continued to joke and tease back and forth, the bottom of the bottle growing ever nearer.
"You," House pointed drunkenly at the man, "Are a bad secret santa."
Wilson blinked. "What?"
"You didn't get Cuddy anything at all." House tisked, then grinned.
Wilson grinned, shaking his head. "And did you get your present already?"
"Maybe…" House replied a bit quietly, studying the man's face. "Are you going to get me a present too, Jimmy?" he asked.
He stared at the man, mesmerized by the blue of his eyes. "I don't know." He replied softly, swallowing.
"I know what you want." House told him.
"Oh?" Wilson asked a bit distracted.
"Mmhm." House nodded. "You want… someone who will love you for who you are, not for who they think they can make you into." He quoted back to the man.
Wilson blushed. He deffinately blushed this time. "Yah… I guess that is what I said."
House leaned in a bit, reaching up and tugging a lock of the man's hair.
Wilson opened his mouth to say something, but the words got lost as House's mouth suddenly covered his own.
House pressed his lips to the younger man's, gently at first, chastely, almost innocently, until he felt the man's lips part tentatively. He took the invitation, sliding his tongue between the man's soft lips, reaching his hand back to massage the younger doctor's neck.
"Mm…" he groaned softly, kissing the man more passionately, almost fiercely, exploring Wilson's mouth hungrily.
After a moment, Wilson's hands rose gently to House's chest, pushing him away. The kiss broke and Wilson looked down embarrassedly, shaking slightly, a blush coloring his cheeks. "I, uh… don't think I'm quite drunk enough for this." He chuckled nervously.
"Oh, I'm drunk enough." House grinned, tilting the man's chin up and kissing him again, soft and quick.
Wilson swallowed. "I, uh… I don't think you're drunk at all." He challenged.
House hesitated, then pulled back, meeting the man's eyes with his own, surprised at having been called out. "Jimmy… I-"
Wilson stood swiftly, cutting him off and breaking the moment. "I'm gonna… I forgot something at work. I have to…" he stammered.
House reached up, catching his shirt sleeve. "Forget about it. You've been drinking." He reminded. "You can't drive right now."
"I'll call a cab!" he snapped a bit shrilly, jerking his arm away and heading quickly for the door, pulling it shut behind him before House could even gather his wits enough to stand.
"Dammit…" he grit his teeth. That wasn't at all how he'd expected things to turn out. He ran his hands through his hair, wondering how he had so utterly misread the situation.