A/N: again, I'm going to have to apologize for lack of perfectly accurate science/medicine. There are parts of this that I've been dying to write for ages, but never had the right 'case'. If ever there was going to be a time Bobby would call for backup it would be when he was afraid of losing two memebers of the team, even if one of them was 'the new guy.'

Chapter Nine: House Call

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"Cool digs," Greg House's stubbly face loomed over the medical/autopsy bay, projected bigger than life onto the tiled white wall. If he could have seen it, he would probably have been pleased. "I'll bet the patients just love that shiny metal table. So comforting." His tone was entirely sarcastic… although his tone was pretty much always sarcastic so it was hard to tell if he was actually being sarcastic or not.

Tim, still unconscious, lay on the examination table, in an extra set of scrubs Bobby had tucked away. They'd laid a blanket down under him as well as covreing him; he still looked uncomfortable.

Bobby glanced into the web cam. "Most of my patients are dead by the time they get here…" he began, but the sound of Abby's gasp stopped him mid-sentence. She was at the top of the stairs. "Abbs… I didn't mean… come on, you know… we're going to get him through this."

She took a breath, swallowed, and came the rest of the way down. "I know. I finished running the last of the ali..er…unknown compounds..." she flashed an uncertain glance up at the image being projected onto the wall.

House gave an incredulous look. "You can stop dancing around that neon elephant in the room now… Bobby," he said his name with an audible sneer. It wasn't a name anyone in New Jersey had ever called the Australian. Chase was Chase, occasionally Robert, but never Bobby. "It's alien, isn't it?" It was only barley a question.

The medic regarded both he and Foreman a moment. After the Daleks had displaced the planet, people didn't 'believe' in aliens any more. They didn't have to simply believe, they knew. It frightened most people. "What difference does it make?" Bobby asked at length.

"Plenty," House popped several vicoden into his mouth, swallowing them dry. "If it's street drugs, there goes my story to the National Enquirer. Aliens though… that I can sell," he smirked.

"This isn't funny!" Abby yelled up at him. "A man could be dying here!"

Bobby turned to her. "Take it easy, Abbs, he's like this with everybody. And every situation. It's not personal."

"Well it should be!" she huffed.

The medic turned his attention back to the web cam.

Foreman was seated behind House, arms crossed over his chest, reading the latest results Bobby had sent him via email. A deepening scowl spread across the otherwise handsome dark-skinned face… the expression was as typically Foreman as sarcasm was typically House.

The only thing Bobby was grateful for was that Alison Cameron was apparently too busy to get herself dragged into House's machinations. "Do you have any ideas or not?" he asked his former colleagues.

Foreman looked up from the computer. "What the Hell is this 'sedative' supposed to stop? This stuff is strong enough to knock out a rhinoceros…"

"Close enough," Mickey groaned, remembering the first time he'd seen a Judoon, up close and personal, on the parallel version of Earth.

"It takes out whatever it has to," said Wendy in a dry, cool tone as she joined them after having gotten dressed. "He took one dart and still charged us, Dr. House."

House leant forward towards the camera. "So how'd you stop him? Flash your… eyes?" Clearly it wasn't her eyes he was looking at. Or referring to.

"I… restrained… the patient bodily. He finally fell unconscious a few seconds later and we were able to get him back up here." She let her gaze shift to Abby; her expression softened considerably. She reached over and touched her arm. "He'll be ok, Abbs."

While the others talked, Bobby was hooking up monitors… heart… blood oxygen… the environment was far from sterile and he wasn't equipped to do more than minor patch-ups on live patients.

He watched Abby clinging to Tim's hand, her gaze riveted to his pale face. "You can make him better, though, right?" she asked Bobby.

He didn't answer. "Mickey… get Gwen on the line. I think I'm going to have to move him to hospital once he's stable. Wen… you know where I keep the saline, right? I'm also going to need some epinephrine… third drawer…" he added as she started to gather up what he needed.

Abby gave him a horrified look at the mention of the epinephrine.

"If his heart doesn't stop, at least once, in the next twenty minutes, I'll be surprised, Abby," he told her honestly.

Tim's heart rate had been jumping erratically since they got him back up to the medical bay. Some of it may have been the sedative... maybe.

Bobby looked at the web cam. "I need to move him. Soon. First I need to get him stable. I can't let paramedics down here… so I have to get him up to them. I'm open to suggestions."

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Abby climbed into the back of the ambulance with Tim and the paramedics, fresh tears staining her pale cheeks. Tim's heart had stopped twice.

"It's not your fault," Bobby insisted, again, in a quiet tone just before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors; he doubted she believed him. "This could have happened to any of us."

"But he wouldn't be here if it weren't for me, Bobby. I dragged him into this."

Before he could respond, the paramedics closed the doors and she settled in next to Tim, clinging to his hand. "Please be all right …" she whispered, brushing her hand across his cheek.

Part of her wanted to stay in the Hub and keep running more tests, come up with new answers… but this wasn't some crime scene. This was her friend. Her fault. "Don't you dare die on me, Timothy McGee. I will never forgive you if you do!"

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The others turned as Jack and Ianto came out of the Tourist Office. Jack's arm was wrapped securely around his partner's waist, and his coat was wrapped around the younger man's shoulders so he wouldn't catch a chill, having just come out of the shower.

Wendy was the first to wrap her arms around the Welshman's neck, although getting him away from Jack was something that was clearly not going to happen any time soon. She didn't care; she let her arms rest on his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're all right, Sweetheart," she said, ruffling his hair a little; it made him smile. He looked so much better than he had an hour ago.

"I still feel out of it," Ianto admitted. "But… I think I'm going to be all right." The worst of it had passed. He still kept feeling things… hearing things… things that weren't real. But he knew that Jack loved him and at the moment that was all that mattered…

Not just Jack. Gwen, Wendy, Mickey, Bobby… Abby.

Jack loved him. His friends loved him. His family. That was all that mattered. He dislodged himself from Jack's grip, giving his lover the kind of smile that assured him it was all right. That they were all right.

The Captain nodded, turning to the others. "Good job, gang." He looked to each in turn, the pride he felt in each of them evident on his face.

Bobby didn't meet his gaze, however. "Yeah… erm… Jack… there's… something I have to tell you."

"It can wait..."

"You probably want to hear this now," he insisted.

"All right. You can ride with us to the hospital… Mickey, you and Wendy stay here. Gwen, go home..."

"Jack…"

"You're pregnant not an invalid," he repeated her argument back at her. "You did a great job. Now go back home. I'll see you in the morning." His tone brooked no room for argument, even from her.

"Call me if there are any changes…?" she asked with a pleading expression.

He nodded his agreement and headed towards the SUV, his arm wrapped securely around Ianto's waist, just in case any of those paranoid delusions reared their ugly heads again.

Bobby hesitated when Ianto started to slide into the back seat, but the Welshman nodded to indicate he understood Bobby wanted to talk to Jack and that might be better accomplished if he sat up front.

"So what's on your mind?" Jack queried as he pulled out of the car park.

"I… have a confession. You're not going to like it." He took a deep breath and outlined his phone call to Foreman and the subsequent conversations between himself, Foreman and House. "I understand if… if you… if this is the end of my job here," he concluded. "But I want you to know that I would do it the same way again, if I had to. There was nothing in the UNIT database that even compared to the stuff that came through the rift this morning. I needed outside help. I'm not sorry I asked for it."

"Do you trust them?" Jack's question startled him.

Bobby gave himself a minute to think about it, not answering until they pulled into the car park of St. Helen's hospital. "If I needed a doctor, I would trust both Foreman and House with my life. I wouldn't trust either of them with my girlfriend… well, Foreman, maybe, he's not that stupid. But I wouldn't trust either them with my credit cards or to water my houseplants. House is self absorbed and ego centric, but he's a brilliant doctor. They both are. If I hadn't had their help, I may have lost Tim at least once in the last hour. Saving one life is worth… worth however much of my memory you retcon out of my head."

"Jack…" Ianto began to protest.

The Captain shook his head. "I'd like to get through the next few hours before I decide whether or not I have to hire a new medic."