Physician, Heal Thyself

Ch. 4

House's cellphone rang in the wee hours of the morning. House blindedly groped for it, and finally found it in his jeans pocket after the ringtone music has replayed for three or four times. "What?" he said groggily.

"The patient is going into respiratory arrest," Taub said.

"'Kay," he said, and hung up.

Cuddy stirred, and opened a bleary eye at him.

"Patient," House said, reaching for his shirt, missing the warmth of her body.

She watched him get dressed, and said sleepily, "No announcing from the balcony this time."

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Only if you move in with me."

Cuddy's eyes widened. She should've been surprised, but she really wasn't. Gregory House did not make commitments easily, but once he did decide to, he was extremely tenacious. Stacy had said they moved in together a week after a disastrous first date. When Wilson had quit after Amber's death, she'd seen House desperate to get him back. And House had asked her to move in with him…right after he'd hallucinated sleeping with her. That thought brought a painful throb to her heart, but she forced it down. "And abandon this house for your tiny apartment?" She smiled.

"The kid can sleep in the piano," House said.

"What, inside?" Cuddy joked, touched that he'd accepted her daughter.

"She should be grateful, I don't let anyone near that thing," he said, going in to kiss her quickly, which of course turned into a longer makeout session.

"Patient," Cuddy gasped when she surfaced for air.

"Right," he said, kissing her one last time. "See you."

When he left, Cuddy smiled, and hugged her pillow. Inviting him over had to be the best thing she's ever done.

--

"He did say he was coming, right?" Thirteen asked as they stood beside the patient, who was intubated by now, and spiking a temperature of 103.

"Um, his exact word was ''kay'." Taub air-quoted with his fingers. "I don't know what this means."

"'Kay?" Foreman asked. "'Kay that the patient almost died? What, he accepted it and went back to sleep?"

Then they heard a deep baritone singing,

"I've got you under my skin,

I've got you deep in the heart of me

So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me

I've got you under my skin." House finished as he came into the room.

"My daughter almost died and he's singing Sinatra?" The patient's mother asked incredulously.

"Would you rather I do Britney Spears?" House asked. "You're right. I guess she is too young to appreciate Sinatra." He leaned over the girl, whose face was grossly swollen. "Yikes. Not a sight for sore eyes there. More like a sight to provoke sore eyes."

"Hey!" The patient's mother protested, and turned to Foreman. "Is he a real doctor?" She eyed House's disheveled appearance, cane, and lack of lab coat with suspicion.

"Yes," House said loudly. "And I'm a better one than he is, too," he pointed to Foreman. "And I'll prove it." He turned to the girl. "Bend your knees."

The girl weakly complied, and moaned even before she got her knees at an angle.

"Joint pain," House said. "High fever. Swelling. Go ahead, Taub, I'll let you do the honors since you haven't diagnosed a case for over a month. I'm a firm believer in equal chances."

"Uh—" Taub said, flustered. He looked around at his colleagues, but they looked as blank as he did.

House's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm having a hard time remembering why I hired you, Taub. I'll give you a hint. It starts with an A."

"Oh. Ang—" Thirteen began, but House stopped her. He stared hard at Taub.

"Angioneurotic edema," Taub rushed.

"Good," House turned away from him. "Just so you know, you would've been fired had you not gotten that one."

Taub swallowed.

"But—" Foreman said, "She was irritable, and had problems with her period. That was why I thought it was Cushing's."

"Problems with her period?" House pretended to be shocked, looking at the mother. "Could there be something that she's not telling you?"

"She's not pregnant," Foreman said.

"She's on the pill," Thirteen realized. "It messed with her period and hormones, which accounts for the irritability."

"Bingo," House said. He made a face at the mother. "Britney Spears. Not a good role model. " And to the girl: "Not to worry. Once the swelling goes down you'll be back to your pretty, pretty self again. Start the treatment, I'm going home." And with that, he left.

--

"House seemed happy," Thirteen commented once they've started the treatment and were in the locker room, getting ready to go home for a few hours before the start of the next workday.

"Downright peppy," Taub said. They both glanced at Foreman, who seemed to be sulking.

"He was wearing the same clothes as he was during the day," Thirteen said thoughtfully, pulling on her jacket.

"Maybe he passed out drinking in his clothes?" Taub suggested.

"No, he was alert and clear enough to solve the case. And if he had a hangover he wouldn't be so cheerful," Thirteen said, then stopped. "Oh my god."

"You don't think—" Taub said.

They both reflected on this for a moment in silence.

"Well," Taub finally said, shutting his locker. "Either he did it, or he thinks he did it."

"Let's hope it's the first one," Thirteen said. "I don't think he can handle another trip to Mayfield."

"Yeah, neither can I," Taub muttered, thinking of all of House's clinic hours he had yet to complete.

--

House went to his apartment to change and shower. He looked around, and realized that it no longer felt overwhelming and lonely. Like a monster defanged, it lost all its threatening power that had repeatedly told him, you're going to die alone.

Now it said, Maybe not, after all.

Humming, he went into the bathroom.

After his shower, he reached for the towel that was hanging on the rack. As he knocked against it accidently, the metal tube made a solid sound when it should've been hollow.

Frowning, House wrapped the towel around himself, and stepped out of the tub. He pulled at the towel rack, which easily came away in his hand. He tipped it, and a little orange bottle fell into his hand, still half-full of white pills.