"Four days, House. You've been on the case for four days," Dr. Lisa Cuddy approached the team's room with an accusatory demeanor.
"Not everyone is as fast as you," House responded quickly, as if awaiting her arrival.
With an exaggerated eye roll, Cuddy leaned over the table. House could not help but look down: the v-neck silk blouse that Lisa supported curled teasingly at the apex of her breastbone, leaving what was contained underneath up to the imagination. "Your patient is dying."
"That blouse is too tight."
She stared back with indignation.
"Sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious."
Their conversation was cut short when the team's beepers went off. Cameron and Foreman excused themselves.
"Two milligrams Lorazepam!" Foreman ordered; their patient was seizing. "Now!" Practicing control, the neurologist inserted the IV with care.
Once they got the patient stable, the team gathered in the office once again to discuss their new findings.
"It has to be a CNS problem. We can run immunodiagnosis labs," Cameron stated. Thinking House would agree and that she was right, she lifted herself from the chair.
To Cameron's surprise, House stopped her, "Immunodiagnosis would take too long," his eyes lolled past her. "Do an LP for bacterial meningitis. Foreman, check the blood for toxoplasmosis."
Foreman protested, "He's not immunosuppressed. He hasn't even had a cold in the last five years."
House stared patently at Foreman, "That's why we're gonna look at his central nervous system. You know, the- the..." he paused. "What's that part of the body you specialized in?"
The neurologist found himself rolling his eyes. "You better be right, House."
"Or what?" House jumped at him, mockingly.
"I promise to stay with you, Mr. Williamson," Wilson held the hand of his most recent cancer patient. From what he gathered, Mr. Williamson had mere hours left before the disease would take his life. This part of the job was the hardest.
The patient coughed, "Thank you, Dr. Wilson." His voice was scratchy. "You've done so much for me. But I have to ask: what makes me so special? Why stay with me when you have other patients?"
Before Wilson could answer, the door swung open.
"Jimmy! I need you," House called.
Wilson looked from his patient to House, eyeing them both. "I'm with a patient!"
"How long does he have left?"
He let out an aggravated sound and turned back to Mr. Williamson, "Geez, guh- I'm sorry." His face reddened. "I don't think this is exactly appropriate to discuss right now."
House limped over to the dying man in the hospital bed, ignoring Wilson's pleas, "You got more than twenty minutes?"
Mr. Williamson, partially in shock from House's directness, nodded.
"Awesome. So you won't mind if I steal Jimmy here for fifteen? He can be right back to kiss you goodbye... I mean, goodnight." House winked.
He shook his head, "I don't mind."
House and Wilson met outside, Wilson seemingly pissed. "I cannot believe you did that!"
"Calm down. I'll be sure to give God a head's up that a very selfless person will soon be entering His pearly gates."
Wilson sighed at his friend's blatant disrespect. "What do you want?"
He raised his wrist, checking his watch, "About five more minutes."
"I'm gonna regret asking," the oncologist frowned. "Why?"
"Avoiding clinic duty. Cuddy makes twenty minute rounds now so I need to make myself scarce for another five minutes."
"And why can you not just-" Wilson started but House jumped behind him and pushed him forward. Wilson tripped for a couple steps before regaining balance. "What the hell, House?"
"Cuddy! Gotta go!" House lunged away like a child avoiding a punishment, leaving Wilson to take the fall.
"Dr. Wilson," Cuddy stood in front, hands approaching her hips. "What are you doing? Don't you have patients to see?"
Wilson silently cursed House. "Yes, Dr. Cuddy. I'll get on that."
Miles Moore, House's current patient, winced as Cameron conducted the lumbar puncture.
"I know this is uncomfortable, but I need you to breathe."
Miles struggled to remain still as the excruciating pain made him writhe.
Cameron obtained the fluid. When she was done, Miles still shuddered and kept in the fetal position.
"Miles? Are you okay? The procedure is over."
The patient was silent.
"Miles?" She turned him over.
He pointed behind Cameron. "Wha... what is that?"
Cameron turned around only to see the wall of the room, "See what?"
"That!" He was adamant that there was some sort of figure behind the doctor. "It-It looks like-" he fell quiet once again, as if not wanting to admit to what he was seeing.
"You're hallucinating. Just lay back." Cameron scribbled in her notes. She looked it over, seizures, hallucinations, lying. She had been around House long enough to know when patients were hiding something. She was proud of herself when she supplied her boss with the findings.
"Good job, Cameron," House congratulated.
The young doctor smiled and raised her shoulders, similar to how she acted years ago when House praised her. She was still incredibly swoon over his approval.
"So, he's hiding something. Whoever finds it out first gets a sticker. Unless it's Cameron, which in that case you'll get a feeling up." He noticed Foreman's exaggerated eye roll. "Aw, Foreman. Don't feel bad. I can give you the same special treatment. But don't expect me to buy you dinner."
Cameron hid the grin that sneaked up on her face with her hand.
"Anyway, the blood test was negative for toxoplasmosis and CMV infections," Foreman attempted to change the subject.
"Then I'll test the CSF," Cameron added.
"Your child has ear pain?" House asked a mom that came into the clinic. She held a child of two or three in her arms.
"She's been crying and holding her ear. I think it's infected."
House noticed the woman's appearance: nice clothes, designer purse, fancy heels. Why was she coming to the free clinic when she probably has decent health insurance?
He checked out the child's ears. "Hello, Callie," House noted the name on file. "Turn your head so I can shine this big, medical device in your ear." Callie was fussy and nothing bothered House more in the clinic than fussy toddlers. "Stop fussing or I'll take your ear off!" House was not yelling, but the stern voice caused the child to obediently stop crying. House successfully examined her ears. The mom was right.
"Your daughter has an ear infection," he wrote out a prescription. "Give her this twice a day for six days. Should clear it up."
The mom thanked her doctor, gathered up her things and started toward the door.
"Wait," House stopped her. There was something more to the mom's situation and House was a sucker for puzzles.
She turned around, ambivalently.
"You came to the free clinic. Why?"
"It was close to her preschool," the mom answered.
"You dress nice. You're probably rich. Why did you wait two hours in an overcrowded clinic when you could have just make an appointment with a normal physician? Women like you avoid the slums at any cost. There is a very important reason why you are here."
She grew impatient with House's grilling. She shifted from foot to foot.
"The only reason you would avoid the primary care office is if..." he looked around the room, "... you don't want a record of this." He looked at the child as asked, "Is your name really Callie?"
The toddler shook her head no.
"Now, the question is why are you hiding the fact that you are taking your child to the doctor?" He toyed with several ideas before the light bulb went off. "Unless she isn't really your kid. You have to hide her-" With that, House experienced the second major breakthrough of the day. He fumbled with the door and left the mother and child alone.
House rushed to Miles' room, the loud steps waking him from his slumber. "You have a kid."
"Wh-?" The confusion from the abrupt arousal plus a direct accusation made his head spin.
"You're stupid! Why are you hiding this?"
Miles knew the secret was out and that there was no use in hiding it any longer. "Her name is Amy. She' such a brilliant little girl."
House cut him off, "I'm sure she's a genius. Get on with it."
"Her mom left when shortly after Amy was born. I had to raise her on my own. But now, her mom realized the mistake she made and wants Amy back. She is not suitable to be a mother; she travels all the time, drinks, and parties. She's threatening to go to court and you know how they favor mothers. I'd have no chance. I took Amy to New York to live with my brother. Nobody knows it but me. She can't know, Dr. House. She'll take away my little girl." At that point, Miles wiped away at the tears that spilled down his cheeks.
Living with Cameron for half a year made House a softer person. So much more soft, in fact, that he actually felt some emotion for the man. "Where in New York?"
"Jamestown. Why?"
"Your brother go to the beach?"
Miles felt his heart rate increasing. "Yeah, all the time. The beach is pretty close to where he lives."
House asked yet another question, "You all go swimming?"
"We all went to the beach the day I got there. We did some swimming, but I don't see why that's importan-"
"You have Primary Amoebic Meningoencephalitis," House began. "Our team didn't even consider it because of how rare it is. It isn't even covered in most differentials. It's caused by the Naegleria parasite in water."
Miles could tell by the look on House's face that the news was not good. "What's the treatment?"
"We can give you an ameba-killing drug, Miltefosine, but there's no guarantee," House lowered his voice, "we're going to try it but PAM is almost always fatal. I'm sorry."
"I need to see Amy."
House positioned his hand on his cane and eyed the ceiling. "You shouldn't leave the hospital. You have maybe two days."
"I need to see my daughter!" Miles sat up, anger rising in his voice.
"Lay down!" It was House's turn to grow hostile. "Do want you want but I highly suggest you stay here. Don't be stupid. Even if you make it to New York, your daughter's last memories of you will be you puking blood and screaming on the floor in pain."
That moment reality came and Miles settled down. He would call Amy instead.
Allison massaged House's shoulder blades, applying pressure with her thumbs at the areas where bone met tendons. House moaned softly as she targeted the most sensitive spots. "Tough day, huh?"
House sighed, "That feels really good."
Smiling, Allison reached over House's shoulder to kiss him on the cheek.
He treasured these moments when Cameron cared for him. As much as he adored taking care of the younger doctor, he enjoyed the reciprocal exchange.
"You did the best you could," Allison assured. She could tell that the case was eating away at House; if they had caught it earlier, they could have tried more treatments. Before he could speak, she knew what he was going to say. "Four days wouldn't have saved him. It was just four less days he had to worry about dying."
"He has a kid, Allison."
This response made her eyebrows wrinkle. "I'm sorry, Greg." She wrapped her arms around him from behind, not knowing what else to say. She hoped that here mere presence was comforting.
Allison's hopes proved true. House found that her simple touch was enough to make him feel more at ease. Something no woman had made him feel in a very long time. Even so, with Allison it was different; she possessed a power beyond anyone else he has ever been with.
House wallowed in self-pity for a few moments longer. He decided that three minutes was enough and he adjusted to face Cameron. "Alright, babe. It's time for bed. We have an early morning."
She looked cute in House's T-shirt. It hung off of her like a dress, and she was basically swimming in it. She fit perfectly between House's body and arms, the two spooning.
House rubbed circles on Allison's back as she drifted to sleep. She made little snoring sounds in her sleep, but they weren't enough to bother House. He found them cute as well. He thought himself eternally blessed to be with such a wonderful woman. A woman who cared equally for him.
He would never admit it, but he sometimes prayed for her. He didn't know why. He did not believe in God. It was probably a 'just-in-case' thing. Either way, he did it for her.
The next day, Foreman checked in on their patient. He was scheduled to start Miltefosine and had been on it for the night.
"Good morning, Miles. How are you feeling?"
"Well, I'm dying, so, not good," he stopped to throw up in the bedpan. "It's getting worse."
"I'm sorry," Foreman sighed. He noticed something off and grabbed a light. "Let me check your eyes." Foreman clicked off the light and stood back, "You're jaundiced."
"What does that mean?"
It means it's not PAM."
Back in the office, the team began going over new diagnoses. Cameron saw how relieved House was at the news that their patient was not dying of the parasite. No one else would have noticed, but Cameron was in tune to his subtleties.
Cameron and Foreman expected for House to have them conduct more tests and were surprised when he took matters in to his own hands. Cameron did a double take when she walked past the CT room.
"House?"
"Cameron?" He maintained focus on the screen.
"What are you doi-"
"Look at this," he interrupted.
Cameron narrowed her eyes and leaned in closer. "Tumors? How did we miss this? Four large tumors don't grow overnight."
"The aren't tumors. They're blood clots."
Cameron was still confused, "They don't look like clots."
"The liver was blocking them. And we didn't notice the damaged liver until we started him on Miltefosine."
And suddenly, it became obvious. "I'll start him on the new treatment."
"No," House demanded. "I want to be the one to tell him."
House went to Miles' room, Cameron in tow.
"You're one lucky bastard."
Miles nearly spit up his drink. "I'm dying, Dr. House. How is that lucky?"
"Good news!" House exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. "You have Budd-Chiari syndrome. Curable by one, simple treatment. We open up your liver veins."
He was in shock. Just twelve hours ago, Miles came to terms with his inevitable death. "What about the parasite?"
"You had sarcoidosis that caused your neurological symptoms. The CSF blocked the liver and the liver blocked the blood clots. Ironic, isn't it? Once we started you on Miltefosine, the liver inflammation decreased and we saw the clots. The blood flow to your liver was blocked, causing your parasite-like symptoms."
"Does this mean I can see Amy?"
House rolled his eyes, "You're welcome for curing you."
Miles laughed, relief shown over his face. "Thank you, Dr. House."
"Oh, you."
Cameron could tell that despite the act, House really cared about this man. He made jokes and treated the patient like trash, but somehow she knew he cared.
"You felt something," the immunologist smiled.
"Yeah, I did: hunger. Wanna grab an early lunch?"
If this let him keep his pride, Cameron was fine with it. But she felt her heart warm at the thought of House becoming more of a empathetic human rather than just a stoic doctor. She grabbed House's hand when he reached behind him and walked proudly next to her man. "I'd love to."