PATIENT - Chapter 2b
Chapter 2B...
“Patient history?”
Devi looked up, not quite focusing on her boss’ battered face.
“On my way.”
She rose from the table, clipboard in hand.
So they had a patient, one whose misty symptoms were enough to intrigue House. She headed down the hall toward the patient’s room.
* * * *
Back in the Diagnostics office, the phone rang.
“Foreman,” whispered House, jerking his head toward his office. “Your turn.”
With Devi off getting the patient history and Chase in the lab, no one else was here to pick up the phone, because House just wasn’t fast enough.
“Dr. House’s office. Oh, hi, Linda.”
Cuddy really should get House a wireless phone, thought Foreman, making a mental note to email her with a request. Then House could carry it in his lap and answer it himself, and Foreman wouldn’t have to be the lackey. He had more important things to do than answer House’s phone. What those important things were he couldn’t quite say, but he knew he should be doing more important things than this.
Slowly, some of his many issues with House were floating to the surface. Rather than making him feel better, he became more and more agitated and uneasy as those painful thoughts thrust themselves into his line of sight. Over time, his old resentment and dislike of his former boss had surged back, stronger than before. So far, though, Foreman held close tight his resentments and anger, convincing himself that no one knew how he felt, that House didn’t know. Not surprisingly, he underestimated his boss.
Linda McAllister was House’s part-time caregiver, who now stayed at the duplex most days to keep an eye on Rainie Adler, the patient House had chosen to devote most of his energies to in the last few months. Foreman had avoided meeting Rainie-he couldn’t quite bring himself to see another victim of Robert Thompson’s vendetta. It was hard enough to look at-or avoid looking at-House on a regular basis.
“House. Linda wants to talk to you.”
House was already on his way, slowly maneuvering from the conference room to his office.
“Gimme,” he said, reaching out his hand.
Still the same old House. No amenities. Abrupt and rude. Despite everything that had happened.
As soon as he handed the phone off, Foreman strode quickly back into the conference room, rolling his eyes. Chase, who had wandered back in during this interchange, noticed the look and tossed a query in Foreman’s direction. “Rude,” said Foreman simply, rolling his eyes again. A flare of something resembling anger flashed across Chase’s face. He grabbed Foreman by the arm and all but dragged him into the hall where House couldn’t overhear him.
“What?!” he hissed. “So he’s rude. Did it ever dawn on you that maybe just talking is an effort for the man?” Foreman started as competing ideas began to race around in his head. No, actually, it hadn’t crossed his mind. It did now, though. Perhaps for House, please and thank-you were no longer words House chose to avoid; they were words that wore him out, made his day shorter and his pain greater. He needed his energy for his job. Anything that took away from his ability to do his job had to be eliminated. This newfound understanding didn’t change the fact that Foreman felt dismissed and diminished when House was abrupt with him.
“Yeah, fine. Got it,” said Foreman irritably, shrugging Chase off and striding back inside with Chase on his heels, in time to hear House say, “Yes?”
Now that House had been exonerated and was considered a hero, Foreman was biding his time, knowing that once he put in another year under House’s so-called tutelage, he’d be primed for a great job elsewhere. Couldn’t come soon enough. And yet, the fact that Foreman’s professional future was still intertwined with House bothered Foreman in a deep, unsettling way.
“Uh-huh,” he heard. “Fever’s still up? Okay. Wilson will be dragging me out of here shortly.”
So, he’d be leaving early again.
Foreman sighed dramatically and sat down at the table. When his gaze crossed Chase’s, he saw his colleague glaring at him again.
“What?” he asked, beginning to get pissed off. “Now what’s the matter?”
“What’s the big sigh for, as if I couldn’t guess?”
Foreman snorted. “He’s outta here early again, that’s all. If he’s not going to put in a full day, why does he even bother?” Foreman made no attempt to speak quietly, almost as if he hoped House would overhear him.
Chase looked flummoxed, his mouth opening and shutting for a few seconds like a gasping fish. Then he shook it off, and leaned across the table, gripped Foreman wrist and began speaking softly. “Do you even pay attention?” he whispered. “What kind of diagnostician are you that you can’t observe your own surroundings and draw conclusions from them? Have you noticed how he spends his days? No games, no porn, no soaps. Not anymore. Just business. That’s because those things take too much energy and he just doesn’t have it. Plus, when he goes home, he’s got the Rainie Adler case, so he’s still working when he gets there, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when he works from home. He puts in his time, Foreman. He puts in his time.”
Foreman yanked his wrist away from Chase grasp, leaned back in his chair and stewed for a moment as he unwillingly pondered what Chase had said. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, somewhere buried in his subconscious he had noticed that it was Wilson, not House, who determined when House had had enough. House, if Foreman were honest with himself, would have stayed the whole day, catching up on the latest journals and browsing the Internet for medical breakthroughs. And if Foreman had been a little more observant, he might already have noticed the quality of the days House put in.
But a part of Foreman wasn’t quite ready to see things that way.
* * * *
Late in the afternoon, Devi sat trying to sort out the information from the patient history. A few new symptoms-fatigue, weakness, anemia-were added to those on the board.
She stared at the symptoms for nearly an hour before she heard the door open behind her and smelled gourmet coffee and Foreman’s cologne.
“It’s still pretty vague,” he said as he sat the coffee down at the far end of the table.
“I know,” she sighed. “Maybe the labs will tell us something.”
“How’s the guy doing? Still jumpy when he hears House’s name?”
Devi nodded. “Every time I come into the room, he looks startled, then relieved, when he sees it’s just me.”
Foreman felt the need to instruct. After all, he’d been with House longer than she had, even if she had worked for the man for nearly a year now. “Did you explain that House doesn’t see patients?”
Devi paused before answering. In general, she was even-tempered, but sometimes Foreman pushed her buttons. Of course she’d explained it. She wasn’t stupid, even if Foreman seemed determined to imply that she was.
“Yes,” was all she said, trying to keep her tone even. “That didn’t seem to help. He’s still agitated. He’d obviously rather not be here. I keep thinking I’ll go in and find out he’s left AMA.”
Foreman shrugged. “Too bad for him if he does.”
That was too much. Devi felt herself flush with annoyance.
“Do you really not care about the patients, or do you just find it easier to keep yourself at arm’s length from everything?”
It was so seldom that Devi got ruffled, Foreman was momentarily at a loss. Was she comparing his attitude toward patients with House’s?
“I… uh…”
Just as he was formulating a response that would address the issue and still keep everything status quo, Chase strolled in and, conveniently, at the same time, the phone rang.
Saved by the bell.
“Diagnostics.”
“Uh, Foreman?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Dr. Wilson. We’ve got some issues here. House won’t be back in today… You guys are on your own.”
Chase would have expressed concern, and Devi would have asked if there was anything she could do, but Foreman merely processed the information.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell the others.”
Just as he was about to hang up, he was stopped by Wilson’s voice drawing him back.
“Foreman? Still there? Good. House says to tell you that Devi is the lead on this one. It’s her case. You two assist. Got it?”
Oh, he got it all right. House was making sure he knew he wasn’t in charge. He didn’t like it, but he got it. Didn’t mean he had to mention it to the others, though. He preferred believing that when House was away, he was the boss-even though Chase had seniority-but the truth of the matter was that neither House nor Cuddy seemed to see things that way. They behaved as if he still had things to learn.
* * * *
The patient looked away as Devi stuck his arm for the blood draw. It’s not that he was squeamish, he told himself. It’s just that he didn’t want her to see his expression. She’d already noticed how he responded whenever she mentioned House’s name, so he decided to keep his reactions to himself.
His mind drifted back to the night the story unfolded. Gregory House, world-famous diagnostician, had been arrested for a particularly vicious murder. He’d killed his subordinate, Allison Cameron, in a bout of drug-induced bloody violence. As the details were released, exhilaration had burbled up inside him. Finally. The son-of-a-bitch was getting what was coming to him. When he thought of what awaited House in prison, he couldn’t contain his sense of anticipation.
For several years, he basked in satisfaction… until the truth came out.
Now… well, now. It was only a matter of time before it all burst, if he had to stay here. If House had to treat him. As soon as House saw him, remembered who he was, it would all be over.
Odd, thought Devi, as she gently removed the syringe from the man’s arm, surreptitiously watching the unsettling grin on the patient’s face morph into something almost demonic. Very odd.
* * * *
Once she’d gotten the patient history and the blood work, Devi finished putting together the patient files, handing one to Foreman and another to Chase as they settled themselves at the table.
“What the fuck?!” yelled Foreman as he stared at the name on the file, slamming his palm to the table.
“You have got to be shitting me!” gasped Chase at the same instant.
“What? What is it?” asked Devi, alarmed. Over the past year, she’d seen Foreman annoyed and Chase flabbergasted, but she’d never seen either of them like this. They both looked as if someone had whacked them in the gut with a two-by-four.
“It’s got to be someone else. It’s got to,” said Chase. Foreman nodded at him mutely, while Devi looked on, dazed.
Chapter 2c...
“Patient history?”
Devi looked up, not quite focusing on her boss’ battered face.
“On my way.”
She rose from the table, clipboard in hand.
So they had a patient, one whose misty symptoms were enough to intrigue House. She headed down the hall toward the patient’s room.
* * * *
Back in the Diagnostics office, the phone rang.
“Foreman,” whispered House, jerking his head toward his office. “Your turn.”
With Devi off getting the patient history and Chase in the lab, no one else was here to pick up the phone, because House just wasn’t fast enough.
“Dr. House’s office. Oh, hi, Linda.”
Cuddy really should get House a wireless phone, thought Foreman, making a mental note to email her with a request. Then House could carry it in his lap and answer it himself, and Foreman wouldn’t have to be the lackey. He had more important things to do than answer House’s phone. What those important things were he couldn’t quite say, but he knew he should be doing more important things than this.
Slowly, some of his many issues with House were floating to the surface. Rather than making him feel better, he became more and more agitated and uneasy as those painful thoughts thrust themselves into his line of sight. Over time, his old resentment and dislike of his former boss had surged back, stronger than before. So far, though, Foreman held close tight his resentments and anger, convincing himself that no one knew how he felt, that House didn’t know. Not surprisingly, he underestimated his boss.
Linda McAllister was House’s part-time caregiver, who now stayed at the duplex most days to keep an eye on Rainie Adler, the patient House had chosen to devote most of his energies to in the last few months. Foreman had avoided meeting Rainie-he couldn’t quite bring himself to see another victim of Robert Thompson’s vendetta. It was hard enough to look at-or avoid looking at-House on a regular basis.
“House. Linda wants to talk to you.”
House was already on his way, slowly maneuvering from the conference room to his office.
“Gimme,” he said, reaching out his hand.
Still the same old House. No amenities. Abrupt and rude. Despite everything that had happened.
As soon as he handed the phone off, Foreman strode quickly back into the conference room, rolling his eyes. Chase, who had wandered back in during this interchange, noticed the look and tossed a query in Foreman’s direction. “Rude,” said Foreman simply, rolling his eyes again. A flare of something resembling anger flashed across Chase’s face. He grabbed Foreman by the arm and all but dragged him into the hall where House couldn’t overhear him.
“What?!” he hissed. “So he’s rude. Did it ever dawn on you that maybe just talking is an effort for the man?” Foreman started as competing ideas began to race around in his head. No, actually, it hadn’t crossed his mind. It did now, though. Perhaps for House, please and thank-you were no longer words House chose to avoid; they were words that wore him out, made his day shorter and his pain greater. He needed his energy for his job. Anything that took away from his ability to do his job had to be eliminated. This newfound understanding didn’t change the fact that Foreman felt dismissed and diminished when House was abrupt with him.
“Yeah, fine. Got it,” said Foreman irritably, shrugging Chase off and striding back inside with Chase on his heels, in time to hear House say, “Yes?”
Now that House had been exonerated and was considered a hero, Foreman was biding his time, knowing that once he put in another year under House’s so-called tutelage, he’d be primed for a great job elsewhere. Couldn’t come soon enough. And yet, the fact that Foreman’s professional future was still intertwined with House bothered Foreman in a deep, unsettling way.
“Uh-huh,” he heard. “Fever’s still up? Okay. Wilson will be dragging me out of here shortly.”
So, he’d be leaving early again.
Foreman sighed dramatically and sat down at the table. When his gaze crossed Chase’s, he saw his colleague glaring at him again.
“What?” he asked, beginning to get pissed off. “Now what’s the matter?”
“What’s the big sigh for, as if I couldn’t guess?”
Foreman snorted. “He’s outta here early again, that’s all. If he’s not going to put in a full day, why does he even bother?” Foreman made no attempt to speak quietly, almost as if he hoped House would overhear him.
Chase looked flummoxed, his mouth opening and shutting for a few seconds like a gasping fish. Then he shook it off, and leaned across the table, gripped Foreman wrist and began speaking softly. “Do you even pay attention?” he whispered. “What kind of diagnostician are you that you can’t observe your own surroundings and draw conclusions from them? Have you noticed how he spends his days? No games, no porn, no soaps. Not anymore. Just business. That’s because those things take too much energy and he just doesn’t have it. Plus, when he goes home, he’s got the Rainie Adler case, so he’s still working when he gets there, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when he works from home. He puts in his time, Foreman. He puts in his time.”
Foreman yanked his wrist away from Chase grasp, leaned back in his chair and stewed for a moment as he unwillingly pondered what Chase had said. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, somewhere buried in his subconscious he had noticed that it was Wilson, not House, who determined when House had had enough. House, if Foreman were honest with himself, would have stayed the whole day, catching up on the latest journals and browsing the Internet for medical breakthroughs. And if Foreman had been a little more observant, he might already have noticed the quality of the days House put in.
But a part of Foreman wasn’t quite ready to see things that way.
* * * *
Late in the afternoon, Devi sat trying to sort out the information from the patient history. A few new symptoms-fatigue, weakness, anemia-were added to those on the board.
She stared at the symptoms for nearly an hour before she heard the door open behind her and smelled gourmet coffee and Foreman’s cologne.
“It’s still pretty vague,” he said as he sat the coffee down at the far end of the table.
“I know,” she sighed. “Maybe the labs will tell us something.”
“How’s the guy doing? Still jumpy when he hears House’s name?”
Devi nodded. “Every time I come into the room, he looks startled, then relieved, when he sees it’s just me.”
Foreman felt the need to instruct. After all, he’d been with House longer than she had, even if she had worked for the man for nearly a year now. “Did you explain that House doesn’t see patients?”
Devi paused before answering. In general, she was even-tempered, but sometimes Foreman pushed her buttons. Of course she’d explained it. She wasn’t stupid, even if Foreman seemed determined to imply that she was.
“Yes,” was all she said, trying to keep her tone even. “That didn’t seem to help. He’s still agitated. He’d obviously rather not be here. I keep thinking I’ll go in and find out he’s left AMA.”
Foreman shrugged. “Too bad for him if he does.”
That was too much. Devi felt herself flush with annoyance.
“Do you really not care about the patients, or do you just find it easier to keep yourself at arm’s length from everything?”
It was so seldom that Devi got ruffled, Foreman was momentarily at a loss. Was she comparing his attitude toward patients with House’s?
“I… uh…”
Just as he was formulating a response that would address the issue and still keep everything status quo, Chase strolled in and, conveniently, at the same time, the phone rang.
Saved by the bell.
“Diagnostics.”
“Uh, Foreman?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Dr. Wilson. We’ve got some issues here. House won’t be back in today… You guys are on your own.”
Chase would have expressed concern, and Devi would have asked if there was anything she could do, but Foreman merely processed the information.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell the others.”
Just as he was about to hang up, he was stopped by Wilson’s voice drawing him back.
“Foreman? Still there? Good. House says to tell you that Devi is the lead on this one. It’s her case. You two assist. Got it?”
Oh, he got it all right. House was making sure he knew he wasn’t in charge. He didn’t like it, but he got it. Didn’t mean he had to mention it to the others, though. He preferred believing that when House was away, he was the boss-even though Chase had seniority-but the truth of the matter was that neither House nor Cuddy seemed to see things that way. They behaved as if he still had things to learn.
* * * *
The patient looked away as Devi stuck his arm for the blood draw. It’s not that he was squeamish, he told himself. It’s just that he didn’t want her to see his expression. She’d already noticed how he responded whenever she mentioned House’s name, so he decided to keep his reactions to himself.
His mind drifted back to the night the story unfolded. Gregory House, world-famous diagnostician, had been arrested for a particularly vicious murder. He’d killed his subordinate, Allison Cameron, in a bout of drug-induced bloody violence. As the details were released, exhilaration had burbled up inside him. Finally. The son-of-a-bitch was getting what was coming to him. When he thought of what awaited House in prison, he couldn’t contain his sense of anticipation.
For several years, he basked in satisfaction… until the truth came out.
Now… well, now. It was only a matter of time before it all burst, if he had to stay here. If House had to treat him. As soon as House saw him, remembered who he was, it would all be over.
Odd, thought Devi, as she gently removed the syringe from the man’s arm, surreptitiously watching the unsettling grin on the patient’s face morph into something almost demonic. Very odd.
* * * *
Once she’d gotten the patient history and the blood work, Devi finished putting together the patient files, handing one to Foreman and another to Chase as they settled themselves at the table.
“What the fuck?!” yelled Foreman as he stared at the name on the file, slamming his palm to the table.
“You have got to be shitting me!” gasped Chase at the same instant.
“What? What is it?” asked Devi, alarmed. Over the past year, she’d seen Foreman annoyed and Chase flabbergasted, but she’d never seen either of them like this. They both looked as if someone had whacked them in the gut with a two-by-four.
“It’s got to be someone else. It’s got to,” said Chase. Foreman nodded at him mutely, while Devi looked on, dazed.
Chapter 2c...