My Foe Chapter 4 Part IV, a house, m.d. fanfic

My Foe

A/N: This is Part IV and the last in this story, however there may be more stories in what I call the "My Series" down the line. I would like to thank Flatpickluvr for pointing out my misuse of the word bradycardia in Part III (and probably in Part II as well). Extremely rapid pulse plus weakness equals 'tachycardia', not bradycardia. I have corrected my error in Part III.

If you read this before the edit, I know that Lucas' last name is Douglas, not Roberts. I was listening to the radio, mentioned the name Roberts, yadda, yadda=brain fart!

Warning: This story involves illness, adult issues and strong language. Reader Discretion is advised.

Part IV

The next morning Chase goes to work a little earlier so he has a chance to check on House and Wilson and adjust Wilson's vitals appropriately. He goes to Wilson's room first. Making certain that he isn't being watched, he turns his back to the video camera that sends a closed circuit transmission to a screen at the nursing station; having a visual of the patients helps staff react more quickly should something turn south in the patient's rooms. That is, if the nurses actually bother to check the video screens. From what was charted in House's file last evening, he made it all the way to Wilson's room and collapsed before anyone came running. Chase can only think of one reason why his boss did that: He forgot that Wilson had not come down ill from the tainted milk and they were plotting to 'frame' Lucas for poisoning Wilson (when he actually poisoned House and thinks he is going to get away with it). Memory lapses are a common side-effect of Ciguatoxin so House's behavior is not that much of a surprise. The Fellow retrieves the laptop and begins to adjust the readings on the monitors to show a slight improvement from the night before, as would be seen once treatment of the symptoms suffered by the patient are being treated.

With that done, he stashes the laptop again and then scans through Wilson's chart to make certain that he isn't missing anything. The oncologist was given another dose of unconsciousness approximately two hours ago and will likely be emerging from his 'coma' in an hour to an hour and a half. He wants to be certain that he is around when this happens so he can make certain things are kept under his control. Satisfied that everything is as it should be, he leaves Wilson's room and heads next door.

House's condition is slowly but steadily improving as it should be. He's displayed more frequent and alert bouts of consciousness, his pruritus is under control by the addition of the antihistamine Periatin (cyproheptadine) and the SSRI 1 Elavil (amitriptyline), his blood pressure is nearly normal since he ceased vomiting and his diarrhea passed, and his heart rate is slowing as well; all of these are excellent signs. Neurologically his improvement is slower than with his cardiovascular and gastrointestinal symptoms but the myalgias and arthralgias are being controlled by Indocin (Indomethacin).

I have been sleeping lightly and begin to wake up with the sound of Chase's movements around me. I begin to move a little, attracting the younger doctor's attention.

"Good morning," the Aussie greets me. I have the feeling that he is resisting the urge to smile and thus make his greeting sound sickeningly saccharine. Instead of returning the greeting I look over to Wilson's room, where my best friend continues to lie motionlessly. I can't see his monitors from where I am at, so I can't see how he is doing. Chase notices where I am looking and nods with an inane smirk on his face.

"He looks genuinely sick doesn't he?" my idiot employee comments, nearly chuckling. I can't understand why he is behaving so…callously, and I glare angrily in his direction. Seeing the expression on my face his smirk disappears and recognition crosses his face. "You don't remember, do you?" he asks me.

Remember? Remember what? I have no idea what he means.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask him weakly, quickly running out of patience.

"A couple of days ago…you regained consciousness while Wilson and I were discussing how we were going to get Lucas to slip up and reveal himself as the one who poisoned you. You suggested that we frame him by faking another prank and planting clues to lead the police to him as the prankster. Then you fell asleep again."

I listen to his explanation with interest. "Go on," I urge him. I do not remember the conversation he speaks of but it sounds like something I would, when at my most devious, suggest.

Chase nods and then pulls a chair up closer to the bed and sits down. "Wilson and I came up a plan to do just that," he tells me and then briefly informs me of their plan and what has been accomplished so far. As much as I hate to admit it about a scheme that wasn't concocted by me, it sounds brilliant.

"Not bad," I tell him nonchalantly, "if you keep control of things. It can easily begin to spin out of control."

"You're cooperation will help," he says to me with a smirk.

I look at him warily, "If you expect me to get sick again I suggest you run now before I shove my cane up your ass."

With a chuckle he shakes his head. "Nah. You only have to accuse Lucas when the police get here."

I sigh silently. I know this is a vital part of their plan, but I don't relish the reaction I will receive from Lisa Cuddy when I do so…not that it really matters. She has already severed almost every tie of friendship we ever had, so it's not like I will be damaging our friendship any; there isn't a friendship to damage. That fact pains me, but there is nothing I can do about it. She has made her decision, her choices in the way she interacts with me, and I will not allow myself to be manipulated and jerked around anymore. I can't. I haven't spent all of these months working so hard on myself and my sobriety to risk throwing it away again. When Lucas is arrested she will be hurt and angry, and she may decide to direct those emotions in my direction; so be it. I am not the one who pushed things into overdrive by trying to murder her idiot boy-toy and causing havoc and incredible expense to her by flooding her house with water.

Perhaps she will learn a little humility and recognize the fact that she doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does. I've held my peace to protect her and to save what little connection we may have but if she uses this situation to be angry and resentful, perhaps such a connection is simply one of my delusions.

Why couldn't you have just waited for me and have given me a chance to show you what kind of man I really am? I think dejectedly.

Chase notices something in me and asks in concern, "Are you alright, House?"

I look at him suddenly, snapping out of my reverie. Sighing quietly I tell him, "Yes. I can't wait until this is over and done with. I'm sick of this bull-shit."

With a nod in agreement, Chase then writes something in my chart and leaves without another word. I close my eyes, fighting against the thoughts of Cuddy that try to emerge from the shadows to the forefront of my mind. I know it will take a long time before I manage to achieve that with any appreciable success.

* * *

Wilson opens his eyes slowly as the drug cocktail that has been keeping him under begins to wear off. The lighting around him assaults him and he shuts his chocolate eyes against it again. After a moment or two he tries again, this time opening his eyelids much more gradually, giving his pupils a chance to adjust to the change in illumination a little easier. Once he can see he turns his head from one side to the other, taking in everything around him. At first he has difficulty remembering where he is or how he got there but as the drugs clear his system everything comes back to him. He smiles weakly; obviously he and Chase have managed to convince everybody that he is critically ill. He wonders at what stage their plan is currently in and wishes that either Chase or Thirteen was there to fill him in on how everything is progressing.

Patience, the oncologist tells himself. You'll find out soon enough. He figures they must be close to the part where the police are brought in to investigate what has happened and the accusation against Lucas is to be made otherwise he probably wouldn't have been allowed to wake up yet.

He lifts his hand to his forehead where he remembers his head hitting the steering wheel of the car when he crashed into the ditch. Feeling the dressing over the site he wonders how much actual damage was done. Does he have stitches or a concussion? How about where the seatbelt held him back from flying into the windshield? Did he have any broken ribs and contusions? That too will be answered when the time is right, he assures himself.

As he looks to his left he can see through the glass walls into House's room. The diagnostician has the head of his bed elevated to nearly forty-five degrees . His eyes are open and he looks five hundred percent more alert and functioning than the last time Wilson saw him. His face has considerably more color. He smiles with relief, glad to see his best friend recovering well. The oncologist sighs and closes his eyes; there is still enough of the knockout drug in his system to make him very drowsy. He drifts off to a light sleep for an undeterminable amount of time.

Wilson awakes to see three male figures walk past his room and into House's. One of them is Dr. Chase, the other two wear sport jackets and casual pants; they just scream out 'cop' to the casual observer. He watches intently, ready to close his eyes the second someone looks his way. Watching as House is questioned; Wilson also takes close note of how his friend is faring physically. After what seems to be at least fifteen minutes to him he can tell that the diagnostician is worn out and ready to sleep again. It disturbs him to see House as weak and vulnerable as his is. Usually the older doctor hides his pain, weariness and weakness under a mask of almost superhero-like invincibility. Wilson knows that his friend really is very human and more vulnerable than most others realize, but the man in the next room looks positively frail and he doesn't like the look of it.

Lucas will pay for what he has done. Wilson is prepared to do just about anything at this point to see it happen.

The cops turn away from House and head for the door on their way out. Wilson snaps his eyes closed and pretends that he is still unconscious, hoping that his acting skills are better now that they were in college. He waits for what seems like two or three minutes and then opens one eye a sliver to see if the cops are gone. Satisfied that they were, he opens his eyes again to see that Chase is in his room and his next door neighbor is soundly asleep again. It is ironic, the oncologist notices, how innocent his friend looks when he is sleeping. He recalls his mother making the comment once that everybody becomes an angel in the Land of Nod. He realizes that applies to House as well.

"How are you doing?" Chase asks him, nearly whispering. Wilson ponders that a moment.

"Good, I think," he answers equally as quietly. "What are the damages from the crash?"

"A small superficial cut on your forehead and some deep bruising where your seatbelt restrained you upon impact," the Australian doctor tells him reassuringly. "No stitches or fractures. It went off like a charm."

"Good." Wilson takes a few deep breaths before asking, "So you have planted the evidence?"

"It's done," Chase confirms. "Foreman is an excellent instructor in felonies. Of course the labs 'came back' on the milk sample I collected positive for Ciguatoxin so it was agreed upon by Cuddy to call in the police. They were just here a few minutes ago and House put on a brilliant act for them."

"It helps that in his case Lucas really did poison him," the older doctor says, "but yes, House can be very convincing." By the tone of his voice he makes it perfectly clear that sometimes that's not really such a good thing. Wilson is frequently a victim of the diagnostician's skillful performances.

"House made it clear in no uncertain terms that he believes Lucas is the prankster based on his past admitted pranks on him," Chase tells him. "They were on their way from here to Cuddy's office to review security video recordings of the day Lucas tripped House in the cafeteria, so if Cuddy hasn't already viewed them she should be doing so right about now."

This is music to Wilson's ears; she would already know by now about everything Lucas has said and done if House hadn't requested he not tell her; House rarely if ever makes requests of anyone so the oncologist had felt obliged to respect that one. That was then, however—this is now. He knows that if Lucas gets away with it again then the next time he feels it is necessary to put his rival in his place House literally will not survive it. The situation will only escalate and there is only one destination next.

Wilson knows, however, how hard this has to be on his best friend. House is in love with Lucas' girlfriend and she insists that she is in love with Lucas. No matter what happens next somebody is going to end up getting hurt. Wilson doesn't really care about the other two, but it better not end up being the diagnostician.

"Are you still willing to go back under again for a while?" Chase asks him, referring to the chemical coma Wilson was in when brought in to the ER. "It'll be easier than you having to pretend to be unconscious all of the time, but it's up to you, Wilson."

Nodding in resignation the oncologist tells the Aussie, "Let's do it…but make sure I'm awake when everything comes down on Lucas. That's something I don't want to miss!"

Chase nods. He has come prepared with a syringe in his lab coat. He approaches Wilson with it and proceeds to inject the cocktail through Wilson's PICC line.

"Sweet dreams," the younger doctor tells the older as Wilson quickly submerges again into the chemical darkness.

* * *

Chase is about to return to the Diagnostic room when he is paged to Dr. Lisa Cuddy's office. By now the police already have told her about their interview with House and his accusations against Lucas. The Aussie doesn't really want to see the Dean of Medicine, fearful of the kind of mood she may be in, but it's a necessary part of the plan which so far has been coming together remarkably well. He's not entirely certain what it is she wants from him, however. As far as she knows, he doesn't know any more about the pranking and Lucas' behavior than the rest of the hospital staff. Perhaps she needs a sounding board and with both House and Wilson out of commission has decided to use him instead.

When he arrives at her office she sees him coming and waves him in. She is sitting behind her desk watching her computer monitor intensely, a frown distorting her otherwise attractive face. Taking a huge breath, Chase enters her office and walks up to stand in front of her desk. He shifts a little nervously on his feet, chiding himself to stop being such a Sheila 2 and man up.

"You wanted to see me, Dr. Cuddy?" he says tentatively.

She looks away from the monitor and up at him. "Yes," she says quickly, "sorry—Please have a seat Dr. Chase. I apologize. I've just been viewing some security logs and what I've been seeing is a little…unexpected and I'm trying to wrap my mind around it."

Chase nods amiably, not letting on that he knows what it is she's been seeing. He takes a seat in one of the two chairs positioned in front of her desk.

"Do you recall hearing about an incident involving Drs. House and Wilson and Lucas Douglas in the cafeteria about, oh, two months ago?" The Dean of Medicine asks him. She appears quite relaxed and professional as she asks the question, but the twitch in the corner of one of her eyes and the tensed-up muscles in her jaw reveal how she is really feeling underneath her mask.

"I heard about something from others but I wasn't there myself to witness anything first hand," he answers honestly. She doesn't need to know that the others he speaks of are House and Wilson themselves.

"I was completely unaware of any incident," she tells him, "until someone mentioned it to me a couple of days ago and then again today when the police showed up at the hospital investigating a possible attempted homicide. I was shocked to find out that House had called in the police concerning his food poisoning making outrageous claims that Lucas intentionally tainted some milk and that's why both he and Wilson are suffering from Ciguatoxin poisoning! I'm curious as to how House, being as ill as he has been, was able to call the police? You wouldn't happen to know, would you?"

The Fellow looks at her, trying hard not to display the disgust he feels for her just then. Isn't it bad enough that the entire hospital has been talking about the rotten things her boyfriend has done to two of her department heads but now she's going to try to root-out some kind of conspiracy they have to falsely accuse Lucas? While it is technically true that Wilson was not poisoned by the tainted milk he easily could have been and House certainly was—he came close to dying from the severity of the poisoning he received and his body's reaction to it. Is this woman so totally cut off from reality, the hospital staff and the two men whom she had once called friends to be so incredibly blinded from what is really going on?

Looking her in the eye he answers calmly, "House asked me to call the police and I did. If he wishes to make accusations and can substantiate them with fact, that's his right. If you're trying to ask me whether or not I believe his accusations are true, then I will have to answer that what I think is irrelevant—it's what can be proven that matters. I heard from three people who were in the cafeteria the day Lucas tripped House. They said he made no attempt to hide it and proudly admitted to it as well as other destructive pranking. I was told he appeared to be quite smug and proud of tripping a disabled person. If that is, in fact, the truth, and I have no reason to disbelieve them because they have no reason to lie, then I think it would only be natural for House to suspect Lucas. After all, how does a toxin found in tropical reef fish find its way into a jug of milk? Someone had to have tainted it."

"But not Lucas," Cuddy tells him sternly. "He's not like that. He…he would never do anything to intentionally harm another person!"

"I wouldn't know about that," Chase tells her coldly. "If you called me here to find out who contacted the police on House's behalf, you have your answer and I'll be leaving." He rises from the chair.

"Wait," Cuddy says quickly, frowning. "I've been watching the security video of the tripping incident." She nods at the computer monitor. "Lucas did cause House to fall but there's no evidence that it was done on purpose!"

"Sure there is," the Australian doctor tells her, annoyed. "There's eyewitness testimony. Perhaps you should page some of those people in and ask them for yourself what they saw." She opens her mouth to say something more but he is tired of her denial so he says quickly, "Is that all? Don't you want an update on how House and Wilson are doing? Or doesn't it matter to you?"

"Don't presume to talk to me that way, Dr. Chase," the Dean of Medicine says to him in a low, threatening voice. Chase has had enough! He has been feeling a little bad for her and the way it is going to hurt her when Lucas is arrested for the poisoning, but he no longer feels sorry for her. She deserves to get a little hurt.

"I don't really want to talk to you at all," he tells her, glaring at her angrily. With that Chase turns and storms out of Cuddy's office without hesitation or looking back. What is she going to do—fire him? Over allowing his patient to exercise his right as a citizen and human being to file a complaint? Chase hopes that the police will have enough reasonable cause for a judge to issue them a search warrant for Lucas' car and he hopes it happens soon.

* * *

Lisa Cuddy is still red from anger long after Chase stormed out of her office. How dare he presume to know what is important to her and what isn't? He doesn't know her! He doesn't have any idea how having House and Wilson so terribly sick is upsetting her! She just cannot understand why the moment something bad happens to House everybody assumes that Lucas is at the bottom of it? Lucas isn't as selfish and conniving as House. He wouldn't lie to her like the diagnostician has time and time again!

Would he?

She cues up the portion of the security video of the incident in the cafeteria and plays it again. House and Wilson pick up trays and go through the line for their food…Wilson pays, as usual, and they head towards a table to sit down. Lucas' foot appears suddenly into House's path. The doctor snags his foot on Lucas' and flies forward…the tray flies…House hits the floor hard, preventing his face from hitting the hard surface by catching himself on his hands. His face contorts in pain, and Wilson's is horrified…Lucas' foot disappears from view again as House painfully gets up…everyone in the cafeteria is looking at the incident in horror…Lucas stands up and turns to face the duo of doctors…House looks amazed and then confused, Wilson looks like he is ready to tear the private detective's head off with his bare hands…Lucas is talking…his expression changes…he looks…he looks…satisfied. Smug. Proud—no!—arrogant. He never looks regretful, ashamed, guilty.

She stops playback and sits back in her seat, shaking her head in dismay. She has viewed that same portion of video five times now and five times she is left with the image of a smug smirk on her boyfriend's face. He wasn't sorry. He meant to do it. Lucas has never mentioned the incident to her once. When she had asked him about the pranks he had denied any responsibility for them. Has he lied? Why hasn't he told her about such a horrible event as the trip? For that matter, why hasn't House, or Wilson?

The oncologist's voice from the other day sounds in her mind: House hasn't complained or allowed me to do so because he doesn't want to hurt you or create even more distance between the two of you than that you've created!...You have been so cut off from your friends lately…Lucas isn't going to tell you the truth about anything because he is conning you, lady….Even staff here that have no use for House know what a low-life jerk your boyfriend really is!

Closing her eyes the Dean of Medicine moans a little and begins to rub her temples; she feels a major headache coming on. She doesn't know who or what to believe anymore. The last thing she wants is for it to be true that Lucas has been doing the things Wilson and House have been saying he has. It's so much easier to believe that all of this is nothing more than coincidence and House is only using his illness to manipulate her and get Lucas into trouble for nothing. What is the truth, though? She knows Wilson pretty well and she knows that he is loyal to House above anyone else, but she also knows that he would never lie about something so serious just because House wanted him to.

Lucas had looked smug and unrepentant or even the slightest bit concerned about tripping a cripple.

Sighing, Cuddy reaches over and picks up the phone, dialing Lucas' cell number. It rings and rings and after the fifth ring she expects it to switch her to his voicemail but it is picked up just on time.

"Hey, Babe!" the private detective answers after seeing the hospital number come up on his caller display.

"Hi," she responds less than enthusiastically. "What are you doing right now?"

"Well," he answers, "Rach and I are about to have lunch."

Cuddy perks up at hearing that. "You're home right now?"

"Yeah," Lucas replies. "I sent the babysitter home because I'm done for the day so I can spend some quality time with Rachel. Why?"

"I need to talk to you about something," she informs him, "or rather, I have to ask you a couple of questions."

"Fire away!" Lucas tells her enthusiastically. "Let me guess—you want to know what I'm wearing, right?"

Cuddy sighs silently. "Lucas, was there an incident in the hospital Cafeteria between you and House approximately two months ago?"

"Why are you asking me about something that happened months ago, Lise?"

"So, something did happen?" she presses, biting her lip.

There is a pause before the P.I. answers her, "Yeah, yeah…it was nothing really. You know how I sit…my legs sprawled out everywhere? Well, I was having lunch and I guess I had my foot out too far into the aisle when House and Wilson were passing and House tripped on it. It was no big deal, Babe. It was an accident and House was cool with it. I was worried that He might have hurt himself, but he was okay. I can't tell you how relieved I was! Why do you ask? Did either House or Wilson mention it to you?"

Cuddy suddenly feels sick to her stomach as well as headachy but she keeps her voice and words upbeat. "Oh, it's just a rumor on the grapevine that I caught wind of…I just thought I'd rather get the truth from you than listen to a bunch of rumors. I'm just curious as to why you didn't tell me about it right after it happened."

"Are you sure I didn't?" Lucas asked dubiously. "I thought I had…hmm. Well, like I said, it wasn't a big deal. House was really good about it and nobody was hurt…he didn't even mention anything about it when he went on that insurance fraud stakeout with me, remember that?"

Cuddy scowls. She remembers. She remembers how House was willing to help Lucas out by visually diagnosing a suspected fraudster in spite of the tension that has existed since the diagnostician found out about her and Lucas. House was willing to help out his romantic rival even after he was tripped by him. He was tripped by someone who didn't appear the slightest bit worried or sorry for the 'accident' immediately after it had occurred. Oh yes…she understands completely.

Before she can say anything else to Lucas she hears the doorbell ring in the distance.

"Hold on a minute, will ya, Lise? Someone's at the door." Listening carefully the Dean of Medicine hears movement as Lucas heads towards the door to answer it. The door knob turns as he opens the door.

"Are you Mr. Lucas Douglas?" an officious sounding voice asks.

"Uh, yes, I—I am," she hears Lucas confirm. He sounds a little caught off guard or even a little bit nervous.

She hears the door swing open and hit the door stop and a bunch of feet can be heard crossing the threshold of her house.

"Mr. Douglas, I'm Detective Cramer of the Mercer County Sheriff's Department. We have a search warrant to search these premises including the garage, its contents, the yard and your vehicle."

"Hey!" Lucas cries out angrily, sounding genuinely dismayed with what is happening. "You can't just come barging in here like this and start going through everything like you are! This isn't even my place! It belongs to my girlfriend…."

"We have proven probable cause to the judge, sir and he granted this search warrant," she hears the detective tell him. "Things will go much easier if you cooperate with these officers."

"Lucas!" Cuddy nearly yells into the phone, completely shocked by what she is hearing. "Lucas?"

Her boyfriend comes back on the line. "Lisa, you are not going to believe this! The cops are here with a warrant to search the entire place including my car! They're looking for evidence related to the possible intentional poisoning of...of House and Wilson?! Lisa, what the hell is going on? Wilson's sick too? What the hell—?"

"Lucas, listen to me," she says to him, trying to keep him calm and focused. "If they have a warrant there's nothing you can do to stop them! Just cooperate! I'm coming home right now, okay?"

"You see what I mean, Lisa?" Lucas screeches angrily. "That goddamned son of a bitch is doing it again! House is trying to break us up by accusing me of trying to poison Wilson and him!"

"Well if you hadn't pranked them and caused so much damage at the loft they wouldn't have a foot to stand on!" Cuddy retorts angrily. "What, did you forget what the truth was when I asked you about that, too?"

Lucas sounds stunned when he says, "Lisa, what…how? Who told you--?"

"Shut up, Lucas!" the Dean of Medicine snarls in disgust and anger. "Just make sure you're there and Rachel is okay when I get there!" She hangs up the phone hard. She isn't surprised about the search—she had suspected it might happen from what the police had told her earlier. She is furious at his lies. She isn't certain who to believe or what exactly is going on, but there had to have been something the police and the judge thought was enough reason to issue the search warrant. A huge part of her wants to believe that this is all a big misunderstanding, but a terrible sinking feeling in her belly tells her that it probably isn't. She nearly leaps out of her seat, grabs her jacket and purse and heads out of her office. As she passes by she tells her assistant that she has to leave, there's an emergency, and she may not be coming back again today. She flies through the Clinic, looking a tad bit like a whirling dervish; she is in her car and on the road less than five minutes later.

* * *

It's the sensation of a hand on my shoulder shaking me slightly that wakes me. At first I am disoriented, a state of mind I have become familiar with lately. I see the faces of both Chase and Wilson staring at me with huge, stupid-looking grins on their faces; they look like simpletons, really. As my mind clears, it occurs to me that there might be a reason why they appear to be so elated. That's when I wonder just how long it has been that I've been sleeping.

"You two look like virgin nerds peeping in the window of a sorority house," I tell them hoarsely. I blink a few times to rid my vision of blurriness to no avail; I am frustrated with the knowledge that I am going to be having neurological side-effects like this for possibly months after I get out of the hospital. "What's going on?"

Wilson continues to grin as Chase brings a laptop into view and sets it in front of me. The screen displays a video news report from an online news source paused. I look at my best friend and my employee suspiciously. The latter nerd clicks on the play button on the screen and the video clip begins to play. It's from a local news report, and there are shots of police escorting what looks like a man out of a patrol car in into the back door of some concrete block building. I lean forward and squint; I can just make out the face of the man in custody. Lucas…. A smile slowly appears on my lips and grows wider and wider as the female reporter's voice details how he has been arrested in the poisoning 'of two Princeton area doctors'. The camera shifts to the face of another man who has to be a lawyer who keeps telling the camera 'no comment' as he follows Lucas and his keepers into the back door of the sheriff's department's station to be booked and await arraignment. The video clip ends and Chase removes the laptop again.

"When?" I ask, looking from one grinning face to the other and quickly losing the smile—I don't want to look like an idiot too.

"This morning," Wilson tells me, looking smug and self-satisfied. "The police searched Cuddy's place and Lucas' car yesterday afternoon and by midnight they had enough of the evidence from what they collected to issue an arrest warrant."

"Mission accomplished!" Chase said, beaming.

I have to admit that I'm impressed with the scam they managed to pass off but there is no way I'm ever going to let them know exactly how much.

"How the hell long did I sleep for?" I demand.

"About eighteen hours, on and off," Chase tells me. "You'd kind of wake up for a few minutes, long enough to harass the nurses about one thing or another and then you'd go back to sleep. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure that you actually woke up completely each time."

"Don't worry," Wilson cuts in, dead-panning it. "I had a talk with Nurse Thelma and she's not going to go ahead with the groping charges after all."

I look at him incredulously, uncertain whether or not he's telling me the truth. Wilson catches my unspoken question and nods in response.

"Is she the one with a bit of junk in the trunk in all the right places?" I question, trying to remember which nurse they are referring to.

"Oh yeah," both of them say almost simultaneously, nodding, a look of appreciation on their faces.

"Damn!" I mutter, wishing that I could remember that. After all, if I actually reached out and helped myself to a handful I'd at least like to remember it! "Stupid short-term memory loss!"

Chase laughs and then reminds Wilson to get back to bed before somebody begins to suspect something. Wilson nods, smiling. Chase makes his leave of us and Wilson remains in the chair next to my bed. I can't fully enjoy the sight of Lucas in handcuffs without remembering that Lisa is now alone and hurting. Trying hard not to be too troubled by that—after all, she did make her own choices—Wilson notices how serious I have become and his smile fades.

"She's doing okay," my best friend tells me consolingly. "I think she was coming around to the truth before her place was searched, by some of the comments she's made. It'll take her time."

I nod somberly. I understand all about feelings taking time to work through, especially hurt ones. As much as I want to forgive her completely for the way she refused to believe in me and give me a chance, and for the way she allowed me to be humiliated time and again by her boytoy, I'm not certain that I can…at least right now, anyway. Her complete lack of faith in me hurt—it still does, and I'm not certain I can trust her completely again. We both need time, and what comes after that between us, if anything at all, I just don't know. For right now, I have to focus on my recovery, both physically and psychologically. At least I can find hope in the fact that I have Wilson—and maybe even Chase—to lean on until I don't need to anymore.

A thought occurs to me. "Did anybody call Nolan and tell him what happened or is he going to be one pissed off shrink because I haven't been calling him?"

For a few moments Wilson gives me this look of complete shock and he really has me going when a cocky half-smile breaks out on his face and all I want to do is smack it off.

"He says get well soon," the oncologist tells me smugly.

"Jerk!" I snarl, but deep down I want to smile. I can't do that…it will completely compromise my reputation—and that I simply can't have happen.

1 SSRI: selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, a class of antidepressant medications; amitriptyline is thought to relieve itching and burning by blocking fast sodium channels (think conduction of nerve impulses) activated by Ciguatoxin.

2 According to an Australian friend of mine, a Shiela is a somewhat flirtateous woman similar to our term "chick". When asked why that name is used he told me he hadn't a clue. So there is absolutely no intent on my part to offend anyone. If any Australians out there read this and his definition given to me is inaccurate, feel free to comment and correct me since I'm Canadian and we don't use that term here!