Apologise for slight OOC-ness. Haven't updated recently 'cause I was doing a work placement, so haven't been home much.
--
My eyes slowly pried themselves open and I was greeted by darkness. I was curled up on my hospital bed, my blankets pulled around me. When I came back from the X-ray it was late and I had fallen asleep nearly straight away. I glanced over to the table near my bed and looked at the clock sitting there. It was 3 am. I yawned slightly and rolled over so I was lying on my back.
I loved hospitals. I never understood why, there was something about the medicinal smell, the order, all the doctors and nurses rushing round trying to help people. Most of my friends hated it, it was where sick people were, it was where people died. I figured people die all over the place, and if you're sick the best place to be is a hospital.
I was snapped out of my train of thought by someone clearing their throat. I rolled my head over on the pillow and found myself looking at Dr.House, who was sitting on a chair next to my bed, his feet on my blanket, his cane swinging from on hand. I flashed him a small smile.
"Hey you..." I sighed, my sleepyness evident in my voice, "Why are you here so late?"
"You're a really heavy sleeper." He muttered, not paying attention to me, focusing on his cane. I nodded.
"Yeah, I love to sleep." I murmured. He stopped swinging his cane and his eyes slowly met mine, a frown on his face. I felt my heart sink, it wasn't good news.
"You..." I started and took a deep breath, trying not to sound dissapointed. I should have been used to it by now, "You don't know."
"Your lungs are perfectly healthy." He said, his voice filled with defeat, "There's nothing wrong with them, I doubt you've even been near a cigarette in your entire life."
"So, it's not cancer?" I whispered. He shook his head.
"Or pneumonia, or bronchitis or tuberculosis or aspergilloma." He hung his head, "We're going to do a CT first thing tomorrow morning." I nodded, and pushed myself up so I was sitting upright, propped up against the pillows.
"It's not Bronchiectasis." I said bluntly. He raised his eyebrows.
"How'd you know-" He started, I laughed slightly.
"It's diagnosed by CT, right?" I asked, he nodded, "I've had CT's before. It'll come back normal."
"We still have to test you. Something might have changed in the past few years." He pointed out. I nodded.
"I hope so." I sighed. We sat in silence for a few minutes, House was obviously thinking, his hands covering his mouth, his eyes directed to the floor.
"Has your mom ever..." He started, he sat back in his seat, "Has your mom ever abused you?" I furrowed my brow, wondering where this was coming from.
"No." I said.
"I saw the tracks on her arms." He told me, his voice dead serious. I laughed and shook my head, pulling my blankets up around me.
"Is this about me being emancipated?" I asked. He shook his head.
"No, I just thought it would be an interesting topic of conversation." He muttered. I giggled slightly.
"I'll tell you why I'm emancipated." I said.
"Goody!"
"But!" I interjected. He frowned.
"There's always a but." He groaned.
"But if I do, then I don't have to wear these stupid hospital gowns anymore." House raised an eyebrow.
"What's wrong with them? They're light, stylish and disposable." I smirked at him.
"Yeah, but everyone can see my panties when I get up!" It was House's turn to smirk.
"I'm not complaining." I smiled to myself and shook my head.
"Promise." I hissed. He cocked his head to one side, staring into space.
"I don't know, I like your panties." He muttered. I picked up one of my pillows and threw it at him. It hit him in the face, "Ow! Fine, fine. No more hospital gowns."
"Okay..." I murmured, glaring at him. He raised his hands up.
"I promise." He swore. I bit down on my bottom lip, "So, did mommy beat you? When she was off her head on drugs did she take it out on you? Do you cry yourself to sleep at night?"
"My mom's a heroin addict." I said plainly, "Heroin relaxes you. It doesn't make you beat your children."
"Is that a no?" I nodded slowly, "Damn it, it was just getting interesting."
"Anyway, if I tried to get emancipated because of abuse I'd just end up getting put into foster care." I pointed out. He shrugged.
"So...?" He said, expecting me to continue.
"So, Parental consent is a lot easier." I explained.
"Are you telling me 'psycho mom' signed you away?" I laughed and shook my head.
"No. Not psycho mom." I sighed, "Psycho dad."
"Wait, what?" He spluttered, he leaned closer to me, "Psycho dad? I thought you didn't have a dad, why's he not here?" I smirked at him and shook my head.
"Nope. You got what you wanted!" I told him, "Unless you have something else to offer me, I'm not going to say anything else!" House shuffled closer to my bed and smiled up at me.
"I can get you any drug you want." I burst out laughing.
"Drugs?"
"Yeah, do you like Vicodin?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small clear yellow tub, he rattled it in front of me, "It's like candy for grown ups!" I shook my head, still laughing.
"No thanks." I sighed. He shrugged and unscrewed the top, pouring a pill into his hand, leaning his head back and downing it.
"More for me!" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and pursed my lips together, thinking, staring at my hands which were lying on my lap. I looked up and met House's eyes.
"How long were you here?" I asked. He shrugged.
"Like I said, you're a heavy sleeper." He muttered.
"It's 3am, why aren't you at home?" I asked.
"Why's daddy not here?"
"Fair enough." I sighed. House then rolled up his sleeve, looking at his watch. He raised his eyebrows and pushed himself up off the chair, pocketing the tub of pills. He began to limp over to the door, but stopped as he was opening it.
"See you in around..." He thought for a second, "5 hours or so."
"Looking forward to it."
--
House heard a knock on the door, but didn't even look up. He sat on his chair, his feet propped up on his desk, his head slung back, eyes closed, mouth open, trying to sleep. He hadn't slept much of last night, and was now regretting it. He'd sat beside her bed for hours until she woke up, and before that had been pouring over her file, trying to figure out if they'd missed anything on the X-ray. He hadn't gone home, he figured it would be better just to sleep in the hospital. But he hadn't slept, until now.
The door was knocked again, and he groaned loudly, but didn't shift, and slung a hand over his eyes, "Go away!" He called to whoever it was.
"Sorry, I'll come back whenever you're awake." Came an oddly familiar voice. He spread his fingers and peeked through them, finding Emily standing in his doorway. He sprang upwards, trying to wake himself up. He heard her laugh, "You know, maybe you should spend less time watching your patients sleep and more time doing it yourself, it's more healthy and less creepy."
"I wasn't watching you sleep!" He snapped, removing a tub of pills from his pocket and downing one, "I was just making sure you weren't having seizures."
"Okay, I believe you." She said with a smile. That's when he noticed that she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He picked up his cane and walked over to her, looking her up and down.
"Ditched the hospital gown?" He asked. She nodded, stepping into his office , dragging her drip in after her, taking a step back and showing off her clothes.
"These are more comfortable." She explained. He shrugged.
"I prefered the gown, left less to the imagination." He muttured, "How'd the CT go?" Emily shrugged just as Cameron and Chase walked into the room. They both glanced over at Emily, confused looks on their face.
"Why aren't you in your room?" Chase asked. Emily shrugged.
"Thought I'd go for a walk." She said plainly. Chase shot a curious look at House, who gave a large shrug and began to walk back over to his desk.
"That's why I think all patients should bound and gagged." House told them all, he sat down again on his seat, "So, you got her results?"
Chase had a folder in his hand, but he looked from House to Emily and back again, his mouth opened like he wanted to say something but couldn't manage it. Cameron rolled her eyes and snatched the file from his hand, walked over to House and handed it to him.
"Nothing." She said with a sigh, "Nothing at all. Completely healthy." House glared at Emily, who didn't look surprised in the least.
"Told you." She said, giving him a small smile.
"Smugness is not an attractive quality." House murmured, throwing the file down on the desk. He glanced up at Chase and Cameron, "So, any ideas?"
"Are you sure..." Chase started, pointing at Emily, obviously uncomfortable with discussing her medical condition in front of her. House rolled his eyes.
"Maybe if you talk really quietly she won't hear you!" He whispered. Chase frowned and folded his arms across his chest.
"Could be um..." Cameron started, furrowing her brow, "Pulmonary embolism?" House turned quickly round to Emily.
"Is it painful to breathe? Do you get shortness of breath?" House asked. Emily looked slightly taken aback but shook her head, "It's not pulmonary embolism. Do a pulmonary angiography just to be sure." Chase walked over to Emily, gently taking her by the arm and began to lead her away to the door.
"Have you had breakfast yet?" He asked. Emily shook her head.
"No, I haven't eaten since last night." Chase nodded and smiled sweetly, and opened the door for them to leave.
"Not yet!" House cried. He made a 'tsk' noise and rolled his eyes, "We're not done with her yet. So, what else could it be?"
"HHT." Chase sighed, letting of Emily's arm with a shrug, "Osler-Weber-Rendu syndrome can cause hemoptysis." Emily suddenly shook her head, House raised an eyebrow.
"No, it's not that." Emily quickly said, "I don't have nose bleeds." House nodded in agreement with her.
"She's not anaemic either. It's not HHT." He muttered. Cameron ran a hand through her hair.
"Goodpastures syndrome?" She asked. House leant forward in his seat, leaning his elbows against the desk and hiding his face in his hand. He shook his head.
"Tell them why Emily." He called. Emily was slightly surprised but shrugged and turned to Cameron.
"My kidney's aren't failing." She murmured, "They're fine."
"Seriously, a 16 year old knows more medicine than you do!" House groaned.
"17." Cameron corrected.
"Oh, one year, big difference." House growled sarcastically, he turned to Chase and nodded for him to leave, "Go do the pulmonary angiography." Chase nodded and left the room, Emily obediently followed him. Cameron dipped her hands into her pockets and opened her mouth to say something. House cut her off, "You can go too, I'm sure there's a dying child somewhere which needs you to hold it's hand" Cameron scowled at him and turned on her heel and left.
House exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes again. Emily was a mystery.