Disclaimer- It's common knowledge that fan fiction is by fans, for fans. Chances are that those who read this story will have no affiliation with 'Bad Hat Harry,' or in general, the companies who own and produce House. But on the odd chance that someone who does have a hand in the creation of the show reads this, I do not imply that I own House, although I do own Kevin Zalinski. But he is for sale… Email me if you want to adopt him! (Note: he is a fictional character. Do not put your hands in the cage, or feed the Kevin.)

-Chapter Nine-

Symptoms

Cameron nodded, and began to speak, but Chase cut her off. "Yes. There's still no sign of the gray coating on the tonsils or throat, and the tests came back negative. Kevin Zalinski doesn't have diphtheria."

House drummed his fingertips on the handle of one of his crutches. "Okay. Back to square one." He made his way over to the whiteboard, and wiped it clean. "Let's start from the beginning. Symptoms."

"Fever, congestion, and sore throat." Chase sat up in his chair, and began to pay rapt attention.

House scribbled them onto the board and nodded to Foreman. "Can the neurologist tell me what I want to hear?"

He rolled his eyes. "Confusion, fatigue, and…"

"Yes?"

"Insanity."

"Bingo. Let's list that as a symptom. We've also got low blood pressure, and difficulty breathing. So what's his problem?"

Foreman raised his eyebrows at the wording of the question, but answered. "Excluding whatever's causing his actions, it could be any upper respiratory disease--"

"Feel free to leave out any symptoms that don't fit your diagnosis. They really don't fit, anyways."

"Maybe he's just an insane person who's sick?" Chase added, "It happens."

"--Or he could have a tumor in his brain, in the temporal lobe." Foreman finished.

"Ah-HA!" House shouted out, startling everyone in the room, and causing them (and several people passing by in the hallway) to stare at him. "I told Wilson"

Chase frowned. "Could just be an allergic reaction."

"No," Cameron countered, "Wouldn't account for the psychosis. What about a pneumococcal or streptococcal infection?"

House wrote them on the board. "Strep and pneumonia. Trust you to come up with the easiest to diagnose and cure--" The beeping of pagers cut him off, and he reached to his belt for one that wasn't there. "Will someone tell me what it says?"

Cameron looked up at House. "It's a code blue. Kevin Zalinski's in respiratory arrest.

House watched the other doctors leave, and followed on his crutches at his own pace. By the time he reached the room, they were already crowded around the hospital bed.

Foreman noticed House entering the room, and turned. "His lungs aren't bringing in enough oxygen to feed his brain. If we don't get his SATs up, and fast…"

"…There could be permanent damage to the brain." House finished.

"And that's not the worst part. He was unmonitored."

"What?"

"Nobody was there to respond to his condition. The hall was empty. No nurses, no doctors, no security. We don't know how long he was like this-"

"-What the hell were they doing? How is it even possible that there would be no staff in 'P' hall?" The double beep of the monitors caught his attention, and he glanced over to where Chase stood.

"O² SATs returning to normal."

House wheeled around and nodded to Cameron. "Ten milligrams of Diazepam."

"But nothing's wrong-"

"He's been without oxygen for a length of time. Not long enough for the body to be permanently damaged, but the brain is pretty picky about getting a steady supply. There's a good chance of neurological damage, so a seizure makes sense."

As if in answer, Kevin Zalinski's left arm twitched, lay still for a moment, then his entire body began to tremor.

House gestured towards the boy, his face mocking, but his eyes serious. "Dr. Cameron. Your medical opinion on whether to administer an anticonvulsant?"

Without meeting his gaze, Cameron turned back to where Foreman and Chase had already propped the boy on his side. Once she had injected Kevin with the dose, she turned her attention to the patient himself.

House was deep in thought, his hands clenched so tightly on the handles of the crutches that his fingernails were digging into the foam. He closed his eyes, only vaguely aware of the beeping monitor and sounds of a struggle. History, plus onset, plus symptoms… He needed another symptom. Something distinctive, to make apparent the pattern of progression that the disease took…

Kevin Zalinski had not been admitted for the flu-like symptoms he had, according to the history, been exhibiting weeks previous to his admittance to PPTH, but for a long gash on his left leg which had been bleeding profusely. He had been covered with various scrapes and contusions, some which looked new, and others which had long since healed. Both he and his foster parents claimed that he got them from dirt-bike accidents, but they were lacerations, not abrasions. X-rays showed that he had broken several bones in the past: an arm, a rib, and several fingers. The boy's physical condition told more about him than the family history that Cameron had taken. No vaccinations, no information on the mother or father…

If only he had another symptom. Something's missing… "Missing!" House muttered aloud. "Huh." He leaned his crutches against the wall, and ignoring the overwhelming wave of pain that resulted from doing so, limped over to the side of the bed. The Vicodin would get rid of it, anyways.

"Dr. House?" Cameron spoke, her tone inferring that she was asking what he was doing.

He paid no attention, and reached into his pocket for his ever-present bottle of pills. He downed two, and made his way to the head of the bed. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached out, and grasped Kevin by the throat, his fingers placed beneath the boy's jaw.

"House!" Foreman dashed over, grabbed House's shoulders and spun him around. "What the hell?"

House stared at him, his shocked and confused gaze meeting Foreman's fearful and angry one. "What the hell do you mean, 'what the hell?' I'm checking his lymph nodes! Unless you have a problem with that, I suggest you let go of my shoulders."

Foreman let go of House, his features melting into embarrassment and confusion. "I thought… well, I…you… you shouldn't touch him… He might… be contagious."

House stared at Foreman for a full minute, then looked back to the boy. "His lymph nodes aren't swollen any more. Check his temperature, t-cells, and white count. I'll be in my office."

Buahahaha! Heh. Sorry. I feel evil today. I took a long time, (again!) to update. Gomen nosai! Well, new chapter of Will Be coming soon. See ya!

P'Bantonox