Disclaimer- Disclaimer, disclaimer... Everybody covers themself with a disclaimer to make sure they aren't sued. So do I. So sue me.
Heheheh... Are you ready?
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-Chapter Eleven-
Truth?
House drummed his fingers on the wall of the elevator, waiting for the ding that would signify ground floor. It was over. He was going home, to a beer and pizza. No, he reminded himself, lasagna. Wilson promised him. A beer and lasagna. He sighed. Whatever he had, he needed a beer. It had been a strange day.
The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped out, balancing himself with his crutches. Thank goodness the lobby elevator had been fixed. Making his way through the crowded room, he spied Wilson, headed the same way as he was. "Hey."
"Hey yourself. Figure out what the boy has yet?"
"Think so. You leaving, too?"
"Uh-huh. Latest patient is recovering remarkably from surgery."
"You're saying that you finally get to leave at a reasonable time. So, you're making dinner, right?"
"What? I always-- Oh. Yeah, of course."
House grinned. "Race you home?"
"With you in your Camero? No thanks. Besides, I actually prefer to drive around the speed limit, as crazy as that might seem."
"No, I understand perfectly…" House replied. "Chicken."
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House leaned back in his chair and took another bite. The lasagna was good, he couldn't deny it. But he was anxious. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would talk to Kevin, find out exactly what happened, and why. He would--
"So, about Kevin Zalinski…" Wilson interrupted him.
"Huh?"
"What's he got? Come on, don't keep me in the dark."
"You're always in the dark." House muttered, sitting up in his chair.
"Cameron told me he was in respiratory distress for an indefinite length of time, and then, once intubated, had a seizure."
"Well, there you go."
"House, could you please--"
"Okay. O² SATs are steady, he'll be okay to extubate tomorrow. He's also peeing blood, which has been determined as a sign of glomerulonephritis. He probably got it from a bad strep infection that spread to the rest of his body. If he was malnutritioned and mistreated at his foster home, there are plenty of ways for this to have happened. All of his previous symptoms point to it, too."
"So you are going to talk."
"No, I just did. I'm not going to anymore. I need to sleep."
"I'm confused, since when have you ever slept?"
"Ha, ha. Very funny." House held up his forkful of food. "This is good, by the way."
"Glad you like it."
"Me too. The last one I had tasted like crap."
"Hey!"
"It wasn't yours. I made it."
"You're not that bad of a cook."
House raised his eyebrows.
"Okay, so you are pretty bad at it, but it's nothing that can't be fixed." He received another look, and decided it would be better to stop while he was ahead. "Why do you want to talk with him? Going to ask him why he shot at you, or just torment him? You do realize that you won't get a straight answer."
House finished his plate, and stood up. "Of course. 'Night." He grabbed his crutches, and limped into his room, leaving a confused Wilson behind.
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He was falling, hurtling towards the ground, awning left behind him. He'd misjudged the jump. It was over. He was going to hit. House tensed up, every muscle in his body braced for the impact. He flung his cane away from him… and blinked. He had crutches now, not the cane! An element was missing. Therefore, this wasn't real.
He hit the ground, his leg buckling under him--
--And woke up in his bed. Dammit. Not another nightmare! He hadn't had them since med school. So why was he having them again? One yesterday, one today… No doubt trauma from the previous day, or something of the like.
He rubbed sleep from his eyes, and grabbed his Vicodin, taking two of them.
Today was the day he would talk to Kevin.
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House dropped his bag beneath his desk, and sat back, waiting for the other three doctors to arrive. One word from one doctor, a short trip down the hallway, and the final pieces of the mystery would fall into place. Kevin would have to tell him everything. If not, well… He'd think about that later. He was pretty sure though, that the boy would talk.
"Doctor House."
His head snapped up, eyes meeting those of Cameron. Several moments passed in silence. "Yes? Do you have something important to say, or would you rather stare? Not that a staring contest wouldn't be welcome, but I have to warn you, I'm good. I can practically go all day without blinking."
Cameron blinked, surprised at his remark.
"Ha! I won!"
"Kevin's blood tests came back. He did have streptococcus-induced glomerulonephritis," she said.
"And the treatment?"
" It's working."
"Great." House stood, grabbing onto his desk for support as he reached for his crutches. "And is he extubated?"
"Not yet. But he can be, anytime now."
"I'll take care of it." House began to leave the room, propelled onward by his crutches.
"Um..."
House turned.
"Be careful."
"I intend to be."
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House limped down the hallway, nearing the door to the room where Kevin Zalinski lay. Speculation was useless when you could get better results from actually investigating. Still, visiting patients was a pain…
He stood outside the door for a moment, glancing at the security officer stationed outside, then tugged it open, sliding it until it reached the end of the track and hit the wall. Kevin flinched.
"Good, you're awake." He started to enter the room, then paused as the security guard began to follow him inside. House slid the door shut in his face. "Sorry, we're closed. Come back in fifteen minutes." He then pulled a coin from his pocket and dropped it in the sliding door track. "Nifty trick," he muttered, half to himself, half to Kevin.
"Hey!" The security guard knocked on the glass door. "You can't do that!"
"And you can't come in. Promise you won't interrupt us?"
The man glared at him.
"Okay, then." House pulled the blinds shut, and limped over to the side of Kevin's bed. "Remember me?"
Kevin's eyes widened, and he choked on the tube that fed him oxygen. He began to panic, as he fought for air that the machine wouldn't give.
"Stop that." House began to undo the straps holding the tube in place. "On your next breath, cough."
The boy complied, his breath aiding the tube's removal, as House pulled it steadily out. He gasped and sputtered a few moments, then was silent, staring up with wide eyes.
"There are a lot of questions I want to ask to ask you. The most pressing issue, though, is why. Why would you want to shoot a doctor who was trying to save your life?"
A minute of silence passed, the tension in the air palpable. "S-s-sorry…" The boy looked away. "But--"
"But what? Are you going to tell me you had some rationalization for what you were trying to do? Because I'd love to hear this!" House dropped his crutches on the floor, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I shot him because he was a jerk. Because he wasn't the cute immunologist I wanted to see. Because it's my birthday today and he didn't give me a present. Because killing is fun. Because he looked like my ex. It doesn't matter what you say, nothing will make me believe you in the slightest. Shooting someone means you need to have a gun. It's nothing other than premeditated murder!"
"I-I was trying to kill m-m-myself."
House looked sharply at him. "Riiight. The proper way to commit suicide is to point the gun at yourself, not someone else. You might yet have a chance of getting a room upstairs in the psych ward. The rooms up there are padded. Much more comfy than a prison cell."
"I was scared! I d-didn't expect to see you! I l-l-locked the door so I wouldn't be int-interrupted…. I shot by accident… I don't know how, it just h-happened."
"Not possible. The first shot, maybe, but the second one? You looked straight at me, then lifted the gun. You knew what you were doing."
"I… t-tried again… A-and f-f-failed."
House examined the boy's face, searching for signs that he was lying, and instead, found his eyes returning to the bloody bandage on the side of the boy's face. Wordlessly, he picked up his crutches, and limped over to the door, pausing only to remove the coin from the track. He pulled open the blinds and opened the door, slipping past the security guard. He knew what to do now.
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Yeah, I know, I know. I haven't been updating a lot lately. Well, that's because I've been trying to figure out how to wrap a story up without sounding contrived. I mean, I don't want to stop writing, but the story's played itself pretty much out. Which story am I talking about? Come now, would I really tell you?
Oh, yeah, next update is for Will Be! And boy do I have a surprise for you guys!
-P'Bantonox