Cameron stared down at the child encased in glass, wishing her prognosis away.
In the summer, it would be over. She'd leave PPTH and open up an allergy clinic somewhere in the Great Plains, where she'd prescribe Nasonex and teach herself to stop emotionally investing in the wounded.
Sarah joined Cameron by Amber's incubator.
"You're all set to be discharged," Sarah said. "Do you have somewhere to go?"
"Sure," Cameron answered, not wanting to admit that she couldn't deal with the crib and baby gifts in her apartment.
"Someone should stay with you tonight. You may be in a lot of pain." Sarah handed her two sheets from her prescription pad. "Percocet for the pain and Zantac for the acid reflux. Do you want something to help you sleep?"
"A Percocet will knock me out just fine."
"Go home," Sarah said. "See if your parents, or somebody, can come out and stay with you while you're recovering. You need to be off your feet and sleeping for the next few days. If you can't find anyone, I'll cancel my appointments and stay with you tonight and tomorrow."
"I don't want my parents driving down I-80 in the dark. I'll call if I need you, okay?"
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
"You … there was nothing … it's genetic. She'd have been born with it no matter what."
"But I could have looked for an excess of amniotic fluid, and then we could have done amniocentesis in the fourth month, and –"
"You're a Mayo Clinic-trained obstetrician," House interrupted. He was standing in the NICU doorway. "You know excess amniotic fluid is not a reliable indicator of genetic illness."
"Right." Sarah patted Cameron's arm. "Call me if you need me to come over tonight."
Until Sarah was gone, House stared at Cameron, his head facing the ground, blue eyes peering upward.
"You're obviously freaked out about going back to your place, and someone needs to stay with you, so come home with me tonight."
"House, I …"
"I'm her father," he said, signaling towards Amber's incubator but still avoiding looking directly at the infant. "You might as well call me Greg at this point."
"We must have made a hundred calls."
"So did we."
"Sarah spoke to all the neonatologists in Minneapolis. I even had Chase try Penn for me. But, like you taught me," she said, "sometimes diagnosis is the end of the line. I ... I don't want to accept that right now, but --"
"She's my kid." For the first time, House bent over and peered into the incubator. "And I'm supposed to be the best. I can't let her die."
"You're the best diagnostician out there," Cameron said. "You're so good at diagnosing Wegener's that it's had to figure out new ways to hide from you. But this –"
"You can't be alone tonight. Either come home with me or I'm having obstetrics find you another bed."
She agreed to go with him, even though it would have been easier to just ask Sarah to stay with her.