A/N: Another short bite and more hopefully before too long. Very busy day, but music went well, and Mom even had one of the best days she has this year. :)
(H/C)
"Maybe I shouldn't have called us that," Julia worried. "But we've been Mom and Dad to him since he was nine years old. It was his choice."
Richard had an arm around her, and he pulled her into a tighter hug. "It wasn't your fault, Julia. His eyes looked wrong as soon as he woke up, before we ever said anything."
House was examining Kutner and to all appearances ignoring their conversation, but he turned quickly at that. "How did they look wrong?"
"Weak," Julia said. "He looked so weak."
"Scared," Richard added. "He was just staring at the ceiling like there was something awful up there. He didn't even look around or notice us until we spoke. And he opened them kind of with a jerk, all at once."
"Is he going to be . . ." Julia started.
"I don't know," House snapped. She stepped back a few inches, a reflex retreat, and her husband gave her another squeeze and House a look of mingled rebuke and sympathy. House took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if that time was relevant to any brain damage. Delirium goes right along with malaria, and his malaria had progressed clear into encephalitis, which would make it worse. He was probably delirious most of the weekend while he was at home sick; that's got to be why he didn't call for help once he was really getting bad. And he did just spend all last week remembering his parents' death." No matter how much Kutner had processed their murder in general terms by now, to get malaria at the end of that specific week couldn't have been worse on timing.
Julia was trying to follow him, trying to keep herself from simply freezing up with the worry. "You think he was stuck there before I called us Mom and Dad?"
"Quite possibly." House went over Kutner again. The kid was deeply asleep again, borderline unconscious, but House could get a reaction to noxious stimuli. He knew he ought to wake him back up by whatever means it took and get the first set of baseline neuro checks, even if limited.
But giving the medicine more time to work and letting his fever continue to decrease couldn't hurt. What if this wasn't yet baseline? But what if it was?
House turned back to the Kutners. "Did either of you try to orient him at all to his situation? You've been sick? You're in the hospital?" Richard shook his head; Julia just looked guilty on top of the worry again. "I think we need to give this a little more time. Let the medicine keep working; let his body keep healing. Just let him sleep for now. But next time he wakes up, tell him that immediately. He's been sick, and he's in the hospital. He's getting better." Hopefully Kutner's medical mind was still in there somewhere and would take comfort in that. Really, their description of his awakening reminded House of a sick version of the way he himself snapped out of nightmares. It always took a few seconds to reorient himself, to realize that the current room wasn't the former one. It would probably be even harder with a medical cause for the horror behind it.
"We'll try that," Richard promised.
House turned to the nurse, who had been standing quietly available so far. He wished Sandra were already on duty. He checked his grandfather's watch again; she should be here before too long. Well, this one would have to do. "Page me immediately when he wakes up again." House would be down here every hour or so to check anyway. "When he was awake before, was he moving all four extremities?"
"Definitely the arms," Richard said.
The nurse nodded. "He was very weak, but he was fighting us. Legs, too."
That was a positive sign as far as brain damage extending physically to the motor nerves. "Did you try orienting him?"
"We were trying to keep him from hurting himself," the nurse defended. "I did call him Dr. Kutner."
After he had been further scrambled in his suddenly awakened nightmare by Julia's identification as Mom. House gave Kutner another long look. "Next time, before anybody calls him or themselves anything, tell him he's been sick and he's in the hospital."
His cell phone rang. Cuddy. He hit the button but didn't speak to her immediately. "I'll be back regularly." He limped out of the room, hoping that more rest and more specific reorientation would indeed make a difference. Only when he was through the ICU doors did he lift the phone to his ear. "I was about to call you before, but I got paged."
"How's Kutner?" she asked.
"He woke up a little while ago." He slowed to a stop and leaned against the wall, suddenly weary all at once. "He didn't know his parents. The current ones, I mean. The ones he saw shot, he definitely knew those. He was apparently still back there mentally."
"Poor Kutner."
"I think he's been back there all weekend. Delirium right on top of last week had to center around their deaths. Maybe he just woke up thinking he was still in the middle of the dreams."
"Did you talk to him yet, Greg?"
"No. He wasn't awake for long, and he pretty much passed out again at the end. Going to let him sleep as long as he can. Rest and meds are what he needs most right now anyway, whether his brain is well done or just medium rare." He heard her wonder about his own motives there, but at least she didn't call him on it.
"Greg, if he woke up a little while ago, what were you doing before that? What did you think of when you left?"
A small glow of satisfaction nudged its way back in. "I worked out the password."
"So what's on the laptop?" she asked.
"A lot of things," he said, spinning her along.
"Greg."
He grinned. "You don't need to know, Lisa. And I mean that literally."
She digested that for a moment. "Did he go to India for something illegal?"
"It's irrelevant. The mosquito that bit him there didn't care why he went. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd been on a charity medical trip for the poor."
"Except that on a charity medical trip, he would have probably planned it out enough that he would have remembered to take antimalaria pills while he was traveling," she pointed out.
"Technical detail." And if Kutner had asked him for a loan for the trip, House himself would have thought of that. At least, he hoped he hadn't been that distracted lately. "Trust me on this, Lisa. You don't need to know."
Her curiosity wasn't nearly as voracious as his, but that still was annoying. He heard her wrestling with it for a few seconds and pictured her, standing in the living room, head tilted a little, her skin still glowing from her yoga and shower. She let the topic rest where it had fallen, and he felt a surge of reassurance. Yes, deep down, she did trust him. She changed gears. "You didn't get enough sleep."
"I'll take a nap later. In fact, I can multitask; I'll do it in your office while your parents are both there. Me snoring on the couch might help them to be annoyed calmly."
"If you don't feel up to that today, Greg, I can talk to them alone. They are my parents, after all."
"No," he replied, all the joking falling away from his tone abruptly. "We need to do this together."
She exhaled audibly, and he imagined a few worry lines on her face smoothing out. "Thank you, Greg."
"Girls aren't up yet?" He knew they weren't. The house was too quiet behind her.
"No, they're sleeping in this morning, and I left them alone. I'm not bringing breakfast in today, but you do need to eat it, Greg. Go down to the cafeteria."
"I will," he promised. "And I'll call back in an hour or so and tell the girls good morning."
"They'll like that. Go ahead and eat while Kutner's asleep. I know you'll be back to check on him soon. I love you, Greg."
"Love you, too."
He hung up and felt a small surge of energy just thinking of her and the girls. He was getting his second wind. He did indeed go down to the cafeteria, then to check on Kutner again, then back up to log into his own work computer. A quick survey of professional sites and doctor forums revealed no symptoms of interest cropping up lately in California. Really, he thought the risk of that water was practically nil. A sample as small as Kutner had to have brought back would be so dilute immediately in the river that it was probably fine. Still, he'd keep an eye out for the next few months just in case.
He called his girls and talked to both of them and, briefly, Cuddy again. Then, after another check of Kutner, he headed for his own early morning appointment with the physical terrorist.