And the beat goes on....
*****
“No, House. I don’t want to play hooky. I need to get these budget items squared away.” Wilson didn’t bother to look up from shuffling through the scattered forms atop his makeshift desk. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, a clear indication that he was serious about the idea of actual paperwork. “Bored with all your toys all ready? What about that new game I got you for your Nintendo DS? Trauma Center something?”
“Under the Knife,” House supplied, thumping his cane on the tile floor of Wilson’s ‘office’. “GUILT is kicking ass.”
Wilson remained engrossed in his paperwork. “Then kick back.” He grabbed for the stapler.
Another thump of the cane. “My patients keep dying.”
The corner of Wilson’s mouth lifted a fraction, amusement flickering in his eyes as their gazes caught, then broke apart once more. “And mine is stretched thin. Go away House.”
“Come on…” House whined. “Let’s sneak out, share an order of cheese blintzes from IHOP… the ones you said were even better than your Bubbe’s…?”
Wilson froze. “I never said that.” Then frowned as he reconsidered. “And even if I did, don’t you dare repeat it around my mother. And no, we are not sneaking out. Some of us actually try to complete our paperwork in a timely fashion.”
House brought out the big guns. “My treat…” He batted his eyes hopefully.
“Your treat?” Wilson’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Okay. Who are you and what have you done with Doctor House.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
“A maybe?”
“No.”
“A ‘give me a few minutes to finish this up and then…’”
“Go away, House.”
House sighed and subsided, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave the room. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he just wasn’t ready to return to his office quite yet.
He perched on the edge of the sink and surveyed Wilson’s small domain. He had to admit, the younger doctor was resourceful. A card table covered with a plaid throw served as a temporary desk. A cushion atop the toilet seat dressed up the only “chair” in the room. The small shelf above the sink sported a small collection of knickknacks saved from Wilson’s office, and there was a potted plant sitting in the urinal. The familiar Vertigo poster taped to the tile walls had certainly seen better days, but it was comforting in a way. The elusive odor of smoke in the room might have come from the stack of water damaged medical texts aligned neatly along one wall, but then again, the whole building carried a slightly acrid scent now.
House’s lower intestine grumbled unhappily and he shuffled to his feet, waving vaguely in Wilson’s direction. “Move.”
“Hmmm?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
Wilson stopped scribbling his signature to point the pen at the urinal. “Just move Gregory.”
House tilted his head, as though not certain of his hearing. “Gregory?”
“The plant…” Wilson flapped one hand dismissively, before House could go on the attack. “A patient gave it to me.”
“Gregory?” House repeated, with a slightly affronted air.
“It’s a house plant…”
House could have sworn there was extra emphasis on the “house” part.
“A dieffenbachia,” Wilson added, as though that should explain everything. “You can move it if you need to.”
“I don’t need to.”
“But you said…”
“I need the toilet. Not the urinal.”
Wilson sat forward abruptly and lifted both hands defensively. “Oh no. You are not doing that in my office!”
“It’s a bathroom!”
“It’s also my office!”
But I need to use it as a bathroom,” House griped. “You can have it back when I’m done.”
“No!” Wilson was firm. “If you do that, I won’t be able to work in here for… “He glanced at his watch. “Well, I guess the exact amount of time depends upon your recent dietary choices, but judging from experience…”
“Like you should talk!”
“There is another bathroom at the end of the corridor.”
“But this one is closer! In fact, I am standing in it!”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You are going to make a crippled man limp all the way to the end of the corridor?”
“I’d make you crawl if necessary.”
House considered. “I think there’s some air freshener on one of the shelves in my office.”
“Great. Take it with you. Now go. I’m busy. Oh…” He hefted the roll of toilet paper he’d been using as a paper weight and offered it to House. “Here, you can have this.”
“Gee, thanks. You’re all heart.”
“All hearts? And that would make the upcoming event...” Wilson paused for emphasis, eyes twinkling. “…a Royal Flush?”
House winced. “I suppose you think that was clever.”
Wilson’s cell phone began warbling, and he fished it out of a pocket. “Hello? Dr. Wilson speaking…” The humor melted from his features as he listened. “When…? Right. No. Tell them I’m on my way.” He snapped the phone closed and stood, rolling down his shirtsleeves. “I’ve got to go.”
“Patient.”
“Yes. Acute lymphoblastic leukemia. They brought her in with dehydration and electrolyte imbalance, and her EKG suggests hypercalcemia.” Snagging his lab coat from where it is neatly folded atop a radiator, he hurried from the room.
House stepped to the side as Wilson swept out the door, then turned to contemplate the lavatory with a wicked smirk.
*****
Bending forward, House peered intently at his computer screen as he perused the Wikipedia entry.
dieffenbachia is a genus of tropical plants in the Family Araceae noted for their patterned leaves…The cells of the Dieffenbachia plant contain needle-shaped calcium oxalate crystals called raphides. If a leaf is chewed, these crystals cause a burning sensation in the mouth and throat; swelling can occur along with a temporary inability to speak and from this effect the plants are commonly called dumb cane…
Dumb cane… Gregory, the dumb cane house plant. Cute.
House’s finger twitched over the keyboard as he considered. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of his lip and he quickly typed “house plants” into the search engine, having to stop and correct only two mistakes. All he needed was something with a common name like, small prick… or idiot.
He ran a finger down the listed results.
Wandering Jew… that had potential, though Cheating Jew would be better.
A phone rang, and he absently reached for his cell, his fingers closing around the slim phone before freezing. That hadn’t sounded like his ring tone.
It had sounded like…
The phone rang again, a distinct trilling sound, and House swiveled his head to stare at the old, black telephone squatting in the corner of his office.
The bell-tone jangled, demanding attention as House sat contemplating the phone. Then coming to a decision, he pushed his chair across the room and cautiously lifted the bulky, black handset.
He opted to refrain from one of his usual sarcastic greetings, and merely held the receiver to his ear. He had already dismissed the earlier incident as some type of prank, and it bothered him that he had reacted so strongly. This time he wasn’t giving in to any sort of paranoid delusions; he would let the speaker on the other end make the first move.
A murmur of distant voices. At least he thought they were voices. He curled forward, straining to hear.
Whispery cobwebs of sound he couldn’t quite distinguish, feathery breath in his ear.
“…zzzzaaaa… zzzzzaaahhhhhhhhhh…”
House rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he snapped, using sarcasm to override his earlier anxiety. “I can’t diagnosis over the phone. If you want to ‘open wide and say zzzaaaahhhhhhhh’ you’re going to have to come into the clinic.”
“….zzabeth… eeeeee… lliii… zzzaaaaahhhhhh…”
“Ah ha! Now we are getting somewhere. Elizabeth, is it?”
There was a ghostly sigh of satisfaction. “…ahhhhhh… yesssssss…eeeelllliiiizzzaaaahhhhhbethhhhhh… nooooolaaaaan…”
“Elizabeth Nolan. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Got it. Who is this?”
A delicate whimper threaded through a background buzz of harsh whispers, a whimper that blossomed into a low, drawn out moan of pain.
House started in alarm. “Hello? Are you hurt? Are you Elizabeth Nolan?”
The distant hiss grew louder, like a nest of snakes stirring to life. The sound pulsed against his eardrum.
“Hello? Who is this?”
And then it was almost as though the voices were in his head, shadowy whispered words he couldn’t quite catch pressing against his skull, pushing from the inside in an effort to escape. He gasped and yanked the receiver away from his ear, nearly dropping it as he fumbled replace it on the cradle. Savoring the sudden silence, he scooted his chair back to his desk.
For a minute he did nothing but stare at the phone, expression sharp and distrustful. His cane, he clasped tightly in both hands, occasionally rapping the handle against his chin. Finally coming to a decision, he leveled himself to his feet and swung towards the door. He really ought to check on his staff down the hall. Who knew what they had gotten in to without his supervision. It was just possible this was their collective idea of a joke. If it was, he would have them covering his clinic duty till he retired… and after.
*****
The conference room was empty. However, a half eaten box of doughnuts, a nearly completed sudoku puzzle and an unfinished crossword suggested that the room had only recently been vacated. Feeling a bit abandoned, House grabbed a chocolate pastry iced with sprinkles and settled into a chair. He tackled the crossword first, using the complimentary chew-marked pencil. The sudoku took slightly longer, as someone had incorrectly filled in several of the numbers. Two doughnuts and 18 minutes later, he was finished, and again growing bored. He decided to track down his team. Maybe they had found him a patient. Someone interesting. Someone with three heads, or a tendency to vomit frogs.
*****
Someone was descending in the elevator. House watched the flashing numbers get smaller, tracking the approaching lift, and when the doors slid apart, there was Wilson looking wilted in his rumpled lab coat.
Noting the pale skin, the slight tightening around the eyes and mouth, the almost imperceptible fidgeting of the hands, House deduced, “Cardiac arrest?”
Wilson twitched, his dark brown gaze floating rudderless. “Yeah. We… we couldn’t bring her back.”
“Good,” House chirped. “That frees you up for lunch. The offer for cheese blintzes still stands.”
“House…” Wilson’s heavy eyebrows drew towards the middle of his forehead warningly. Then apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the effort he shook his head and pushed past House, heading for his office. “And the need to complete paperwork still stands.” He lifted and flapped the forms in his grip. “Including, now, additional forms for the insurance, to be filed in triplicate. So the answer is still no.”
“Do it tomorrow,” House pleaded, pivoting to follow. “She’ll still be dead then.”
Wilson sighed and glanced down at the forms. “Elizabeth Nolan. Age 42. Three kids and a husband, all convinced she was going to be fine. That she would beat this thing. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but they were completely unprepared.”
House had stopped, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. “What was her name?” His voice sounded strange, even to himself.
Apparently it sounded odd to Wilson as well, for he slowed and turned with a frown. “Elizabeth Nolan. Why?”
“You’ve mentioned her before, right?” That had to be it. Wilson must have spoken of her sometime previously. House’s subconscious had filed away the name, then pulled it up in response to some vaguely familiar syllables he’d heard over the phone. It was all just a coincidence.
Wilson pursed his lip in thought. “I don’t think so. We don’t usually discuss my patients, but possibly.” His eyes narrowed warily. “And again, why?”
House pulled away from the wall, aiming for nonchalant. “No reason.”
The stern set to Wilson’ mouth made it clear he wasn’t buying. “Right. And smoking doesn’t increase your chances of developing lung cancer.” He waved the forms at House in a general warning that clearly said, watch your step. He couldn’t know what was going on, but he knew House.
And House’s widened blue eyes and exaggeratedly harmless expression just as clearly read, who, me?
And on that note they parted; Wilson to fill in forms, write reports and update files and House in search of his wayward fellows.
******
Link to THE_ORACLE:PART_III