"Puppet Master"
Chapter Eleven-"Raising the Curtain"
By: Purpleu
"I was going to hit Dunkin' Donuts and just use the drive-thru," Wilson said as he made a left at the end of House's street. House didn't answer him; his mind had more important things to consider than breakfast. He had left the window down and let the warm breeze rush over him as Wilson drove, hoping it would help him focus. It felt to him that he was more like the leader of a band of mercenaries, rather than the lead doctor of a crack medical team. All of this undercover stuff, make sure to wear gloves, separate the files, read them over covertly at home…it would all be great fun if it concerned someone other than him.
"House?"
But House knew that Malcolm Hunter had him squarely in his sights. Lydia had been right to convert his thinking from what was Hunter going to do to him, over to what could House and his team do to Hunter; but now that the plan of attack had been laid out, at least in his mind, House's thoughts wandered back to being in the center of the bull's eye.
"House, hello? Earth to House."
How was Hunter going to achieve the act of knocking him down? There were no invasive tests to be performed; drawing blood and inserting a urinary catheter to obtain a sample had been done without a hitch, not that there is usually a problem with those two procedures. What would they need to do to the kid that could be presented as medical malpractice? Doctors reach conflicting diagnoses all the time, so that can't be it….
"House!" Wilson yelled. "Answer me or I'm pulling this car over." Startled and confused, House looked over at Wilson.
"What the hell are you yelling about?"
"I've spoken to you four times, this is the first time I've gotten an answer," Wilson said.
"I'm thinking," House responded dismissively as he looked out the passenger side of the car.
"Couldn't you have just said 'OK' when I said I was going to use the drive-thru at Dunkin' Donuts?"
"No." Wilson did a double take.
"Why?"
"'Cause maybe it's not OK," House said leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
"Where do you want to get breakfast from?" Wilson asked tersely.
"Dunkin' Donuts is fine." A look of exasperation came over Wilson's face.
"You were in an obvious good mood back at your apartment; what happened in the last five to seven minutes to turn you back into your usual self?" he asked as he steered the car into right lane in anticipation of arriving at the store.
"I'm not at my apartment anymore." Wilson smiled.
"So I guess the solution is to clone Lydia, shrink her down and hang her from your keychain. Her constant presence is the solution to the problem." There was no answer. Wilson didn't know what to think; everything seemed better than wonderful a few minutes ago. Time to be direct, he said to himself.
"House, you're not having any doubts about starting a relationship with Lydia, are you? I know this is something you haven't dealt with in years, so you might be uncomfortable, but…"
"I'm not starting a relationship with Lydia; I'm knee deep in one. I don't think I've ever dealt with anyone like her," House said. He took a deep breath. "She sat, listened and understood what I was taking about in reference to the kid. None of it required her to be a rocket scientist, but she was interested in the case and we weren't trying to compete with each other in figuring things out. Oh, by the way she is a rocket scientist."
"Well, it's clear that she's smart, except for her choices in men." Wilson put on the turn indicator to make the right into the drive-thru lane for Dunkin' Donuts.
"You have no idea how bad her choices are," House said. Wilson shot him a look as he turned the wheel and got in line to order; they were in luck as there was only one other car ahead of them.
"I know you said in reference to her ex, that neither one of them married for love and he had action on the side; of course you were Lydia's paramour."
"Once." House said. "We only made love one time. The rest of it was emotional and intellectual. Talking, playing the piano. I underestimated her back then; whenever we talked about medicine, it was either me talking about past cases or the two of us talking about Annie. I assumed she knew what she did because she was involved in Annie's care. I should've followed my own advice about assuming. Looks like we're up." The person in the car ahead of them was handing money to the employee at the window. "I'll take a plain bagel with a shmeer and a large coffee my usual way. And get a large box of the donut rejects. A sugar rush might help with things." Wilson looked confused.
"Donut rejects? You mean Munchkins."
"Yeah, whatever overly cute name their marketing department came up with; the fact is years ago when donuts were being made, that part would be thrown away. Ergo, rejects." Wilson shook his head as he rolled up to the window. He placed their order and as he was about to ask House what the deal was with Lydia, his cell phone rang.
"It's Foreman. I'll put him on speaker." Wilson pushed the button to answer the call. "Hey, Foreman. I've got House with me; I'm going to put you on speaker." He pushed another button and the speaker function was activated. House and Wilson could hear the sound of beeping horns and car motors in the background.
"I have my damn blinkers on, go around me!" they could hear Foreman yell at some unknown motorist.
"Where the hell are you?" House asked.
"I'm on the exit ramp where route twenty-two meets route three. Some jackass went shooting past me on my right and was in my blind spot when I went to move over so I could be in the exit lane to turn on to route three. We didn't hit, but I caught the edge of my tire on the curb as I tried to avoid him and it blew out. I called road service but I won't be getting to the hospital for at least an hour to an hour and a half."
"What time is your meeting with the guy from St. James?" asked House.
"Eleven-thirty, so there's no issue with me getting to that on time. He seemed reluctant at first, but I talked up the fact that if we had his help, we could prevent Hunter from ever doing any sort of blackmail to anyone else again. He hesitated at the mention of the word 'blackmail,' but then he seemed to warm up to the idea of bringing down Hunter."
"We're going to need the other two docs, too, the other neurologist and the internist. It's got to be the three that Hunter had done the preliminary filings against or it weakens our case," House noted. The girl at the drive-thru window returned with their order; she and Wilson exchanged money and food. House took the coffees from Wilson and placed them in the cup holders; the box of Munchkins he put on the floor between his feet. Wilson put the food bag on the seat next to him and pulled out of the lane.
"We aren't going to have any kind of test results that I can bring with me to try and reassure him and strengthen our argument, are we? Because proof in black in white would be a big help," Foreman said. A loud, sustained beep blared through the speaker of the phone. "Really? Where would you like me to go?"
"I think they're telling you where to go," said House.
"Is there anything we can do?" asked Wilson.
"I don't do windows," House interjected. "Or tires."
"No. I'm just going to wait for road service. I already called the hospital and let Thirteen know I was going to be late."
"Oh, how sweet; old habits die hard," House said sarcastically.
"You didn't answer my question from before," Foreman said, ignoring House's comment. "Are we going to have anything that I can bring with me to persuade Dr. Murphy to join us in the fight?" House let out a sigh.
"Unfortunately, no; all we're going to have is an EEG that is most likely going to mirror the results they got when the wolf showed up at their door. That in and of itself conflicts with the BS they put in the report that we and the courts were given. If we have to play rough, we can always tell him it's all going to come out any way since we're going ahead with this no matter what. They might as well be on the side of the Justice League. I was going to say X-Men, but I use a cane and not a wheelchair," House said.
"So, I take it we're going to use DNA testing to confirm," said Foreman, "But that's going to take weeks."
"Did Michelangelo complain when he was handed a chisel, a hammer and a hunk of marble? No. He worked with the tools he was given and created a statue with an enviable schlong. We've got to take a closer look at chromosome fifteen and see what happened. It's most likely a defect coming from the mom, but there's a possibility it could be the bastard's fault and nothing would make me happier."
"I couldn't believe it when you called me and told me it was Angelman's. The prevalence rate is something along the lines of one in twenty-five thousand and most of those patients are considered to be severely mentally impaired," Foreman noted. "What exactly makes you think Tyler is not?"
"The spikes and…" House waited until the driver cursing out Foreman had passed. "…large wave amplitudes are significantly above normal, but below what you expect for a typical autism diagnosis. He also shows signs of cognitive ability by the fact that he can make choices; like head butting his father, but hugs for the rest of us. Even me," House said, silently questioning the kid's judgment on that last part.
"And we're sure about the cerebral palsy?" asked Foreman. "Because if the boy does have it, it would be a first for you; your patients usually only have one thing wrong with them at a time."
"It's not a first," House said sounding annoyed. "The kid's an exception to my rule and that's a strike against him; I don't care how much he hates his father." Wilson smiled as he took a sip of his coffee. The multiple disease diagnosis would be an anomaly in House's case histories. Then again, having to play detective was out of the ordinary, too.
"Foreman, are you going to be able to get the EEG done before this meeting that House wants to have with the boy's mother and Davidson and still meet up with Murphy on time?" Wilson asked.
"Yeah, it'll be tight, but I'm meeting him near the hospital, so it shouldn't be a problem. House what is the purpose of this meeting with you again?"
"I want to make sure that everybody's on the same page, that everyone has their ducks in a row and any other cliché you can think of to say that I want to make sure that no one does or says anything to screw this up. I'm sure Hunter's going to make an appearance at the hospital at some point today and there's no point to leaving anything to chance. There's too much at stake."
"Don't you think I'd move the damn car if I could?" Foreman yelled at yet another unseen harasser. "Damn, people are stupid when it comes to driving!"
"I'll agree with you there," said Wilson as he changed lanes to avoid being cut off by someone pulling out from the curb. "Idiot!"
"Want me to throw a Munchkin at him?" House asked.
"Too late," Wilson answered as he shook his head.
"Hey, I may be in luck," Foreman said. "I'm at the top of the exit ramp and I can see about a quarter mile back on the road; I think I see a tow truck there. If the traffic starts moving, he'll be here soon and I can get going."
"Great. We'll see you at the hospital in a little while," Wilson said.
"OK, bye," Foreman answered.
"Ciao," House said. Wilson pushed the button to end the call.
"Want your bagel?"
"Nah, I'll wait until later," House said. Wilson glanced over at him as he took his blueberry muffin out of the bag and took a bite. House picked up his coffee and took a few sips.
"You know," Wilson said after swallowing his food, "I'm under strict orders to make sure that both of us eat today." House smiled as he returned his cup to its holder.
"Fraulein gave you orders." It was a statement of fact rather than a question. It was now Wilson's turn to smile.
"She's really something, House. There's this vibe that I get from her that she's a combination of a woman in charge who can handle anything and little girl lost." House nodded his head.
"She's the perfect combination of both of those things."
"Nobody's perfect."
"She's the closest thing to it that I've ever had." Wilson took a sip of his coffee before he spoke.
"Aren't you putting a little too much pressure on yourselves?" he asked. "She's going to feel the need to live up to this idealized version of her you've created and if she fails at it, you're going to be doubly disappointed." House looked out the open passenger side window and rested his arm on the edge of the sill.
"Sounds like you're talking from experience," remarked House. "Which wife?"
"I plead the fifth," said Wilson making a face.
"You've only had three. My guess is ex number one. Young love is usually the most naïve and idealistic."
"Can we get off the subject of me and my past failures and get back to you and your attempt at a future with Lydia? You said something before about her being a rocket scientist?"
"As smart as one if not smarter. Remember I told you she was in the pre-med program at Hopkins?"
"Yeah; she had one year to go but her parents were in a car accident and she left to take care of them."
"Not one year, one semester and even then it was only ten credits and forty clinical hours."
"What? That's nothing to finish. Why didn't she just take the semester off, get some help with her folks and go back? God, to be that close…"
"Believe me, she beats herself up that she didn't do something like that. Know what her MCATs were?" Wilson shook his head. "Forty-five." Wilson let out a low whistle.
"Wow, a perfect score; same as what you got." House shook his head, realizing that he had to fill in the blanks for Wilson to truly understand.
"She had a four-point-0, phi beta kappa. She interned with Hopkins at the Wilmer eye institute…they only take one person per year and they're not required to take anyone if they don't meet the qualifications. She did research at Georgetown in the infectious diseases program and her work was used in a published paper. I know which program she was in; I did the same program ten or so years before. Only I didn't have any of my work published." House reached for his coffee. "She didn't tell me this, but I'm sure she was offered the internship at the Mayo Clinic, but had to turn it down because Daddy wouldn't let her out of his sight." They had arrived at the hospital and Wilson put on his left turn indicator to enter the parking lot.
"Do you feel like going inside yet? Because I know if I go in there I am going to be besieged by phone calls and e-mails that I'm going to have to deal with and I am just not in the mood," Wilson said sounding tired.
"Fine; but if you park in your usual spot, you're going to be seen and the jig will be up. Why don't you pull into the overflow lot? It's far enough away from the building that no one will see us. The worst that could happen is security will come by to make sure we're not sitting back there making out or something," House said. Wilson rolled his eyes.
"It wouldn't be the first time someone's made that mistake."
"And it won't be the last. People see the possibility for attraction; your boyish charm, my big cane and they make certain assumptions," House said with an exaggerated smile.
"All you would have to do is pull out a picture of Lydia and they'd know there is no way you would choose me over her."
"I could pull out a picture any woman and they'd know who I'd choose." House looked at Wilson. "Sorry, but you're just cut the wrong way."
"No offense taken, trust me," Wilson replied as he laughed. He had driven past the main hospital building down a long drive to an auxiliary lot that was used mainly when conferences were held at the hospital. Pulling into a spot, he turned off the car and glanced over at House. Wilson saw the concerned look on his friend's face and didn't know how to figure out what was bothering him. He had solved the case, they had a game plan for nailing Hunter and they certainly had gained two allies on the board of directors for the hospital by helping Jeanne Hunter find out what exactly was wrong with her son. Jeffrey Davidson would be glad to do anything that would make Mrs. Hunter happy. So by process of elimination, Wilson took it that House was bothered by something with Lydia. Maybe if he managed to bring her up again, he could find out what was going on inside House's mind.
"Here's your bagel," he said holding it out to House.
"I'm not hungry," House said as he stared out the front window. Wilson sighed.
"Look, I promised Lydia that I would make sure you ate today. She said you were starving when you got home last night." House gave a little laugh.
"She's only saying that because I finished two slices of pizzas before she could even manage one. She's the one who should make sure she eats." He reluctantly took the bagel from Wilson and set it on the dashboard in front of him.
"I can understand her not wanting to eat last night; she was still upset about the rocker." Wilson took a drink of his coffee. "What I don't understand is what's bothering you right now that you don't want to eat. You usually don't let anything stand in between you and food." House didn't answer. "Is it the case? Hunter? Something with Lydia?"
"Everything." House looked over at Wilson. "Think about all the stuff that's happened in the last six or seven weeks since the crane collapse. I crawled down under how many tons of concrete and steel to argue with a bunch of morons that a person's leg is theirs and only they have the right to say if it stays or goes. I take an extended nap and when I wake up, I find I've missed out on three weeks of my life and Cuddy's living in the produce isle, which I still feel partially responsible for." House's voice was rising in volume and intensity. "I've got a bloodsucking bastard on my back who wants to take away everything I am and all I've worked for. And to top it all off, I've got to stand there and watch him treat his son the same way my father treated me: If you're not what I expected you to be, the hell with you." House put his head down and let out a long sigh. "The only positive thing in all of this is Lydia and even she's thrown me for a loop," he said quietly.
"I've sort of picked up on the fact that there's something going on with her. What's the problem, she leaves the toilet set up?" Wilson asked sarcastically. House made a face.
"Other than the fact that she's been able to pull more emotions out of me in forty-eight hours than some people have been able to in twenty years, everything is just marvelous. I don't do emotions; at least not outwardly." House got quiet for a minute. "I've cried more in the past two days than I care to admit. Lydia and I are both getting a lot of things out that we've needed to for years, a good portion of it directed at our fathers. It's just one more of the things that we have in common that seems to make this all work." Wilson gave no reply and House turned to look at him.
"I don't think I've ever seen you cry," Wilson said in amazement. "I mean, I saw you fake it at your dad's funeral so you could get the DNA sample, but never for real." House shrugged.
"As sweet as it may seem that she got me to turn on the waterworks, I still tried to push her away; we had our first fight last night."
"Really? What happened?"
"What didn't happen last night?" answered House. "Allow me to recap the highlights; I'll leave out the parts you're too young to hear." House began telling Wilson the events of the night before; how the rocker broke and its joyful and sad history; his and Lydia's shared resentment of their fathers' lack of respect for their talents and Lydia's gift of the massage oil and t-shirt. Then House got to the part he dreaded telling Wilson for several reasons: Lydia's revelation that she had been abused. He recounted it just as she told him, but hesitated as he got to the final confrontation that led to Lydia throwing her ex out and finally filing for divorce; when he told Wilson how Annie's brother had backhanded her in the face, Wilson lost it.
"That son of a bitch!" he yelled slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "It's his own sister, for God's sake! What the hell is wrong with him?" House looked at Wilson and then the steering wheel.
"I know I'm the last one who should be giving relationship advice, but if you do stuff like that," House said pointing to the steering wheel and Wilson's hand, "in front of Annie, even a box of Godiva would be rendered useless." Wilson nodded his head as he massaged the hand he used to hit the wheel.
"You know I don't usually do things like that; I'm just pissed and feel bad for Annie. What is his problem?"
"I've wondered that, too; at the very least he's a sociopath with a temper. But some of the things Lydia said has made me think there's something more to his story," House said.
"House, don't; don't even think about diagnosing this guy and giving him an excuse for what he did."
"I'm not going to," said House a bit annoyed. "I'm more interested in finding out what the hell made Lydia stay with this jerk for so long. I know he pulled the Prince Charming card and she was grateful and all that, but…she's too smart to have been taken in by this guy the way she was. That's what the fight was about; I said that after this loser, I must look like a bargain from the clearance bin. When I kept going on, she told me to fight fair and if I was mad, just say so, don't keep trying to push her away." Wilson gave House a blank stare.
"That's it. That's what you call a fight."
"It…was a disagreement," House conceded. Wilson shook his head.
"Did you get mad? Did she get mad? Were there hurt feelings on either side? Did your voices rise to a decibel level above the average heavy metal song?" House squirmed in his seat.
"No," he said.
"Take it from an expert," Wilson said laughing. "That wasn't a fight; that wasn't even a disagreement. That was Lydia calling you out on the carpet for being an ass and falling back on your usual defense mechanisms. I've heard you have a fight with your significant other; so did the entire restaurant even though you were standing outside." House put his arm on the door's window ledge and looked out, away from Wilson. He was clearly uncomfortable.
"Stacy was in a once every twenty-eight days hormonal rage," House said.
"And what was your excuse?" asked Wilson. House made a face.
"If I wanted to live in the past, I'd be taking my favorite happy pills and I wouldn't have fallen in love with Lydia. Let's drop the subject."
"Agreed." Wilson took a drink of his coffee. "I still can't believe he hit his own sister…right where her jaw had been broken! She must have been devastated."
"That's not the end of the story. The son begged his father to stop hurting them, and when the father was about to take a swing at the kid, Annie jumped up from the floor and stopped him. She's as feisty as her best friend. Lydia handed her daughter to Annie, handed the ex his suitcase and showed him the door. That's when they came back here." Wilson was rubbing his hands over his forehead.
"House, you said Lydia had some suggestions about how I can approach Annie for a date. Please tell me what I have to do." Wilson looked at House with desperation in his eyes. "I don't know if it's that I've been alone for a while now or if it's something about Annie herself, but I really want to at least… have the pleasure of her company, even if it has to be platonic for a bit. I want to give her the chance to know that there are decent people out there that she can trust."
"Do me a favor," House said. "Don't push her, don't rush things, don't screw this up. Because if something goes wrong between you and Annie, it holds more than a few consequences for Lydia and me."
"And if something were to go wrong between you and Lydia, the same would be true for Annie and me. Lydia doesn't seem to have a problem with it or she wouldn't have offered the advice."
"I don't have a problem with it either," said House as he glanced over at Wilson. "Ask her to have dinner with Lydia and me." Wilson picked up his cup and started to take a drink.
"Wait…a double date?"
"Don't worry; I made Lydia promise no go-karts." It was all Wilson could do not to spew his coffee all over the steering wheel and dashboard. Wilson started coughing and choking as House sat there with a wry smile on his face; suddenly, Wilson's cell phone started to ring. House picked it up and looked at it as Wilson continued to cough.
"It's Chase." He pushed the button to answer the call and put it on speaker. "Hello, city morgue, you stab 'em we slab 'em."
"Morning," Chase said. He paused for a moment. "Is that Wilson I hear coughing?"
"Yeah; we're sitting in a secluded parking lot doing some intimate male bonding and I made him choke."
"Does Lydia know about this?" Thirteen said joining in on the conversation.
"Are you kidding? She encourages it," House said.
"Kinky," commented Taub.
"Enough!" yelled Wilson as he heard them all laughing over the phone. "I'm glad you all had a chuckle at my expense. Can we talk about the patient, please? Is Foreman there yet?"
"I'm right here," he said, a slight hint of laughter still in his voice.
"Have you started the EEG yet?" House asked very quickly becoming serious.
"I was just about to. Taub and Thirteen got the kid to the test lab and Chase talked to the mother."
"After reading over the files that dealt with Tyler from birth to the accident, I had some questions for the mom," Chase said. "It really is a shame; Tyler was responding particularly well to the therapy he was receiving. Mom was an active participant in the therapies, according to the notes the therapists made; Dad was nowhere to be found." Wilson looked at House and saw that he had closed his eyes and tightened his jaw.
"That's not surprising," Wilson said. "How close are you to starting the EEG?"
"Five or ten minutes. The mom's in there with him right now keeping him fairly calm. We're going to twilight him just so he stays that way long enough to do the test, but not enough to change the results," Foreman said.
"Look in the pre-frontal area along with the cerebellum and hippocampus," House instructed. "We're going to want a direct comparison to be drawn between the original report by the Three Stooges at St. James and what we're doing today."
"Got it."
"How soon will it be before you two finish bonding and make it in here?" Thirteen asked. House shot a glance over at Wilson.
"By the time we clean up all this stuff and pull ourselves together?" asked House as he looked around at an imaginary mess. "We'll be in there by the time you're ready to start the test."
"House, do you have any preference on who you want to bring in to do evaluations on the kid for different therapies?" Taub inquired. "The mother was asking me about that earlier."
"Yeah, contact Dr. Lindeman's group," House said as he stretched and did a neck roll to work out the kinks. "He specializes in autism cases. Let him know we suspect Angelman's Syndrome."
"What? Angelman's? Really?" Chase, Taub and Thirteen all began to speak at once.
"Yeah, really. I'll go over the reasons why when we meet with the mother and Davidson at nine." With that House hung up the phone. He turned to look at Wilson. "We'd better get in there." Wilson sat motionless.
"You have put me through enough this morning; I do not want to have to report to Lydia that you didn't eat," he said.
"So don't say anything." Wilson pointed to where House had put the bagel on the dashboard.
"I am not moving this car until you eat something," he said sternly. House sat with his arms folded across his chest. "Pick that up, unwrap it, take a bite and chew and swallow that bite. Please; so I can at least tell her I saw you eat something. I just won't say how much or how little I saw you eat." House made a face as he picked up the bagel and did as Wilson asked.
"I'm only doing this because you're so cute when you pout," House said.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," reprimanded Wilson as he turned on the car. He put it in gear and made his way to his parking spot at the front of the hospital. "What day do you want to try to go out to dinner?" There was no answer. "House, you didn't take that big of a bite; your mouth must be empty by now. C'mon, I want to ask Annie today." House chuckled as he wiped his mouth.
"That's a good question. The next couple of days are out. Friday we may either feel like celebrating or drowning our sorrows."
"What about Saturday?" asked Wilson. "I know that Annie said she and Lydia wanted to start setting up the house on Saturday, but maybe that night." House shook his head.
"On the off chance that one of us will be too tired from carrying heavy, bulky objects, I don't think he would make a very good impression on his girlfriend in waiting." Wilson shot House a look as he pulled into his spot.
"Gee, thanks for being so thoughtful. Why not Monday?" Wilson put up the windows on the car and turned the engine off. House wrapped up the remnants of his bagel and put it into the bag it originally came in.
"You didn't finish your muffin," House said disapprovingly. "I'm going to tell Lydia." Wilson rolled his eyes.
"What about Monday?" he again asked as he opened the door stood up out of the car.
"Monday would be good," House said as he exited the car. He reached in for his cane and the Munchkins and placed the donut treats on top of the car. "Most restaurants close on Mondays, but The Italian Gardens is open; rebels that they are, they close on Tuesdays." He opened the back door to retrieve his backpack.
"That sounds good. I'll ask Annie when I talk to her later." Wilson had gotten his briefcase from the back as well. "I have to thank Lydia for making the suggestion." He looked at House standing on the sidewalk at the front of the car. "I still can't believe she's gotten to you so much that you were finally able to let out some of the pent up crap you've held inside all these years." He looked at the ground as he walked and stepped up onto the sidewalk. "It's something I wasn't able to do." House sat the box of Munchkins on the hood of Wilson's car as he adjusted his backpack.
"Will you stop making it sound like you've been replaced in my life and I've thrown you to curb with the trash? Lydia's my girlfriend; you're my best friend. With the exception of showering together and doing the horizontal hustle, you hold the same rights and privileges as she does. Any other arrangement wouldn't be right." House had been avoiding Wilson's gaze, but he turned now to look at him and saw he was smiling.
"Thanks, House," Wilson said quietly as he took a few steps toward the hospital entrance. "I was beginning to feel a little like a… third wheel in your life or something." House picked up the box of Munchkins and started to make his way along the sidewalk.
"Well, now that we've established that you're still my bitch, can we get inside? I have a patient to take care of," he said as he walked past Wilson, who just stood there shaking his head.
"Anything you say, House." Wilson followed behind and caught up with House at the fountain in the plaza. House glanced at it as he walked by.
"That's one of the other things that defines the kid's particular type of autism: water; or rather an obsession with it," he noted.
"I take it the smiling, the laughing and the flapping of the hands are all symptoms as well," Wilson said.
"Yeah; the thing is, if you were to draw a ven diagram of the symptoms of cerebral palsy and the symptoms of Angelman's, the point where the two intersect would contain an extraordinary amount of symptoms. It's easy to see how a diagnosis for Angelman's would be missed." Wilson reached for the door and held it open for House to walk through. They went over to the desk to sign in.
"Let me drop this in my office," Wilson said indicating his briefcase.
"I'll grab an elevator," House said. He rounded the reception desk and as he crossed the hallway that passed in front of the bank of elevators, he almost collided with a young woman. She was carrying an armful of papers and some dropped to the floor as tried to avoid running into House.
"Oops!" she said as things hit the floor. "I'm sorry, Dr. House." She quickly bent down to gather up the fallen documents.
"That's OK," House said as he bent down to help the woman.
"No. Don't. I've got them," she said scooping up the papers.
"Everything alright?" Wilson asked as he approached.
"Fine, Dr. Wilson." She stood up and House handed her some papers he had retrieved. She became obviously nervous as she made brief eye contact with House, took the papers from his hands and turned to leave.
"Where are you hurrying off to?" House asked.
"I…I have to get these to legal," she said. She took a breath. "Bye Dr. Wilson, Dr. House." With that, she rushed off down the hallway.
"Wilson, who was that lovely young creature?" House said as he watched her walk away. Wilson rolled his eyes as he pushed the call button for the elevator.
"Down, boy; you have a girlfriend, remember?"
"I remember; I'm just curious about the identity of the young lady holding the files of some of my previous cases and why she was taking them to the legal department," said House as he turned to look at Wilson. "And how she knows who I am since I've never met her before."
"That's Cheryl Cooke; she works in medical records for about the past two or three years," Wilson said, taken aback. "You have no cases pending against you that I'm aware of. Are you sure she was holding your files?" The elevators doors opened and House and Wilson stood aside to let the exiting passengers leave the car.
"Unless someone else is using the name 'Gregory House, MD' in the Department of Diagnostics."
"Do you want to go to legal and see what's going on?" Wilson asked as he held the elevator door open. House hesitated.
"No; I want to see what's up with the EEG and meet with the mom and Davidson before Hunter shows his ugly mug around here," said House as he entered the elevator. Wilson pressed the buttons and the doors closed.
"Is it possible Hunter's already started something and we don't know it?"
"I would like to think as co-interim Dean of Medicine, somebody would have clued you in," House said grimly. Damn, he thought; even the slightest hope he held that they were making progress against Hunter was called into question. Something this morning had better go right. Arriving at the floor housing the EEG lab, House and Wilson made their way to the room where the test was being done. They saw that Tyler was on a gurney with leads attached to him at various points; standing next to him was his mother holding a water bottle in his line of sight and tilting it back and forth making the water flow with the movement of the bottle.
"Hey," Foreman said. "We're just about to get started." House glanced at his watch.
"Good timing," House said. "We'll be done in time for the meeting with mom and Davidson."
"Are those Munchkins for us?" Taub asked.
"No, they're for the pigeons up on the roof. I have an agreement with them; I bring them donuts, they don't poop on me," House said as he studied the screen over Foreman's shoulder. "There, large amplitude…"
"But not as large as you would expect, especially in Angelman's," Foreman said quite surprised.
"But it is still autism, correct?" asked Wilson.
"Autism is definately indicated; clinicals and DNA will give the definitive answer," confirmed Foreman.
"I guess it's time to break the news to Mrs. Hunter," Chase said. "Did you get any kind of feeling from her as to whether she has any suspicions?" he asked Thirteen.
"No, she…" Thirteen was interrupted by the sound of someone coming into the lab. It was Jeffery Davidson, a bit early for their meeting; he was clearly out of breath and obviously out of sorts. He spied House over by the console and ran straight over to him.
"You won't believe what Malcolm is planning on doing to you."