Robert came back in, with a lot of things stacked in a plastic box on wheels -- oh! That was a little hospital crib! They were going to put his baby in that!
Clark bent and looked at him -- it was easier now that he knew exactly where he was. Man, he was so cute! And tiny. "Is he supposed to be that tiny?" Clark hoarsely asked the doctors, before another wave of nausea took him.
Allison held the bowl for him and stroked back his hair. Clark saw her exchanging glances with Robert and James. As soon as he was mostly done retching, she said, "We don't know, Clark. This has never happened before. You have to prepare yourself for the possibility..." She couldn't finish.
"You mean he might die." He remembered that horrible summer years before -- Lex's second wedding, the explosion that killed Mom's baby -- all his fault. "Oh, God," he croaked, and felt sick in a way that didn't help at all. He looked at the baby again.
"Don't worry." Robert was quickly and competently setting up all kinds of things on the other side of the room. "I've done a lot of work in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I'll take very good care of him," he promised.
"You're in good hands, Clark," Allison said, patting him on the shoulder. He felt somewhat reassured, but still --
"Where's Lex?" he whispered.
"I'll go look for him," James offered, getting up from his place at the side of Clark's bed.
Allison stopped him. She spoke very quietly, and Clark's hearing had been dwindling for almost a month, but it was still good enough to pick up her words. "You've delivered way more babies than I have. I'll go."
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When Mercy stopped just outside the door, Lex stopped, too. Mercy was still smiling. She'd enjoyed seeing Dr. House reduced to playground taunts just as much as he had.
It was almost like old times.
Lex let himself enjoy it for one small moment. Then he turned his attentions back to the present.
"I assume you heard..." he began.
"Alien baby," Mercy finished for him, quietly.
He nodded once, too tired to panic. He took a deep breath. "So," he went on, "Clark may live through this."
"I hope he does," she said calmly.
"And," he went on, "there may... or may not..." He had to stop. It was too hard. His chest hurt, and all the fun of taunting House had evaporated.
"I'll handle it."
He looked at her, wide-eyed. What?
She smiled at him, just for a second; then she was as blank and as lethal as always. The weapons-grade heels she wore always put her eyes exactly one inch lower than his. It was familiar and comforting in this latest bizarre world.
"I'll get a nursery set up, and supplies laid in. If things don't work out, you'll never even have to see it."
Lex let his head hang down. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Hey." She touched him on the cheek. He looked up at her, and she smiled. "It's my job to take care of you."
Dr. Cameron came out into the hallway. "Mr. Luthor? Clark's asking for you."
Lex went in, and Mercy took out her phone.
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So, Cuddy wasn't around to torment. House went back to Diagnostics to look for his Gameboy. There was nobody there. He looked around to be sure, then got out his Pokemon game.
All alone, all alone -- maybe it was just coincidence that Cuddy suddenly decided to go on vacation right when Foreman got bounced from the premises.
Pikachu stood forgotten in the tall grass as House's attention wandered from the game.
Maybe Foreman had taken a leaf from Cameron's playbook. Maybe he'd made demands -- bargained with the woman who had the power to put him in charge of Diagnostics if she wanted. Maybe he'd told Cuddy he'd only oblige Luthor with his absence if she'd come along with him. Cuddy's fertility treatments made her hormonal. Foreman was a handsome man, forceful, ambitious -- some women went for that type. At least, they always did on the soaps.
Why wasn't anybody around? He needed to tell somebody about this. He wanted to hear the kids' guesses, and talk things over with Wilson. Stupid alien pheromones. Yes, the diagnostic process had been kind of interesting, and Luthor's donations should put him in Cuddy's good graces for a while (unless this whole Foreman thing set Hell's foundations a-quivering -- just because 613 turned out to be a loser, that didn't mean she had to give up on the bottled stuff entirely and switch over to draft -- especially not with Foreman!)
House switched off his Gameboy and tossed it in a desk drawer. He was convinced that the pregnant alien was putting out some sort of signal, chemical or maybe sonic or even electromagnetic, which made his team behave as they'd been behaving. Probably that was how it had snagged Luthor originally, when it had been badly injured at the Super Bowl. It would be a valuable survival technique -- kittens did it all the time -- I'm cute and harmless! Love me! Take care of me!
House didn't want to go back to Kent's room.
Everybody he wanted to talk to about Cuddy and Foreman was there for the duration, though. (if only he could remember why it was that Foreman's mom was living in a long-term nursing facility! Alzheimer's meant he was probably fine, but if it was just some sort of traumatic brain injury...)
House grabbed his cane and headed back to Clark's room.