Puppet Master
Chapter Fifteen-"Bringing Down the House"
By: Purpleu
House walked quickly down the hall and passed his office on his way to the elevators; there was a definite jaunt to his step as The Four Tops continued to play in his mind. "Ain't no woman like the one I got." That, House thought as he pushed the call button, is a fact. Lydia obviously has a lot of issues going back to her childhood; then again, so did he. There were more tears to come, for sure; but also much more joy in finally having someone who was willing to listen and understand. With Lydia in his life, House was starting to feel like he could deal with anything; well, almost anything.
The elevator doors slid open and several people exited the car. House stepped back to let them pass. He turned to enter the car….and came face to face with Malcolm Hunter. All pleasant thoughts provided by Lydia were quickly dispersed and replaced by a twisted feeling in House's stomach. Hunter seemed surprised to see House, but he regained his air of superiority within a split second. House had locked eyes with him from the moment the occupants of the elevator had left; now neither one was willing to blink.
"Dr. House, whatever are you doing here?" Hunter asked sarcastically.
"I work here; this is a hospital, I'm a doctor." House said overemphasizing each statement. He broke eye contact and reached in front of Hunter to push the button marked "two." "The question would be, what are you doing here? More specifically, on the fourth floor."
"I had asked that two be pushed, but I guess no one heard me."
"Either that or they ignored you. So… which ambulance did you chase over here?"
"My son is your patient," Hunter said in a very measured tone. "If you had been attentive to his case at all, you'd be aware of that; or is your judgment and memory still somewhat clouded from the brain injury you received in the crane collapse?" House pursed his lips and looked away from Malcolm.
"I didn't receive any brain injuries from the accident," House said in a terse tone. "But thanks for asking." House's cell began to vibrate; he knew it couldn't be Lydia, but decided to look at it any way. He saw the message and started to dial a number.
"This'll just take a sec," House said to Hunter. "Yeah. Sounds good. I'll meet you there." House pushed a button and slipped the device into his pocket. "Lunch date," he said pretending to be embarrassed.
"I assumed from the fact that you were in a coma for a while, that some kind of brain damage had occurred during the accident." An uncharacteristic slip.
"Mr. Hunter, I am surprised," House said. "As a lawyer, I would think that you would know better than to assume." Hunter recovered quickly.
"I had it from a very reliable source that your injuries were of a rather serious nature; of course, not as bad as Dr. Cuddy's." The elevator arrived at the second floor and the two men exited the car. They began walking in the direction of Tyler's room. "You know, it really was shame that no one could have stopped her from climbing underneath all that rubble. That whole tragedy would have been averted." House knew Hunter was trying to rattle him, and he was doing a good job; but the fact that House knew the "reliable source" was either Mrs. Hunter or Davidson, reassured him that there wasn't some unknown mole lurking about and kept him focused.
"Afraid your sources didn't get the whole story; the coma was medically induced to allow for ease of healing." House turned to look at Hunter. "I'm just the way I've always been." While there was no change in expression on Hunter's face, House saw the muscles in his neck tighten ever so slightly.
"I'll keep that in mind." The elevator doors opened and the two men exited the car. They walked several feet in an awkward silence. "So, what progress have you made with my son's case? Have you confirmed the diagnosis of the doctors from St. James Hospital?" House stopped walking and looked down at the floor. Hunter had continued walking, unaware that House had stopped. He backtracked until he was standing opposite House.
"Something wrong, Dr. House?" Hunter asked.
"You and I both know that is total BS, a lie, to blame your son's problems on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder; the only way you could use that diagnosis is if you told the kid you were taking away his water bottle permanently." House picked his head up and looked at Hunter. He could see that the lawyer's eyes had narrowed and his brows were knit together is a scowl.
"So…what do you blame my son's problems on?"
"Any number of things; we've had some abnormal test results and your son had a seizure yesterday. At first it surprised my team and me, but then we realized that no one bothered to tell us about his medication." At the mention of medication, Hunter's demeanor quickly changed.
"I don't know anything about any medication that Tyler has been given. I'm at work most of the time. You would have to ask Mrs. Hunter about that," he said sharply.
"Funny, wifey says we should check with you." House smiled and began to pace slightly. "Oh, I can see this is going to be good; he said, she said. Who's telling the truth? The absentee dad or the mom who is with him twenty-four/seven with hardly any breaks?" House pointed down the hall to Tyler's room. "I know who I'd vote for."
"My wife is extremely stressed out; she does not handle our son well at all. If I did have the opportunity to spend more time with him, I wouldn't mollycoddle that boy so much. He needs to be told no and made to listen; there's nothing wrong with him that a good firm hand couldn't solve." House looked puzzled and walked back over to Hunter.
"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused; are you saying your son doesn't have PTSD? Because if that's the case, I know a few lawyers that represented the docs over at St. James, who'd like a do-over in court." Hunter became flustered at House's insinuation of lying.
"Of course he has PTSD. I'm saying his mother's handling of him is not helpful to the situation." He started to walk away, stopped and turned to look at House.
"You know, Dr. House, I find this very odd; this is the second time where we have encountered each other and you are so quick to don the cape and fight for truth and justice. The first time, I could see that the prize of Dr. Cuddy owing you something could come in handy both personally and professionally; but what is the reward here?" Hunter asked with a questioning look on his face.
"The satisfaction of having my head hit the pillow each night with a clear conscience; something you would neither know nor care anything about." House walked rapidly past Malcolm and on down the hall to Tyler's room.
"Dr. House," Hunter called out in an annoyed voice, as he walked quickly to catch up to House, "you still haven't given me any details about my son's case. What do you know about my son's condition?" Wouldn't you like to know, thought House as he arrived at Tyler's room; just as he reached for the door, it slid open and a young woman stepped out.
"Oh, hello, Dr. House; I'm Susan Lewis from Dr. Lindeman's office." She nodded at both House and Hunter. "I just did an initial evaluation on your patient and spoke to his mother about the child's history. My job is to get an overall view of where the boy stands and what his needs are; I'll be sending in specialists in each of the areas that have been determined to be displaying need and allow the people proficient in those areas to make recommendations for treatment." Her crisp, professional manner of speaking wasn't going to give anyone a case of the warm fuzzies, but she clearly knew her job and did it well. That wasn't going to satisfy Hunter.
"Miss…Lewis?" Hunter asked searching her white lab coat for and ID badge.
"Mrs. Lewis," she corrected.
"Mrs. Lewis, I'm sorry," he said turning on the charm. "I am Malcolm Hunter, the boy's father; I am desperate to get some information on my son. Communication around here," he said as he glanced at House, "is severely lacking. What is my son's condition?" House made no effort to hide his disdain for Hunter's performance; neither did Susan Lewis.
"Mr. Hunter, I am not a doctor," she said straightening her collar, which flipped her ID tag around so it could be read. "I would have identified myself as one if I was. I have no knowledge as to the fine details of your son's condition; however, Dr. House, his team and your wife all know the current state of the case; I would suggest you ask them." She turned to House. "Someone from my office will contact your team. Goodbye," Susan Lewis said acknowledging both men; she turned and walked briskly away. Hunter was clearly not expecting to be shut down so proficiently; House made a mental note not to cut in front of her on the cafeteria line the next time he saw her there, which was never.
"Well, shall we go visit your little tyke?" House asked as he stepped into Tyler's room; he quickly surveyed the scene when he entered and was glad to see that Davidson was not there. The fewer potentially loose lips, the better. Hunter entered right behind House.
"Jeanne," he said curtly to his wife.
"Malcolm," she answered in a flat tone. Hunter glanced to his left and saw House's team standing there; he barely acknowledged them with a nod.
"Dr. House has been more than a bit reluctant to give any concrete details as to what is happening with Tyler." He looked around the room at his wife and the team. "I don't suppose any one would like to fill me in?" Wilson slid the door to the room open and stepped in as Hunter was speaking; he and House exchanged looks.
"Well, Mr. Hunter, I think Dr. House's reluctance comes from the fact that the tests we've run so far haven't led to any solid conclusions. Your son's test results show conflicting electrophysiology between the hippocampus and the cerebral cortex," said Foreman.
"In addition," chimed in Chase, "Bi-lateral adhesions presented out of range from where the fracture from the car accident occurred." Chase shook his head. "Very unusual."
"We are planning on running another EEG with auditory stimulation, to see if he responds to sounds in a particular range or decibel level," Foreman said.
"CT scan and MRI would also show slices of the region where involuntary nerve responses lie; It would indicate if the damage is correctable by surgery," concluded Chase.
"Surgery! How did we get to the point of discussing surgery?" raged Hunter.
"Well, if the tests confirm, you would want your son to be treated and healed, wouldn't you?" asked Taub.
"Of course, but…"
"Although it is possible that mere therapy could make a dramatic change in his quality of life," pointed out Thirteen. Hunter began to shake his head back and forth violently.
"No, no therapy," he said emphatically. "That was tried once before and there was no progress."
"None at all, Mr. Hunter?" asked Thirteen.
"In my opinion, no."
"So the therapists…they felt the same way? That there was no hope and they just…gave up?" Wilson asked as he stood leaning against the wall.
"No, I did; I refused to waste another penny. My son needs an attitude adjustment, not babying by his mother."
"So, Mrs. Hunter, you wanted the therapy to continue; you felt there was progress?" asked Taub trying to clarify the situation.
"Yes, I wanted the therapy to continue; Malcolm did not," she said.
"Look," Hunter said. "There will be no surgery, there will be no therapy. I brought my son in here to receive a confirmation of the report that the doctors at St. James Hospital wrote and to keep her," he pointed at Jeanne, "quiet; nothing more. I'm pulling Tyler out of here on Friday morning."
"Friday morning! We won't have been given enough time to do a proper evaluation," Wilson protested. "Most of the tests results will still be pending by then and all the information yet to be gathered." Tyler, who had been sitting on the bed quietly giggling and turning the pages of a pamphlet that Susan Lewis had left behind, now jumped down and started moving in an erratic pattern around the room. Within a few seconds, he brought his arms up and starting flapping his hands as the giggling became more pronounced. House, who had been very quietly listening to the conversations between Hunter and his team, now turned his attention to the child. The boy got down off the bed and started his crazed seagull routine when Hunter's voice became louder. Could the boy be responding to the tone of the conversation or maybe even the words themselves?
"Your reputation as worldwide experts is well-known; I would have thought that after three days you would have an answer. Or maybe there are some problems with this department that need further investigation," Hunter said ominously.
"Malcolm, there is nothing wrong with this department," Jeanne Hunter said. "What is wrong is your obnoxious, arrogant and uncaring attitude toward the care and well-being of your son. You have never wanted to get any help for him, you have stuck your head in the sand over his condition and you have blocked any and all attempts I have made to get Tyler help." Jeanne took a deep breath. "It ends now; I want Tyler to remain in the hospital until an evaluation of him is completed and a course of action and treatment can be made by Dr. House's team. You will not remove Tyler from Dr. House's care." House had to keep from applauding; he had the feeling it was the first time in her life that Jeanne Carmichael Hunter stood up to anyone and in an obtuse sort of way, House understood. Hunter was shocked at his wife's dressing down of him, especially in front of what he considered to be inferior people. House could also relate to that; however, he had no sympathy or empathy.
"Jeanne, I am taking my child out of here on Friday morning; do not attempt to interfere with me," Hunter in a cold, hard voice. Jeanne Hunter rose up from the chair she had been sitting in and although shorter than her husband, stood toe to toe with him.
"I would suggest you don't interfere with the proper proceedings of the court system; I would have thought that you learned your lesson about that a long time ago," she said with a quick sideways glance at House. Hunter looked completely floored; obviously he had never told his wife about his prior encounter with House and was shocked that she knew about it now. He slowly turned and looked at House, who was once again twirling his cane in the manner of Charlie Chaplin, just as he has done earlier in the day.
"You son of a bitch," Hunter began. "You're behind this; you're the one getting my wife to act irrationally."
"Actually, I'd say she was acting quite rationally; wanting to get help for your son, who is obviously ill, is one the sanest things a person could do." Hunter moved forward toward House but almost walked straight into the spinning cane. Hunter pulled back and glared at House.
"You know, Dr. House, you really should be more careful with your cane," he said in a patronizing tone. "With how recklessly you're handling it, someone might accuse you of possessing a deadly weapon." House screwed up his face into an exaggerated expression of thoughtfulness.
"Now who in the world would accuse a crippled guy like me of something so trumped up and ridiculous?" House turned his head and made direct eye contact with Hunter. "Oh, yeah; you would."
"I resent…" Hunter never got to complete his sentence; Tyler, who had been zigzagging randomly around the room, made a beeline for his father and as was his usual routine, head butted his father directly in the groin. Hunter doubled over as Tyler's laughter grew louder.
"You little brat!" Hunter managed to croak out as he raised his hand toward the boy. Jeanne Hunter jumped up and positioned herself between Tyler and her husband.
"Don't you dare raise your hand to our son!" she yelled.
"He needs to learn how to behave!"
"So do you!" shouted House. He had stopped twirling his cane and had squared off to confront Hunter. Wilson, who had moved over next to Foreman on the opposite side of the room, advanced forward slightly as did Chase as they noticed Hunter's aggressive stance and clenched fists; back in the day, there was no doubt House could handle Hunter, but with his bad leg, all bets were off.
"Malcolm! Stop this right now!" Jeanne said as she scooped up Tyler and held him. It was clear he did not want to be held, but after a minute, he settled down, staring out the window. House took note of the fact that the child had rested his head on his mother's shoulder and followed his stare; there, out the window, a summer thunderstorm had released its fury, causing droplets of water to coat the panes of glass. Hunter's intense breathing echoed throughout the room, competing with the sound of the thunder and rain.
"This is not over, Jeanne. We will discuss this in private tomorrow. I have appearances in court and a bar association dinner to attend. This matter will be continued." He ignored the team as he turned to leave the room and found himself face to face with House. The hatred with which the two men regarded each other was felt in the room.
"Dr. House, just an observation: on a day like this," he said glancing at the windows with the rain pouring down, "cardboard becomes very wet, very quickly. And the heat that brings weather like this, hasn't even yet begun." He walked around House to the door, opened it and let it slam after he had walked through. He strode off down the hall to the elevators, clearly agitated; he may have had the last word, but House clearly won the fight.
House, Wilson and the team stood and looked at each other; House glanced over at Jeanne holding Tyler to see if they were OK. He saw that Foreman was ready to speak, but he held up his hand…five, four, three, two, one. House took his cell phone out of his pocket.
"How was that?" he asked. There was silence in the room.
"Perfect, Dr. House," said a voice coming from his cell phone. "We just checked the recording levels and everything came through clear as a bell. We'll see you and Dr. Wilson down here in a few minutes." House ended the call and allowed himself to smile at the team.
"That," House said, "was da bomb." He held his fist up and fist pumped the entire team and Wilson. "Even I believed all that medical BS you were throwing out."
"Thank God, you got the text and call before you got into the room with Hunter," Wilson said.
"I got it as I met up with M&M in the elevator; I was able to answer the text and make the call to open the line without him thinking anything was up."
"Mr. James's idea of leaving your cell open and having them record it was brilliant," Foreman noted. "At least the equipment was already here since they were about to put taps on Cheryl Cooke's phone line. I can't believe they've had their eye on her for a while. All the time Mrs. James was in the hospital, legal and Mr. James had discussed the situation and they knew that a judge had already signed the order for the taps. It just fell into place beautifully."
"And we were able to very quickly discuss with Mr. James what to say to Malcolm and how to 'lead the witness' as it were," said Jeanne. She was still holding Tyler, facing him toward the window. "Honey, I have to put you down; you're getting too heavy for Mommy." She sat down in the chair at the end of Tyler's bed and the boy slid off his mother's lap. While his laughter had only subsided, not stopped, the hand flapping had eased. Tyler rushed to the window, and very carefully, one finger at a time, traced the path of various raindrops. House regarded the boy with great curiosity; it was one thing to know that a fascination with water was a symptom of Angelman's syndrome; it was quite another to understand why. House made a note that he would have to look into it one day.
"Well, we've got him on tape saying a number of juicy things; it will show what a close and endearing friendship M&M and I have, his disregard for his son's illness and proper treatment and that he was ready to strike the boy. If anyone in the gathering crowd of Malcolm-antes weren't on our side to start with, they are now." He glanced over at Jeanne and saw that she was hunched over with her arms wrapped around herself. Thirteen had noticed it too and went over to her; she crouched down and put her arm around Jeanne's shoulders.
"You did a great job, Mrs. Hunter; you caught him completely off guard," Thirteen said. Jeanne reached for a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
"I was just so afraid Malcolm was going to hit Tyler," she said sniffling. "I'd hate myself if I allowed that." Very quickly the team and Wilson all chimed in with various declarations of "We'd stop him; that would never happen," and so forth.
"Mrs. Hunter," House said, "never mess with a son of a bitch cripple who has a deadly weapon." He twirled his cane with a slight twinkle in his eye; his actions didn't only get a reaction from Jeanne, but from her son, too. Tyler had stopped paying attention to the rain falling outside; the storm had lessened and held less of a fascination for him. He was once again roaming around the room, laughing and flapping his hands. House decided to try a little experiment.
"Tyler?" he said. "Can you come here?" House leaned his cane against the wall; he held his arms open wide, palms facing forward, in an open gesture. Tyler continued circling around the room, hesitating each time he neared House, but not approaching him. "Tyler, can you give me a hug?" Wilson and the team gave House a look; they'd dealt with children many times before, never did he make such a request from any of them. The child continued to wander about the room and then for one brief moment, House and Tyler made eye contact. On his next sweep around the room, Tyler ran at House; instead of barreling into his groin, Tyler changed direction. He came at House from his right side and slowed down, as much as he was capable of controlling his movements. The boy tried to put his arms around House's legs while continuing to move his hands about. The most significant occurrence, however was the change in Tyler's laughter; it almost stopped and was replaced a prolonged sound that was steady and low. He stopped making the noise for a moment, then began again.
"What…what is he doing?" asked Jeanne. "He does that noise all the time, but I haven't been able to figure out what it means." House reached down and couldn't help but feel the need to stroke the boy's head; he was both drawn to the Tyler's tenacity for dealing with having Hunter for a father and fascinated by all the exceptions there were to the child's case.
"I think he's trying to talk." Jeanne sat stunned.
"He's never spoken a word in his life," she said. House smiled as Tyler moved away from him and began to explore the room again.
"Yes, he has. Didn't you just tell me that he makes that noise all the time? He needs help to learn a better way of speaking; you need to learn how to listen." Thirteen stood up; she had still been crouched next to Jeanne.
"House do you really think Tyler could learn to communicate?" she asked. House took his cane from where he had left it next to the wall.
"I wouldn't hold out any hope for the Gettysburg Address," he said watching Jeanne's face as she kept an eye on Tyler as he ran around. "But 'Mommy' isn't outside of the realm of possibilities." He turned to Wilson. "I guess I'd better go and face the Spanish Inquisition."
"I'll be heading down in a few minutes as well," Jeanne said. "Thank you for your help, Dr. House." House nodded; he turned to leave, but felt something pull at his leg. He looked down and saw Tyler holding on to him, the clownish grin replaced by what one would call a "normal" smile; for a brief moment, House swore he saw in the child's eyes a glimmer of the "real" boy underneath.
"Tyler, come to Mommy; Dr. House will see you later," Jeanne Hunter said, gently pulling her son back from House. It seemed at first the child was going to raise a fuss, but then quickly settled into his mother's arms.
"I'll be in my office after I answer the same question from five different people five different ways," House said to the team. He left the room and headed to the elevators with Wilson closely behind. "How did you know Hunter was here?" he asked. Wilson smiled.
"I thought to tell security that if they see his limo pull into the driveway, they are to notify me immediately. When they signaled me, Kyle James got the idea to use your cell phone like a wire or a bug. I texted you while he spoke to Mrs. Hunter and the team and…it looks like we pulled it off." House walked beside him silently. "You don't seem very pleased about something. You were OK right after Hunter left and we all fist pumped and everything. What's wrong?"
"I've had time to think," House said. "What happens when a kid uses a slingshot to knock a bee's nest down out of a tree? The kid gets all excited that he did it and gloats; then reality sets in as the swarm of bees comes after him seeking revenge. If he's lucky and can run fast enough, he'll get away with a few dozen stings. Hunter is a giant bee with a harpoon for a stinger; I'm not lucky and I don't run fast." The elevator arrived and they entered it; House was relieved to see it empty.
"House, everyone down in that conference room right now is worried about two things: nailing Hunter and protecting you. I told you, Mr. James went crazy when Foreman and I told him what Hunter was planning; I think if Hunter had been in the room, James would have killed him with his bare hands."
"I know if he laid one hand on his wife or kid, he would have had a room full of people trying to kill him," House noted. Wilson nodded.
"That's for sure. Things were getting a little tense up there; I was sure Hunter was going to take a swing at you, or shove you or something. I was afraid you would swing your cane in self-defense; that would have really complicated things." The door of the car opened and House and Wilson stepped out into the back of the lobby; turning to their left, they made their way through the maze of hallways until they had arrived at the legal department. House recognized many of the faces he saw; he had dealt with almost all of them in the past. He looked through a door on his right; there he saw Cheryl Cooke talking away with two men while one sat next to her, quietly taking notes. House took it that the Silent Bob was her attorney; Laurel and Hardy were from the DA's office. He watched as Cheryl very animatedly waved her hands, nodded her head and pointed with her fore finger on the table for emphasis. You're pointing with the wrong finger, thought House.
"Dr. House." The voice came from his left; he turned to see Kyle James, husband of his patient from Monday and Assistant District Attorney, walking toward him. "Nice to see you again, although I wish it were under different circumstances." James extended his hand; House took it with far less reluctance than he did a few days ago. The shoe was now on the other foot; House was now relying on James for his happiness and peace of mind.
"Don't take this personally," House said, "but I'd rather visit my oral surgeon, my proctologist and my tax accountant all in the same day than be dealing with you right now." Rather than be offended, James laughed heartily.
"No harm, no foul," he said. "Save me the seat next to you; on the one hand I'm thrilled at how far and how quickly we've been able to advance our case against Hunter. On the other hand, I'm sorry you've been dragged into this." House shook his head and let out a sigh.
"I'm afraid I was dragged into this long ago."
"Let's head down to the main conference room," James said gesturing down the hallway to their left. The two men began walking. "Yes, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Foreman told us about your prior history with Hunter; it's a shame he's been able to slip through the cracks on so many occasions. But, we have him on a roster of charges; if we throw enough at him, something's got to stick. If it's any comfort to you, the fact that he used the violations of HIPAA laws with the intent of ruining your medical practice and for revenge, increases the penalties exponentially."
"There's not much that could comfort me right now."
"Not even your girlfriend?" House stopped walking. He wanted as few people as possible to know about Lydia; the less anyone knew of her existence, the less chance there was that Hunter would find out about her. James turned and looked at him.
"How do you know…?"
"Dr. Wilson and Dr. Foreman mentioned that she's the one who thought of the HIPAA tie in; well, that and my wife sort of pegged that you had someone special in your life based on some of the conversations you had with her." House had to smile a bit; if there was one thing to be said about Bonnie James, her powers of observation and deduction were superb.
"I'd rather as few people know about my girlfriend as possible; I'm afraid of the lengths to which Hunter is willing to go to take retribution on her to get to me." James nodded and began walking again.
"I understand where you're coming from on that. Almost anyone in the DA's office at some point has been threatened or had a member of their family threatened; it goes with the territory. I don't believe he would try to do anyone any physical harm; he's a vindictive SOB, but he's shown no history of violence." They arrived at the conference room; if the hospital wanted to save any money, they could cut down on all the extras in this room alone. A wet bar at one end, a coffee bar at the other, rich paneling on the walls, a table so glossy you could use it as a mirror and seats so plush your tush would never want to come out of them. Big bucks, indeed.
"My wife says hello, by the way." Kyle James had interrupted House's thoughts with the mention of his wife.
"How is she feeling?" House asked. It seemed the expected thing to do; plus, there was something he genuinely liked about Bonnie.
"Much better; she's still a bit weak, but PT comes in and works with her; they've even given her some exercises for her Rheumatoid Arthritis. She went out and got some fresh air yesterday; too bad today's such a crappy day," James noted looking out the window at the gray skies. The rain had stopped and a leaden shroud hung over the area.
"How are her bed sores? She's rotating her sleep positions, I hope." House recalled the wounds Bonnie had from remaining in bed for weeks; they were the last things a diabetic on immune-suppressing drugs needed.
"The nurses are great about keeping an eye on her. Almost all the wounds seem to be doing well, except the one on her left hip. That one's being stubborn."
"That was the worst of them," House noted. "I'll have someone from my team stop in there and see what wound care is doing; sometimes these things take time because of all she has working against her, sometimes the experts aren't as expert as they'd like to think they are." Kyle smiled.
"Thank you; Bonnie would be happy to see you or someone from your team. You were the first doctors she felt actually listened to her and treated her as an individual, not an illustration in a textbook."
"It's part of my philosophy: look for zebras." James laughed as a man and a woman approached them.
"Mr. James, we're ready to start taking statements from everyone." House looked around and saw that Davidson and Mrs. Hunter had joined them in the room.
"We're going to break things up into groups to get as much done as we can; depending on what we've got, we might be able to present something to court to at least make an arrest on some charges," James explained. House vehemently shook his head.
"He'll be out on bail in no time and twice as dangerous," he said and started to pace. "If you're going to get in the first punch, make it a good one; because when he gets up off the ground, he will be relentless in his pursuit of anyone who got in his way." James reached out and stopped House from pacing by putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I know exactly where you're coming from," James said looking House straight in the eye, "and I sympathize with your feelings entirely. We'll talk about it in about in a little bit." House put his head down and didn't respond.
"This is the way things are going to happen," James said raising his voice to get the attention of everyone in the room. Wilson, Foreman, Davidson and Mrs. Hunter all gathered around where House and James were standing. "We are going to break up into three groups; one from the DA's office, one from the legal department here at PPTH and one from medical records here at the hospital. Each one of you," he said to House and company, "will speak to each of the three groups. There will a lot of questions repeated, asked in different forms, but if everyone tells the story as it happened, we should get the same answers from all of you. We'll question Dr. House's team members individually after we finish speaking to you. If you want to have a lawyer in the room with you, I'd suggest you start making calls now so we don't hold things up."
"Mr. James, I'm supposed to meet in a few minutes with Dr. Murphy from St. James Hospital. He's one of the doctors who saw Tyler Hunter and was forced into writing the phony report used in court by Hunter to win his lawsuit." Foreman said. House shook his head and let ou
"Allegedly forced into writing the alleged phony report," House said. "If you're going to play with the big boys, you'll have to learn their lingo." House got a bunch of chuckles for his observation.
"Go meet with him; see if you can convince him to at least talk to me off the record. The trial for that happened in New York, so I'll have to contact the Manhattan DA's office with what we discover on that end of things."
"Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can." Foreman left the room to keep his appointment.
"I'd like to go first," House said. "I have an appointment later on that I can't break." Wilson gave House a quizzical look, but quickly realized he must have plans with Lydia.
"Of course," James said. "You can start with my office and then go around. Dr. Wilson, why don't you talk to your medical records department? Mr. Davidson, why don't you deal with the hospital's legal area?"
"Mr. James, may I go back upstairs and stay with my son while I wait my turn?" Jeanne Hunter asked.
"Of course," he answered. "You can come back down with one of Dr. House's team members." Everyone adjourned to different rooms and the questioning began. As an indication of how seriously he was taking the matter, House was very well-behaved and made relatively few quips and sarcastic comments. As he went from room to room, he grew less patient with the repetitive nature of the questions, but he maintained his cool. Finally things seemed to be winding down, at least for his portion of the interviews. He came out of an office to the left of the main conference room and saw various people wandering around in the hallway, including Wilson and Foreman. He could only hope that somewhere in the crowd was the doc from St. James Hospital and Foreman had convinced him to give testimony against Hunter.
House pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked for messages; the phone was on silent, but it did vibrate once just a short while ago. He smiled as he saw Lydia's message.
"Hi, E.L.F. it's BBB. Things went OK with the interviews; one very good, one eh. I'll tell you more later. Call me when you are free. Ich liebe dich."
House was about to find Wilson in the crowd and let him know he was getting out of this place a little early; at least it would give him a few extra hours with Lydia. There was nothing more that he could do for Tyler right now; he could go visit Bonnie James, but he thought that she would approve if he blew her off in favor of Lydia. He was just about to head over to Wilson, when Kyle James tapped him on the shoulder.
"Dr. House, can I talk to you for a sec?" House nodded and followed him back into the main conference room. Standing there were Jeff Davidson and two other men House didn't recognize. House wasn't entirely sure he liked the look on their faces or the atmosphere in the room; making him feel less happy was the fact that James closed the door behind him.
Wilson glanced down the hall and saw House go into the conference room and the door close; normally it would have raised a red flag in Wilson's mind, but with all the things going on, it didn't faze him. About ten minutes later, the door opened and House was quickly walking down the hall.
"Hey, how did everything go?" Wilson asked.
"Great, just freakin' great. I've…I'm going to get out of here, spend some time with Lydia." Wilson was taken aback.
"Yeah, sure. Is everything OK? You look really rattled."
"No. I'm fine," he said as he maneuvered past Wilson. "I'll see you tomorrow." House made his way out of the legal department and as soon as he was short distance away took out his phone and called Lydia.
"Hi! How's everything going?" she said as she answered.
"Where are you?"
"I'm getting a cup of coffee at the deli a few blocks from the hospital. Greg, what's the matter?"
"I'll explain it when I see you. Park in my space and come straight up to my office when you get here." House hesitated for a moment. "I love you," he said and ended the call without even waiting for Lydia's reply. He walked over to the reception desk and arranged for Lydia's visitor's pass; going back to the elevators, he was relieved to have a car show up right away and to have it to himself.
"Damn! That mother…" yelled out as he pounded his fist on the wall. House was so enraged; all he could see before his eyes was red. As he made his way to his office he hoped that Lydia would hurry; he needed her right now. Thank God, only a few minutes passed before Lydia came rushing down the hallway and into his office.
"Greg, what is going on? What happened since I left?" House didn't even give her the chance to put her bag down; he walked over to her and grabbed her in a hug. As she held him, Lydia could feel how quickly his heart was beating and felt that he was actually shaking.
"Greg, come here; sit down," she said trying to guide him to the chaise lounge. He stood firm and shook his head no. He took a deep breath before speaking.
"Hunter has already been to court; he's already filed some suits." Lydia's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, no! Oh, Greg, I'm so sorry!" She went to give him a hug, but he stopped her at arm's length.
"Against Wilson and my team."