I'm not even sure you still remember where we were left this story before I took this insanely long break in my writing - well, not really, since I wrote another story this summer, but still…
I confess I had to re-read my last chapters several times myself just to put me back in the mood, even though (and that's crazy), the following chapter you're about to read (and the next 4 or 5 after that) are all part of a long draft I wrote months ago but needed to put in presentable writing style before I could update.
So, we're approaching an(other) 'big' medical challenge for House (which means mostly for me since I tried to write something plausible and coherent; and btw that's also part of the reasons why it took me some extra time to get back to that because, trust me, diving into cryptic medical notes long after you wrote them can be quite puzzling! so actually I had to double check my notes and make other researches to confirm the precious ones I had done… meh.)
anyway, here's the new chapter.
** Chapter 70 **
Things never go the way they're supposed to.
House should have known better than just to trust appearances. But he was unfocused, his mind undeniably elsewhere since he and Cuddy had come back from Boston and for all those reasons, and everything else that he expected were about to go wrong, he should have foreseen the signs and be more careful. Yes, House should have definitely known better than just to trust appearances.
Early in the morning, he'd signed the discharge paper for his patient, the tired, but brave mommy with mononucleosis and a huge hero complex. How a woman would stupidly push her limits that far, trying to be the super parent, completely forgetting to take care of herself in the process just to keep up with her four kids' selfish demands, ending up incapable of even standing on her two feet, was beyond him.
But it was the law of Nature, probably, and House had given up trying to explain it rationally a long time ago. Men were stupid, and men with kids even stupider. But, after multiple, unnecessary tests, it appeared that Jenny Reed was fine and ready to go home where she would happily exhaust herself some more. House didn't expect her to have learned any lesson out of this but he'd done his part.
As he was standing at the balcony, watching her being rolled to the front door in a wheel chair, her offspring already sucking the little energy she'd regained during her stay at the hospital out of her by jumping up and down frantically all around, he told himself that becoming a parent was the most arrogant and just plain unconscious decision one human being could make in a lifetime.
The team was there to accompany Jenny Reed, shaking hands and giving the last, kindly recommendations before finally allowing her to go. House was leaning on the balustrade watching her smile and thinking about what he would do next, since he was now without a patient to treat.
He wanted to see Cuddy. He was missing her already, and he could vividly feel it almost through every pore of his skin. He'd never been that much infatuated with anybody, but he realized he didn't care, as he watched Jenny stand up and take a few steps toward the exit. Her husband was holding their baby inside his arms and House watched Jenny come close to him while her other children kept dancing like whirling dervishes between her legs.
Yes, Cuddy, he needed to see her now. House pushed himself up from the balustrade and stepped in front of the elevator behind him. He was pressing the call button with the tip of his cane when the shouts coming from the main lobby echoed into space.
"We need some help in here!"
House briskly whisked around and leaned over the balustrade again to see what had caused the shouts, which sadly sounded like a too familiar injunction to him. There, below him, he saw it: Jenny Reed was lying on the floor, in a pool of her own vomit. Strangely enough, he also noticed her kids, who suddenly seemed like they'd been frozen still. Taub was kneeled down next to the inert woman, checking her pulse and Foreman, sensing the presence of his boss above them, tilted his head up and locked eyes with House, with a worried look on his face.
# # # # # #
"We've ruled out Bell's Palsy, and the brainstem tumor-" Taub started.
"I don't care what we've ruled out!" House cut him off, angrily. "What she doesn't have is not going to help us treat her."
Just then, Thirteen walked into the conference room, followed by Kutner. "How is she?" House asked.
"She's awake now, but still weak. Her face is swollen, but it's hard to tell what part of it is a symptom or if it's only due to her fall," Thirteen answered, taking a seat at the table next to Taub.
"She vomited just before she lost consciousness and fell. We should also take that into account," Foreman pointed out.
"Food poisoning?" Taub said, unconvincing.
"I checked with the nurses to trace down her last two meals," Kutner answered. "Samples from the cafeteria are in the lab now. We should get the results in the next couple hours."
"Except, if it came from the food she ate here, there should be other sick patients," House stated pensively. "Anyone heard of a puke crisis striking the second floor lately?"
"Not that I know of," Thirteen said.
"Then, sorry to crush your hopes, Kutner, but it seems you've just wasted a few hundred dollars on pointless tests."
Kutner lowered his head, defeated.
"How about the husband?" he suddenly asked, regaining some confidence. "You know how the family usually is, always sneaking in some food. Maybe it comes from something she ate that he gave her."
House squinted at him for a few seconds.
"Good point," he finally answered, and Kutner smiled widely, sticking his chest out a little. "Where's the husband now?"
"With his wife. The man is a total mess," Thirteen said, not really sounding concerned.
"Of course, he is!" House exclaimed. "I know I would be, if I were left alone with four crawling, uncontrollable little brats while my wife decided to be ill and useless in a hospital bed!"
Foreman frowned disapprovingly.
"Go ask him what stupid, poisonous food he's been feeding his wife with lately and ask if anyone in the family who'd have eaten the same thing show similar symptoms," House said to the team.
The four doctors all simultaneously stood up and they hastily left the room. House stood there, alone, in the middle of the empty outer office when his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, checked the caller ID and smiled.
"My team just left. Perfect timing for a bootie call!" he chanted, beaming.
On the other side of the line, Cuddy rolled her eyes and held back her laughter.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm in a bar, getting drunk."
"No, you're not! You said you team just left!"
"Yeah, that's coz they don't hold alcohol. Except Thirteen, but she had to leave too, since it's not really a bar for chicks-"
"House!"
He smiled at her fake reprimand.
"How's your patient doing?"
"Vomiting. Fainting. The usual sick people daily round."
"What does she have?"
"I don't know," he said, serious again.
"What are the symptoms?"
"Stiff neck. Paresthesia-"
"Meningitis?" Cuddy suggested.
"Already ruled out. And she's positive for Epstein Barr," he said, with a hint of challenge in his tone.
"Lyme?"
He smiled.
"Are you applying to join my team?" he teased. "Because you know, there's no spot available right now. But one word from you and I'm getting rid of one of them. Or all of them if you prefer. So, which one is it? Just spill a name and the job is yours!"
"You're stupid," she said with a smiling voice.
Silence filled the receiver and House checked his watch.
"You wanna get lunch?"
"I can't, I'm sorry. I'm calling to say I'll be out for the rest of the day. I have a meeting with Mason, our financial advisor to define capital allowance for th-"
"Stop right there, I think I'm getting a headache."
"Well, excuse me while I go do my boring job then!"
"I didn't say your job was boring. Although, it kinda is, we all know that. But I didn't say it was."
He could practically see her pout at the other end of the line.
"Cuddyyy, come on," he drawled.
"Fine. I won't call next time."
"I never said you had to. I mean, you go in and out of this hospital all the time. At this point, let's face it, you probably had lunch with half of the people in Princeton already. Bankers, donors, doctors, whoever! That's what you do. But you've never bothered calling me before to give me the specifics. And now all of a sudden, you're calling to tell me that? Really?"
"What?" Cuddy said, suddenly getting defensive. "I'm your girlfriend. I'm just letting you know where I'll be so that you don't wonder-"
"That's my point."
"Sorry, but what is your point?"
"I'm just trying to stop the process before the day comes when you feel the need to call me just to say you're going to pee."
She didn't answer. Instead, he heard her suck in a sharp breath and the long sigh that ensued reeked of guilt and embarrassment.
"Cuddy," House's voice suddenly took on a solemn, serious tone. "You left. And I think we've established how really bad I was after that. Because, really bad is how I am without you."
Cuddy exhaled again, a quivering breath this time, and House pressed the receiver against his ear.
"But you came back. You're here, now," he whispered. "I'm feeling good. I'm ok. But you know that a part of me will always fear that you leave me. There's no phone call that can ever change that. It's not you or what you do, or who you see… It's me. I don't believe in happy endings."
"House, I'm-"
"Shut up and let me finish. It's not a problem. I can deal with that. I've always dealt with that. The fact that I know it's gonna end-"
"It's not going to end."
"Ok then, the fact that I reasonably exercise my right to think that it might end doesn't mean I don't appreciate the present. I don't need you to reassure me. I don't want you to. The more you feel the need to tell me where you are or who you see, the more I'm gonna ask myself why. You may think it's a good idea, but it's not. Because it's not helping with my carpe diem philosophy, ok? So just hang up that phone now, and scram! Go see your money guru-"
"Financial advisor," she corrected with a raspy voice, trying to hide the sound of her sniffing.
"Tomato – Tomatoe-"
"House?"
She took a deep breath and his heartbeats speeded up a little.
"I'm gonna miss you," she said in a thready whisper.
"Ha! Not me, sorry. I'm not going to think about you, at all. And I won't think about all the things I'm gonna do to you once I'll have you naked in my bed either. I don't have time for that."
Her laugh.
No other sound was as perfect as the sound of her laugh in the entire world, House thought then. Except her moans when she came, maybe… He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head to chase the images that'd instantly formed in his mind away. He needed to focus.
"I'll see you tonight?" she said, as if she'd read his mind.
"Yeah."
# # # # # #
"Husband swears he didn't give her anything to eat," Thirteen said first, while the team re-entered the conference room shortly after.
"He's probably lying."
"I believe him."
"Really. Why? Because he crossed his heart and hoped to die?" House said sarcastically.
"Because he really didn't give her anything. Not even flowers."
"Oh, that explains it then!" he scoffed.
"We have to assume he's telling the truth," Foreman said. "Lab results indicate there's nothing in the food."
"The hospital food! Not the goddamned food her stupid husband gave her!"
"And got her that sick? Well, that would mean he really managed to sneak in a lot of food then. Which, considering the symptoms, is unlikely to be chocolate. So, what now? We need to start looking in her room's trashcan for trace of oyster shells or are we trying to find some other plausible causes beside marital food poisoning attempt?" Foreman asked with a smug grin.
House glared at him but took the point.
"Ok. Why did she vomit then?
"Incipient postural hypotension. She stood up too fast after lying in bed for almost two days. She got dizzy."
"That doesn't explain the paresthesia."
"What if it actually did?" Kutner suddenly suggested, fumbling into the patient's file. "Infectious mononucleosis, numbness in the lower limps, low blood pressure with dizziness, vomiting, partial facial paralysis-"
"Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy?" Taub bounced back.
"Or it could be Guillain Barre," Thirteen countered. "The symptoms are consistent with both."
"But if it's GB, she'd have porphyria, or viral hepatitis," Kutner reminded.
"Then what are you waiting for?" House exclaimed. "Draw some blood! Do a red cell count and test her for viral hepatitis. And check the porphyrin levels in her urine, too."
# # # # # #
"Do you know a Mason? Financial guy or something?"
"You need fiscal advice now?" Wilson asked with a smile, planting his fork into his salad ravenously.
House pouted and glanced at Wilson's tray with disappointment: There was only healthy food there, which means, almost nothing worth tasting. He spotted an apple, though, swiftly grabbed it and bit a sizable chunk out of it before Wilson had the time to bat an eyelid. The oncologist frowned angrily and pulled the tray out of House's reach.
"Cuddy's having lunch with him," House said with his mouth full.
"And?"
"And… nothing. It's just lunch. She called me earlier to tell me about it. Capital allowance and all that jazz. Just business."
"House, are you and Cuddy ok?" Wilson asked, putting his fork down and looking worried.
"We're fine!" House answered with exaggerated enthusiasm and avoiding Wilson's gaze. "She even met Candy yesterday."
"Candy? Who's Candy?"
House lifted the slice of bread on top of Wilson's sandwich hoping to find some decent food underneath but put it down when all he spotted were ridiculously colored vegetables.
"Candy, the girl you saw at my place the other day," House specified, trying to sound casual.
"Oh my God!" Wilson exclaimed with a shocked face. "Cuddy and that… hooker met?"
"Masseuse."
"You're dead."
"Do I look dead to you?"
"But what did she say?"
"Not much." House grinned widely at Wilson. "Moans mostly."
"You... what? You had a threesome with-"
"Wilson!" House exclaimed. "Stop projecting! I'm talking about Cuddy's moans exclusively. Candy was just there for barely five minutes and then she left."
"And you're telling me Cuddy didn't kill you after that?"
"Nope! Quite the opposite actually. She was very nice…"
"Wow!"
"Yeah."
"So, what's the problem? And… what does that Mason guy has to do with all that?"
"Nothing. And that's the problem. Mason is just nobody. But Cuddy mentioned him and now I can't help thinking she's having lunch with that guy."
"Oh, so you're jealous of him?"
"You don't get anything, do you? Why would I be jealous when a gorgeous woman like Cuddy gives me awesome sex after running into a hooker at my place instead of beating me to death and go away?"
"You wouldn't."
"Exactly." House heaved a deep sigh and looked away. "I… really like her," he grumbled almost inaudibly.
Wilson smiled.
"That's called love, House. You can say the word, you know. It's not going to kill you."
"Ok! So, I love her. Which is also why I'm screwed."
"Why?" Wilson looked at his friend with a baffled face.
"Because… because the world is full of Russells and Masons and whatever other name is next on the list, and one day she'll realize she's been wasting her time with me while there're many other better options for her out there."
"But what if you are the option Cuddy chooses to have."
"Maybe now I am. But it won't last."
"House, for God's sake, can't you just enjoy what you have for once in your life and give it a little faith?"
House stared at his friend, looking ill-at-ease.
"I'm trying. But I don't have many examples of successful relationships in my past to rely on. In fact, I have none."
Wilson sighed, becoming slightly tired and aggravated by House's self-conscious leitmotiv.
"That's because you hadn't met the right person," he said almost dismissively. "Listen, Cuddy's been putting up with your crap for years and she's still there. She loves you. So, tell me, what could possibly go wrong now that she hasn't already gone through a million times before?"
"I don't know," House said, his voice low. "That's the problem."
"Stop worrying! Everything's fine. Just… don't piss her off, that's all. She's stressed lately. Give her massage or cook for her. Whatever! Do something that will relax her. Just be nice with her."
House squinted at Wilson for a second and got up.
"Thanks Wilson! You are a day late with your couple counseling advice but, as always, I appreciate the friendly, meddling dedication."
Without even waiting for an answer, House started striding away, and left Wilson seated alone in his chair, looking bemused.
# # # # # #
Tests results came later in the afternoon. As it turned out, during the time it took for the lab to run the tests, the patient got worse, her symptoms of paralysis slowly extending to her arms and shoulders.
"She doesn't have porphyria," Foreman said. "The urine is clear. And so is the blood cell count."
"So, start her on corticosteroids for CIDP," House replied assertively.
"But her ALAT are three times above the normal level," Thirteen cautiously pointed out. "It can still be the remnant traces of a recent viral liver infection, which points to Guillain Barre. If we start her on corticosteroids and it's GB, she risks respiratory arrest. We should treat her with plasmapheresis instead, it's safer."
"It's safer but more invasive! It's CIDP. Start her on prednisone and she'll be fine in the next twelve hours!"
"But what if it's not and the corticosteroids cause cardiovascular complications?" Thirteen challenged.
"Then we'll have proven it's not CIDP and we'll start the plasmapheresis."
"We should get Cuddy's approval on this," Taub said matter-of-factly.
House narrowed his eyes at him and seemed to contemplate the option for a short while.
"No," he said. "It's standard risk treatment procedure. We don't need approval. Besides, we have to do something. We have two options, which means we need to rule out one."
Everyone stared at him with a 'are you really sure?' dubious frown.
"You're all staying here tonight. Monitor the patient closely the whole time. If her status doesn't improve in the next hours, we'll have confirmed one diagnosis. Now go. And page me if anything goes wrong."
They all looked at House with an incredulous stare one last time, then at each other, as if they were waiting to see what the other would do. Finally, Kutner sighed, gathered the file's pages into the blue folder and stood up, walking toward the exit resignedly. Everyone followed shortly after and walked out the room for the third time that day.
Alone again once they'd all left, House took a deep breath and checked his watch: 7.15pm. It's going to be a long night, he thought, closing his eyes and sighing. He crossed the conference room toward his office and sat at his desk. Then he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her number.
"I just got home. Just time for me to change clothes and I'm headed to your place," Cuddy said with a voice full of joyful promises before he had the time to say hello. "You can start opening a bottle of that Bordeaux you have-"
"I'm afraid we'll have to keep it for another occasion."
"Why?" Her tone instantly conveyed her disappointment, her 'why' being more rhetorical than an actual real question as it was evident she already knew the answer.
"I need to stay at the hospital. Probably will take me the most part of the night, so it's unlikely I'll get home tonight."
"Something with your patient?"
"Yes. But don't worry, everything's fine-"
"I'm not worried. I know you're doing what's in her best interest."
House gulped and sucked in a sharp breath.
"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry I have to stay."
"Well, that's ok. I guess I can use the time to review my presentation for tomorrow's Board meeting."
"Oh, Board meeting. I'd forgotten that one."
"Not me, sadly. So maybe it's a good thing after all, coz I'll have another quick look at the budget charts, make sure everything is correct, and then go to bed early. I need to be in top form tomorrow to kick Campbell's ass."
"Yeah, you're gonna kick ass at kicking his ass!"
She laughed.
"Thanks," she told him with a soft voice. "I know I shouldn't, but I'm nervous about this meeting."
"Don't be," he said. "You'll do just fine, as usual."
He heard her breathe deeply into the receiver.
"I need to go," he lied.
"Ok. Good luck with your patient," she said.
"Cuddy?"
"Yeah."
"I'm gonna miss you," he said with a whispering voice.
"Me, too," she answered.
After she'd hung up, House put his cell phone on the desk and buried his face inside his hands.
A long night. Yes. It was going to be a long night.
(...)
A/N
To each of you who keep reading this story and still appreciate it, your loyalty and support really mean a lot to me. and more than word would express.
So, thank you!
~ maya