~ Chapter Six ~

Arrival

The other fellows were already sitting around the conference room table, waiting for him to show up. He was two hours late, but that didn't bother him. In fact, he was late for a reason. He walked in, and he tossed a file at each of them. "We have a case."

Thirteen raised a finely arched eyebrow. "Doing your best imitation of House?" She looked him up and down, smirking wryly. "You need to stop ironing your shirts.

"And buy a cane," Taub pointed out, smirking.

Foreman gave a slight scoff. "And change your accent." He toyed with the folder, "which you can't do." He looked Chase right in the eyes. "Face it; you're not House."

Chase shrugged. "Nope," he admitted blandly. He sat down, putting his feet up on the table. "We have a case," he repeated, nonchalantly.

Foreman opened the file. "Twenty-eight year old female, complaining of severe head pain and visual and auditory sensitivity, nausea, and fatigue." He frowned, then shrugged. "It's a migraine. Give her a pain reliever and send her home."

Thirteen shook her head. "You're a neurologist," she gave him a cold look. "We should look at it like a symptom, not a diagnosis. Besides, the history says that even the extra strength pain relievers made for migraines weren't working.." She looked at the file again. "It could be a brain tumor." She looked up at Chase. Has she had a CT scan?"

Foreman looked at the file. "Inconclusive. It means nothing."

Taub frowned. "It could be vasculitis. Abnormal swelling of the blood vessels could be causing her migraines." He looked up Forman." All the tests were ran by an HMO lab, and they all came back inconclusive. I agree with Thirteen. The migraines may be a symptom, not the diagnosis. It's a legitimate case."

Foreman grunted, exasperated. "It could be nothing. All the tests were..."

"Inconclusive," Thirteen answered.

"Could also be an aneurysm," Chase put in. He mulled over it for a moment, then he pointed at Taub and Thirteen. "You two, redo the CT and get an MRI. It might catch something that the CT missed." He pointed at Foreman. "Get a history and start her on steroids."

"And what are you going to do?" Thirteen asked with a smirk.

Chase shrugged, pulling a yo-yo from his pocket. "I'm going to go be House and bother Wilson." He got up, and he left the room whistling. The other fellows looked blankly at each other, then got up to do their respective jobs.

** ** **

"You look like hell." House felt the need to inform Cuddy, after the shock of seeing her step off the elevator wore off.

He was still a little hurt by her not being on the flight, even though she didn't know he was on the flight.

Hell, he wasn't supposed to be on the flight, either, but she didn't need to know that.

She inhaled sharply. "House," she began, shifting a fussy Rachel to her other hip. "It's been a long forty-eight hours. Rachel's fussy and needs to be changed and have a nap. I need a shower and a nap. We will continue this discussion later." Her administrator voice brokered no argument, and she moved past him with a confidence that she didn't really feel.

She unlocked the door to her room, ad she directed the bell hop to leave her suitcase near the door. Once he had left, she took a moment to take in where she'd be staying for a week. The sitting room that she was standing in was small, but it had nice furnishings, including a desk and a couple of chairs. There was also a small counter in the corner with a tiny microwave and tea maker, as well as a mini fridge. In the bedroom, which was slightly larger than the sitting room, there was a large bed, and a small crib for Rachel. A small bathroom jutted off from the bedroom.

She needed to get a converter for her laptop, and she was planning on going out and just buying a cheap hair dryer and other inexpensive appliances, but that would have to wait. Right now, both she and Rachel needed a nap, so she put Rachel in her crib, and she waited as the little girl fought sleep, until she finally gave in.

She herself dozed off in one of the large, plush chairs in the room, her eyes growing heavy from the ordeals she had been through. A loud knock on the door woke her with a start, and she was disoriented for a moment. Finally shaking the cobwebs from her mind, she got up, and she answered the door.

** ** **

She'd just left him standing in the hallway.

He should have been pissed by her brush off, but he'd saw how drained she was. So he went back to his room to plot his revenge.

He was lying in his bed, a self satisfied smirk on his face, but something was gnawing at him. Something wasn't right. Then, he realized what it was.

She'd missed her flight. She was supposed to be on that flight, but she'd missed it.

He felt a lead weight form in the pit of his stomach.

He suddenly regretted his little prank.

"I didn't order room service. Especially this much room service," she explained to the hotel employee. She glanced at the fully loaded cart, then a light bulb went off. "I think you have the wrong room."

"Oh no, miss," the employee explained. "The order was for 402."

It took every but of her haggling and debate skills, and several minutes, but she finally managed to convince the employee to send the cart to House's room, as well as to charge it to his room.

She knew it would only be the beginning of their war, but she was happy with how she handled it.

Later that night, after she had ordered room service for herself, a note was slipped under her door. The scrawl scribbled on it simply read "touche."