Chapter 20
"We're idiots!" House shouted as he limped into the conference room. The three fellows looked at him blandly. "We scanned the wrong end."
"Care to explain that?" Foreman asked.
"The meninges are a hot new nightclub and the bacteria are supposed to be the little posers trying to get past the bouncer. But the bouncer is taking bribes and letting the poser bacteria in."
"Right, well that clears things right up," Foreman said sarcastically.
"We've been spending all of our time trying to figure out why she couldn't fight off the bacteria. We should have been wondering how they got in there in the first place," House said, saddened that yet another metaphor would have to be explained.
"She had a cold. It's winter. What's your point?" Foreman asked.
"My point is that millions of people get colds. Only a small percentage of them get bacterial meningitis. Why, you ask? Excellent question. It's actually very difficult for bacteria to get into the meninges. That's why the recurrence of it is so rare. This little girl has had it three times in eighteen months. It's not her immune system. It's easier for the bacteria to get in there because of something going on in this girl's head," House explained.
"It can't be a structural defect," Price said. "She would have been getting meningitis her entire life. It's got be something more recent."
"There's no mention of any trauma or accidents in the history," Jasper said. "She didn't just suddenly develop a structural defect in her skull."
"It doesn't have to be anything huge," House said. "In fact, it's likely something so small nobody would even think to look for it, probably caused by an accident that they never had checked out. Contrary to what my experience in the clinic tells me, not every parent drags their kid to the hospital when they fall down and scrape their knee."
"I'll go talk to the family, see if we can come up with anything," Jasper said.
"Good, meanwhile get an MRI of her head. We need to find the hole and plug it up," House ordered. The three fellows left the room to carry out House's orders. House looked around the now empty conference room as his stomach rumbled again. "I've got to get an office closer to the cafeteria."
"You were right," Foreman said, entering House's office later that afternoon. "Jasper talked to the family; apparently she fell sledding at the tail end of the winter two years ago. She wasn't seriously hurt so they never had her checked out. It caused a defect. It's small, but we found it. It fits; she came down with her first case of meningitis eighteen months ago. That was the first winter after that accident."
"Who's doing the surgery?" House asked.
"Dr. Leslie," Foreman replied. House nodded. Foreman exited though the side door and into the conference room. He found himself alone with Price for the first time. Foreman briefly considered fleeing. Before he could back out of the room, Price turned. He jumped awkwardly from his chair and faced Foreman.
"Foreman, please, you must let me apologize properly. I am mortified that I behaved so, so, well suffice it to say I'm mortified," Price stammered. "Not to say that dating you would be mortifying. You are, as House said, a very attractive man and anyone would be lucky to … Of course I'm not saying that I'd want to but … Blast! I don't see how this could be any more awkward."
"Price," Foreman interrupted desperately. Price was obviously upset about it and clearly had not been hitting on him, so Foreman figured he'd let the guy off the hook.
"I'm sorry," Price muttered. "I'm a terribly sloppy drunk. I always have been. When I was at university, I got drunk at a reception and proposed to the headmaster's son." Price paused. "That's not helping, is it?"
"Look, Price, I forgive you. You didn't mean it; we all do stupid things sometimes when we're drunk. Yours seem to mostly involve hitting on men, but that's okay. The point is, we can just move on and never, ever mention this again," Foreman said, stressing the never mention part strenuously.
Price nodded, thankful that Foreman seemed to calm about this. If only he could believe that Dr. House would let it go so easily.
"What are you doing here?" Cameron asked as House entered her office.
"Every so often I like to test my skills by crossing No Man's Land safely," House said. Cameron frowned. "Getting through the clinic without having to work? Geez, I thought you were getting better at this."
Cameron frowned harder, if that were possible. House sighed. He'd done it again. A comment flickered across his mind about her straining an eyebrow if she tried to draw them any tighter, but he clipped it off. She used to let comments like that roll right off her. Now it was like she was looking for some hidden meaning.
"Solved your case?" Cameron asked, her expression having returned to nearly normal. House could still see the wheels turning in her mind, however. "Was it the pickles?"
"Sorry, what were you saying?" House asked.
"The pickles. What did that have to do with it?" Cameron asked. Being at least a little familiar with the case, Cameron was dying to know how the pickles related to bacterial meningitis. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get just the tiniest insight into what was going on inside his head.
"Oh, the pickles. No, not them, how they got in there. Minor head trauma, caused a defect and let the bacteria in," House said.
Cameron nodded. House looked at her speculatively, and Cameron began to squirm a little. Being under observation was never comfortable, but sometimes with House it was like in bad movies where the cops shined that huge light in your face.
"Come on," House said suddenly, standing and holding open the door for her. Cameron stepped out from behind her desk and glanced back into Cuddy's office. House rolled his eyes. "Cuddy!" House shouted. "Borrowing Cameron!" Then he unceremoniously shoved Cameron out the door.
"Where are we going?" Cameron asked following House toward the elevators.
"We're off to see the Wizard," House said mysteriously. Cameron groaned. Why did she ever try to get a straight answer from that man?