That evening, Sarah administered a course of glucocorticoids to the fetus that Cameron was carrying. Four days later, a sonogram revealed no change. Sarah then administered a second course. Three days later, the fetus' lungs still looked exactly the same.
"Why?" Cameron asked.
"I don't know," Sarah said. "But I've discussed this with our entire obstetrics department and we all agree that right now, your baby's best chance of survival is outside the womb."
"She'll be born with severe respiratory distress." Cameron sat up in her hospital bed, alarmed. "There's a risk of brain damage."
"You work in the diagnostics department, Allison, so you know we have a better chance of getting a diagnosis if we're working with a baby, not a fetus."
"This means you want to deliver."
"Tomorrow morning. We'll immediately put her on a respirator."
Cameron lay back in her bed and stared up at the ceiling, not able to process the possibility of giving birth to a baby who wouldn't be able to breathe on her own.
Wilson came to see her late that afternoon. "Do you want me to call anyone?" he asked.
"I've already spoken to my parents."
"They're coming down?"
"I've asked them not to until I'm sure I have a healthy baby in my hands."
"Because," he hypothesized, "you hate it when people try to comfort you with words that don't really mean much."
Tears quickly covered the dark circles beneath her eyes. "I'm not due for seven weeks and she won't be able to breathe without a respirator," She looked to Wilson, her eyelids heavy. "What could cause hypoplastic lungs in a thirty-three week-old fetus?"
"I'm sorry, I wish I knew. I usually deal with neoplastic syndrome, and – I wish I could be of more help."
"Will you ask Foreman what he thinks?"
Wilson squeezed her hand. "Yes."
"Thank you."
As Wilson rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, he wondered if he should tell House about Cameron's scheduled C-section. House already knew about the hypoplastic lungs; after he'd found out that Cameron wouldn't be at work for a while, he'd stolen her file from obstetrics. Sarah had told both Cameron and Wilson about what happened, and they'd all agreed it would be best to put down a fake name and procedure for Cameron's caesarian in the OR schedule.
Baby Cameron's case – was she really going to call her Amber? – would be sent to diagnostics anyway if the NICU doctors couldn't immediately determine what was wrong. But maybe House needed to be there for the birth of his child.
Wilson imagined that Amber Volakis would have thought so. "No matter how much of an ass he is," she might have said, "you don't have the right to keep him from his kid."
He would have argued that he was just protecting Cameron, and Amber would have shrugged and told him that it was his decision. "I can't tell you what to do," she'd have said, "but right now you're screwing with other people's lives almost as much as House does."
Cuddy was getting ready to leave for the day when Wilson caught her in her office. "Dr. Cameron is downstairs," he said. "I thought you'd like to know that she'll be on leave for quite a while."
"She's already filed her paperwork," Cuddy said.
"I thought you'd like to know," Wilson continued, clearing his throat, "that the steroids still aren't working and that Dr. Kishore is planning to deliver in the morning."
He walked away before Cuddy could respond.
Alone in bed that night, Wilson remembered how Amber Volakis had refused to die angry.