A/N: This story has now received the most reviews of anything I've posted here, and it's not even finished yet! That's because all you guys who review are fantastic. You make me hazy!!!

Chapter 28

House limped into the hospital earlier than normal, although still late. When he and Cameron had first begun dating, he had started coming in on time more mornings than not. Cuddy had been thrilled, until she realized that House coming in on time only meant that House was at the hospital more. More House meant more crying interns, angry nurses and litigious patients. Eventually, as he and Cameron settled into a more regular pattern, he began showing up on time less and less frequently. And while part of Cuddy wanted to go back to harassing him about it, the ever more practical part was afraid he might actually listen.

So when House limped through the lobby at 10:15, Cuddy simply smiled and waved a little half-wave at him from Cameron's office. House half-nodded in her general direction, dropped Cameron a wink, and proceeded to the elevators.

"He looks tired," Cuddy commented with concern. She watched House waiting for the elevator, leaning heavily on his cane, his shoulders slouched and his head hung so low that his chin nearly touched his chest.

"His leg is getting worse," Cameron said quietly. There was no point in denying it to Cuddy. Even if it wasn't completely evident in House's posture, Cuddy was sure to have seen his name in Dr. Jessup's trials.

"When's his next appointment?" Cuddy asked.

"Next week," Cameron said more quietly still. She had many reservations about this surgery, chief among them the possibility that he could actually end up worse off than he was currently. She would stand by whatever decision he made; she just hoped he was making the right one.

"I'm praying for him Allison. I know he doesn't believe in God, but it can't hurt," Cuddy said with a sad smile.

"No, it can't," Cameron murmured, as she watched House board the elevator. His face was pained when he turned around and her heart broke just a little. She didn't want to fix him, but if she could fix his leg she would, just to never have to see that look on his face again.

House entered his office from the hall, dropping his bag on the desk and looking over the mail Jasper had left for him. It was more than Cameron would have left; it seemed Jasper hadn't quite had the optimism about his acceptance of cases or speaking requests beaten out of her yet. House noticed the orange file underneath the neat stack of envelopes and cringed. Orange meant it was from personnel, or Human Resources, whatever the hell they were calling themselves now. Orange meant paperwork, and that definitely did not interest him.

Desiring nothing more than a hot cup of coffee and a little Monster Jam, House limped into the conference room to check in with whatever duckling was hanging around. He expected at least one, if not more of them, to be down in the lab running the thousand or so tests it would take to narrow down Randy's condition.

When House entered the conference room he literally took a step back. He hadn't noticed it before, because the blinds on the office side were drawn, but it looked like he'd finally succeeded and driven one of his fellows off the deep end. Crap, he thought, this means another orange folder.

The whiteboard had been abandoned, apparently too small for this particular project. Every inch of the conference table was covered in precisely lined columns of yellow sticky notes, as was a good portion of the floor, the desk in the corner and every wall that wasn't glass. The glass walls were covered in silver marker; columns and columns of symptoms and diseases in what was definitely the most impressive display of OCD House had ever seen.

And in the midst of it all was Price. Price, the reserved, well-mannered, meticulously groomed one was now dashing back and forth among his notes; his lab coat flapped behind him as he darted from the conference table to the hall side wall to cross off a row of scribbles. His tie was loose, his shirt was wrinkled and his hair stuck up in every conceivable direction. If it hadn't been so frightening, it would have been funny. But one look at his eyes and House quickly realized this was no laughing matter.

Price looked as though he hadn't slept a wink. His face was drawn and haggard, with even the hint of a five o'clock shadow. But his eyes. His eyes were frantic, manic almost. They darted back and forth between the walls with greater speed than his legs could manage. And all the while he was mumbling to himself under his breath.

Jasper and Foreman stood near the coffee pot, the only surface in the room that wasn't covered in sticky notes. Actually, judging by how still they were, House was surprised they weren't covered in sticky notes. He made his way over to them, carefully avoiding stepping on any of the notes on the floor, lest he set Price off.

"What the hell is this?" House asked, too much in shock to even snark.

"We found him like this when we came in," Foreman said. "I tried to talk to him, but it's like he can't even hear me."

"So why are we watching him?" House asked again. Foreman and Jasper looked at each other and shrugged.

"I tried to get his attention by touching his arm and he almost decked me," Jasper said. "We were waiting for you."

"So he could deck me?" House asked. "How sweet."

"What do we do?" Foreman asked.

"Price!" House shouted. He got no response. Price never even turned around. House placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Nothing. "Rupert!"

At this, Price whipped around. It seemed for the first he noticed there were other people in the room. He looked from Foreman to Jasper and finally House in mounting confusion. Price dropped his marker on the floor and ran his hands through his hair.

"I can't see anything but these pages," Price said. "Pages and pages of genetic conditions, liver diseases, kidney diseases, toxin, poisons, drug interactions. They won't stop flashing," Price whispered, sinking quietly to the floor. The displaced air around him caused the sticky notes to flutter softly.

"Get him out of here," House said to Jasper. "Take him down to the cafeteria and get him something to eat and a cup of anything that doesn't have caffeine in it. I'll talk to Cuddy about getting him some sort of sedative."

Jasper nodded, walking over to Price and taking him by the arm. Price looked up at her and Jasper smiled reassuringly. The look on his face was awful; it was like finding a lost child at the mall, and that was a scary look on an adult.

"Clean this stuff up so he doesn't see it again," House said to Foreman. "I'm going to see Cuddy and then the patient. Maybe we can borrow Cameron for a little while until Price comes back to Earth." Foreman nodded and began plucking sticky notes from the bookshelves. House limped slowly toward Wilson's office. This was going to be a very long day.

House walked right past Cameron and into Cuddy's office. Cameron barely even bothered to look up, assuming it was something to do with his current patient. House paused on the inside of Cuddy's door and debated whether or not to shut it behind him. He didn't really care if Cameron heard about Price, but he did care if she heard he suspected that it might be even a little bit his fault.

"What now?" Cuddy asked without looking up from the paperwork on her desk. Not even Wilson walked into her office without knocking; it could only be House.

"Need a room for a new patient," House said.

"You don't have a new patient," Cuddy replied, still not looking at him.

"I also need a mild sedative, a psychiatrist with a few hours to kill and no charts," House continued as though Cuddy hadn't spoken. At the 'no charts', Cuddy finally lifted her head from her desk.

"Why no charts?" Cuddy asked suspiciously.

"Obviously, I want to have some fun poking this guy and I don't want to leave a paper trail," House answered sarcastically.

"House," Cuddy huffed.

"It's Price," House said, now avoiding meeting Cuddy's eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" Cuddy asked.

"Mental exhaustion?" House suggested. His tone of voice made it clear to Cuddy that was not all it was and even worse, whatever it was House felt at least marginally responsible, perhaps even guilty.

"What did you do?" Cuddy demanded.

"This last case seems to have gotten the better of him. The dark one and the heavy one found him this morning wigging out," House said.

"Define 'wigging out' in medical terms," Cuddy said sharply.

"He rewrote about a hundred pages of medical texts on sticky notes and my walls," House told her.

Cuddy closed her eyes and counted to ten. She counted to ten again. And a third time. When she finally felt like her blood pressure wasn't dangerous to the baby, she opened her eyes and looked at House.

"What did you do?" Cuddy demanded again. "If it was just the case, you wouldn't have that look." House stared at her blankly. "That look that says 'I did a bad thing and hope Cuddy doesn't find out about it'. I know that look."

"You know, you just …" House began but quickly faded out. The fact was he could have pushed Price a little too hard on the whole gay thing. "Yeah, so I paid one of the lab techs to give Price his phone number." House looked down at his shoes while he made this confession.

"Why would you do that?" Cuddy asked, now rubbing her temples to ward off the headache she could begin forming behind her right eye.

"He kissed Foreman," House answered, as if that explained everything.

"I know that. What does that have to do with … You think he's gay?" Cuddy asked.

"I have no idea," House replied. "But I think he thinks he's gay and he doesn't want to be."

"And so you naturally decided to exploit the fact that your employee is currently having an existential crisis for … what, your own personal entertainment?" Cuddy was nearly shouting now and she could feel a vein in her forehead throbbing. She closed her eyes again and this time counted to fifty. Without opening her eyes, because she really felt like if she saw even the slightest hint of smugness on House's face she would hurl her desk lamp at his head, she continued speaking. "Why no charts?"

"If we give him a chart, then we have to use his name and the board finds out and the guy probably loses his job. Geez, how insensitive," House said.

"How insensi …," Cuddy began, her eyes flying open. "Never mind. Fine. Get him upstairs. I will get a room, I will get him a sedative and a psychiatrist and YOU will go nowhere near him," Cuddy ordered.

"Great. Need to borrow Cameron, too," House said as he limped toward the door.

"No," Cuddy barked. "I'm going to be upstairs cleaning up this mess; she needs to be down here where she belongs. You and the other two will just have to manage on your own." House opened his mouth to whine but Cuddy silenced him with a glare. "Get out."

House shuffled past Cameron with downcast eyes. Cameron was curious what was going on, but if House was getting reamed by Cuddy about something he would definitely not want to tell her about it without an hour or so to pout first. So Cameron bit her tongue and let House pass without questioning him.

Once House had entered the elevators, Cuddy stepped out of her office to Cameron's. Cameron noticed the flush on her face immediately, and realized whatever House had done was not his typical annoying stunt. Cameron was concerned, not just for House but for Cuddy as well. Extra stress was so bad for her and the baby, and Cameron knew from Jimmy that she was actually under instructions to try to reduce stress.

"Allison, I'll be upstairs for a little while. I'm not really sure how long. I'll have my pager if you need me for something," Cuddy said. She let one hand drift to her temple and rub it gently, still trying to ward off that headache.

"Can I help?" Cameron asked. Cuddy shook her head slightly and winced. "Lisa, I don't always take his side. Actually, I hardly ever take his side. You can trust me," Cameron stressed.

"I really need as few people involved in this as possible for right now. I'll let you know if there's something I need," Cuddy promised. She walked out of the office leaving Cameron confused, and annoyed at House for reasons she didn't even know.

"How is he?" Foreman asked Jasper as she came into the conference room.

"He's with Cuddy now. He seems … calmer. He keeps mumbling under his breath," Jasper said as she sunk wearily into a chair at the table.

"Mumbling what?" Foreman asked. He wasn't worried; it was more like concerned curiosity.

"A phone number," Jasper said. "At least, I think it's a phone number. He won't say. He just stares kind of dully when you ask him." Jasper shook herself. The last hour she'd spent with Price had been weird, and she couldn't quite help but feeling a little responsible. She kept thinking over his behavior the past few days but nothing really stood out. She supposed she really just didn't know him well enough to tell; after all, he'd only been working with them a short time.

"What does a phone number have to do with our case?" Foreman wondered aloud.

"Nothing," House said, limping in from his office. He stood by the whiteboard and scratched his thumb across his forehead. "We're down our hematologist and we have a patient with a rare blood disorder. I see a very long night ahead for the two of you."

Foreman and Jasper just rolled their eyes in exasperation. Foreman took out the file, which was now thick with piles of sticky notes. He spread them out on the table under House's watchful eye. Foreman just shrugged. Just because Price was having some kind of breakdown didn't make his medical knowledge useless. At the least, this would save them some research.

"Hemoglobin C, E or H disease, Hypersplenism, Leishmaniasis, Thalassemia," House read from over Foreman's shoulder. "Arsenic poisoning?"

"We ruled out food poisoning for his initial symptoms because his girlfriend wasn't sick. Maybe there's a reason she's not sick," Foreman said.

"Could be. What's the other pile?" House asked, motioning to a second stack of notes Foreman had not unpacked.

"Only about fifty other possible causes for the anemia," Foreman replied.

"Only fifty?" House asked. "You guys start on these. I'm going to talk to the patient and the girlfriend."