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CHAPTER TWELVE

House stared at his cousin with concern, worry and fear for her. "How long has it been going on?"

"About two months," she said with embarrassment in her voice, "another reason why I needed to get high; I just didn't say anything about it. But I haven't gotten high since!" she threw in, just to make herself clear. "I figured it would go away, but it hasn't. It's only gotten worse."

"Deb, did Aunt Sharon have post-partum depression…oh…" He could have kicked himself when he realized she hadn't talked to her mom in over a year. "Um, I think you should talk to…"

"No, it's not that. I checked the internet and…it's just…I've been sleeping a lot. When Jim would go to work and I put the baby down I'd sleep – and never want to get out of bed. Once he'd been crying for I don't know how long when I finally got the will to get out of bed to get him. I don't even play with him anymore; I just sit on the couch and watch him play, not even caring. God, I hate it! I hate the way I feel. I…I can't keep doing this. I just need something to keep me going, just 'til it passes."

House shook his head and leaned back in his chair and scrutinized the situation. He leaned forward, opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a prescription pad. "This should work, and since you aren't breast feeding there shouldn't be a problem," he said as he handed her the scrip. "But I won't put a refill on it until you are able to see a counselor, okay?" It was okay for House to tell Debra to see a psychologist, but not for House to see one. House rules are funny that way.

"Thanks, and please don't tell Jim. I'll tell him – when I'm feeling better."

House nodded his head as he watched her walk out of his office to return to her office.

He was floored; he hadn't noticed any change in her, but as she said, she would sleep all day, and Wilson never shared with him any difference in her personality. He shrugged his shoulders and put it to genetics, but he'd get to the bottom of it. House was like that. A simple yawn from Wilson sent him into a frenzy to find out why he was yawning and he wouldn't let it go. And he wouldn't let this go with his cousin, either.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

A few days had passed and Cuddy was in her office panicking because she had a meeting in thirty minutes and she needed a file that she couldn't find. She sighed heavily and called Wilson at his office. Wilson told her that she wasn't feeling well, that he'd brought the baby into work and she'd told him she'd get out of bed as soon as he left. He thanked Cuddy for calling him then called home.

There was no answer.

He called her cell phone. Again, no answer.

He tried the home number again. When it continued to ring, he slammed the phone down and raced to their apartment. He stormed in and immediately called her name but there was no answer. He raced to the bedroom but she wasn't in bed. He hurried to the bathroom where he found her passed out on the floor, nude; a puddle of vomit beside the toilet by her hand.

"Debra!" he screamed as he knelt down by her. He checked her pupils and they were wide and dark. He tried to wake her by slapping her across the face but she was unresponsive.

He dialed 911 and supported her head with a balled up towel. After he checked her head thinking she'd hit it somewhere while getting in or out of the tub, he stood and looked around the bathroom, looking for any sign of what happened. On the counter he saw a bottle that had maybe twenty pills in it.

He picked it up and looked for the name of it: 'Prozac;' prescribed Dr.: 'Gregory House.' The dosage was 10mg twice a day, a high quantity from someone just starting on it. The number of prescribed pills was thirty but there were ten missing. He cursed out loud and fell to the floor beside her, covering her with another towel and asking 'why' over and over. He didn't know how long it was that he sat beside her when a paramedic burst into the bathroom and startled him. He'd forgotten he left the front door open in his haste to find Debra.

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"You KNEW about her depression and you didn't TELL me?!" Wilson screamed at House.

"Would you keep it down? She's trying to sl…"

"Screw that! You should have sent her to a psychiatrist, or at least tell me!"

"She didn't want me to…"

House and Wilson were in Debra's hospital room having their fight. It was early evening and Debra had her stomach pumped after the multiple pills she took and was given a concoction of medication with fluids that she'd lost earlier. The two men were waiting impatiently for her to wake up. They had a lot of questions to ask her.

House broke the sudden silence by asking, "Haven't you noticed any changes in her?"

Wilson didn't answer right away but walked to the window and looked out over the dark and almost empty parking lot. "No, except…she hasn't been sleeping well, a little cranky, not to mention the lack of sex…" He hesitated a moment a little embarrassed, but he felt it was important since their sex life had decreased a bit after the birth, but that had been remedied several times since they talked. "But that's probably because of her par…" Wilson suddenly shut up.

House's eyes bugged out when he heard that. "What about her parents?"

Wilson turned to look at him and told him that she'd talked with her mom over the phone a few times and had talked about going to visit her parents, but that Debra wasn't ready for it quite yet. House knew her parents seemed to have disowned her since she'd left for New Jersey but her parents were never really a topic they talked about all that often.

"But…that's no reason for her to…Oh, god…" House stammered before Cameron walked in the room.

She ordered the two men to leave so Debra could rest, and they did, but said not a word to the other as they went back to their perspective offices. Cameron stayed with Debra and sat in the chair beside her for a few minutes, looking over her vitals and checking for any irregular heartbeats.

But Debra was fine, and sitting forward in the chair there was intense pressure on Cameron's bladder from the baby. She stood and turned to leave when she heard her name very quietly, gargly, as if there were sand in the back of the person's throat. She walked back to Debra's side.

"Deb…hey…talk to me."

Debra moaned and groaned as she tried to un-clue her lips to talk. She couldn't open her eyes, she knew that much. Her eyes felt as if the eyeballs had been ripped out and gravel was thrown in there – very swollen, hot and sore. And her head hurt – like it had never hurt before, not even after a night of drinking, or vomiting for half an hour with the flu. She couldn't swallow because the tube they'd inserted to induce vomiting scratched it slightly, and her stomach felt like it'd been torn open with someone's bare hands.

"kkkk,"

"It's Allison…Debra…say something. Do you know where you are?"

It was a second or two before she answered, "Dizzzznee Worl'?" Cameron took her seriously and she was startled, but when a faint smile crossed Debra's lips she knew she was just being funny. "Hmmmpph…Jjjjjjjjj…fin' me?" she asked, smacking her lips.

"Yeah, he did. You're going to be fine. They pumped your stomach and…"

With those words Debra tried in vain to open her eyes because she knew what everyone was thinking, but she still couldn't. "Al…I…did't try…kill…mmmself."

"Debra…get some sleep. I'll stay here for a while, okay? Just relax."

"Ggggd, where' Jmm?"

"Shhhhh," she whispered, trying to calm her. "You can talk to him later."

"I wan' Jmmm…I dddn't meeeen…kill mmmsef…tell 'hmmm," she gasped, desperation and pain plainly on her face.

"Okay, yes, of course I'll tell him."