Chapter
Two
“Quick
consult!” House snapped, limping into the Diagnostic office.
Chase
looked up
from his notations while Cameron finished pouring her coffee and
Foreman closed
his file. All three of them turned expectant faces towards the
whiteboard.
House picked up a pen and began printing. “Female in her
late
thirties, type A
personality shows up to work staggering slightly. No evidence
of alcohol, no
history of drug abuse.”
“Minor stroke?” Chase offered.
Foreman nodded. “Or she might have strained a
muscle.”
“No complaints of leg pain,” House muttered.
“Has she been tested for any toxins or drugs? You say
she’s got no history,
but
you yourself always say everybody lies—“ Cameron
pointed out. House
gave a
shake of his head.
“Patient isn’t even aware she has a
problem—yet. Any suggestion of tests
would
be considered suspiciously and probably denied.”
“You need to question her further then, get a full medical
history before we
can
do much else,” Foreman smoothly announced.
“Anything before the facts is
strictly speculation, House.”
“Good point,” House agreed, reluctantly.
“So—what’s on the table for
today?”
The three of them looked at each other in surprise; House waved at
the
folders
on the table. “Case?”
“What about your staggering patient?”
“I’m giving her a little time to develop a few more
symptoms. She’ll be fine,”
House commented testily. “Not our primary concern at the
moment.”
They smoothly went through the patient file on the table, sorting
through
options and agreeing on a series of tests; House refrained from
checking his
watch, but breathed a sigh when Cameron, Chase and Foreman finally left
on
their appointed tasks. He slipped out and made his way out the front
door and
across the causeway to the labs, Cuddy’s schedule still clear
in his head.
It only took a few minutes to reach Perjana’s lab; House
peeked in the window
on the door to confirm that Cuddy was there. Cautiously he slipped in,
glad
that there was a fair amount of student activity to cover his arrival.
People
had paired off or were in groups of threes at the various tables while
gurneys
of
needles and IV packets stood along the back walls. Doctor Perjana, a
small
Indian man, was moving around watching the students with their
intravenous
work.
“Less pressure, less pressure . . . “ he murmured
in his soft, accented
English. House kept close to the wall, grateful that there were nearly
forty
students
between him and his intended subject. Cuddy was seated in one of the
chairs, watching one student attempting an intravenous injection on
another.
She was rubbing her shoulders a little, and he could see a feverish
glitter to
her eyes.
“No, no, you’re just jabbing now and
that’s going to hurt. Here, give me
that—“
came her impatient tone. Watching intently, House observed Cuddy wrap
the
rubber tourniquet around her thin upper arm, moving swiftly. She tugged
it
tight, then picked up one of the sterile needles, flicking the air
bubbles out
of
it with the ease of long practice. In one quick glide, she’d
deftly hit her
vein, squeezed the plunger and emptied three cc’s of sterile
water into her
arm,
laughing softly as she did so.
“See? All in the wrist. If I can do it to myself, it should
be easy for you
three to
do each other, right? Ooh that’s cold—Arvid, you
didn’t just pull this
batch
from the freezer, did you?”
Looking alarmed, Perjana stepped forward, reaching for a cotton
swab.
“Doctor
Cuddy, please! We don’t encourage students to practice
on
themselves.”
“Well of course not,” she agreed, flashing white
teeth at him while he quickly
bandaged the crook of her arm, “But honestly, it’s
just a little prick, and
believe me, I’m used to dealing with those.”
House scowled, and stepped forward, feeling vaguely insulted. He
loomed
over
the students, who moved out of his way. Cuddy looked up and
met
House’s gaze,
looking a little surprised. “House.”
“Cuddy. Nice audition for the part of a junkie—I
especially liked your tie-off
work there; very slick. Practice much?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied
with a careless laugh. Rising, Cuddy
looked over at Perjana and gave him a knowing nod, then picked up
her
clipboard
and began to walk out. House caught her elbow and guided her
along, feeling the
tiny wobble in her step as he escorted her to the door while
behind them the
students got back to business.
“You’re high, Cuddy,” he muttered.
“What? Oh go to hell, House, I’m perfectly
fine!” she snapped as they stepped
into the empty hallway. He trapped her against the wall and stared
deeply into
her eyes, his own narrowing a bit.
“Dilated pupils and a stagger in your stride, not to mention
you’re braless,
which isn’t really a symptom since I completely approve of
that last one but
it’s definitely unusual behavior for you.”
“I KNEW we’d get around to my boobies sooner or
later!” she sighed in
exasperation. “Damn it House, you can go commando any day of
the week
and
nobody gives a damn, but me, nooooo, one day without the push-up
and
it’s
‘check out the rack’ time!”
“Blame my gonads and testosterone later, okay? What did you
take?” House
demanded firmly. Cuddy glared at him, one long dark curl falling over
her
shoulder.
“Pfft! Two words—Naaa-thing. No drugs, no booze,
not even cold medication. I
don’t know where you got this weird idea that I’m
on something but you need
to
get your manly ass back down to your office and let me do my job.
I’m
FINE.”
Pushing hard against his arm, Cuddy managed to move it and head down
the
hall,
hips swaying in a slightly exaggerated fashion. House watched her go,
perplexed
enough to stand silently for a moment. Then to himself—
“Manly?”
stack of files on
his desk in the corner. The playroom was busy, with kids
grouped around a few
of the low tables and over at the video game consoles, nesting in the
vinyl
beanbags. A few others were making each other laugh by
the Karaoke machine,
belting out Kidz Bop tunes to each other in impossibly
high voices.
Most of the patients were in hospital gowns; a few were bald, and
others were
pulling along IV stands.
Cuddy was standing in the doorway, beaming at the scene, and
watched her saunter in, a somewhat
loopy smile on her face. One of the littler children ran up and hugged
her;
Cuddy hugged back, brushing the girl’s face
and smiling at her.
“Hey Renata; how are you today?”
“Good,” the child responded, clearly not interested
in the topic. She tugged on
Cuddy’s hand. “Are you gonna dance with
us?”
“Oh I don’t know, sweetie . . . I’m a
little klutzy right now,” Cuddy confessed
in
a low voice, shooting
file, ignoring her; Cuddy
smiled and allowed herself to be dragged towards the Karaoke machine,
giggling
a little.
watch.
Apparently this was an old game between the two of them; Cuddy covered
her
eyes
and the child made some selection on the machine, laughing loudly. She
pulled
Cuddy’s hands away and the low strains of music began to
play. Most
of the kids
drifted away, but a few were watching as Cuddy picked up the microphone
and
swayed a little.
“I've heard people say that too much of anything is not good
for you, baby . .
.
Oh no. But I don't know about that. There's many times that we've loved
. . .
we've shared love and made love . . . it doesn't seem to me like it's
enough,"
Cuddy spoke in her deepest tone, her most sincere voice.
“Whoahhh oh whoahhhh, my daaarling I . . . can’t
get enough of YOUR love
baby .
. . “ she warbled.
The phone connection clicked.
“Yeah?”
“She’s here. Singing Barry White.”
“Say WHAT?”
“‘Can’t
Get Enough of Your Love’,
apparently. I’m getting an erection.”
“You sick monkey. I’ll be there.”
Cuddy was doing
great. Looser than usual, definitely not nearly as . . .
uptight.
She was
swaying in time to the music now, getting into it, looking
damned
good if truth
be told.
but at the moment the sight of
Cuddy dancing was pretty enticing.
Then she held a long arm out, beckoning him.
“Me?” he croaked. As if there was anyone else in
the corner with him. Cuddy
nodded and kept singing, her grin flashing out. Next to her, Renata
was
hopping
with glee, and a few other kids were bounding around.
his head, but Cuddy strode
forward, still singing, and reached out, taking his
hand.
Reluctantly
his face flush red.
Cuddy laughed, and slipped an arm around his waist,
urging him to sway to the
music, bumping her hip against his playfully.
bumped back, falling into an easy rhythm
with Cuddy.
They danced.
him. Cuddy passed the
microphone to Renata and shifted, sliding into his
arms more fully as the song
began to crescendo around them. Some of the
patients were clapping now; others
were getting the giggles at the sight of the
two doctors doing the Hustle all
over the Dance Revolution mat on the floor.
Cuddy was laughing again, her cheeks flushed. “Hidden
talents, Jimmy
Wilson—where did YOU learn to dance?”
“Ah-ah,” he chided with a dimpled smile.
“In the words of the Go-Go’s, my lips
are sealed.”
“I could unseal them,” she chortled and before
Cuddy kissed
him, her hot, generous mouth happily pressing to his. He
closed
his eyes,
stunned and aroused, kissing her back until the chorus of
‘Ooooooooooooooohs!”
from the patients made him break off hastily.
House stood in the doorway of the playroom.
His expression wasn’t hard to read, even for a kiss-befuddled
oncologist; the
flinty squint, the scowling mouth, the hard square set of the
shoulders.
glanced over at House and
frowned prettily.
“House. Again. Are you following me?”
“Just watching you play Doctor,” he groused,
striding forward and batting toys
out of his way with his cane. He shot
you to keep an eye on her, I didn’t have this
close in mind.”
“It was Barry White,”
and gave a sigh, then turned
back to Cuddy.
“You’re coming with me. Something is wrong with
you, even if you don’t see it,
Cuddy.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped once again, but
hand on her shoulder.
“Leese, you’re not. Your pupils are dilated and
your behavior is . . . a little
erratic,” he finished kindly. “You know
Greg’s going to keep pestering you
until
you give in, so just do it now and get it over with.”
Cuddy shot each man a mulish expression, then gave a sigh and waved
her
hands
in the air. “Okay. Let’s get this done, because
I’m NOT missing the
policy
committee meeting this afternoon. And I feel fine.”
“Leave the feeling to me—“ House muttered
with mock salaciousness. Over
Cuddy’s
shoulder he shot
the playroom with her.
Star” began to roll out of the karaoke machine.
He glanced down at the pink smear on the back of his hand and licked
his
bottom
lip.
