"Puppet Master"
Chapter Seven-"Casting the Parts"
By: Purpleu
House let out a deep sigh. This most certainly was one of the more complicated cases he ever had to deal with. It wasn't just the medicine; he'd dealt with worse in the past. It was the combination of elements being presented: the medicine, the stress of Malcolm Hunter breathing down his neck and his total disgust with the way Hunter treated his son. House knew he was breaking his own rule: don't make it personal. For some reason, House couldn't help but see the similarities between his father and Hunter. Both were Alpha-Males who drove the women in their lives into the arms of other men. They needed the illusion of a happy family to enhance their professional images, so they had a child; but when that child turned out to be a disappointment or less than perfect, they had no problem abusing and emotionally abandoning them or worse in Hunter's case. He's willing to use his own son as a pawn, endangering his welfare just to get to me, thought House. And they call me an ass.
As he made his way down the hall to his office, House went over what was left to do tonight; since Tyler's having a seizure was delaying an EEG, the only other thing would be to finish copying the files that Davidson had snagged from Hunter's office and get them back before anyone knew they were gone. House had to admire what Davidson was doing: putting his own butt on the line to help Jeanne Hunter with her son. But, then again, love can make you do crazy things. After Davidson leaves with the files, House figured he might as well call Lydia and see how things were going with the movers. He vaguely recalled her saying something about a problem when he spoke to her earlier, but couldn't remember what the problem was. He pulled his cell phone out and leaned against the wall in the hallway. He saw that he had a text message from Lydia, sent about ten minutes ago. Good, thought House, maybe we can grab something to eat. He shook his head as he opened the message; he had never imagined drawing so much pleasure from something as simple as having dinner with his girlfriend. House was in a decent mood, all things considered; that changed as soon as he saw the text.
"Sorry I interrupted you earlier. Sounds like things are pretty intense over there. You will probably be late. I am going to my friend's house to stay. I really could use some company after what happened today. Call me when you get home and we can talk. I love you."
When House finished reading the message, he looked up and down the hall in disbelief. Why was she going to her friend's house? Why wasn't she waiting to talk to him? She could at least tell him what was going on. For just a moment, House was about to feel annoyed; then he realized that she had tried to tell him what was wrong, but he was too absorbed in the case to have paid attention to what she was saying. House hung his head down as images from the time he spent in the medical coma flashed through his head: Cuddy accusing him of not being there for her when she needed him, accusing him of thinking only of himself. Then he remembered saying that loving her made him a worse doctor, but that he would always choose her. House knew that was an insane thing to say; he would never choose anyone over solving a case, not even Lydia. House smiled; the great thing was that Lydia would never make him choose. She understood that solving medical mysteries is what he was all about and would graciously step aside and let him do his thing; but you can't expect a person to be willing to take second place in your life on a regular basis. As much as he loved Stacy, that was exactly how he drove her away; House was not about to let history repeat itself. He looked at his phone and pushed Lydia's speed dial setting.
"Hi! I didn't think I would be hearing from you so soon," Lydia said as she answered the call.
"Well, when a guy gets a message that his girlfriend is abandoning him for the night, it usually prompts an immediate response. Or at least it should."
"I'm not abandoning you," Lydia said with a hurt tone in her voice, "It's just that I didn't want you to feel that you had to rush home because I was waiting there. I know that this case is even more important than usual and I didn't want to take your attention away from what was going on there. The call I made to you earlier obviously came at a bad time." House was hesitant to say anything for fear of hurting Lydia's feelings, but he wanted to try and be honest, something he wasn't entirely used to.
"Yeah, you had really bad timing earlier. The kid's mother wanted to go and get a restraining order against Hunter which would have tipped our hand. I had to make sure that she was convinced otherwise." House took a deep breath. "That doesn't excuse the fact that I could tell that you were upset and should have called back sooner. I have blinders on when it comes to a case. It's been me, medicine and I for a long while now and there's a very short list I consider when prioritizing the things in my life. As much as I want to tell you that you'll always be number one on the list, the truth is you won't be." House squeezed his eyes shut as he said the next words. "I can't even say you'll be number two." There was silence from the other end of the phone. House opened his eyes and prepared himself for whatever reaction Lydia might have.
"I never expected to be number one in your life. When we talked back at Mayfield, and you told me about different cases you had worked on and how you figured them out, I knew where your passions lay. Your whole face, your whole manner, the way you held yourself, changed when you talked about your work. It…it was wonderful to see how much your work meant to you. I felt…special when you showed signs of that passion toward me and I don't mean just physically; you talked more and more about Annie and what could be wrong with her the more I talked about how upset I was over the situation. You turned that intensity toward something that mattered to me," Lydia said. "I was touched that you were willing to share that gift with me."
"I would have paid attention to Annie's case no matter what; there wasn't too much else to do in that place, other than watch paranoid guy hide from orbiting satellites," House said.
"You could have worked on Alvie's case or anyone else's. You chose to consider the mystery of Annie's case after getting to know me. It was the first time you let me in," said Lydia. "You looked at Annie's situation because you cared about me. You put me on your 'list'." House heard a little catch in her voice. "It was the first time any man had put me on their list. And it was then I knew I was falling in love with you." House closed his eyes and swallowed hard to hide his emotions; he was aware of people passing by in the hallway and didn't want anyone stopping to ask him if he was OK. Of course he was OK; he was loved by the most amazing woman in the world. He in return, was falling more and more in love with her as they put the pieces of their lives together. The whole thing scared the hell out of him; but as someone once said, if you want something you never had, you have to be willing to do something you've never done before. House cleared his throat before speaking.
"Where are you now?" he asked.
"I'm just a few blocks from your apartment," said Lydia. "When I saw it was you calling, I pulled over; I figured we would be talking for a while." House smiled.
"Yeah, we're never at a loss for words with each other. Look, I want to see you. I'm getting out of here in half an hour, an hour at most." House took a deep breath. "Please go back to my apartment and wait for me; I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Greg, you must be exhausted. You didn't get much sleep last night and the stress of dealing with this case has to be overwhelming. You probably want nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep."
"No, what I want is to lie back on my couch, wrap my arms around you and hear about your day. You were already a big part of my day earlier when you stopped by the hospital and helped with the case. It's my turn to be a part of yours."
"I didn't really do anything to help with the case. I just threw out a few thoughts and talked about some things I observed in the past," noted Lydia.
"Combine that with proper medical training and you have the makings of a differential diagnosis," House explained. "It's what I sometimes have to remind my team about. Don't just go by what you know from a textbook; apply what you know from life." Damn, House thought; here I am talking about medicine when I should be convincing Lydia to go back to my place. Idiot. "Forget about that stuff," House said quickly. "The car goes in more than one direction; put it in reverse and head back to my place. Please." Lydia was quiet for a moment.
"I can't," she finally said.
"Why not?"
"There's a car parked behind me. If I put my car in reverse, I'll hit it." House winced and shook his head as he laughed. She's a cuter version of me, he thought.
"Then employ all the driving skills you used to pass your road test many moons ago, get out of the parking spot and head over to my apartment. Have you eaten dinner?"
"Not exactly. Annie was here when things hit the fan and she insisted I eat something before she left. I had no appetite, but I knew if I didn't eat, I'd get a headache; more than the one I already had."
"What the hell happened?" asked House. Lydia sighed.
"I'll give you the details later, but basically…." House could hear her voice waver a bit. "Do you remember this morning when I listed the furniture that had to go into the storage facility, I mentioned my grandmother's rocker?" House thought for a moment.
"Honestly, no; but a lot has happened since then. The moving gorillas damaged it?"
"More like smashed it," Lydia said quietly. "It's sitting on your living room floor in about five or six pieces."
"What did they do, play moving van pong with it?" House began to pace back and forth in the hall, agitated and pissed. He was thinking that if it had just been chipped or scraped up, they could take it to a restoration expert, House would pay for it and look like a hero; maybe even make up for blowing her off earlier. But smashed into several pieces? That didn't hold much potential for him to swoop in and save the day.
"It's a long story. I'd rather tell you when I have a better supply of tissues handy. Have you eaten yet?" House let out a disgusted laugh.
"I never even got to touch the poison they ordered from the cafeteria. The last thing I've eaten today are the eggs and toast you made this morning. Amazingly, they have sustained me through now. By the time I get out of here, I will need something. You feel like pizza?" House asked.
"That would be fine," Lydia replied. "Any particular toppings or place I should get it from?" House thought for a moment.
"Yeah, there's a place called La Rosa's over on Clarkson Road. It's not far and their pizza's fantastic. As far as toppings, any kind of meat is fine."
"Sounds good. Should I go get it now?"
"Yeah; by the time they make it up and you get it to my place, I won't be too far behind you. There's not much more to do at this point, other than make a break for it," said House as he walked slowly toward his office.
"Fine; you plan your escape, I'll take care of the food and I'll see you at your place in about half an hour."
"Maybe forty-five minutes. It all depends on how much of a little old lady Wilson decides to be when driving."
"Do you want me to pick you up?" Lydia asked.
"Nah, I've got to make sure one thing in particular is done right; if it gets screwed up, we'll all be in a cell and not a padded one like I had at Mayfield. Besides, I don't think they allow conjugal visits at the local jail." Lydia laughed.
"In that case, go take care of things and I'll see you in a little while. I love you." House smiled.
"I love you, too,' he said quietly as he drew near his office. He ended the call and took a deep breath as he got back into a workplace mindset. Lydia didn't make him a worse doctor; she just made him more human. And when dealing with Malcolm Hunter, that was a sure way to failure. Steeling himself for what lay ahead, he walked into the conference room, ready for anything. He saw Wilson compiling and stapling piles of paper. Chase and Thirteen were very carefully taking small packs of paper from the main conference table and placing them into the portfolio that Jeffery Davidson had stolen from Hunter's office. Davidson was standing next to them with a pad of paper that appeared to contain a checklist of some sort; Davidson was making a mark on the pad each time a group of papers were put back into the portfolio. Jeanne Hunter was sitting in House's office looking exhausted and miserable. House wanted to have some kind of sympathy for her, but it was hard; she's the one who chose to marry Hunter. Looking at her as a mother though, he could muster up some kind feelings; he imagined how Lydia would feel if this was happening to one of her kids.
"Where do we stand with things?" House asked Wilson as he picked up one of the packets and began to read it over. Wilson shot House a look.
"Just when I begin to think that I couldn't hate Malcolm Hunter any more than I already do, I read another report or set of test results and it sickens me." Wilson said. "He knew that the doctors suspected cerebral palsy from the age of fifteen months when Tyler began to display signs of developmental delay. It was recommended that the child get PT, OT and speech therapy three times a week each; Tyler only received speech twice a week and PT once a week. The therapists' reports are all in here. They even come out and say that Hunter refused the recommended treatments for his son."
"Were these private therapists or through a doctor's referral?" House asked.
"Through their pediatrician. But, they also switched doctors right after receiving the reports."
"The truth was hidden by avoidance," said House. "Just like an addict goes from doctor to doctor, pharmacy to pharmacy to get the pills they need." House saw Wilson giving him a knowing look. "Yes, it's a subject I'm very familiar with, I'll admit it."
"You were familiar with," Wilson corrected. House nodded.
"True; But I think if I didn't have Lydia right now, I would be tumbling far down the slippery slope of Vicodin," House acknowledged. "My leg is killing me."
"Actual physical pain or psychosomatic from dealing with this?" Wilson asked as he gestured around the office.
"Probably a little bit of both. I know you don't want to hear about my romantic escapades with Lydia 'cause you're going to get really jealous and all that, but I was more physically active in the last twenty-four hours that I have been in the past year or so. As a matter of fact, I think the last time I did this much cardiovascular work was when Lydia and I used go for walks on the grounds at Mayfield. She'd visit with Annie for a while, talk with her, played the piano for her, and beg her to come back to the land of the living. I knew what she was doing was hopeless, that there had to be a trigger, a stimulus to release Annie from la-la land, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I couldn't tell her she'd probably lost her best friend forever. So, we'd take walks; I'd talk about medicine and music, she'd talk about music and how brilliant Annie was on the cello. Nothing too personal until we saw each other yesterday."
"And then the flood gates opened," noted Wilson. "Face it, you two fell in love back at Mayfield; it took until yesterday for life to get out of the way and let you be together." House smiled slightly and shook his head in agreement.
"What else has the Wicked Warlock of the West done to his kid?" Wilson flipped through the packets of paper and handed one to House.
"The doctors at St. James Hospital diagnosed him almost three years ago as mildly autistic with epilepsy secondary to the autism. The pediatric neurologists wrote the script for the Gabapentin. Obviously Hunter was giving it to Tyler without Mrs. Hunter's knowledge."
"Mrs. Hunter told me that the nannies they hired to help with Tyler kept quitting, saying they couldn't handle the situation," said Thirteen who had walked over to House and Wilson. "Maybe what they couldn't handle is giving Tyler the medication without Mrs. Hunter's knowledge."
"Sure," said Chase who had joined the group. "If Hunter gives them the meds, tells the nannies to give it to the kid, then he can honestly say he never administered anything to Tyler." House smirked.
"Keeping his hands clean at all times," House said ruefully. He looked at Thirteen and Chase and noticed the absence of Taub. "Where's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man?"
"I assume you mean Taub," Wilson said. "He went home. His wife picked up a case of food poisoning from where they had dinner last night and the vomiting returned. We were finished with all the copying, so I told him to go home and see what he could do to help her."
"She probably ate her own cooking," said House. He turned to look into his office and saw Jeffery Davidson holding the portfolio as he sat speaking to Jeanne Hunter. House knew Davidson had to get out of here and get that file back into Hunter's office. "Everything back in the file?" House asked, indicating Davidson with his head.
"Yeah; he made a list as we took each thing out in order and checked each group of papers as we put them back in," Chase said. "We all kept the gloves on the whole time."
"But did you breathe on them?" asked House. "'Cause that's traceable you know." Chase and Thirteen gave him a look.
"We worked with bated breath," answered Thirteen. "Mrs. Hunter asked that I stay with her since one of us was going to remain here to monitor Tyler. I said no problem. I'm going to try and get her to go to her son's room and settle in. Maybe that way she can finally get some sleep. Did you get a chance to speak to the incoming nursing shift?" she asked House.
"Yeah. Turns out they're all members of the 'Malcolm Hunter is a Dick' fan club. He won't get anywhere close to the kid with that crew up there. I think there's something in the DNA of anyone who works a nightshift that won't allow them to put up with anyone's bull dinky."
"Where do you want to keep these files?" Wilson asked indicating the copies that were made. House thought for a moment.
"I don't want to leave them here. One of us should take them home. Maybe more than one of us."
"Divide the file between the three of us?" asked Chase indicating himself, Wilson and House. "Sounds a little paranoid."
"That's what Hunter does to you," said Jeffery Davidson as he walked over with the original files. "Dealing with him is like being part of a John Le Carre novel."
"I'm a Tom Clancy man myself," noted House. "I think since Jack Ryan is an analyst, he is way cooler than Jason Bourne." Davidson laughed.
"Whoever you favor makes no difference; the fact is Hunter keeps you looking over your shoulder."
"Can I ask why you went to work for him?" Wilson asked. "Surely his reputation preceded him." Davidson looked down at the floor.
"I had my own practice as a CPA. I started it four years before I joined Hunter's firm. My practice was very successful, but small; it was I and two other CPA's. Getting health insurance for a small business was astronomically expensive. I needed to have extensive rather than just basic coverage because my daughter had cancer. My wife's ex was killed in a car accident when Katie was two. I'm the only man who really played the part of Dad in her life since her biological father lived a thousand miles away and never wanted the role in her life anyway. So I closed down my practice and went to work for Hunter when he made the offer."
"You knew him beforehand?" Chase asked. Davidson nodded.
"I had done a great deal of work for various law firms and we had met several times. When I put the word out that I was closing down my practice and looking to join an established firm, Malcolm came forward with an offer. The money was sufficient and more importantly, it had company paid health insurance."
"Why have an in-house accountant?" Wilson asked.
"Better to keep the cook closer to the kitchen," House said. "Any unethical dealings would be less likely reported by an employee of the firm; especially one that needed the health insurance Hunter had to offer. Is your stepdaughter still alive?" Davidson glared at House.
"No. And she was my daughter. You don't need to have your DNA be a part of a child to have them be your own. You just have to love them." House nodded in agreement. Sensing the awkwardness of the situation, Wilson spoke up.
"Well, I think we will each take a part of the files to be on the safe side," he said looking at House and Chase. "Thank you so much for bringing them. I'm sure they'll be of great help in diagnosing Tyler and reining in Hunter."
"Glad I could help. I just want to say good-bye to Jeanne and then be on my way." Davidson turned to Thirteen. "Please try to get her to rest. I don't know how long it's been since she's had a decent night's sleep."
"I'll do what I can," said Thirteen reassuringly. "I'm going to need to sleep at some point myself."
"Thank you, I'll be by at some point tomorrow; I need to spend some time in the office to make things look good."
"Do us a favor in the midst of all this cloak and dagger stuff going on," said House. "Do you have you own cell phone or is it standard company issue?"
"I have my own. I use it rather than the company phone to call Jeanne." House nodded.
"Jack Ryan would be proud. Text her after the file is back in place. Just type 'Done'. It won't give anything away in case they've tapped your phone."
"Why would Hunter tap my phone? And if they've tapped it, then Malcolm knows about Jeanne and me." House smirked.
"Hunter couldn't care less that you're banging his wife; it means everything in the world to him if you're screwing with his plans to bring me and my team down," noted House. Davidson was obviously uncomfortable as he looked in the direction of House's office.
"I'm going to say goodnight to Jeanne now. Goodnight, all." With that, Davidson walked to Jeanne and began to speak to her.
"You know. I think we ought to all chip in and buy you some lessons in subtlety and discretion," Thirteen said to House.
"Why meddle with perfection?" House turned so his back was to his office and he was facing Chase and Thirteen. "Any mention in the files as to what's causing the kid to act like a cross between a hyena and a seagull?"
"They classified it as a coping mechanism for all his other problems," said Chase. "It's got to be more than that."
"A coping mechanism for a six year old is a bowl of Lucky Charms and a SpongeBob marathon. It's got to be neurological," House said.
"Look, let's call it a night and get some rest. Maybe a good night's sleep will give us a clearer view of things tomorrow," Wilson said. Chase, Thirteen and House all nodded their heads and headed to House's office to dispose of the empty food containers and get Jeanne Hunter to her son's room.
"Mrs. Hunter, why don't we go to Tyler's room and settle in for the night?" asked Thirteen. "I'm sure you'd like to see him."
"Yes, yes I would," she said as she stood. She followed Thirteen to the door of the conference room, stopped and looked at the others. "Thank you for everything you're trying to do for my son, despite who and what my husband is."
"A patient is a patient," House said. "They don't deserve to be treated any better or any worse no matter who nature threw at them for a sperm donor." Jeanne Hunter didn't know how to respond to what House said, so she simply turned and walked with Thirteen down the hall. Wilson looked at House and shook his head.
"I keep hoping that there is some part of you that knows when to shut up. Obviously I'm wrong."
"What did I say that was so terrible?" House asked. "I said all patients should be treated equally without regard to the unfortunate circumstances of who their mother successfully mated with. Where's the harm in what I said?" Chase and Wilson looked at each other.
"He does have a point…" Chase began.
"Don't…just…don't encourage him," Wilson begged. Chase laughed.
"On that note, I'll dump this in the trash barrel in the cafeteria on my way out," he said as he stuffed the last of the garbage into a bag.
"Thanks," Wilson said. "Did you grab part of the file?"
"Yeah; I've got birth to the accident."
"Good. Forman should be starting the test around seven-thirty, eight o'clock."
"I'll see you then. G'night." Chase walked away down the hall.
"I'll take the part of the file that concerns the accident and you get the part from St. James Hospital," Wilson said handing House the paperwork.
"Let me get this into my backpack and then let's get the hell out of here. Lydia's picking up pizza and I don't want her to wait too long for me." House glanced over at Wilson and saw that he was trying to suppress a smile.
"What's the matter?" House asked.
"Nothing," Wilson said as they left the conference room. House shot him a look.
"Don't give me that crap. I've known you too long and too well. And I don't mean all the times I've stood behind you as you've taken something out of the oven."
"I just can't believe I'm hearing you say you want to get home to the little woman. I would have bet my entire life's savings that it was something that would never happen."
"After three divorces, your life's saving doesn't amount to much," House said. "Lydia had a bad day and when she called to tell me about it, I kind of blew her off. Actually, I didn't pay any attention to her at all. I want to try and make up for it and see if there's anything I can do." The elevator doors opened and the two of them stepped in. The doors closed as Wilson pressed the button for the lobby.
"Yeah, I heard the rocker is in pretty bad shape." House turned to look at Wilson.
"Okay, where'd you put it?" House asked as he patted down his pockets.
"Where did I put what?"
"The bug you used to listen in on my conversation with Lydia. Oh, and she was only kidding about trying that ménage-a-trios." Wilson rolled his eyes.
"Annie texted me. She wanted to know if everything was OK since you were more than a little distracted with Lydia." House gave Wilson a grin.
"Oooh, you have each other's cell numbers. I'm impressed. Nowadays that's considered first base. How bad did Annie say the rocker was?" House inquired becoming serious. Wilson shrugged.
"Anytime a piece of furniture gets described as 'heartbreaking to look at', it can't be good. Annie said to text her; she wants to talk to you about a couple of things. She's in rehearsal for the mini concert next Thursday. They were able to get a small theater over at the college for free, so it will be a nice showcase for the groups that are performing." Wilson picked up his briefcase and made his way to the door. "Let's get out of here." House nodded absentmindedly as he continued texting Annie as they headed out the door.
Wilson went the most direct route he knew to House's apartment; he didn't run any red lights or blow away any stop signs as House had requested, but he did get House home pretty quickly.
"Everything OK?" Wilson asked as he double parked by House's door. He saw that House was still texting furiously.
"Yeah," House said as he hit send. "Why?"
"You and Annie were going back and forth quite a bit." House gave Wilson a look.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist. I also texted Lydia to let her know I was on my way. Then I started having textsex with her and I got completely distracted."
"Textsex?" Wilson asked slowly. House rolled his head in disbelief.
"It's the same thing as phone sex only…am I going to have to take you for another long drive in the country so I can explain this all again? Jeeze, someone better warn Annie." Wilson put up his hands.
"Don't…stay out of my…I give up." He dropped his hands and stared out the driver's side window. House smiled as he picked up his backpack and opened the car door.
"Thanks for the ride."
"Tomorrow at seven-fifteen?" asked Wilson. House sighed in disgust.
"Yeah, I want to be there when Foreman's doing the test. At least if we show confirmation of what the doctor at the other hospital found, it will strengthen the validity of any other results we come up with. I'll drive myself tomorrow; I know where the hospital is."
"It's OK, I don't mind. At least we get a chance to talk about the case and Annie and Lydia and…stuff. I enjoy it. I missed it when you were in the coma." House cocked his head to the side and considered Wilson's words.
"I can't say I missed it," said House. "'Cause I didn't know what I was missing. 'Cause I was in a coma." Wilson shook his head and laughed.
"I'll look over the files I have tonight and see if I can spot anything. I feel like I'm not really doing anything to help with all this." Frustration was clearly present in Wilson's voice.
"Your diplomacy skills are impeccable and as always, you do a great job as my moral compass. Just because I don't follow directions well, doesn't mean they aren't good and accurate." Wilson smiled.
"Thanks," he said. "See you in the morning." House grabbed his cane and stood up. Using the end of it, he pushed the car door closed. He watched as Wilson pulled away, then made his way into the building. He stopped in front of his apartment door, fiddling with his keys. Just as he put the key in the lock and was about to turn it, the door swung open. There stood Lydia with a beautiful smile on her face. He stepped inside, hung up his cane and dropped his backpack on the floor.
"Hi," Lydia said as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. House reached down and gave her a long, deep, lingering kiss.
"Hi," he said as he gathered her into his arms and held her tightly. It was good to be away from the hospital and at his apartment. He pulled back and looked at Lydia as he stroked her cheek. It was even better to be home.