I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures which are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.
- Hippocratic Oath

*****

Foreman and Morgan were inspecting the restaurant where the patient worked, looking for something that could have caused her to become ill. While Foreman looked for toxins or gas leaks or unsanitary conditions, Morgan quizzed her boss. "How long has she worked here?" he asked.

"Three years," her boss answered, the stereotypical French chef, "She's my best rotisseur."

"What's that?"

"The rotisseur prepares the roasted meats and gravies," Jacques replied.

"How do you clean your grill?"

He said something in French, then searched for the English equivalent, "They say elbow grease."

"Do you use chemical cleaners?"

"No, absolutely no. Our chefs don't do the cleaning anyway."

"What about pesticides? You must spray for roaches and that sort of thing."

"Nope, my kitchen is clean, no roaches. I need to get back to work."

At that point, Foreman strode over. "And the fact that we're here asking you these questions doesn't worry you?" he asked skeptically.

"Look at me," Jacques sighed, "I'm here eighteen hours a day. That guy practically lives here," he said, indicating another chef. "He does live here," he added, pointing to yet another chef. "I use the same detergents for fifteen years and everyone is healthy as a horse. Whatever she has, she didn't get here. Tell her I hope she feels better and I had to get a new rotisseur."

"Well, that was..." Foreman started to say as Jacques returned to work. He was cut off by Morgan's phone ringing.

He ducked out of the conversation, glad of an excuse to ignore him. "Hotch, what's up?" He listened intently as Hotch told him what was happening, his face becoming more serious with each passing minute. "Are you serious?" he asked, hardly able to believe what he was hearing; if it were anyone else but Hotch, he might have thought it were a joke. "How the hell did all of you manage to be in the blast zone?" he asked. After another minute of determined silence, he nodded and said, "Okay, we'll be right there."

He shut his phone and turned back to Foreman. "We need to get back to the hospital right now," he said seriously.

"I haven't finished looking around here," Foreman said, shaking his head, "House will have our asses on a platter if we miss something. Whatever it is, it can wait."

Morgan gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to utter a few choice swears. "No, it can't."

"What could possibly be so important that it can't wait a few more minutes?" he asked rather brusquely.

"How about the fact that your girlfriend is trapped in a locked-down ward where an unknown and likely dangerous bioagent was just released into the air?" he hissed.

A deer-in-the-headlights look crossed his face and he was momentarily frozen. His pager went off and he read off under his breath, "Code zebra..." He looked up at Morgan, shocked. Morgan said nothing, but his expression clearly read, 'I told you so!'

******

"House, get in here now!" Cuddy demanded from outside her office.

"Oh, I can't," he shrugged, "You know me, never one to shirk my clinic duty, especially in such a time of mass panic." Not that he was actually working, but rather playing his Gameboy behind the nurse's station.

Cuddy glared at him. "I wasn't asking," she hissed.

House sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes, but followed Cuddy into her office. Assembled there were Wilson, Chase, Cameron, Amber, Taub, Kutner, 13, and Cole. "Staging an intervention?" House asked.

"Now, I'm sure you probably missed it, being so wrapped up in your own little world, but if you took one second to take your head out of your ass, you might have heard that there was a bioterrorist attack on your patient's ward and that five of your fellows were there at the time!" Cuddy berated.

"Really? Is that what that meant? I thought they'd gotten confused, thought this was a zoo," House remarked sarcastically. Cuddy shot him a glacial glare. "What did you want me to do?" House asked, "In case you didn't get the memo, my super powers don't work during the full moon."

"You're not concerned that we could have massive casualties on our hands in the matter of a few hours? And that the only people who might be able to tell us what the poison is could be among the dead?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged, "That's why I had to have so many fellows, take a lesson from the sea turtles."

"Being more insensitive and careless about human life than usual won't get you out of helping," Cuddy snapped. She started dialling the nurse's station on the locked-down ward, asking for the nurse who answered to let her speak to one of Dr. House's fellows.

"Where's Foreman?" House asked, "Why doesn't he have to help?"

"He and Morgan are on their way back," Hotch answered, having caught the question.

"Is anyone showing symptoms?" Cuddy asked.

"No one's gotten any worse..." he answered.

"Is haz-mat on their way?" Rossi asked, his voice filtering through the speakerphone.

"Umm," Cuddy stammered uncomfortably, "They won't come onto the ward because they don't want to risk contaminating the rest of the hospital. Before they'll do anything we need to figure out what the toxin is."

It was Hotch's turn to become uncomfortable. "That might be a bit of a problem..."

"I know," Cuddy cut him off before he could say anything else, already knowing what he meant, "Don't worry, we're going to do everything we can to help you."

There was the distant sound of screaming as the patient scratched at her arm and tried to brush off non-existent creepy-crawlies. "Oh my God! Get them off! Someone, get them off of me!"

"Calm down!" Emily said desperately, trying to get her to calm down, "There's nothing there! I need some Haldol, five milligrams," she called to the nurses.

"Oh," Hotch added, "And there's still the small matter of the patient who is now hallucinating bugs on her skin."

A/N: I just have to address my gratitude to AiyanaStone, Caramel Tart, Confetti Leaves, ForeverMeansAlways, and lovely-whisper. They have all put up with me and very selflessly offered their opinions and ideas concering the plot of this story. It is safe to say that it wouldn't be half as good without their guidance. So thank you a million times over!