017. Brown
The Ring
House stared at the door to the storage compartment with a mixed expression on his face. He limped slowly over and pulled out a single key, unlocking the door and shoving the key back into his pocket. He pushed the door open and stood in the threshold, wondering if he really wanted to do this. Inside the darkened storage room lay his life…or at least his life before the infarction. Before she had moved out and left him, Stacy had made one last kind gesture and had everything that might have reminded him of what he'd lost moved to this storage place. His rowing scull, his golf clubs, his tennis gear, his lacrosse equipment, his running gear, his skis, everything. She left the key with a note on his piano for him to find when he'd finally returned home.
He'd added some things over the years; he remembered spending three days almost tearing his apartment to pieces after the infarction. Stacy had stored away the more obvious reminders of what he'd lost. What he'd done was remove all of the more subtle ones. He'd packed away travel books, photos, trophies, certificates; anything that might remind him of his former life and of Stacy.
But here he was now, standing in front of his past and about to venture inside. Because he wanted something that he was fairly sure lay inside this room. He was looking for a ring; a plain gold band that had belonged to his grandfather. He'd inherited it when the old man had died, along with a welter of books. And he was sure that he'd thrown it along with a number of other things into a box on that third frenetic day of packing before he'd been stopped by Wilson. By that stage he'd been almost hysterical, careering around the apartment on the crutches he'd still been using and almost sobbing with pain. He'd hardly been in a state to notice what he was doing.
But he wanted that ring now. He wanted that ring so that he could give it to Wilson. Three months ago, shortly after his divorce from Julie, Wilson had turned up in his office at the end of the day and without a word had closed the blinds and locked the doors. He'd then stalked over to where House had been slouched in his chair in the corner and in one very smooth and swift moved kissed him. Claimed him might be a better way of putting it and House hadn't minded being claimed. And somehow in the past three months they'd gone from friends to lovers and House wasn't complaining one bit. Well, actually he was complaining a lot but he didn't mean it and Wilson knew it.
Lately however Wilson had been looking a little uncertain and House had finally managed to lever the truth out of him the previous day. Wilson knew what he wanted; he wanted House, now, forever, for the rest of their lives. But he was uncertain of what House wanted and House had been unable to summon up the words. In truth he didn't know whether he'd ever be able to put it in words.
Hence the reason he was standing in the doorway of this dark storage room. He might not be able to put it in words but he was fairly sure Wilson would be able to get the gist of the message if he presented him with his grandfather's ring.
House sighed and flicked the light switch, squinting in the sudden brightness. He flinched a little as his gaze ran over all of the things he could no longer use. He knew he should probably sell them or give them to Goodwill but some part of him couldn't let go of all of these things. Couldn't let go of his past. He saw what he was looking for in the far corner of the room. A jumble of boxes that had been almost tossed in there then left where they landed. He limped over to the boxes and slowly, laboriously lowered himself to the ground. He placed his cane on the floor where it lay half in, half out of the beam of light creeping in through the gap at the bottom of the large roller door at this end of the storage room. He pulled the first of the boxes towards him and started rummaging through it.
Half an hour and four boxes later he found what he was looking for. The box was probably that last one he'd filled that day and he could see the small jeweller's box lying about halfway down in the stuff that had been tossed haphazardly inside. He reached in and shoved his hand through the junk, not having the patience to pull everything out. As he closed his hand around the jeweller's box, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in the back of his hand. He let out an oath and pulled his hand and the box out. On the back of his hand were three long but shallow gashes that were welling blood as he watched. He swore again and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping it around his hand as best as he could. He then peered into the box and saw blood on what looked like shards of a mirror. He grimaced briefly; it probably was a mirror. He vaguely remembered throwing at least one into the box and laughing hysterically at the sound it made as it shattered.
House shoved the box back towards the others then tucked the jeweller's box into his jacket pocket. He grabbed his cane and hauled himself to his feet again with a grunt of pain. He limped towards the door through which he had entered, not looking back once, and locked it firmly behind him.
He had just arrived back at the hospital when his head started to throb. He scowled as he parked his car and climbed out. When he stood, the headache was joined by a bout of nausea and he started to feel rather weak. He swallowed hard against the nausea and determinedly limped into the hospital. If he was going to collapse he was going to do so in his own office and not in a public car park. However by the time he got to his office, he wasn't sure he cared anymore. The headache, nausea and weakness had been joined by double vision, shortness of breath and what he was sure was photophobia.
He staggered into his office and collapsed into his armchair, letting his cane fall to the floor with a clatter as he threw one arm over his face. He didn't hear the door to the conference room open and Cameron come in. He only knew she was there when she crouched down beside him and briefly touched his arm.
"Dr House? Are you alright?" she asked carefully.
"No," he grunted as his stomach roiled. "Get Wilson."
Cameron hesitated for a moment then stood and hurried out of the office. She was back in a couple of minutes with Wilson and he crouched down beside the armchair where Cameron had been.
"House, what's wrong?" he asked softly.
House was silent for a moment as he battled the urge to vomit.
"Headache, nausea, feel weak," he said shortly.
"Anything else?" Wilson prompted as Cameron hovered behind him and Foreman and Chase came to the door from the conference room.
House lowered his arm and squinted at his lover.
"There's two of you…lucky me," he grunted. "Was having a bit of trouble breathing there for a while and the light's are too bright." He paused momentarily. "And I have a nasty suspicion I'm going to throw up at any moment."
"When did this start?" Wilson asked, looking worried.
"Just now," House replied, swallowing hard again. "Definitely going to throw up soon. Are you wearing those French shoes?"
"Get a basin," Wilson barked at Cameron then he looked over at Chase and Foreman. "And turn off the lights and draw the blinds."
The three young doctors leapt into action and in short order the room was dark and closed off and a basin had been placed on the floor next to Wilson. House's team were now standing next to the desk and Wilson looked over at them.
"Wait outside please," he said firmly. "I'll call for you if I need you."
They hesitated for a moment then reluctantly trooped out into the conference room.
"Thanks," House whispered. "Going to offer those French shoes or do I have to use that basin?"
Wilson grabbed for the basin and held while House vomited. The older man collapsed back into the chair once he was finished and lay there. Wilson placed the basin to one side and gave House a small shake.
"Have you been feeling sick lately?" he asked urgently. "And where have you just been?"
"Been feeling fine," House replied weakly. "I went to the storage place. Had to get something."
"What?" Wilson asked curiously. He couldn't remember the last time House had ventured out there nor did he think there was anything in that place that might cause House to get sick so quickly.
House fumbled at his pocket until Wilson batted his hand aside and reached in inside.
"'S for you," House said listlessly, his eyes closing again.
Wilson stared at the jeweller's box he'd pulled out of House's pocket then shoved it into his own. He could deal with whatever it was later, right now he had something more important to take care of.
"Did you have anything to eat or drink this morning?" he asked.
"Jus' breakfast," House replied, his voice almost a slur. "You saw tha'."
"Nothing else?" Wilson pressed.
"Coffee…here," House replied.
Wilson dismissed the coffee and what House had eaten for breakfast. He'd had the same thing for breakfast and House's team had been drinking the coffee. He saw the handkerchief wrapped around House's hand and frowned, wondering how he'd missed that.
"What did you do to your hand?" he asked sharply.
"Cut it on a broken mirror," House replied. "'S not too bad."
Wilson gently unwrapped the handkerchief and eyed the cuts. House was right. They weren't too deep, more scrapes than cuts. He almost considered tetanus except every doctor in the hospital kept up their tetanus shots up to date and he knew House was no exception.
"I'm going to have you admitted," he said quietly. At House's grimace his voice firmed, "No, don't argue. You're sick, Greg. And I don't know what's wrong. You need to be admitted in case this gets worse and I'm going to let your team know what's going on. I think they're going to be the best people to solve this."
House was silent for a moment then he winced as another wave of nausea rolled over him.
"Fine," he whispered. "Just you and them. No one else."
Wilson nodded then stood and went next door into the conference room. He told the three doctors what was wrong and things started to get rolling. In fairly short order they had House in a private room and, after a short discussion, Foreman took a history. He was actually a little surprised that House was so open about answering his questions given his usual habit of evading personal questions with sarcasm and pithy comments until he saw Wilson was holding House's hand and giving it a warning squeeze every time House hesitated. He, Chase and Cameron had speculated for the last several weeks that something was going on between Wilson and House and now, in the worst possible circumstances, he had his confirmation. Once he'd finished the history Foreman left the room heading for the conference room and his colleagues while making a mental note to ride House about that once he was better.
Once he got to the conference room he wrote House's symptoms up on the board and they started on oddly diminished round of wheel of diagnostics.
"From the sudden onset and the symptoms I'd say he was poisoned by something," Chase said with a frown.
"Yeah but what?" Foreman asked. "The only place he's been other than home, his car and here is that storage place."
"A spider?" Cameron suggested.
"He doesn't remember getting bitten by anything," Foreman replied. "And there were no signs of bites on his hands."
"Could he have been bitten somewhere else?" Chase asked.
"Dr Wilson was going to check but it's not very likely," Foreman said. "He was sticking his hands into boxes so if anything was going to bite him that would be the location."
"It can't be the coffee because we all had some this morning," Cameron mused, thinking out loud. "What about what he ate for breakfast?"
"Dr Wilson had the same thing and he's not sick," Foreman said, shooting that idea down.
"He was in his office all morning before going out," Chase added then he shook his head. "It has to be something at the storage place. It's the only unusual place he's been."
Foreman's lips quirked for a brief moment. "I'll go and take a look. There's a certain amount of poetic justice in breaking into someplace that belongs to House."
"I'm sure he has a key," Cameron chided.
"Hey, he never lets us get a key when he makes us break into patient's homes," Foreman said with very unconvincing innocence. "Why change that now?"
"I'll come with you," Cameron said with a mix of resignation and curiousity. "Didn't you once say you should always have a white chick with you when you break into someone's house?"
"It's not a house," Chase said with a roll of his eyes. "And how come I get left behind on this one?"
"Because you're the intensivist," Foreman replied. "He's more likely to need your help than ours. Besides someone has to wait for the test results."
"Fine," Chase said, crossing his arms. "Just hurry up."
Foreman and Cameron exchanged amused looks and hurried out of the room. Chase leaned back in his chair and grumbled under his breath as he watched them go.
Cameron grinned at Foreman as she unlocked the door to House's storage space and pushed the door open. Foreman shook his head at her with a disgruntled expression though amusement lingered underneath.
"Can't believe he fell for that," Foreman muttered.
"He's nineteen and…awkward," Cameron replied, still grinning.
They'd left the hospital only to realise that they didn't know where they were supposed to be going. A call to Chase had gotten the name of the place and a message to be careful from Dr Wilson. They were both smart enough to know the multiple meanings in that last admonition.
"Hope his boss doesn't find out that you seduced the key out of him," Foreman replied as he reached around Cameron to turn on the light.
"I didn't seduce him," she said indignantly. "I just…cajoled him."
"Whatever," Foreman replied with a teasing grin.
They walked into the storage area and looked around with surprise and dawning realisation at the plethora of sporting equipment.
"Why didn't he throw it away?" Cameron asked quietly.
Foreman shrugged, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I didn't even know he'd played this many sports. Damn! No wonder he's so bitter."
"He lost so much," Cameron replied soberly.
They stared at the contents for several more minutes before Foreman gave himself a shake.
"Come on," he said abruptly. "We're supposed to be looking for a spider."
Cameron nodded and the two of them began to search the area, giving occasional glances to the stored past of their boss.
Chase stared down at the test results and frowned. Everything was pointing towards some kind of poisoning but they just couldn't identify what kind of poisoning and House was steadily getting worse. He'd had bouts of tachycardia, his gums were bleeding, his breathing difficulties had worsened and there were signs of cyanosis. And fifteen minutes ago he'd had a small seizure.
He tossed the results down on the table in the conference room and started pacing, occasionally stopping to stare at the symptoms written on the whiteboard. Suddenly his pager went off and after a quick look, he took off for House's room. He came to find Wilson and a couple of nurses performing CPR.
"Get a crash cart!" Wilson yelled.
Chase turned and was nearly run over by another nurse bringing in a defibrillator. The next several minutes were filled with frantic activity and at the end of it House was alive but they'd made a decision to put him on a respirator and shift him to the ICU
"What happened?" Chase said once things had calmed down and House had been moved.
"Nose bleed," Wilson said shortly. "Then he started having difficulty breathing, said he couldn't actually draw breath. Then he went into cardiac arrest."
Something in this recitation along with the previous symptoms tweaked at something in Chase's mind and he frowned.
"He couldn't draw breath?" he asked intently.
"Yes," Wilson replied. "I saw it, his chest wasn't moving."
"Diaphragmatic paralysis," Chase said as enlightenment dawned. "He has been poisoned."
"By what?" Wilson demanded. "And how do you know?"
"I think he's been bitten by a Brown snake," Chase said. "The symptoms all fit. What I don't know is how he managed to do that. Brown snakes are native to Australia. They're generally not found in New Jersey."
Chase walked over to the phone and dialled Foreman's cell phone.
"Foreman, it's Chase," he said sharply. "You're not looking for a spider. You're looking for a snake. It'll probably be brown in colour and possibly around three feet or so in length. Don't try and catch it. It'll be pretty fast-moving and could be aggressive. Call the Humane Society and tell them to be careful. It's extremely poisonous."
He hung up the phone and started for the door.
"Are you sure about this?" Wilson asked, catching his arm.
Chase nodded. "As sure as I can be. I've never seen a case myself but I've heard of what they're like and this matches."
"Is there an antivenin?"
Chase nodded again. "Yes but we're not likely to have it. I'm going to have to make some calls. The zoo should have it. Try and find where it bit him. It won't be obvious; Brown snakes don't have very large fangs."
Wilson let him go and watched as Chase strode out of the room. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment then went over and sat next to the bed again.
"Dammit, Greg, you would manage to get bitten by a snake that's not even native to America," he murmured.
He then frowned and picked up the hand that House had injured. He gently peeled the bandage back and closely examined it. There didn't seem to be any signs of a bite mark but if what Chase said was true then it could easily have been obscured by the scrapes. He carefully replaced the bandaged and held onto House's hand as he waited for Chase to return.
He shifted on the seat and felt something shift against his side. That reminded him of the box he'd placed in there earlier, the one House had gone after. He placed House's hand back on the bed and pulled the small box out of his pocket, turning it over a few times as he stared at it. He carefully opened the box and his jaw dropped. It was a ring; a plain gold ring that looked very old. And House had said it was for him. He swallowed hard as tears welled in his eyes. He knew what this meant. It meant House did feel the same way about him as he did about House. He didn't know how to say it but he could and was showing it.
The small box shook in his hand as he looked between it and the unconscious man on the bed then in a swift movement he pulled the ring out of the box and tried it on his left ring finger. It was only a fraction loose; enough that he'd eventually want to get it refitted but not enough that it was likely to fall off. He looked down at the gold band on his finger and smiled wryly. He'd never worn a wedding ring for any of his wives and yet he was willing to wear this ring. Probably said a lot of things about him that he didn't want to consider right now. He snorted then tucked the empty box back into his pocket before picking up House's hand again and waiting.
It was an excruciatingly long hour before Chase returned with Foreman and Cameron in tow. An hour where House's vitals slowly got worse though at least he did not have another cardiac arrest. And an hour in which the nurses had given him increasingly curious and then slightly amused and oddly triumphant looks. Chase held up a small bottle of clear liquid as he walked in.
"Got it," he said with relief. "Thankfully the local zoo had some otherwise we'd have had to get some sent in from the Bronx Zoo. We need to give him antihistamines first."
"Why?" Wilson asked as Cameron began doing that.
"The antivenin is equine-derived," Chase explained as he set up the IV for delivery. "There's a risk of anaphylaxis. He'll need to stay on the antihistamines for about five days."
"Are there likely to be any long term effects?" Wilson asked.
"Probably not," Chase replied. "Though we'll need to watch out for secondary infections and serum sickness."
"Did you find the snake?" Wilson directed this question to Foreman and Cameron.
They nodded.
"It was in one of the boxes," Cameron said with a shudder. "It must have bitten him when he put his hand in it."
"Turns out the guy who owns the storage space three down keeps exotic reptiles and spiders," Foreman said dryly. "Unfortunately he keeps them illegally and doesn't really know what he's doing. The snake that bit House wasn't the only escapee; it was just the most dangerous. The Humane Society is going to be there for hours going through all the storage areas until they track everything down."
"I just don't understand how he didn't know he'd been bitten?" Cameron said, looking at House worriedly.
Chase shrugged. "They don't have very long fangs and often don't leave much of a mark. But you're right; he should have felt it at least."
"Not if he scraped his hand against some mirror shards at the same time," Wilson pointed out, gesturing to House's bandaged hand.
"There was a broken mirror in the box the snake was in," Foreman said in agreement. "Yeah, that would have distracted anyone."
"And hidden the puncture wound if there was one visible," Chase added, frowning a little as the gesture Wilson had made brought the ring to his attention.
"So now we wait," Wilson said heavily. "Will he need another dose of the antivenin?"
"We'll wait and see," Chase replied.
"When are you going to spring me out of here?" House said crankily as Wilson walked into the hospital room.
"When Chase gives you the all clear," Wilson said calmly, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. The ring gleamed on his left hand.
"Just because it was an Australian snake doesn't mean I have to wait for the little wombat to decide I'm better," House groused.
"He knows more about it than any of us," Wilson replied. "And you're lucky he did."
"Foreman and Cameron would have found it," House said with a wave of his hand. "And don't think I don't know how they found out where I'd been."
"Then one of them might have been bitten as well and it would have taken time to identify the snake," Wilson said, ignoring the second part.
"I feel fine," House whined. "And I'm bored."
Wilson pointedly didn't look at the many books and journals littering the floor of the room as well as the Gameboy and the iPod on the table. Nor did he look at the TV which was on with the sound down.
"Well, we can't have that," was all he said in the blandest of tones.
"You're wearing it," House said, in a sudden shift of subject.
Wilson wasn't lost at this comment since he'd been waiting for House to make some kind of observation.
"Yes, I am," he said with a smile. "You did say it was for me."
House looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, yeah. Wasn't sure you'd actually wear it though. Makes a change."
Wilson rolled his eyes at the dig at his marriages. "I wanted to wear it."
House was silent for a moment. "Good."
"Though next time you want to give me something as significant as this," Wilson said, holding up the hand with the ring, "could you try to leave out the near death experience? I think we've both had enough of you having those."