Disclaimer: I don't own House MD it was created by David Shore and owned by FOX and NBC/Universal, and produced by Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions. I also don't own and film, book, television show, monster truck, bread, or anything else that references a real world contraption (since usually I avoid it for this purpose). Most things mentioned under this clause I suggest that you as the reader check out. And special thanks to the lj group Clinc Duty, for putting in their hours and providing me with the word for word (not to mention proper spelling) of the House episodes I modify. So Welcome to the Wonderful World of Fanfiction.
Warning: This is Slash (/): which means relations of the male-kind. With some Friendship (+): they are friends they hang out and are supportive. More specifically House/Chase and Taub+Kutner
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I got a new beta and they corrected some stuff and (no joke) every time I went to correct it my computer shut down to update before I could finish! I don't know if I ever mentioned this but the style I'm experimenting with in this fic is 3rd person omniscient but each chapter follows a certain character around (mostly). The only focus characters are going to be House, Chase, Kutner, and Taub (there is a small chance of Wilson) So this chapter is Taub and does connect to the greater scheme of things (of House/Chase-iness) later in the fic.
Happy Reading!
Lifestyle
Chapter 2.2: The Social Contract
Taub had had a horrible night. His wife had been out late with some of her friends. All he could think about was their patient who could only speak the truth and said anything he thought. The comment about his nose had bothered him and when his wife came home she made no comment before going to bed.
On top of his vain worrying, that morning Wilson had approached him and asked him to lie to House only when Taub's boss mentioned racquet ball with the oncologist. The light haired male had given him a packet of paper that included the general racquet ball rules and details that Wilson would tell House: like how many times they had played etcetera. James Wilson had ended the request with an 'I owe you'. Thinking that it was a good idea to have a favour owed, Taub agreed.
Since Taub was on time and House liked to show up late, he had plenty of time to hide the information from House. When he made it to the conference room everyone was sitting around, Kutner had made coffee and they were all waiting for House.
Thirteen mentioned that the night shift nurses did not register any changes in the patient. It kind of left them at a standstill, since they couldn't definitely say that the steroids were or were not working. Taub sighed, picked up the paper, and began to read.
Time ticked by and House still did not appear. No one would begin to worry until he was a couple of hours late. Eventually Thirteen stood up and looked pointedly at Taub—they had clinic duty. The shorter doctor put down the newspaper and got up to follow the internist down to the clinic.
Trying not to think too much about depressing things like his wife or the comment about his appearance—he had been a plastic surgeon after all—Chris Taub threw himself into his clinic work. A little part of his brain was disgusted with the overly concerned mothers, adults with diaper rash, and STIs. He had never expected to find himself there, working in a hospital, doing little people work. With a large sigh Taub pushed down his disgust, smiled and greeted his next patient.
Just after noon there was a knock on the exam room door. The balding brunet turned away from the girl with a rash on her hands to see the Indian doctor poke his head in the door. "I need to speak to you after you're done with this patient."
With a nod, Taub watched the door close before turning back to the patient. "Have you switched laundry detergents, dish detergent, or touched anything new in a concentrated amount?"
The girl nodded. "I moved to a new apartment and I no longer have a dishwasher."
"I suggest that you switch detergent." Taub got up and riffled through the cupboard pulling out some free samples. "Rub this on the rash twice a day until it is gone. If it irritates you a lot you can take an anti-allergy."
Taub sent the girl on her way and finished putting notes in her file before leaving the exam room. Lawrence was waiting for him at the door and silently followed Chris until he returned the patient file to the clinic nurses.
"House wants us to wait for something to happen to our patient," said Kutner, breaking the silence.
Taub looked over at the younger doctor, "And you came down here, and waited for me, for that?"
Kutner shook his head. "No, I wanted to go get lunch and wondered if you would like to take a break and come with me?"
The elder just nodded and started walking out of the clinic. The two doctors made their way to the cafeteria and into the line. The quiet and lack of distraction allowed Taub to begin thinking about all his problems no matter how petty they were again, suddenly he asked, "Do you think my nose is too big?"
"Relax," Kutner replied, "he also implied my bedside manner was a little off. You don't agree with that, right?"
On the inside Taub smiled, feeling a bit better as he grabbed a plate of food. "No."
Not realising that it would offend more then he meant it to, Kutner added, "No one's ever mentioned your nose before? You're a plastic surgeon."
"They tell me it suits my face," replied Taub. It was true many people who cared about their own vanity had mentioned his nose and they did say it suited his face. The only people who had ever said anything truly negative about his nose before their patient were those people who had already had multiple reconstructive surgeries and were addicted to changing themselves. People that Taub had never took stock in their opinion, so it hurt when the average Joe who could only say exactly what he was thinking said that his nose was too big.
"It does," agreed the younger doctor, grabbing a bag of chips and putting it on his tray.
"Maybe—" Taub decided to voice some of his uncertainties. "Maybe that's just the social contract. You tell me I look great. I tell you you're a people person. How can you know the truth?"
Grabbing one last thing Kutner headed toward the cash register. "You could ask for the truth."
Taub rolled his eyes and looked at the bored looking cafeteria worker at the cash register. "What do you think of my nose? Please tell me the truth."
The woman looked more annoyed. "It's fine. It's a nose."
"Just proving a point," replied Taub curtly as he paid for his meal and waited for Kutner to do the same. The two doctors left the irate lunch lady and walked into the sitting area looking for a table.
The two doctors found a table closer to the centre of the main room. Sitting down Kutner looked at his friend while Taub tried to ignore the world in favour of his food. "You know I really never thought anything for or against your nose until Nick mentioned it. It really does suit your face. Look at it this way, one sick patient mentioned your nose. While the same sick patient insinuated that my bedside manner was bad and my boss' boss thinks I am so incompetent that I was assigned to babysit."
The balding brunet put down his fork and swallowed hard." No offence, but you set a patient on fire and another time you electrocuted yourself. I'm surprised that House didn't fire you then."
"I would like to point out it saved the patient," replied Kutner with a smile but it no longer reached his eyes. A bit more sober he added, "House hates boring, and I'm not boring. Besides he even said he liked how even after firing me I was still around."
The shorter doctor studied the younger man across the table. "I can see House saying that. Thank you by the way, I know you weren't just trying to make me feel better."
The Indian doctor smiled again beginning to dig into his own meal. The conversation turned away from the heavier subject, they occasionally discussed the patient trying to figure out if they were right or not. Kutner believed that the chances that they had picked the right diagnosis were slim. They had taken a gamble on the treatable ailment, since the area they were dealing with was so precarious.
They were almost finished with their meal when both of their pagers went off. Taub looked at his pager. "The patient's kidney."
Kutner nodded stood up and picking up his tray. The two doctors went to dump their trays. Kutner grabbed his un-opened bag of chips before the two left the cafeteria. The two doctors made their way up to the conference room. When they got there, everyone was sitting around the conference room table except for Foreman. Taub and Kutner sat down and waited. By the time that Foreman entered the conference room Taub had stood up to get some of the coffee Kutner brewed in the morning. Still worried he noticed his reflection in the spoon.
House stood up and looked out of the conference room as Foreman sat down. "He's on dialysis and he's stable."
"We know it's not systemic sclerosis," added Remy Hadley.
House was only half-listening to his fellows talk because they were only stating the obvious. Blue eyes scanned the room and landed on Taub looking at himself in a spoon. A flash of annoyed anger filled him as the words that Wilson said at lunch filled his head once more. "Hey, Cyrano de Berkowitz. Let it go."
The shorter doctor blushed slightly before stirring his coffee turning around and sitting down at the glass table. "Chronic lymphocytic leukemia could explain brain and kidney problems."
"The CBC showed normal white blood cells," said Eric Foreman, looking down at the more recent test results.
House walked closer toward the table looking at Taub. He was no longer interested in the case for the moment. Focusing on the ex-plastic surgeon. "So how long have you been playing racquetball with Wilson?"
"Four or five times," Taub replied. He hoped it sounded nonchalant; the words were the exact same that Wilson told him to say. It would sound believable, annoy House that he hadn't seen it sooner, and made it sound like playing racquetball with Wilson was nothing to write home about. "Could be diabetes."
"Or a congenital metabolic disorder," added Kutner.
Taub glanced over at the younger doctor and disagreed, "Congenital disorders generally don't wait till you're 46 to manifest."
Kutner continued to argue his point, "So he's a late bloomer. His daughter has a neurological condition."
House was getting annoyed since neither idea was a good one. Changing the subject he said, "First of all-" House paused to swing his cane like he was playing tennis or most other racquet sports. "Wilson played tennis on his college team, and... you are a Jew. You're not athletic. Run to the end of the hall and back. I'll time you." House knew that it was not a sound argument especially since Wilson himself was Jewish, which is why he followed it up with a jibe to the shorter man's athleticism.
"Sandy Koufax is Jewish. Greatest left-handed pitcher of all time," said Taub, aggravated.
House sneered. At least he didn't flat out repute his argument or bring up Wilson, so House could still play the Jew card. "Sandy Koufax is all you Jews go on about. Sandy Koufax, and the holocaust." House sat down at the end of the table close to Taub, and mocked, "gets old."
"There are dozens of congenital conditions that fit our parameters," said Foreman trying to drag the conversation back to the patient. "We can't spend time gene testing for all of 'em, especially when we're only guessing it's congenital."
House ignored him, congenital conditions was not a very good idea. "Is a z-shot offensive or defensive?"
Wilson had a sheet of racquetball moves, Taub had only glanced over them and now he was cursing that. He remembered the z-shot, but not many others, he quickly replied, "It's both."
"You suspected that was a trick question," accused House.
"But I could have said neither," Taub argued before turning to Foreman and disputing his vote on congenital conditions. "Diabetes makes more sense."
House thought a moment; he could use Taub's insistence on diabetes against him. Foremen's stupid insistence on a passing suggestion of Kutner's could keep him and Thirteen busy while he had Kutner testing what he wanted. None of the three tests would hurt the patient and yet they would be doing something while House was really biding time for something else. The more he thought about it he realised that there was a slim chance—less than ten percent—that their patient had either a congenital condition or diabetes, which fit better into his plan. Decided, he said, "We can narrow the testing down to 40 likely candidates. Test for peripheral nerve damage."
Before House could continue, Thirteen cut in, "He's got brain damage. He's likely to have peripheral nerve damage no matter what the cause."
Blue eyes glared at the female doctor. "Yes, that's why we should not test him for it. Test the daughter. Kutner runs the nerve test. Taub, you may be right about the diabetes. Take supper away from our patient and run a glucose tolerance test. Oh, and the nurses have been working so hard. You can do the blood draws yourself."
"They have to be done every couple hours. You're punishing me because you're jealous that I'm spending time with your best friend," accused Taub. House was surprised usually the punishee knew better then to call House on his behaviour.
"That would be petty," House sneered. "I'm punishing you because now you've joined my best friend in lying to me. Let me know when you're ready to confess everything."
There was a note of finality in House's voice so the kids all got up to do as they were told. Taub slunk out of the room slower than the rest; he even picked up the newspaper so that he could read it while he was watching. Halfway to the patient's room Taub realised that it was just after lunch and he would have to wait an additional eight to fourteen hours to start the blood draws. Taub cursed, thinking that House had done that on purpose so he would be stuck at the hospital until late into the next night. Pulling out his cell phone he ducked into an alcove and called his wife to say that he would have to stay at the hospital overnight.
Walking into the room Kutner was already there explaining why they wanted to test the daughter for peripheral nerve damage. Taub ignored them and went directly to the patient's bed, picking up the patient file to read. The first thing he did was write a note saying that the patient should not get dinner and would need the glucose solution to drink.
When Kutner had left with the wife and daughter in tow, Taub looked at their Phineas Gage. "We are going to run a glucose tolerance test, to see if you are diabetic."
"Can that happen? Can I just become diabetic like this?" asked Nick.
Taub nodded. "It is one of those things that can happen at any time and it isn't very hard to test for. You fast for eight to fourteen hours, although you are allowed to drink water in that time. Afterwards you'll drink a glucose solution and we will draw your blood every couple of hours and test it to see how your body processes the glucose. Now when was the last time you ate?"
"Well if you're counting what I had for breakfast, I stopped breathing right before lunch so I never got that," replied Nick. A slow grin found its way onto Taubs face, he was in luck. Nick balked. "Now you're happy that I didn't get lunch."
Taking a step back Taub shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that, as long as you haven't had any snacks or liquids besides water I can test your blood now and if everything is all right I can give you the glucose solution in about an hour."
Nick looked surprised. "That makes sense. No, I haven't had anything."
"Do you know when you finished breakfast, or at least when you got breakfast?" asked Taub as he looked down at the chart - it was marked that he received breakfast just before eight that morning. But after the nurse left he may not have eaten anything until later.
"It was a bagel and some scrambled eggs. The eggs were dry so I only ate the bagel. I don't know when I stopped eating, but it didn't take long to eat what I had," he replied.
Taub estimated a good time for Nick to drink the solution, added a side note for him to be paged when the patient was given the solution. Taub put down the chart and looked at Nick. "I am going to go get a blood drawing basket and be back in a minute to take your blood." Taub turned and left the room.
The ex-plastic surgeon went and got one of the baskets set up for blood draws. After getting his sample, Taub went to test the blood. He was saddened to find that he would have to wait longer to start the glucose tolerance test then what he had marked on Nick's chart. Moving back to the patient's room he told Nick the bad news before changing the time on the chart. Chris went to the nearest break room to get a couple hour nap before he had to start the blood draws.
A few hours later Taub woke up to the sound of his pager and sleepily made his way to the patient's room. Taub became very aware when he heard Nick being very vocal about his opinion on the taste of the glucose solution, which Taub mostly ignored. When he felt more awake he took a sample of Nick's blood after he was done drinking the first batch of glucose solution. Chris Taub left Nick with the nurse to be watched so that he could test the blood.
When Taub returned for the second test it was a couple hours later, which was a long time after the hospital served patients supper, and it was even later than the average American ate supper; so it did not surprise Taub when Nick said, "I'm starving."
Pushing the tube in, Nick's blood began to fill the tube. "It's the only way we can do the test."
"Good thing it's you and not Dr. Hadley. Could you keep her away from me? I have a rich imaginative life. I'd rather not share it," replied Nick with a silly smile.
"We all have thoughts," replied Taub taking out the tube of blood and looking at it.
Nick watched as Taub put the blood in the basket. "I know we all have sexual thoughts. We have ignoble thoughts. I just don't want those to be who I am to people, especially not to my wife."
"I understand. I don't think it would be fair to define me by my passing thoughts." Taub nodded as he carefully took out the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the arm.
"My real choices are my actions. And I've never done anything to hurt her. I've never cheated," said Nick definitively as he watched as Dr. Taub walk around the bed to check the machines he was hooked up to. He saw a defensive twitch in the shorter doctor. "You're kidding me. You've cheated?"!
"What? No. Why would you say that?" Taub said, startled that the patient had figured out that he cheated on his wife.
Nick stared at the doctor forlornly. "Because you look guilty as hell."
Taub was even more shocked at the second comment. "Are you serious? Of course you're serious."
"Yes, everyone knows. God, they must think you're a creep," said Nick watching Taub. Chris just couldn't take anymore it was way too late and he was tired. He walked out of the room only to hear Nick yell after him, "They might not know... they might be idiots. I just say these things."
Taub quickly made his way back to the empty diagnostics conference room. When he entered the room he could smell the rich aroma of coffee in the pot. Walking over to the counter, he saw a fresh pot of coffee and a note, "Thought you could use this." The note wasn't signed but only Kutner would do something like that, and he was pretty sure that Kutner was the only one who remembered that the pot came with a timer function.
Pouring a cup of coffee and deciding to drink it black, so that the strong taste would aid in keeping him awake, Taub sat at the table and pulled out—now—yesterday's newspaper. When he was finished the cup of coffee, he went and ran the blood in the lab.
The rest of the night was pretty uneventful, every time that Taub went in to do the blood draws he had to wake Nick and either deal with an apologetic look or complaints. Taub finished off his second pot of coffee and decided that he would make another the next blood draw so that there would be coffee when everyone else came in. About a half an hour before he was due to take the next set of blood, he got a page from House.
As he walked down to the morgue, Taub was trying to figure out why House was early to work and in the morgue. Too tired to think about it, he entered the morgue and asked, "Why'd you page me here?"
"I need you to update me on the patient's condition," said House tossing up a ball and catching it a few times.
Taub looked over at the dead body he was standing next to. "Seems to be dead. Why'd you page me here?"
"I need you to update me on the patient's condition," House said sitting a little straighter and holding out the ball he had been tossing, "while hitting this against the wall," House tossed the ball to Taub, watching him catch it, and then pointed to the racquet behind Taub, "this is the only place we can do both."
"I finished the last blood draw," said Taub trying to avoid playing House's game and getting out of further testing, because by this point he knew more blood draws would be pointless.
"I expect the people who work for me to rise to a challenge. Unless they don't expect to work for me," House said overriding Taub's avoidance.
The shorter doctor sighed and picked up the racquet, looking at the ball and the racquet in his hand he tried to recall anything that Wilson had given him, or even high school gym class, but he was too tired. Eventually he just tried to focus on his current task and bounced the ball before hitting it against the wall of body freezers. He kept his eye on the ball and after a few hits he became confident that he could also talk to House. "Last blood draw was at 6:00 AM. Sugar levels never rose above 120 all night."
The multitasking did not work out for Taub as the ball hit the wall between two freezers and made it fall off to the side to get tangled in the legs of the table that had the corpse. House ignored the fumble. "So the glucose was normal. Means you were wrong about diabetes."
Taub had recovered bouncing the ball with more confidence and hitting it again. "I still think it's the endocrine system. Maybe I just got the wrong gland."
"So you're going for thyroid instead pancreas? Makes sense," said House as he watched the back and forth between Taub and the wall. Suddenly Taub hit an overhand strike too hard; blue eyes watched as the ball flew back over the other doctor's head crashing into the shelves of chemicals.
Taub looked shocked at the damage he caused and then over to a pleased looking House, he was too tired to continue. "Fine. I'm not playing racquetball with Wilson. I was never playing racquetball with Wilson." He paused, aggravated, "I thought it would be helpful if a Department Head owed me a favour. But it's not worth this."
House nodded. "Not bad. You put on a good show. You studied up. Wilson actually booked a court. If you were really a racquetball player, you'd know that you were holding a squash racket." there was a hint of superiority in the comment. House got off the table that he was sitting on. "Tell Kutner to do a thyroid reuptake scan, I'll go grab a nap in one of the on-call rooms."
The shorter doctor watched as House left, wishing that he could also grab a nap. Looking around the morgue Taub tiredly called Kutner and relayed House's message. When he hung up the phone he began to clean up the broken glass and mop up the chemicals. He realised that he had done a shoddy job but at the moment he didn't care. When he was finished he made his way to an on-call room. No one else from the team had come into work yet so nothing could go wrong for at least an hour.
Chris Taub was woken once more by the sound of his pager. Rolling out of bed he picked up his text pager and with a tired, angry groan he stood up and walked out of the maternity on call rooms and headed down to diagnostics. The ex-cosmetic surgeon was surprised to see that he wasn't the last person to make it to the glass conference room. When he noticed that House wasn't there yet he made a beeline for the coffee and poured himself a cup mixing in some cream and sugar. The shorter doctor sat down with his coffee and waited.
When House entered the conference room Kutner told everyone the news on the patient, "His temperature is 103."
"Infection," replied Taub. It was one of those automated response when someone mentioned a temperature that was high. It was the automated response that Taub usually tried to suppress when around House but he was too tired to care.
Thirteen agreed, "The steroids must have forced it into the open."
"What kind of infection?" asked Foreman. "It could be anything; Staph aureus, tuberculosis, strongyloides—"
House cut the neurologist off, "Go back to Phineas, get a history."
"We've got a history. He hasn't been out of the country," replied Kutner.
"Get a detailed history," House stressed.
Kutner continued to rattle off facts from the detailed history he had gotten from their patient earlier, "No one at home is sick. No one at work is sick. There's no sign of ticks or mosquitoes."
"Get a more detailed history. Ask him again. And again until he remembers something," House replied and watched Taub. The shorter doctor sighed, realising that this was just House's newest torture for him. Taub took one last sip of his coffee and got up to get the 'more detailed history,' House's voice halted the tired doctor's footfalls. "Not you. Kutner can do it. You're gonna be busy with something else."
Kutner got up, slightly annoyed, and left the room, knowing that House was really just biding time until they could catch something. Taub hesitantly sat back down by the table, picking up his cup of coffee, while Forman and Thirteen tried to slyly watch House and go unnoticed. After a moment House glared at them. "What are you two still doing here? Don't you have clinic hours to do?" Both Thirteen and Forman got up and headed for the door. "And if you don't, do mine."
Taub sat at the table alone with House for a few moments he watched the other doctor while sipping his coffee, not willing to ask House what his punishment was going to be. The elder doctor studied his fellow, going over his plan in his head a few times. The plan was far from flawless, but no matter what, it was amusing, "I want you to go back to Wilson, invite him to lunch."
"So you want me to actually spend time with your friend?" asked Taub, shocked, before he drained the rest of the coffee in the mug.
"Find out what he is really doing tonight," amended House.
Taub considered refusing for a moment, but he knew that what House wanted, House got. With a sigh he shrugged off his lab coat that was a bit wrinkled from sleep and glanced at his watch to see that it truly was near the lunch hour. Getting up, Taub put his coffee mug in the sink and walked out of the conference room, leaving a smug House.
Taub knocked on the door of the head oncologist's office and waited for an affirmative before sticking his head in. "I'm here to invite you to lunch."
Wilson looked up from the papers on his desk and studied the other doctor. "Uh, why?"
Deciding it was best to have the coming conversation behind closed doors; Taub stepped into the office, closed the door and looked at Wilson. "I've been made. House sent me back to you as a double agent."
The oncologist sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "I should have known, this is House after all."
"He had me stay all night and do blood draws, so could we please just go to lunch before he decides I deserve more torture?" asked the tired doctor.
Dark hazel eyes shot up and looked at the doctor standing in his office. He knew the words to be true, it was just like House. With another sigh he replied, "I'm sorry Taub, I'm really busy, I was planning on going to the vending machine soon."
The two doctors looked at each other, debating what they could do. "I can't go back empty handed."
James Wilson nodded, looking down at the desk and then back at Taub. "How about you print some of my e-mails for him? When it turns up nothing then House will have to let it go."
"That will probably work," nodded Taub as he watched Wilson pull out his laptop and logged on. "I doubt that House will let it go."
The department head nodded as he got up from his desk. "You should probably pick and choose a bit so it isn't so obvious; I'm going to go find my lunch."
Taub watched the department head leave before scooting around the desk and looking at the computer screen. It was opened to the PPTH mail browser for Dr. James Wilson's inbox. Quickly Taub clicked the deleted folder and scanned through noticing one email confirming Wednesday at seven. Quickly he opened the file and printed it. He tried to open the patient file but it was password protected. Sighing in defeat, he scanned through the rest of the deleted folder and upon finding nothing of interest he returned to the Inbox, printing a couple random e-mails from Cuddy and other people who had the last name of 'Wilson'. When he was finished he glanced around for an empty manila folder. Making sure the e-mail from the deleted folder was on the bottom of the stack with about a dozen other emails on top of it, Taub got up, folder in hand, and went over to the sofa and relaxed against it, waiting for Wilson.
When the other doctor returned Taub looked at the couple bags of snack food and the soda. "What took you so long to get that?" trying to make it sound like he would've had no problem printing off e-mails in front of Wilson.
The lighter haired doctor shrugged, "The machine on our floor only had gummy bears." Putting down the food he held out his hand for the folder in Taub's hand.
Handing over the folder, Taub watched relieved as Wilson stopped flipping through the e-mails when he reached the ones from Cuddy. Wilson didn't care about House reading his conversations with Cuddy or his family. His family had little problem with House surprisingly. He almost wanted to remove the e-mail where his mom mentioned Danny. But he thought better then to raise Taub's suspicions. With one last glance at his mom's e-mail, Wilson returned the folder to the shorter doctor with a nod.
"Thanks," said Taub taking the folder and heading to the door. Before opening the door Taub switched the bottom e-mail and put it on top of the pile, under the guise of neatening the folder. Opening the door Taub stepped out not surprised to find that House was waiting for him.
With an unspoken agreement the two headed back towards the diagnostics department. Taub said, "I told Wilson you sent me to get information."
"And now you're telling me. What does that make you, a quadruple agent?" asked House as they entered his office.
"He let me print out his e-mails," added Taub.
"Wow. Excellent," House replied, not very impressed. "Information he wants us to have. Did he let you print out his deleted e-mails?"
"No," admitted Taub.
House turned towards his fellow, a bit annoyed. "Then go back there—"
Taub cut him off smugly. "As long as I was sitting there, I thought I'd print 'em anyway," Taub handed over the folder of e-mails. "Top one's the one you're looking for."
Blue eyes took in the e-mail on top, murmuring, "Writing to confirm Wednesday at 7:00 PM."
Taub watched as House sat down at his desk and started typing on his computer. Taub decided to tell House what else he had derived from the e-mail and what he knew of NY Mercy. "It's outgoing to . There's a Joan Gonzalez in oncology. It's a consult." Taub was hoping that a consult would be enough to get House to let it go.
"Secret consult, 7:00 PM." House went to the NY Mercy website and was happy to find that they were one of those hospitals that included pictures with their doctor bios. "Oh, Joan is perky."
"You're wrong," said Taub shaking his head. "There was a patient file attached."
While googling the female oncologist; House held out his hand to Taub expecting him to hand over a file. "Where?"
"It was password-protected," replied Taub.
"No," House stopped his search and turned to look at his fellow. "Wilson doesn't password-protect his patient files. I'm the only one he'd expect ever to look there, and he knows there's only one patient I'd want to check on."
"You think Wilson's sick?" asked Taub, now concerned.
House turned back to the computer screen and amended his search. "If Wilson had cancer, there'd be no reason for him to drive three hours to Manhattan. He could pull strings here and get the best treatment." He paused to read the search results. "Six articles by Gonzalez. 'Managing suicidal thoughts in oncology patients,' 'Suicidal ideation in children with leukemia.'"
There was a pregnant pause. Finally Taub gave House a careful look. "I don't want to ask this, but have you ever had reason to think he might be depressed?"
"No, get out of here," replied House glaring at his fellow. Blue eyes watched the other doctor leave, thinking about the other research he could do.
Taub left House's office debating on whether to go take a nap before clock out time or to do his clinic hours. Finally deciding that to increase his chances in having a good night's sleep he would go do his clinic duty.
When it was finally clock out time he made his way up to the locker room that diagnostics used. When the shorter doctor got to his locker, Kutner was standing near his own locker. He had this nervous-happy expression as if he had been waiting for Taub. Chris looked at the younger doctor and sighed. "Thanks for the coffee last night."
"No problem." Kutner shrugged.
There was a long silence as the two doctors prepared to go home. Finally Taub asked, "What do you think of House and Wilson?"
"They have an interesting friendship," replied Kutner, who looked over at his friend. Seeing the look on Taub's face, "You mean, together? I don't know. There was a rumour back when we all still had numbers about how House use to sexually harass everyone female or male, especially Chase. But then he fired Chase and had a fight with Wilson and stopped sexually harassing guys. I remember some nurse asking me who and how he harassed his potential fellows."
Taub thought about the words for a moment, turning them over in his head. "I suppose you're right, we do get racially harassed more than sexually harassed."
"You mean Foreman and I get racially harassed, Thirteen gets harassed about her sexuality, Cuddy is sexually harassed, so did Chase but he is hot, and you get harassed about your sexual promiscuity. I think it's just House's way," replied Lawrence ticking off on his fingers the harassment that he could remember.
"Do you think that I am a creep for cheating?" asked Taub, remembering his earlier worry. Then he remembered something else Kutner said. "You think Chase is hot?"
Kutner blushed, looked at Taub, and asked, "Which one do you want me to answer first? As long as you promise you won't tell anyone."
Taub rolled his eyes. "Who would I tell? Chase first." He wanted a distraction.
"I'm bi," replied Kutner with a shrug.
Taub studied his friend. He looked truthful, but things didn't add up. "But you acted the same as the rest of us when Thirteen came out."
"Being bi is precarious," replied Kutner, "A bi girl is every non-gay guy's fantasy but there's the chance that they will eventually feel inadequate, or like their girlfriend is cheating on them with other girls. A bi-guy never fits in. Gay guys say you're in denial. If you have a girlfriend that knows that you're bi, they might be disturbed by where your... body parts have been. Like, we've never heard of safe sex before... I had a friend in college that slept around with guys and dated girls. I just don't like being judged on that basis. So yes Chase is hot, but no I wouldn't date him."
"Because he's married?" asked Taub.
Kutner sighed. So they were back to the topic of cheating. Usually people's first question to a response like his would be something along the lines of, 'because he's straight?' After thinking how best to answer, Kutner sat down on the bench and looked back over at Taub. "Partially, but mostly because if he was inclined my way I think we would be the same type."
Taub really didn't get what the Indian doctor was saying, so he ignored it and asked, "Well, what about me?"
"You are definitely my type," replied Kutner with a grin. Taub's eyes went wide and the caramel skinned doctor burst out laughing. When he had calmed down and made sure that Taub had taken no offence, he added, "Cheating happens. It happens when people least expect it, it happens every day. It doesn't mean that you love your wife any less. It's just one of those things. It's not like you got up one morning and said, 'today is the day I cheat on my wife.' Yes it probably wasn't the best choice ever, but attraction cannot be turned off once there is a wedding band on your finger. Historically it wasn't a big deal. And if we were to believe the rumours about House and Wilson; all of Wilson's wives left him for sleeping with House, House regularly cheats on Wilson with hookers, and when we get to Amber—her and House shared Wilson. No one is perfect, but that doesn't make you a creep, at least not to me."
"Thanks," murmured Taub, looking into his locker, realising that he didn't need anything else and that he had just been standing there listening to the other doctor half-ramble.
Kutner closed his locker. "Why did you ask about House and Wilson anyway?"
Taub waved it off. "It was just about Wilson avoiding House tonight. House generally looked worried."
"You can worry for a friend," replied Kutner, heading to the door. He stopped before leaving the locker room and asked, "Are we okay?"
Chris Taub looked at the younger doctor. "Yes, of course."
Author's Note: Please Read and Review