Big, massive, huge medical inaccuracies.

But it's not supposed to be realistic.

This is the penultimate chapter to this series.

--


When they came out they said "you'll be ok anyway"
And I smiled cause I'd known it all the while

-

Sara Laine stood in front of the two doors which led into Lisa Cuddy's room. She was fresh faced, a smug smile plastered on her lips, her hands were folded in front of her. She looked composed, graceful, nothing like the way she had looked before she had left a few days ago.

"Ms Laine?" Lisa Cuddy stepped out of her office, a nervous look on her face. Her previous meetings with this woman had not gone well and she wasn't looking forward to another, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I want my daughter to be discharged." Sara announced confidently, no aggressive tone in her voice. Cuddy nodded slowly.

"Um, why, may I ask? If it's because of the doctor then we can-"

"It's not the doctor." Sara told her, the tension seemed to escape from Cuddy's face and she relaxed. "It's just, she's been here for weeks, and you haven't even figured out what's wrong with her. I'm not complaining, I just, I want to take my daughter home."

"You'd have to sign an AMA form," Cuddy explained, "She's still seriously ill."

"She's not dying." Sara said, her daughters words coming out of her mouth, "She's ill, but she's coped for it this long. There's no diagnosis, no treatment, there's no point staying."

"I'm sorry to ask this, but does Emily know this?" Cuddy asked cautiously. Sara nodded sharply.

"She understands, she agrees with me, she knows it is for the be-" Sara was cut off by a loud bang, the doors to the clinic swung open, and House stood there. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Sara, who stood, her brow furrowed in confusion, looking shocked. House didn't look too good, with every step he winced, no longer on medication to control his pain. His clothes ruffled, his hair a state, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, but with an unmistakable look of anger behind them. He gritted his teeth together and marched over to her.

"House, what is it?!" Cuddy snapped, she'd been glad to have Sara in front of her, being reasonable and calm, she did not need House to storm in and upset her. House ignored Cuddy, striding right over to her and stopping, his grip so tight on his cane his knuckles were white.

"I need to talk to you." He growled, his jaw was clenched and his eyes were wide with rage. Cuddy's eyes looked him up and down, contorting her face in confusion she rested a hand on his arm.

"House, are you alright? You look awful..." She murmured. House snapped his head round to look at her.

"I'M FINE!" He yelled, shrugging her hand off him, and turning back to Sara, "I have something I have to ask you."

"Emily's leaving." Sara told him, a proud look on her face, as if she'd accomplished something. Her statement just increased House's anger.

"Why are you even acting like you care about her?!" House cried, Cuddy's face dropped and so did Sara's, "You ditch her, just leave her, for days! You don't even sit with her when she's going through painful tests, you didn't even realise she was sick! Come on, why the hell are you here?!" Sara's face now mirrored House's, rage flaring up behind her eyes and she stepped closer to him.

"She's my daughter." Sara hissed, as if daughter trumps everything. House didn't back down, he continued to stare at her.

"Then why are you poisoning her?" The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he wasn't one to take something back. A deathly silence fell over the room, all anger had disappeared from Sara's face, now it was a mixture of hurt and betrayal, Cuddy's mouth was hanging open, feeling that she should say something, but nothing was coming to mind. House took this chance of calm to snatch Sara's bag from where it rested on her shoulder, then the room sprang into life again.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Cuddy yelled as House opened the handbag, walking over to the receptionists desk.

"Give me that back, that's mine!" Sara screamed, trying to tear it out of House's hands, House shoved her roughly away and turned the bag upside down, spilling it's contents onto the surface of the counter, "That's private property, that's illegal!"

"So is loading your daughter up on Warfarin!" House snapped back. He sifted through the clutter on the desk, finding everything he'd expect to find, Hypodermic needles; of course, she was a junkie. Lipstick, tampons, a small mirror, coins, a purse, a cell phone. There was one thing which was missing though, a bottle of Warfarin, "Where is it?!" He snapped, turning round to face the horrified Cuddy and Sara.

"Where is what?!" Sara asked, not following what was happening.

"The Warfarin!" House wanted to tear this woman to shreds, find at least one pill; one little shred of guilt to piece this whole absurd puzzle together.

"I don't even know what that is!" Sara told him sincerely. Cuddy placed her hands on her hips, glaring at House, not believing what had just happened. House shook his head, convinced Sara was lying.

"No, Warfarin is an anti-coagulant," House explained quickly, turning back round and sifting through the junk again, but not finding anything knew, "It can cause haemorrhaging, it explains her haemoptysis..." His voice was trailing off, realising he'd just made an extremely big mistake.

"I'm so sorry about this." Cuddy muttered to Sara, her frowned but nodded slowly, "I'll get those forms for you, so you'll be able to take Emily home in the next few days."

"Thank you." Sara said bitterly, stepping forward, pushing past House and pouring her stuff back into her handbag. She swung it over her shoulder, glaring at House one last time before strutting towards the exit, "I'll be with my daughter." She spat.

House heard Cuddy walk over to him, her heels clicking against the smooth floor and he leant against the desk, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "Maybe you should go home," Cuddy whispered. House straightened up and shook his head.

"Don't." He spat, he hated pity, he couldn't stand it, it made his skin crawl. He'd made a large mistake, and knew he was going to pay for it, so he limped back over to the exit, his head hanging, disappointment building up like a bomb in his chest

--

"That doctor, he is just-" My mother had opened the door, looking extremely flustered and annoyed, a strangely tight grip on the strap of her handbag. I sat upright, bringing my knees up to my chest and resting my chin on them.

"What's happened now?" I asked timidly.

"He's a fucking psycho!" My mum cried, throwing her bag down on a near by seat, running her hand through her hair and taking a deep breath, "He accused me of poisoning you!" She snapped. I raised my eyebrows, genuinely surprised, this was a new one.

"Seriously?" I shrugged absentmindedly, "I mean, he said he was running out of ideas..."

"Emily, we are getting you out of this hospital as soon as possible!" My mum cried. She tried to calm down, walking over to my bedside she sat on the edge, her fingers picking at any loose threads in the blankets, "Dr. House, he's just... you know I don't like him."

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." I bit down on my lower lip, "He's just doing his job."

"He stole my handbag!" She screamed.

"He's a little... unorthodox..." I murmured. My mother narrowed her eyes at me and I suddenly shrunk away from her.

"Don't make excuses for him!" She snarled. I slowly nodded, not wanting to annoy her any further, whatever House had done had gotten to her.

"What did he say?" I asked sheepishly, I wanted to know his next theory, but from the look on my mothers face I knew she wasn't in the mood to talk about it. She sat down on the bed, her hands balled into fists, her jaw clenched.

"He said I was slipping you Warfarin." She spat, "I mean, I don't even know what Warfarin is!"
"It's an anti-coagulant." I sighed, previous doctors had mentioned it, but on finding out I didn't have a medical condition involving clotting, had discarded the idea. Only House would have the guts to take it one step further and presume my mother was feeding me it. He was wrong, of course, my mother never had the time to get Warfarin, never mind find out what it is, and figure out where to get it. My mother was a smart woman, but she was also ridiculously lazy.

"I'm going to sign the discharge papers tonight" My mother muttered to herself, I opened my mouth in protest but she noticed, "Fine. You're going to sign the discharge papers tonight. We'll leave in the next few days."

"Can't we see if they can come up with something else?" I asked meekly, my mother's eyes widened and I knew instantly I'd said the wrong thing and shrank away from her. I wanted to finally find out what was wrong with me, and I knew my best bet was House, but my mother didn't see it this way. My mom's features softened a little and she reached out and affectionately cupping my cheek, running her thumb along my skin.

"Honey, I know you're sick but..." She pursed her lips together and I knew she was bargaining with herself. After a moments silence she sighed deeply in resignation, "One more day. One more day then we're going." I nodded sharply and a grin spread over my face, an expression of pure delight.

"Thanks!"

--

"You wanted to see me?" House's voice was gruff as he stuck his head round the door to Lisa Cuddy's office, his face was sour, and he looked just as bad and worn out as he had a few hours earlier. He wouldn't normally go down to face Cuddy when he was asked to, but in a situation like this he knew it was no use avoiding her.

"House..." Her voice was light and sympathetic, which did not bode well for him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and walking cautiously over to one of the sofas, where he slowly sat down and hunched over.

"This is about Sara Laine, right?" He murmured. Of course it was, there was nothing else that needed talking about. Cuddy rose from her seat behind her desk and strode over to where House was sitting, joining him on the sofa while straightening her pencil skirt.

"I think you might need a vacation." She joked. House didn't crack a smile; he stared at the top of his cane which was held in his two hands in front of him. Cuddy frowned and looked down at her lap, "We can't have anything like that happening again."

"Okay, fine," House sighed, "Promise I won't, scouts honour."

"House." Cuddy gritted her teeth together, wanting him to take it seriously, she didn't realise that he was taking the whole thing a lot more seriously than she was, "What's happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm just a little cranky without my Vicodin." House told her, it was half true, he'd stopped taking them, probably because of Emily's comment about him being a junkie, but the real reason he was in such a state was because he knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and he wanted to avoid it at all possible costs, "So I'll just go get some more and I'll be as right as rain."

"This isn't about drugs." Cuddy sighed, seeing right through him, "It's about the patient."

"What about the patient?" House growled, Cuddy raised her eyebrows, "I mean, she's not dead, I must be doing something right."

"Why is this case getting to you so much?" She asked.

"Because it's impossible." Another half truth.

"I'm sorry but," House knew what was coming next and he shut his eyes for a split second, as if bracing himself for the blow, "I'm taking you off this case."

"What? Why?" He knew the answer, it was obvious, but he wasn't happy about it.

"To stop us being sued, I mean usually what you do seems a little strange, but it always makes sense in the end..." Cuddy looked down at the ground, "You're not thinking straight on this one."

"Fine." House said simply, pushing himself off the sofa, leaving Cuddy's office and heading back to his own, He wasn't going down without a fight.

--

It was early afternoon the day after House had been taken off the case, and he strutted in through the doors of the clinic, his eyes scanning the room. Sick people were sitting in the waiting area while the nurses rushed around, most of them knowing better than to step forward and talk to him. He hunched his shoulders, his appearance no better than the previous day, and made his way over to the pharmacy.

"What can I get for you today?" The man behind the counter asked, he was short, fat, balding and was wearing a lab coat. "Some Vicodin?" House narrowed his eyes.

"Chloramphenicol." He told him, pushing a prescription over the counter, "3 grams of oily chloramphenicol"

"What do you need that for?" The man asked curiously, obediently fetching the drug which had been requested, House shrugged absentmindedly, getting a little impatient, not in the mood for chatting.

"Thought I'd spice up my drugs regime up." House said with a smirk as he quickly snatched the syringe from the man. His face dropped as for a second he took him seriously, and House looked quite smug until he felt a hand land on his shoulder and he turned round to see Wilson standing there with a curious look on his face.

"Finally getting round to refilling your Vicodin?" He asked. House attempted to pocket the syringe so it was out of sight, but Wilson spotted it and furrowed his brow, not understanding what was going on.

"I need to visit a patient." House growled, pushing roughly past him. Wilson stood still for a moment, trying to figure out what was happening, before he started after House again.

"You don't have any patients!" Wilson shouted as he followed him through the clinic doors towards the elevators. House stopped and impatiently pressed the button, this was one time he wished he could use the stairs. Wilson was quickly at his side.

"Actually, I do." House lied, shooting him a sarcastic smile, "Someone with meningitis," He slipped his hand into his pocket and showed him the needle, "Unluckily they also have a severe allergic reaction to penicillin."

"You're lying." Wilson said bluntly, House shrugged and pocketed the needle again, stepping into the lift as it slid open and widened his eyes.

"You can never be too sure with me" He directed his eyes upwards and watched as the numbers lit up. Wilson was studying him carefully; knowing from how he was behaving something was going on. House kept his mouth shut and briskly stepped out at his floor, Wilson in hot pursuit.

"Stop following me!" House called over his shoulder but Wilson ignored him, jogging to catch up. House came to a stop half way down the corridor and glared at him, Wilson continuing to be oblivious to what was going on.

"You have two choices," House muttered under his breath, "Turn round and go back to your office, or turn round and go rat me out to Cuddy." Wilson furrowed his brow, getting more confused by the second.

"Why would I go to..." His voice trailed off as he watched House pull out the hypodermic needle, taking off the protective plastic covering, and stepped past him. Only then did Wilson realise they were standing outside Emily's room. House cracked the door open and frowned, turning to look at Wilson one last time.

"I know what's wrong with her." House said simply, before stepping in, leaving Wilson with his mouth hanging open.