Dear Readers: I thought I had uploaded and posted this days ago...you guys should have sent me a message to wake up! LOL I'll post another when I see that you've caught up.

Chapter 26

Backing Off

I was so engrossed in examining the thigh I forgot I was in the danger zone. I was deeply moved by what I saw—a mangled mass of dead nerves and weak muscle. Greg was right; he had to be in pain every minute of the day. That type of injury and the science that was available when the surgery was done was primitive compared to what we can do now if someone walks into the hospital with an infarction in their leg. He was his own worst enemy by not working out to keep the leg from atrophying. The more it atrophied, the more pain he would have every time he put pressure on it to stabilize himself when he walked. I knew it must hurt like hell to exercise, but he had to, especially now, the medicine was so close to being able to help him.

After examining his leg, I lifted up and realized very quickly that I could feel his body warmth and smell him. The smell was familiar and triggered all my feelings of being safe in his arms. I knew if he touched me at that moment I would have climbed into his bed and lingered there. But he did something worse, he held me and then he let me go, knowing I was running off to be with another man. I got into the car and cried. I hated him, he made me cry and I never, never, never cry over a man. I called James, sobbing into the phone, "James, I can't come over today, I'm sorry."

"Did he do anything to you, what did he say?"

"He didn't do anything, say anything. He was actually very sweet. I just can't do this today. I am so sorry. Please forgive me." I was trying to talk through all the sobs and sniffles and sounding very garbled.

"Kenna, take your time. I want you to do this when and if it feels right. Just know that House doesn't do anything without thinking it through. I'd be surprised if he didn't know he would have this effect on you."

"James, this is one time I think you're wrong about him. I know him too and he couldn't have expected this. I'm sure he believes I'm on my way to your place." I was starting to calm down. "I'm going home to sulk. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Xoxoxoxox

She was the last person I expected to see at my door. The conversation was frustrating since she was about to screw my best friend. I thought maybe if I could catch her and get her into bed I could circumvent it, but when she first saw my leg, she drew back in distress. I knew that if we had sex it would have been out of sympathy for my leg. Although I'm still kicking myself for letting her go, I didn't want her pity. When she examined my leg, I just wanted to feel her, hold her, smell her; have one fantastic moment flood back to remind me of when we were together. She let me hold her, she even held me. Why I let her go to Wilson I'm not sure. I think I realized that if she wasn't going to be mine, no one else deserved happiness more than Wilson. I had put him through hell and he had stuck by me like a good friend-Sanchez to my crazy Don Quixote. I wanted her to be happy and I think Wilson could give her that. For once he'd be with a woman that, for the most part, wouldn't need to be saved.

I took a Vicodin and stared at the clock. It was noon. I figured it was late enough to start drinking so I sat down at the piano with my whisky and began to play, kicking myself for not playing the pity card.

oxoxoxoxox

As he walked into PPTH on Monday, House thought through what he was going to say to a very lucky Wilson. Maybe he could trick Wilson into telling him if Kenna was still as good with her tongue as she used to be. Getting on the elevator, House reached down and rubbed his thigh which was contracting with pain, the same pain that had wracked his body all night long.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Kenna stayed away from Wilson's office, still on uneven ground, she still needed time to sort her feelings. Eventually he came up to see her.

"Are you okay? You were crying pretty hard the other day. Is there anything that I can do?"

She looked at him and his liquid brown eyes. He was genuinely worried about her. "It's not what you think. I was crying because he's given up-not just on me, but more importantly, on himself."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw his thigh. He was in pain so I asked to see the wound. He showed it to me and it was horrible, so mangled. When I first saw it, I was repelled. But then I looked at it as a neurologist and after seeing it I felt sick to my stomach. The pain he must be in has to be intolerable. The leg is getting worse because he won't exercise it. Knowing how bad the leg was made me pretty vulnerable and he knew it too. He could have made a move and I probably would have caved but he just let me go. As far as Greg is concerned, you and I have already slept together. I told him that I was going straight to your apartment to sleep with you. That's why letting me go meant so much. He knew he was sending me to you."

Wilson thought about it and had to agree-House had given up. House was rarely self-sacrificing, so letting Kenna go was a huge gesture. Wilson wasn't sure what to do next.

"Kenna, now what?"

"If you'll give me a third chance, I'd like to make it up to you- maybe cook you a meal? I'm a pretty good cook."

"At your place?" he asked.

Kenna grimaced, "Uh...I was hoping that I'll buy the groceries and cook it at your place."

"Ok, Friday night?"

"Sounds great. Anything that you don't like?"

"Liver."

She laughed, "Ok, not a problem. Pick me up at 6:00 p.m., ok?"

"Sounds great." Wilson said.

Kenna kept her eye open for House. She wanted to encourage him to start working out and getting his leg in shape, but he stayed under the radar and she didn't see him during her daily treks through the hospital. Still for her plan to work, she needed House to get in shape.

On Tuesday she discovered that Greg had an interesting case-an adult who had returned from holiday in England had experienced a grand mal seizure lasting five minutes. He was taken to the E.R. in a post-ictal state. Greg's team was called in when no one could figure out what was causing his symptoms. On arrival at the emergency department the patient was conscious but vomiting and experiencing visual hallucinations. Upon transfer to the third floor, he was agitated, tachycardic, but his blood pressure and oxygen saturation levels were within normal limits. He was hyper-reflexive with dilated pupils, but there were no focal neurological signs. He had one further subsequent grand mal seizure.

xoxoxoxoxo

Greg called me, "I need a consult down in 322."

I was surprised since Foreman could have given him a neurological diagnosis, why did he need me? When I arrived, I walked into the patient's room and saw Greg leaning on his cane, standing at the back of the room. I walked over to him and smiled; he looked me up and down and then introduced me to a young female doctor named "13" and a blond Australian doctor, Chase.

"Where's Foreman?"

"Vacation, cousin's wedding." he said without missing a beat.

"What about Dr. Jackson?" I knew that Dr. Jackson was the neurologist on call.

"Jackson, when we have the best neuro-Nazi in the world in our employ? You're here, there's the patient."

Knowing Greg, I knew that my life would be hell until I gave him what he wanted so I read the chart and examined the patient. "Increased muscular activity and damage resulting in metabolic acidosis. Acute renal failure secondary to rhabdomyolysis... hmmmm." I went over to Greg and handed him back the chart to him. "It's not a chronic neurological etiology. What do think it is?"

He gave me one of those looks he always gets when he is perplexed. His eyes would scrunch up, his lips screw tight and he would turn his head to the side, looking into the air as if he wasn't sure. "I'm leaning towards poisoning but I'm not sure what poisoned him."

"What did he ingest in the last 36 hours?"

"He started feeling sick on the plane back from Edinburgh, Scotland. He ate a curry just before he left."

"Well curry is pretty common in England. Where did he have the curry?"

"A family friend prepared it," Greg said.

"He had a homemade curry near Edinburgh? You know this is a long shot but you should call the friends, ask if they used small water parsnips in the curry."

Greg didn't hesitate, "Thirteen, get on it." He looked back at me. "Why?"

"People in England like parsnips and water parsnips grow wild there. There have been cases where people have been known to mistake hemlock water dropwart for water parsnips. Hemlock is extremely toxic, but the treatment is symptomatic and supportive. I suggest that if it is hemlock that you control the seizures using intravenous diazemules. Phenytoin would be the second line drug of choice." I thought a moment and shook my head. "I take it back; I'd use Thiopentone sodium for seizure control because of its faster action. Treatment for resistant seizures may necessitate intubation and ventilation."

Greg gave me the biggest, broadest smile. He turned to Chase and told him to start treatment because by the time they made contact in England it might be too late. Chase jumped to it. He turned back to me. "Lunch?"

I had so much to do but I wanted to talk to him about his leg, "Sure."

Xoxoxo

They went down to the cafeteria and, after Kenna found herself paying for both their lunches, sat down in one of the booths next to the brick wall.

"You were hot," He said with a slight leer.

She hadn't expected him to say that. "I assume that's a compliment?"

"If you weren't boinking Wilson," he looked around the room, "I'd jump you right now. You nailed that diagnosis." He paused and with a mouth full of sandwich said, "You were excited about it too, weren't you?"

Kenna thought about it and had to admit using her brain like that had been invigorating. "Yes, it was fun, but we don't know if I was right. Greg, I need to ask you again to start working on your leg. You need to strengthen it. Will you promise me?"

"Why is it so important to you?"

"I know the treatments coming down the pike and if the remaining portion of your thigh isn't strong, you'll be rejected for any studies. So please start building it up, please?"

He studied her as he slowly chewed his food. "What do you want me to do?"

"I'll give you a workout program that will be tailored to getting the thigh muscle back in shape. I have a notebook of exercises designed to build the proper muscle mass. Stop by and pick it up some time."

He didn't say anything, but nodded.

"Great." He said as they both looked up to see Thirteen coming towards them somewhat excited, her cheeks flushed.

"The police just broke into the house in Scotland. The mother and father were found dead, the baby is sick because she must have ingested some of it from the mother's milk. They aren't sure yet whether it's hemlock, but they say it won't be the first time for hemlock poisoning in that area." She turned to Kenna. "Wow, that was a good call. How did you know?"

"When I practiced in Cambridge, I had a case come in, it sticks with you."

Kenna continued to eat her lunch while House and Thirteen discussed a journal article that she wanted published. It was a somewhat heated exchange ending with Thirteen telling him to, "Just sign the damn thing when you get back to the office. I don't care if you read it or not."

It was a strange exchange but Kenna was too busy thinking about what was happening in the lab. "Greg, I have to get back to the lab...I'll see you later." She jumped up and bussed her tray.

House watched her as she walked briskly out the door.

Friday came and Kenna purchased the makings for Chicken Cordon Bleu and Mississippi Mud, Kenna's favorite desert. She was running late and just about to get in the shower when she heard a knock on the door. "Damn!" She grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and ran to the front, opening the door without looking through the peep hole, something she rarely did. It was House. "Oh, Greg...what are you doing here?" She hesitated, holding her bathrobe together with her freckled hand. Resigned to the fact that he was already there, she motioned to the living room. "Come on in."

He walked in and looked around. There were a few kitchen chairs in the living room and dining area, a stool at the counter and a card table. There were several unpacked boxes lying around.

"Make yourself at home. I just have to pop into the shower. I'll be out in a few minutes. I think there's beer in the frig."

"You don't drink beer."

"No, but I had some for my friends who helped unload the truck when I moved in. You're here for that book, right? The exercise book?"

"Yeah, and to see if you wanted dinner."

She yelled as she ran into the bathroom, "Sorry, I have plans with James. Now, I have to get that shower. The notebook is in one of the boxes. It's a bright red three ring binder. Can you start looking for it? I'll help when I get out."

House nodded, but she was already in the bathroom. He looked around and chuckled. You would have sworn she had moved in yesterday. The apartment couldn't have been more than 500 square feet with very few amenities. The kitchen was straight out of the eighties and the carpet looked like it had gone through several tenants. There was nothing on the walls, nothing personal sitting out. When he looked in the bedroom there was a bed and an LCD television and Blu-ray player, but they weren't even hooked up. She had an alarm clock and glass of water sitting on top of a box next to the bed. A quick look in the closet revealed clothes, but they all had new tags on them, except for maybe a dozen pieces which he recognized as the clothes he always saw her in at the hospital. He started to open boxes and wasn't surprised to find that most of them contained books and papers. Opening the third box, he discovered a photo album on top. On the cover of the photo album, he found that half of it was filled with photos of her family and their farm and the other half filled of photos of them together in Baltimore.

He looked around for another photo album but instead came to a box filled with loose photos taken over the years after they parted. There were two framed photos, the one he recognized of her family that used to sit in her room and the other a framed photo of them on their trip to New York for her 22nd birthday. He took a hard look at the photo, he looked healthy and happy; she was glowing. From the way her pupils were dilated, her mouth slightly turned up at the ends and her arm wrapped around his waist with her hand hanging onto his shirt, she looked as if she worshiped him.

It was too much; he put the photo album away and continued to look for the notebook, finally finding it at the bottom of the sixth box he opened. He pulled it out just as Kenna came out in her jeans and a little white pullover. Her hair was wet and her face scrubbed clean. She looked 22 again. He smiled, shaking his head. "You haven't changed."

She looked at him as if he was nuts. "What do you mean? I'm nine pounds heavier, my hair is blonder and there are a lot more wrinkles."

"You call those wrinkles? Ha! I've perfected the generation of wrinkles!" He held up the red notebook. "I found the book. I better go so you can get ready."

She grabbed the notebook out of his arm and a photo fell out of it. It was of her when she was twenty-two. House had taken the photo of her still in bed asleep. Picking it up, she looked at him with curiosity. Why was he stealing photos of her? She said nothing. Instead she opened the notebook; put the photo in a pocket and showed him the exercises she wanted him to do and how to measure the muscle density of the thigh to get the optimum result. He thanked her and hobbled out of the apartment.

Kenna heard the motorcycle take off and went back into the bathroom to get ready. She packed a little backpack with a large t-shirt, toothbrush, hairbrush, makeup remover. Underwear filled the basket on the floor. She rummaged through to find just the right lace bikinis that made her butt look smaller. She approached the clothes hanging in the closet, sighing over the state of her apartment. Kenna hated unpacking, so whenever she moved she'd give all her stuff away, including most of her clothes. She found that Ralph Lauren fit her body fairly well so whenever she arrived in a new city, she'd walk into Macy's and buy the entire spring, winter or fall line and take it home, hang it up and use it as she needed it. She'd been in Princeton three months and still hadn't had time to shop for furniture.