HOUSE M.D./BONES FIC: Precautionary Measures (1/8)
TITLE: Precautionary Measures
AUTHOR: Flywoman
RATING: PG-13
PAIRINGS: Current canon only, more’s the pity (House/Cuddy, Wilson/Sam, Angela/Hodgins, Booth/Hannah)
SUMMARY: When a famous mystery author/forensic anthropologist and her partner from the FBI turn up at PPTH, House and his colleagues find that they have more in common than they might have expected. Casefic. Crossover, set just after Bones 6X2 and House M.D. 7X6.
DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical doctor, nor do I write one on TV. Due to the quirks of the two shows’ respective timelines this season, I took some liberties in deciding at exactly which point to align them. Also, this story is consistent with both canons through the time of setting but may deviate a bit from any episodes after that.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: If you’re only reading this for the House casefic, be not afraid. I have largely confined the hardcore Bones bits to the Prologue, Chapter 6, and Epilogue, and these may be skipped entirely without damage to the medical mystery. However, I do provide a cast of characters to orient interested single-show viewers. Additional notes and acknowledgments are at the end.
Cast of Characters
Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital
Gregory House - Head of Diagnostics, recovering addict, and arrogant ass
Robert Chase - Intensivist and surgeon, one of House’s fellows
Eric Foreman - Neurologist, one of House’s fellows
Chris Taub - Plastic surgeon, one of House’s fellows
Martha M. Masters - Medical student, the new token female on House’s team
Lisa Cuddy - Dean of Medicine, House’s girlfriend
James Wilson - Head of Oncology, House’s best friend
Sam Carr - Radiologist, Wilson’s ex-wife and current girlfriend
Forensic Division, The Jeffersonian Institute
Temperance Brennan - Forensic anthropologist and bestselling mystery author, aka “Bones”
Angela Montenegro - Reconstruction artist, Brennan’s best friend and co-author
Jack Hodgins - Forensic scientist specializing in bugs, dirt, and slime; Angela’s husband
Camille Saroyan - Pathologist and head of the Forensic Division, Booth’s ex-girlfriend
Wendell Bray - Brennan’s forensic intern, Angela’s ex-boyfriend
The Federal Bureau of Investigation
Seeley Booth - FBI agent, Brennan’s longtime collaborator in criminal investigations
Lance Sweets - FBI psychologist and criminal profiler
Hannah Burley - Investigative journalist, Booth’s girlfriend
Prologue: Precautionary Measures
“Hey Sweets, you busy?”
Lance Sweets looked past his current client to his office doorway, where a familiar dark-suited figure loomed. “Actually, Agent Booth, I’m in the middle of a-“
“Great, this will only take a minute.” Booth curled his fingers and beckoned Sweets surreptitiously, looking around, then stepped back expectantly from the doorway.
Sweets sighed. “Sorry about this,” he told Agent Spender. “It should only take a second.”
Outside, he pulled his door shut and glared up at Booth. “What’s going on? Are you here for a consult on a new case?”
“No,” Booth said, lowering his voice. “It’s just that… Bones has been acting a little weird lately. I’ve had a couple headaches, and she’s all freaked out about it. Well, freaked out for her, I mean. She thinks my brain tumor could be coming back and wants me to go see this famous doctor in New Jersey.” He handed Sweets a slip of paper.
Sweets read the name and nodded. “I’ve heard of him, actually.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, I’ve tried to tell her that it’s nothing, she doesn’t need to worry, but she’s insisting. What do you think is going on? Has she said anything to you?”
“You know that even if she had, therapist-client privilege would prohibit me from sharing that information with you,” Sweets reminded him. “But in this case, I think that the answer is obvious.” When Booth just looked blankly at him, he elaborated, “A woman just changed jobs and crossed continents in order to be with you. It’s only natural for her to feel threatened.”
Booth shook his head. “No, Bones is fine with it. She’s met Hannah, she told me she likes her.”
“I would never expect Dr. Brennan to admit to these feelings. She’s probably not even aware of them herself. But her subconscious anxieties are manifesting as exaggerated concerns about your health. If you want to reassure her about your relationship, you should probably let her know that you take her concerns about you seriously.”
“Huh. So you think I should go along with this plan?”
“I’m not telling you what to do,” Sweets answered. “I’m just giving you my interpretation and offering some options.”
“Yeah,” Booth said slowly. “Thanks.” He clapped Sweets on the shoulder, started walking away, then turned back and pointed at him. “Bones has no real reason to be jealous of Hannah.”
“Whatever you say,” Sweets said skeptically once Booth was out of earshot.
***
“All right, here we are,” Booth said with a show of enthusiasm as he pulled into the parking garage of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
“I still don’t see why you had to drive,” Brennan grumbled. “My car gets superior gas mileage, and I am an excellent driver.”
“Come on Bones, we’ve been over this. I like to drive, and I needed the practice after being out of the country for so long.”
“Apparently you did,” she said, grimacing a little as she unbuckled her belt. “I think I was close to getting carsick.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No,” she said seriously. “I’ve felt distinctly queasy ever since we crossed into New Jersey.”
“Must’ve been all that swerving and swearing,” Booth joked, slamming the driver’s side door. “But look, here we are, all in one piece and right on time for our appointment.” They walked towards the elevator together. “So how did you find out about this guy again?”
“He comes highly recommended by a colleague of mine in the Department of Anthropology at Princeton. Apparently he is the head of his department, has a national reputation among clinicians, and is extremely knowledgeable. He was also described as having a remarkable bedside manner.”
The doors opened, they stepped in, and Booth pushed the button for the ground floor. “I wouldn’t think that bedside manner mattered all that much to you.”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” she confirmed. “But I thought that it might make you more cooperative.”
“Cooperative? Look, Bones, I feel fine, but I know you’re concerned, so here I am. Cooperating. I figure the sooner we let this doc check me out, the sooner we find out that there’s nothing to worry about, and then we can go home, and things can finally get back to normal.”
***
The nurse at the admissions desk checked Booth’s insurance card and sent them up to the fourth floor for their appointment. They walked down a long glass-walled hallway past a conference room with a prominent whiteboard and four bored-looking young doctors sprawled in various positions around a table. At the end, they encountered a dark, empty office with the words “Gregory House, M.D.” on the door, and below them, “Department of Diagnostic Medicine.”
“Huh,” Booth said. “We must have missed it.”
On retracing their steps, they finally succeeded in finding the office of Dr. James Wilson, Head of Oncology. The door was open. A pleasant-looking man with a boyish face but a slight middle-aged spread rose at their entrance and came out from behind his desk to welcome them, holding out his hand. “You must be Dr. Brennan. By the way, I didn’t mention this on the phone, but I am a big fan of your work.”
“You follow forensic anthropology, Dr. Wilson?”
“Uh… no, I meant your mystery novels.”
“Oh,” Brennan said, clearly less interested. “Thank you. This is Agent Seeley Booth.”
“Please have a seat, Mr. Booth. Dr. Brennan, would you like to wait outside, or…?”
“I would rather stay here,” she replied, before looking questioningly at Booth. “If it’s all right with you.”
“Yeah, sure, Bones, it’s fine. This way you can hear the good news right from the horse’s mouth.”
“All right. Mr. Booth, why don’t you tell me, in your own words, what brings you here today?”
“A paranoid partner,” Booth quipped. “And, uh, a couple of headaches. But really nothing out of the ordinary. Bones here is just worried because I had a benign brain tumor removed last year, and she wants to check that it isn’t coming back.”
“So, just a precautionary measure,” Dr. Wilson said suavely. “Any other symptoms that you can recall? Confusion, double vision, hearing loss, lack of coordination?”
“No, not really. I, uh, have had some issues with my hearing, but that was probably on account of the gunfire.”
“Gunfire?” Wilson looked surprised.
“Yeah, I was serving in Afghanistan for the past seven months. Got kind of noisy over there sometimes.”
“I see. Well, I do think that there’s enough here to warrant some concern. With your permission, I’ll schedule a full physical examination and get you on the waitlist for an MRI so that we can make sure that your tumor hasn’t returned.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Booth turned to his partner. “Guess you were right that this was worth checking out. Bones? Are you okay?”
For Brennan was looking woozy and swaying a little in her seat. “Actually, no,” she said. “I’m sorry, I-“ Suddenly she hunched forward, and a second later, vomit splattered over Booth’s shoes.
Dr. Wilson leaped up again to offer Brennan a tissue. “May I?” he asked before pressing his fingers to the pulse at her wrist and then her throat. “You’re running a fever, Dr. Brennan.”
“Hope you didn’t bring any bugs back from your trip,” Booth said anxiously.
“Trip? Dr. Brennan, have you been in Afghanistan, too?”
“No, Indonesia,” Brennan said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
“Indonesia,” Wilson repeated. “Excuse me just a minute.” He sat down behind his desk again and reached for the phone. “It’s Wilson. Sorry to bother you, but does House already have a case today? Good, because I think I just found one for him.”
Read Chapter One: Mystery Woman
AUTHOR: Flywoman
RATING: PG-13
PAIRINGS: Current canon only, more’s the pity (House/Cuddy, Wilson/Sam, Angela/Hodgins, Booth/Hannah)
SUMMARY: When a famous mystery author/forensic anthropologist and her partner from the FBI turn up at PPTH, House and his colleagues find that they have more in common than they might have expected. Casefic. Crossover, set just after Bones 6X2 and House M.D. 7X6.
DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical doctor, nor do I write one on TV. Due to the quirks of the two shows’ respective timelines this season, I took some liberties in deciding at exactly which point to align them. Also, this story is consistent with both canons through the time of setting but may deviate a bit from any episodes after that.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: If you’re only reading this for the House casefic, be not afraid. I have largely confined the hardcore Bones bits to the Prologue, Chapter 6, and Epilogue, and these may be skipped entirely without damage to the medical mystery. However, I do provide a cast of characters to orient interested single-show viewers. Additional notes and acknowledgments are at the end.
Cast of Characters
Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital
Gregory House - Head of Diagnostics, recovering addict, and arrogant ass
Robert Chase - Intensivist and surgeon, one of House’s fellows
Eric Foreman - Neurologist, one of House’s fellows
Chris Taub - Plastic surgeon, one of House’s fellows
Martha M. Masters - Medical student, the new token female on House’s team
Lisa Cuddy - Dean of Medicine, House’s girlfriend
James Wilson - Head of Oncology, House’s best friend
Sam Carr - Radiologist, Wilson’s ex-wife and current girlfriend
Forensic Division, The Jeffersonian Institute
Temperance Brennan - Forensic anthropologist and bestselling mystery author, aka “Bones”
Angela Montenegro - Reconstruction artist, Brennan’s best friend and co-author
Jack Hodgins - Forensic scientist specializing in bugs, dirt, and slime; Angela’s husband
Camille Saroyan - Pathologist and head of the Forensic Division, Booth’s ex-girlfriend
Wendell Bray - Brennan’s forensic intern, Angela’s ex-boyfriend
The Federal Bureau of Investigation
Seeley Booth - FBI agent, Brennan’s longtime collaborator in criminal investigations
Lance Sweets - FBI psychologist and criminal profiler
Hannah Burley - Investigative journalist, Booth’s girlfriend
Prologue: Precautionary Measures
“Hey Sweets, you busy?”
Lance Sweets looked past his current client to his office doorway, where a familiar dark-suited figure loomed. “Actually, Agent Booth, I’m in the middle of a-“
“Great, this will only take a minute.” Booth curled his fingers and beckoned Sweets surreptitiously, looking around, then stepped back expectantly from the doorway.
Sweets sighed. “Sorry about this,” he told Agent Spender. “It should only take a second.”
Outside, he pulled his door shut and glared up at Booth. “What’s going on? Are you here for a consult on a new case?”
“No,” Booth said, lowering his voice. “It’s just that… Bones has been acting a little weird lately. I’ve had a couple headaches, and she’s all freaked out about it. Well, freaked out for her, I mean. She thinks my brain tumor could be coming back and wants me to go see this famous doctor in New Jersey.” He handed Sweets a slip of paper.
Sweets read the name and nodded. “I’ve heard of him, actually.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, I’ve tried to tell her that it’s nothing, she doesn’t need to worry, but she’s insisting. What do you think is going on? Has she said anything to you?”
“You know that even if she had, therapist-client privilege would prohibit me from sharing that information with you,” Sweets reminded him. “But in this case, I think that the answer is obvious.” When Booth just looked blankly at him, he elaborated, “A woman just changed jobs and crossed continents in order to be with you. It’s only natural for her to feel threatened.”
Booth shook his head. “No, Bones is fine with it. She’s met Hannah, she told me she likes her.”
“I would never expect Dr. Brennan to admit to these feelings. She’s probably not even aware of them herself. But her subconscious anxieties are manifesting as exaggerated concerns about your health. If you want to reassure her about your relationship, you should probably let her know that you take her concerns about you seriously.”
“Huh. So you think I should go along with this plan?”
“I’m not telling you what to do,” Sweets answered. “I’m just giving you my interpretation and offering some options.”
“Yeah,” Booth said slowly. “Thanks.” He clapped Sweets on the shoulder, started walking away, then turned back and pointed at him. “Bones has no real reason to be jealous of Hannah.”
“Whatever you say,” Sweets said skeptically once Booth was out of earshot.
***
“All right, here we are,” Booth said with a show of enthusiasm as he pulled into the parking garage of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
“I still don’t see why you had to drive,” Brennan grumbled. “My car gets superior gas mileage, and I am an excellent driver.”
“Come on Bones, we’ve been over this. I like to drive, and I needed the practice after being out of the country for so long.”
“Apparently you did,” she said, grimacing a little as she unbuckled her belt. “I think I was close to getting carsick.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No,” she said seriously. “I’ve felt distinctly queasy ever since we crossed into New Jersey.”
“Must’ve been all that swerving and swearing,” Booth joked, slamming the driver’s side door. “But look, here we are, all in one piece and right on time for our appointment.” They walked towards the elevator together. “So how did you find out about this guy again?”
“He comes highly recommended by a colleague of mine in the Department of Anthropology at Princeton. Apparently he is the head of his department, has a national reputation among clinicians, and is extremely knowledgeable. He was also described as having a remarkable bedside manner.”
The doors opened, they stepped in, and Booth pushed the button for the ground floor. “I wouldn’t think that bedside manner mattered all that much to you.”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” she confirmed. “But I thought that it might make you more cooperative.”
“Cooperative? Look, Bones, I feel fine, but I know you’re concerned, so here I am. Cooperating. I figure the sooner we let this doc check me out, the sooner we find out that there’s nothing to worry about, and then we can go home, and things can finally get back to normal.”
***
The nurse at the admissions desk checked Booth’s insurance card and sent them up to the fourth floor for their appointment. They walked down a long glass-walled hallway past a conference room with a prominent whiteboard and four bored-looking young doctors sprawled in various positions around a table. At the end, they encountered a dark, empty office with the words “Gregory House, M.D.” on the door, and below them, “Department of Diagnostic Medicine.”
“Huh,” Booth said. “We must have missed it.”
On retracing their steps, they finally succeeded in finding the office of Dr. James Wilson, Head of Oncology. The door was open. A pleasant-looking man with a boyish face but a slight middle-aged spread rose at their entrance and came out from behind his desk to welcome them, holding out his hand. “You must be Dr. Brennan. By the way, I didn’t mention this on the phone, but I am a big fan of your work.”
“You follow forensic anthropology, Dr. Wilson?”
“Uh… no, I meant your mystery novels.”
“Oh,” Brennan said, clearly less interested. “Thank you. This is Agent Seeley Booth.”
“Please have a seat, Mr. Booth. Dr. Brennan, would you like to wait outside, or…?”
“I would rather stay here,” she replied, before looking questioningly at Booth. “If it’s all right with you.”
“Yeah, sure, Bones, it’s fine. This way you can hear the good news right from the horse’s mouth.”
“All right. Mr. Booth, why don’t you tell me, in your own words, what brings you here today?”
“A paranoid partner,” Booth quipped. “And, uh, a couple of headaches. But really nothing out of the ordinary. Bones here is just worried because I had a benign brain tumor removed last year, and she wants to check that it isn’t coming back.”
“So, just a precautionary measure,” Dr. Wilson said suavely. “Any other symptoms that you can recall? Confusion, double vision, hearing loss, lack of coordination?”
“No, not really. I, uh, have had some issues with my hearing, but that was probably on account of the gunfire.”
“Gunfire?” Wilson looked surprised.
“Yeah, I was serving in Afghanistan for the past seven months. Got kind of noisy over there sometimes.”
“I see. Well, I do think that there’s enough here to warrant some concern. With your permission, I’ll schedule a full physical examination and get you on the waitlist for an MRI so that we can make sure that your tumor hasn’t returned.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Booth turned to his partner. “Guess you were right that this was worth checking out. Bones? Are you okay?”
For Brennan was looking woozy and swaying a little in her seat. “Actually, no,” she said. “I’m sorry, I-“ Suddenly she hunched forward, and a second later, vomit splattered over Booth’s shoes.
Dr. Wilson leaped up again to offer Brennan a tissue. “May I?” he asked before pressing his fingers to the pulse at her wrist and then her throat. “You’re running a fever, Dr. Brennan.”
“Hope you didn’t bring any bugs back from your trip,” Booth said anxiously.
“Trip? Dr. Brennan, have you been in Afghanistan, too?”
“No, Indonesia,” Brennan said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
“Indonesia,” Wilson repeated. “Excuse me just a minute.” He sat down behind his desk again and reached for the phone. “It’s Wilson. Sorry to bother you, but does House already have a case today? Good, because I think I just found one for him.”
Read Chapter One: Mystery Woman