My kingdom for a rake
Given the state of her ankle Cameron had reluctantly agreed to work from home Monday, which in turn meant House drove himself to the hospital for his first day back as Head of Diagnostics. It had been decided, in conversation with Cuddy last week and over the weekend, that he and Foreman would share leadership responsibility initially: while House ruled supreme on his two days of work, Foreman would deputise for those where House's other commitments drew him away. After all, he still had rehab to complete, not to mention his already reduced hours. There was a time when he'd have stubbornly refused any sort of power-sharing agreement. But times had changed. Everyone to whom he had spoken agreed that the neurologist had performed well in the hotseat, and House was nothing if not a pragmatist: until he got back on his feet and hit his stride, medicine was not as important as other concerns.
As House navigated familiar roads he reflected on how much he had always enjoyed driving, even if a car was not his preferred delivery system. Some point soon he would dust off his motorbike gear and really test out the leg. Especially now that summer was here: there were few things better than long rides in the sun, empty road ahead, blue sky above. Maybe he could bring Cameron along, too. The timing of their breakup last year had meant that she'd never got the chance to wear in the helmet and leathers he'd bought her. Then again, perhaps she would not relish the prospect of clinging to him for tens of miles.
House parked in his spot and was locating the flame cannon when his phone buzzed. Cameron. The gods obviously appreciated that she had just been in his brain.
Have a great first day back, boss. Wish I could be there xxx
He replied: you're here in spirit x
House locked his car and ambled through the doors. Although he had intended to head straight up to the fourth floor, on a whim he diverted via the ER. If today was his first official day back, diagnostics was not the only item on the agenda. On Friday night he had promised Cameron that they would rake Turner over the coals. One of his main ambitions for life right now (and hence why he was completely fine sharing power with Foreman while so preoccupied) was locating a suitable rake.
First things first, though: reconnaissance.
And that meant entering the hellhole of bustling humanity that passed for the ER. Why anyone would choose to work here he didn't know. The cries of pain, the alarms, the sheer number of people. Even the air felt close and overwarm, as if someone had left a fan heater running overnight and neglected to turn it off in the morning.
Pulling his jacket up to his mouth as a first layer of defence against the unwashed masses, House strode through the double doors and beelined straight for the staff area. The sooner he left 'patient' territory, the better. Thankfully, someone was just leaving out of the door and he held his cane out to prevent it from closing. If he could complete his self-set task without any excessive touching of either people or surfaces, the happier he'd be.
Now into the staff room, House released a breath.
Things were a bit calmer here, even if there were still far too many people for his liking. With a bit of luck he would pass unrecognised. PPTH was a big place and he had been off work for a long time.
He ambled between the lines of desks, scanning the walls for anything remotely resembling a shift schedule; a long shot, as the hospital now strongly encouraged paper-free working. Sure enough, the bland beige walls were bare. He headed over to Cameron's desk, pleased that no one had claimed it in her absence, and sank into the chair. The space was pleasantly tidy. While he waited for the computer to boot, he toyed with the idea of planting Tuesday's note today, but in the end decided against it. For one thing, he didn't know if she planned to work from home tomorrow; for another, he liked the fiction of leaving the note spontaneously. Or having the note left spontaneously on his behalf.
Logging in with the credentials Cameron had given him for this purpose, he navigated to the hospital intranet and from there to the ER portal. Although things like patient notes were stored centrally, some parts of the system remained restricted to the members of that department, and the ER staff schedule was one such example. He typed Turner's name into the search box and retrieved his cellphone, snapping the guy's email address and work pattern for the next month. Hopefully he wouldn't need the full month to enact a plan that still remained in a nebulous state, but one could never be too sure.
Satisfied that he had enough information to be getting on with, House logged off and headed onwards to Diagnostics.
When House reached his office he found Cuddy sitting in his chair browsing through a blue case file. She looked up and smiled at him. Cuddy's smiles were not as warm and arousing as Cameron's, but that wasn't really her fault. "Morning", she said.
He slung his bag in the corner and sank into the just-vacated chair, noting through the glass that the fellows were all present and correct. It took him a second to remember who the brunette next to Foreman was. The day of Thirteen's hiring seemed a long time ago indeed. "You heard of a Gareth Turner?", he asked, eyes drifting to his boss. "ER dude".
Cuddy shook her head. "Should I have?".
"Nope", he shrugged, though the wheels in his brain turned. Basic psychology suggested that if a man like Turner had behaved one way towards Cameron, there was a good chance that he had behaved similarly towards other women. But if Cuddy didn't know him, then Turner had so far avoided official censure. Either these other victims didn't exist—which House thought incredibly unlikely—or they had never seen themselves as victims. Turner was probably a swell guy to those who accepted his advances, after all.
Cuddy, meanwhile, couldn't help but eye the other appreciatively. Like any woman, she could acknowledge and enjoy the symmetry of the male body. And her Head of Diagnostics possessed a good body. Though still early summer, House was already quite tanned, and he had rolled his shirtsleeves up to reveal his sinewy forearms. He had clearly put on a bit of bulk because the jacket, which she recognised, looked tighter around the chest and shoulders. Strange indeed that the crash had stimulated in him a desire for exercise, though she knew as well as anyone that morale contributed, too: House now had someone to get fit for.
"Anyway", she said, shutting down the daydreaming of a vaguely lonely not-quite-middle-aged woman, "I've got a case for you. Twenty-seven-year-old yoga teacher. Kinda cute".
House threw her an eyeroll and snatched up the file, scanning it rapidly. "Looks slightly interesting. Oh, Cameron screwed her leg up so she's working from home".
"Yeah, no worries; already got her email. I've also asked maintenance to put in place some stronger procedures regarding signage".
"Said it was her fault. I wouldn't worry".
Cuddy nodded. "She doesn't seem the suing type, will grant you that. You OK with this case, then? ER reckoned she's faking it".
"Only one way to find out".
"Great". She tapped the desk surface and made to leave.
"What?", he prompted, not looking up from the page.
"Err". Cuddy was a little out of practice with House's uncanny ability to detect a person's inner thoughts. "Can I ask whether you gave the necklace to Cameron?".
"I'm sure you can".
"Did you?".
"No".
"Oh".
The fact that Cuddy hadn't left made him think she expected a fuller answer. "I'm saving it for a special occasion", he offered.
"Right. Which occasion?".
"You really want to know?".
"Yes".
"No. Now go away".
Cuddy sighed. It had been worth a shot. "Fine. Remember, House: two days only. Then Foreman takes over. You've clearly come far with the rehab and I will not be complicit in any steps back". Unsure what to do about Diagnostics for a few days last week, she had been surprised at House's unprompted power-sharing suggestion over the weekend. It seemed an elegant solution: House got his feet back under his desk while still preserving enough time for rehab, and Foreman got a bit more leadership experience.
"Yeah, yeah". House waved his hand dismissively and watched his boss leave. Then, hauling himself to his feet, he gathered up the three files and headed into the adjoining office. "Morning, minions. Got a case from Big Tits".
The blue folders span to the three fellows who were varyingly successful in catching them.
"Welcome back, sir", saluted Chase with a tip of his pencil.
House, who had settled into the chair at the head of the table, was busy gazing at Thirteen. "Come on. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that you three young things have been stuck together in this room without someone doing the dirty".
"Yeah? I could say the same for you and Cameron", smirked Foreman. "How long have you guys been living together, again?".
"Oh, what?", he asked, feigning hurt. "You ought to know by now that I can give it but not take it".
"Well?".
House ignored the question and prodded Thirteen on the arm with his cane handle. "Foreman or Chase?".
She met his gaze levelly. "Dr. House, I think we should do an EMG to figure out if the problem's in the limbs or-".
"-Foreman or Chase?".
"I'll answer if you answer".
"Answer what?".
"Foreman or Chase?".
House made a face. "I've already told the Wombat his floppy hair and short shorts are to die for, so I'd have to be consistent and say him".
"Then I'll say Foreman, just to really spread the love".
"Argh, that's too bad. Old Formster here is banging Katie the drug rep".
At that, Thirteen's expression changed subtly.
But not subtly enough.
"No way!", laughed House, his eyes flicking between Thirteen and Foreman. "You two? If I had a million dollarinos, I'd have landed on Skippy first".
Chase laughed. It really was quite fun having the top dog back in town.
"Not that it matters", interjected Foreman as casually as possible, "but I broke up with Katie a while ago".
"Of course, yeah", nodded House sagely. "Let me guess: about the time of Thirteen's hiring, am I right?".
No answer.
"Oh, fine", sighed House dramatically, "I'll drop it. I'm only in two days a week for the foreseeable, so don't want to empty my clip in the first engagement".
"Two days?", asked Chase.
"Doctor's orders, alas", he replied, spinning his cane nimbly between his fingers. "A phased transition back to work. The other three days Foreman gets to channel his inner Mugabe so, yeah, have fun with that".
"Since when're you fine with sharing power?". Chase remembered the first time their boss had gone through a 'return to work' following his shooting. Back then, he had forced them into menial tasks as a way of stamping his authority anew on this department. It didn't make sense that House would condone any threat to his authority, and sharing responsibility for Diagnostics with Foreman surely constituted a threat. Either House had changed completely or something else was going on here.
"I'm a company man now, guy. Cuddy's orders are my Bible. As a former seminary boy, I'm sure you can appreciate that. Anyway. Since Thirteen was the only one to actually offer a suggestion—great job, by the way—you dudes go ahead: stick an induction pin in the hot chick and report back".
"What're you gonna do in the meantime?". Foreman folded his arms, still slightly annoyed that House had managed to get a rise out of he and Thirteen.
"Me? I'll be making a coffee. And then looking for a rake".
With that, House ambled over to the kitchen area and began rooting through the cupboards, leaving his employees to troop out to their respective tasks.