This chapter is rather short and sweet. I mean, it's not really short, but….you get it. Lots happin' for less than 2000 words. I wrote it all on my tablet-thingeh so PLEASE tell me about any screw ups, or if something doesn't makes sense. Thank you BlackieBlueness for the review *huggles* Glad you like it :3
Anyways, enjoy!
Chapter Six- Written
Clare pulled into a parking space, shutting off the engine. "I have no idea how this is going to work…" Clare looked over at Thirteen.
"Yeah, we don't know her last name…although how many Evalyns could there be?" she shrugged and looked over at the building. It was three stories high, and seemed to be of good quality. Thirteen walked to the entrance, Clare close behind.
"Hello," the lady behind the front desk said with a smile.
Thirteen gave a nod in greeting, and Clare cut to the chase, "Do you know anyone named Evalyn? She stays here."
The smile dropped, "Why? Are you friends of hers?"
"We're her doctors, she's at the hospital and we don't know what she has."
Clare looked over at Thirteen, "You didn't mention that."
She merely shrugged and whispered back, "You didn't ask." Her voice returned to a normal tone, "Now, can you give us the key to her room? And tell us anything else you know about her?"
"She's in the hospital?" the woman scrambled for the master key in the drawer.
"Yes, and she's dying," Thirteen was growing impatient.
"How will searching her room help? She's not doing drugs," she walked from behind the counter and down the hall.
"We need to search for toxins and other things. How do you know she doesn't do drugs?" Thirteen asked skeptically.
"Because," she opened the door with a metal 7 in its center. "She wouldn't be able to afford them."
The woman pushed open the door, leading the doctors in. Other than the many books and magazines scattered throughout, it was rather tidy.
"Is there any way I can help?" she asked.
"Do you know any personal information? Where she goes other than work, where her parents work, if she's had any recent boyfriends."
"I'm afraid not. She's never invited anyone here; I don't even know where she works. I didn't even know she did work..." she shook her head. "She's not antisocial by any means; she's just lonely I suppose." Thirteen picked up one of the books, a medical textbook with notes scribbled along the margin. She picked up another to find the same. She then moved to looking for toxins and other harmful substances that fit her symptoms. A trash can beside the bed caught her eye. It was filled to the brim with empty Tylenol bottles. She was overdosing, but why hide Tylenol? It's not like its illegal...unless she's ashamed of the pain... She looked for a receipt, wanting to know how long it took her to empty at least twenty bottles. Finding none, she figured that could have been designated to recyclables. She looked in a drawing to find a few more bottles of Tylenol, this time not empty, and notebooks. She found another trash can near the mini fridge, digging through it she found mostly crumpled up paper and snapped pencils. She opened the fridge. It was empty aside from a few bottles of water. She moved to the wall and followed where it met the ground. She then went into the bathroom and checked under the sink.
"No mold of mildew. Nobody else here is sick, I assume, meaning it's not the water or air. She was right, whatever she has, it didn't come from here," Thirteen sighed, and walked out the door. Clare followed, a bit disappointed at the simple room.
The lady from behind the counter locked the door behind them and asked, "Can I come see her at the hospital?"
"She's unconscious," Thirteen answered, walking out of the hotel without waiting for the woman to insist further.
"I thought that would be much more interesting," Clare sighed when they were both in her car.
She turned the key and the car roared to life, "She's determined to keep every aspect of her life hidden. There's probably more to the puzzle than what we saw," Thirteen assured. Clare was silent as they sped down the highway.
₰ΩΩ₰
Cuddy walked through the door to her office and nearly had a heart attack at what she saw. House, sitting at her chair, on the phone, and 7:45 am. House hung up without another word to whoever was on the other line.
"What are you doing here?" House asked as calm as can be.
"I could ask you the same question," she muttered, walking over to beside her chair, waiting for him to move.
"I told you to stay at home," he reminded her.
"Yes, all the more reason to come in," she gave a bitter smile.
House was silent for a moment, sighed and said, "Okay." With that he snatched his cane, got up, and limped towards the door.
"Wait," Cuddy said, almost uncertain, as he reached the door. She took her seat and House turned around. "You aren't going to argue? Analyze why I decided to come in, rather than stay home with my sick daughter? Why my hair is parted on the left? Anything?"
House opened his mouth to answer, but for a moment nothing came out. "Do you...want me to argue?"
"I would rather you be yourself than have to worry about what you're plotting with all this..." she trailed off.
"All this care?" House offered after a moment of silence.
Cuddy sighed, "Are you okay?" she asked finally.
"Fine," was the blunt answer he gave before leaving. Cuddy rested her face in her hand that was propped up with her elbow, and sighed. What the hell is he up to this time...
₰ΩΩ₰
Kutner looked over at House as he entered the room. "Whoa, you're here early. Do you know what she has?" he asked, hopeful.
"Nope. Why are you here?"
"I'm waiting for Evalyn to wake up. I had an idea."
"Enlighten me," House said, and pulled off his coat, walking into his office to place it on the back of his chair.
"Wilson's disease," Kutner answered with pride when his boss walked-er, limped back in.
House popped a Vicodin and nodded, "It fits…' Why didn't I think of that? It fits perfectly. Dammit Cuddy…I should just tell her so I can think straight… "Although that doesn't explain why Thirteen's lab coat is still here...did she ever come back last night?"
Kutner shrugged, "I left before she did, if she did." House nodded, and went back into his office to take a nap. About ten minutes later Kutner's pager went off, and he went to Evalyn's room. She looked over, her left hand bandaged. "How's your hand?" he asked.
"Hurts like hell," she answered with a sarcastic smile.
"Really? I thought you couldn't feel it yesterday."
"Not at first, then I choked a nurse and my mind practically exploded with pain. It took that extra pressure to finally kick my brain back in gear. Let me guess, you're here to tell me you know what I have. Tell me your amazing theory."
"Wilson's disease," he said without hesitation. "We think that copper has buil-"
"I know what it means," she cut him off. "I disagree, but taking the five seconds to look for Kayser-Fleischer rings will take less time than me getting through your thick skull to ignore my liver," she pushed herself off the hospital bed, using her left hand on purpose, although Kutner didn't catch it. "I'm surprised you don't have me on antibiotics. If you really are stuck on the liver, and ignoring me, then I thought that you'd think that my liver damage caused itching, and that I caused the rash by scratching," she walked past him. "Where's the...machine," she asked, unable to think of the correct terminology.
"This way," he told her, and led her down the hall. "And we did consider that, but-"
"Consider what?" she interrupted.
"That you gave yourself the rash by scratching. We'll know later whether or not you have any infections."
"You don't think prescribing broad spectrum antibiotics would be safer than waiting?" she sat by the machine.
"Where are your parents?" he asked abruptly.
"Dead," she answered like it was nothing, and rested her chin on the stand, looking through it.
"Oh...my parents are dead too..." he looked back at her eyes, and sighed.
"No Kayser-Fleischer rings, meaning no Wilson's."
Evalyn smiled, "Ready to ignore the liver yet?"
₰ΩΩ₰
Thirteen walked into the room saying, "Ignore the liver," before grabbing her lab coat.
Taub and Chase looked up at her, "Why? Because she asked nicely?" Taub asked.
"No. Because I found at lease twenty empty bottles of Tylenol, and five filled."
Kutner walked through the door, "Not Wilson's. She lives on her own through, her parents are dead. Most likely not in clean living conditions."
"Actually yes, she does. She lives in a hotel room and keeps it clean. Although we should run an STD panel," she sighed.
"She's only fourteen," came an Australian accent filled with disgust.
"One of her coworkers said she doesn't do much actual work, and is Levin's 'assistant'. Better safe than sorry," she added, slipped on her lab coat, and left.
"Any idea where House is?" Taub asked. "He was taking a nap last I checked," Kutner replied.
"Where?"
"His office," he glanced over to see the blinds closed.
"He's not there," Chase said. "I don't know why the blinds are closed."
₰ΩΩ₰
House walked into Evalyn's room. "What do you want?" she asked.
"I want to know why you're punishing yourself,' he said simply, taking a seat next to her bed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.
"Right. You used your broken hand on accident, and didn't notice when the pain bombarded your brain."
She simply glared at him, "Whoops."
"Where are your parents?"
"Dead."
He shook his head, "No. You ran away, and you feel guilty about it."
At that, she laughed. "You think you know everything, don't you. That you can read everyone like a book. Well guess what, I'm written in a language you'll never comprehend. That doesn't mean you can't find which page is torn, and fix it."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen, and don't change the subject, I just want you to find what everyone else seems to be missing." she answered.
"Why are you a doctor? How long have you been sick?"
She looked over to meet his curious blue eyes with her stale, lifeless green gaze. "Too long," her voice cracked.
"You became a doctor because you wanted to fix yourself."
"No," she said just above a whisper. "I became to doctor because I find it interesting." House was silent for a moment, before Evalyn continued, "My father got aids. I didn't know until he was diagnosed that aids doesn't actually kill people. Other infections that they get when they have aids is what kills them." They were both silent for a moment, staring into each others gaze as though trying to read what lay behind it. Finally Evalyn spoke, "Now that I've read a chapter to you, can you go repair the torn page?" The question was rhetorical, and he left.
₰ΩΩ₰
"Speak of the devil," Chase said as House walked in.
"Run an STD panel. Daddy was a cheater. Syphilis fits. And I assume it wasn't Wilson's since there isn't an IV dip of Trientine in her room," he said and walked back out. The team did as asked. House stepped into the elevator, and Wilson ran in after him.
"Cuddy thinks you're up to something."
House sigh, "I know." "...are you?" he asked.
"Define 'up to something'," he looked down from the ceiling and at his friend. Wilson just glared, "No, I'm not planning to burn down the hospital or anything of that caliber. Nor am I plotting any other devious plan," House answered. When the elevator reached the lobby, House walked out.
"Where are you going?" Wilson asked.
"Clinic," House threw over his shoulder. Oh god, he IS up to something... Wilson sighed. House walked over to Exam room 1, took the file, and entered.
"Hello, what seems to be the problem?" he forced a smile.
As House felt the glands of his sixth clinic patient, Cuddy walked in, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out. "What is going with you? You come to my house to check up on not only me, but also Rachel. Then you call a donor who called back, DONATED, and was disappointed the conversation had to end. And now you're doing clinic duty VOLUNTARILY, and not being a sarcastic ass to the patients. I also haven't heard any insane procedure requests," her eyes shone with frustrating curiosity and worry.
"Do you not like it when I'm nice for a change?" the question was genuine.
Cuddy sigh, shoulders slumming, "Honestly, it's scaring the living hell out of me."
He frowned and asked after a moment, "Have you eaten today?" At this, Cuddy's jaw fell agape.
She couldn't help but give a laugh, "No, I haven't. And I'm not going to until I get the old House back."
"Do you miss a chronic pain in the ass running your hospital behind your back?" again, it was far from rhetorical. Not getting an answer, he shook his head and reopened the door. "Eat. I like my eye candy fat," and with that, he disappeared into the room. Cuddy smiled finally, a smart ass remark.
