Chapter 111

Flashbang!

Enjoy. 

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After Dr. Foreman asked a couple more questions, Jessica continued crying in her mother's arms. Despite that, my attention, once my concern about being misunderstood was over, was completely fixed on the woman's height.

Standing next to her daughter's bed, in order to be at the girl's height and able to hug her, the woman had to bend down almost a full ninety degrees. The woman wasn't wearing heels so she was probably only a couple of inches shorter than me, that's really tall for a woman.

Remembering that I was holding the girl's chart, and that among the documents, was a general medical information about the parents. I opened the folder to look for the height of both Jessica's mother and father, but before I could find the sheet I was looking for, Dr. Foreman, silently patting my arm, urged me to leave the room.

Refocusing my attention on what was happening in front of me, I realized that the pair of mother and daughter were still hugging, Jessica still crying hard against her mother's chest.

Nodding, I followed Dr. Foreman, leaving the family in the room.

As the doctor and I walked toward the lounge. "What did you tell her?" the man asked me with genuine interest.

"I lied," I responded immediately, making the doctor look at me for a second. "I made her believe we knew she had taken something and that we would have to call the police."

"And she fell for that?" the man asked, incredulously.

"She's a ten-year-old kid. You'd be surprised how easy they are to fool," I said, shrugging without even thinking about it.

Raising an eyebrow, Dr. Foreman gave me a serious look. "Don't say that out loud. Someone might hear you and take it the wrong way."

Stopping for a second to listen to myself. "Yeah, you're right," I said, nodding slowly, regret creeping into my voice. 

Seeing my face, Foreman let out an amused snort, which quickly turned into a mildly scandalous laugh. Caught up in his laughter, I ended up laughing too.

When we both finally stopped, the moment between us felt strangely friendly, and neither of us knew quite what to do next. "Yeah," I murmured nodding slowly, letting out a soft breath as the silence settled in, just awkward enough to notice.

Without another word, we continued walking toward the lounge.

In House's office. "Ah, the wonder team is back," House declared, smiling widely as if he knew about the strange moment we had been through just minutes before. "How was it, did you make the ten-year-old girl cry?" he asked me with strange excitement.

Sighing, I prepared for House's jokes. Even though it wasn't my intention, I had indeed made the girl cry.

Fortunately. "She admitted to taking weight-loss medication, so she's going to spend the night here and should be better by tomorrow," said Dr. Foreman, cutting off House completely, who surely got enough of a response from my expression.

House nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. "Of course she did, was it the mother?" he asked, interested.

"No, Jessica stole them," I said, as I took off House's coat. Even though his embroidered name was covered with my hospital ID and he never used it himself, it was quite uncomfortable to wear it any longer than necessary.

Pressing his lips in surprise. "Cool kid," House muttered, nodding.

Snorting amused. "Yeah well, she almost died for it," I commented sarcastically.

"Like I said, cool kid, you wouldn't know," House declared, arrogantly smiling.

Before anyone could say anything else, the door of the office leading to the lounge opened just enough for Cameron's head to peek in. "We're back."

Placing his hand on his chest. "Oh thank you for letting me know," declared House, exaggeratedly relieved. "I was really worried."

Rolling her eyes exasperated, Cameron pulled her head back into the lounge without saying anything.

Standing up slowly. "Come on, let's update the rest," House said. "After all, we have to announce that Foreman is ahead in the competition, or is it the kid?" he added sarcastically, pausing before opening the door.

Shaking his head, Dr. Foreman surprisingly patted my shoulder before moving on his own behind House. I guess he was slowly accepting me in his heart... or something like that.

Entering the lounge. "Did you find anything in the house?" Cameron asked Dr. Foreman.

"No, but PJ got Jessica to admit she took the medication on her own," the doctor replied calmly.

Snorting with distaste. "Of course he did," commented Chase.

"Fuck off mate," I said immediately, sarcastically forcing the accent as I dragged a chair to sit down.

"Uh sassy," declared House, smiling broadly while shaking his head excited.

Snorting, apparently with no intention of responding, Chase crossed his arms.

Coward.

Cutting the tension in the room, Dr. Foreman explained his suspicions about the medication. Based on the answers Jessica had given him, he concluded that what she had likely taken was Phenylpropanolamine, which would explain the symptoms and the cardiac event.

Thereafter, with her arms crossed. "I can't believe she was that desperate," Cameron said sadly.

"Yeah, I'm sure that if everyone I knew hated me and couldn't bear to look at me, I wouldn't go so far as to shoplift," declared House, snorting sarcastically.

Rolling her eyes. "I'm not talking about the shoplifting," Cameron said, exasperated.

"She didn't know it was dangerous," I murmured calmly. "She just wanted to lose weight."

"Yeah, she probably saw them advertised on TV or some magazine," added Dr. Foreman, nodding at me.

Handing a cup of coffee to House, as if it was something he always did, even surprising House himself. "Right," declared Chase sarcastically. "So I guess it's the media and pharmaceutical companies' fault now, not the fact that she can't stop shoveling food down her throat."

He was really asking for it.

"No one forced her to get fat," Chase concluded.

Before anyone else could say anything, Cameron immediately frowned and crossed her arms. "No one forced a cancer patient to get cancer."

"Give me a break, it's not a disease," murmured Chase, exasperated.

"Neither is being an asshole, so what's your excuse?" I asked immediately, practically spitting the words.

Taking a sip of his coffee. "Oh this is really great," declared House, raising the cup, clearly not talking about the coffee.

"My excuse is that I'm so lazy so I won't go outside to exercise or eat healthy even if my life depended on it," Chase responded with disdain. "Oh wait no, that's Jessica's excuse," he added, sarcastically snapping his fingers.

All fuck it, that's it.

"I warned you," I said as I stood up, fully ready to punch his stupid grin away.

The rest took a second to understand what was about to happen, since surely my calm attitude as I approached Chase didn't fully show my intentions.

Grabbing my shirt from the back and pulling hard. "No PJ!" Cameron exclaimed just as Dr. Foreman astonished stepped in front of me.

"I just need one punch to teach this idiot to shut his mouth," I said, ignoring Cameron's efforts, while keeping my eyes on Chase, who was frozen, possibly not knowing what to do in a real fight.

Before I reached Dr. Foreman, mentally preparing to move him by force if necessary, the four pagers in the room started going off one after another. This time, it was obvious it was an emergency.

Disappointed because now I wouldn't be able to hit Chase, I stopped, calming my emotions. During the short period in which I was sure I was going to hit Chase, I was furious, but Case would kick my ass if he ever found out I couldn't control my mind, and therefore my body, when approaching a fight.

With the coffee cup near his face. "Oh," murmured House, genuinely disappointed, as if he had missed a very interesting show. "Go," he ordered a second later, making the three doctors storm out of the room. Chase a little faster than the restat all times consciously avoiding looking at me.

Once the three doctors disappeared beyond the lounge doors, I snorted incredulously at Chase's cowardice.

House, leaning on his cane, took a slow sip of his coffee and let out a breath that sounded more like a scoff. "Huh. I'll admit," he said, casually, as if commenting on the weather, "for a while I figured all those bruises and cuts were just the tragic result of you being the school punching bag. But turns out... you actually pay to get hit."

I wasn't paying anymore, but I had no intention of giving House any more reasons to make fun of me.

House tilted his head slightly. "I guess that Chase wouldn't have lasted ten seconds. Which is sad. For him. And not exactly impressive for you." 

Surprised by the almost-recognition in his words. "Yeah, well... he would've deserved it," I muttered, still riding the edge of adrenaline.

House smirked, eyes twinkling. "Oh, I don't care about deserved."

Of course not.

Exhaling once more to calm myself completely. "What do you think happened?" I asked House with interest.

"I basically have the same information as you," the man replied, placing the cup on the table, directing his attention to the board.

The mention of the information reminded me what I was doing. Ignoring House, I resumed reading the chart, quickly finding what I was looking for: Jessica's father, like her mother, was a tall person. It was extremely unlikely that Jessica, being the daughter of two tall people, would be so small for her age.

Closing the chart with a snap, I studied the board with House, slowly forming a theory.

Noticing my sudden seriousness. "What did you find?" House asked, leaning on his cane.

"She's overweight and much shorter than she should be," I said, nodding, increasingly sure of a new diagnosis.

"You want to tell her that to her face?" House asked me sarcastically. "I guarantee that will make her cry," he added amused.

Ignoring House's joke. "The mother told Cameron that doctors never look past her weight. I think she was right," I stated seriously.

Frowning, House slowly nodded. "So, her weight is a symptom?" he asked, refocusing on the board.

"Yeah," I replied, "a hormonal imbalance explains everything, sudden mood swings, difficulty concentrating–" I began listing the things written on the board.

Scratching his chin, in a poor attempt to hide a small smile on his face. "What about the muscle pain?" House interrupted me.

"She's not growing," I responded immediately. "Of course her muscles are going to hurt."

Raising one of his eyebrows. "What about the cardiac arrest?" House asked, clearly as a challenge. I doubted he didn't already have the answer to his own question.

"The muscles of her heart, like the rest of her body, didn't develop at the speed they should have. The medication accelerated her system more than her heart could handle," I explained.

With my final explanation, House was silent for a moment, surely thinking about the possibility of my theory.

Meanwhile, I felt like an idiot for not seeing it. I had read Jessica's chart completely, memorizing at least the important things, yet somehow I had completely ignored the parents' height. It was like the case of Mrs. Hernandez, without realizing it, like the others, I had judged based on appearances without thinking of a hidden possibility.

"Well, it's a pretty bizarre thing," House said, snorting. "I like it," he added, "we just have to wait and see if it holds."

Not long after, the team of three doctors returned to the lounge.

"We had to sedate her again," said Dr. Foreman as he entered.

"Mood swing?" I asked immediately.

"No, skin necrosis," the man replied, clenching his jaw.

The answer took me completely by surprise, and judging by the expressions of the doctors, it had done the same to them.

House, saying nothing, picked up the board marker, writing the new symptom. Once written, he glanced at me before returning his attention to the doctors. "Are you waiting for an invitation?" he asked sarcastically.

"Diet pills don't cause skin necrosis," Cameron said immediately.

"Could be something related to the pills," Chase counterargued.

"Or not," Cameron replied, frowning.

Glancing at me briefly one more time. "Or both," House murmured, shrugging. "Diet pills brought her to us, we gave her the sores."

While they were arguing, I was mentally reviewing everything I knew and had theorized. I needed something to explain skin necrosis.

A secreting adenoma, maybe a prolactinoma... but that wouldn't explain the skin damage. Could it be a craniopharyngioma? Too rare at her age. What if it's not the tumor itself, but what it's secreting? If the pituitary is producing excess ACTH, that would stimulate the adrenal glands... too much cortisol.

"You think she got a staph infection from something here?" asked Dr. Foreman, intrigued.

With a barely perceptible smile on his face. "I'm not saying the hospital gave her the sores," denied House. "We did, by treating her. Warfarin-induced skin necrosis," he declared, looking seriously at Chase and Cameron, clearly planning for one of them to argue with the other.

Of course it wouldn't be Cameron. Crossing her arms, she shook her head. "Highly unlikely. We started her on heparin before the warfarin."

"Who gave her the heparin?" asked House, raising an eyebrow.

"I did warfarin," Chase responded immediately. "She did heparin."

Of course. Snorting, I kept thinking.

A chronically elevated level would explain the mood swings, the overweight, the growth delay... and with enough time, even vessel fragility and skin necrosis. It was extremely unlikely, but so was a cardiac event in a ten-year-old girl. Cushing's Syndrome.

With a shadow of a smile that possibly only I could notice. "Sure you didn't both give her warfarin?" House asked, falsely interested.

"Yes," Chase responded immediately, his eyes never going to Cameron. "I did not screw up."

"Did you actually see her prepare and administer the heparin?" House asked, raising an eyebrow, planting the last seed to make Chase look like the idiot he was.

Chase, despite Cameron looking at him incredulously, clearly not having made a mistake, didn't bother to respond.

"Enough said," commented House, pressing his lips together.

"You were standing right there," exclaimed Cameron, annoyed.

"I was preparing my own dose," Chase defended himself.

Incredulous, I was about to step forward to give my theory and shut Chase up, but House stopped me by raising his hand. He clearly wanted to see what would happen.

"Yeah, right," Cameron practically spat the words. "There's gotta be some other cause," she said, looking at everyone.

"None that I can think of," declared House, shrugging. "Let's fix the mistake. Give her unfractionated IV heparin and low-molecular-weight heparin by subcutaneous injection, stat."

The doctors, Cameron rightfully angry while glaring at Chase, turned to leave the room. Just a few steps out, House stopped them.

"Oh wait," he exclaimed, smiling, "I don't think I can think of other cause, but maybe the kid can," he said, raising his eyebrows, silently allowing me to speak.

Staring at Chase. "Cushing's Syndrome," I responded confidently, taking the team of three doctors at the door by surprise.

Noticing my gaze on him. "What?" he asked, puzzled.

I didn't answer, shifting my attention to House, waiting to see if he had already made the connections himself.

"Why Cushing's?" asked Cameron, slightly surprised, her arms still half-crossed, still annoyed at Chase.

"Her height and her weight. She's much shorter than she should be for kids her age," I responded immediately. "Her parents are tall, the girl is not. Add her overweight, mood swings, difficulty concentrating... it's a hormonal imbalance," I declared, shrugging.

Foreman raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly interested.

"And now skin necrosis," I continued, briefly turning to the board.

Chase let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's a stretch. Cushing's doesn't cause skin necrosis."

"Cushing can, in rare cases, cause hypercalcemia. Hypercalcemia compromises circulation, causing necrosis," I explained to him like he was an idiot.

Cameron parted her lips, but said nothing. She was considering the idea.

"The girl's already had multiple labs," insisted Chase. "Normal cortisol. Are you going to ignore that?"

"Hypercortisolism can be cyclical," I responded firmly. "If you don't take the sample at the right moment, the levels will be normal. The only thing I need to confirm it is an MRI," I added, looking at House, who nodded.

Foreman frowned. "You want us to look for hypercortisolism with an MRI?" he asked, incredulous.

"No," I responded immediately. "If I'm right, you're going to find a tumor."

My theory was quite risky, since necrosis was something seriously concerning that, if not treated quickly, could worsen in a second.

With House silent, Chase snorted, shaking his head. "You can't seriously be considering this," he said, incredulous, making the older doctor look at him with interest. "A tumor causes her Cushing's, and that causes obesity? Yeah right, anything to avoid saying the girl has a problem with food."

"No, anything to avoid getting fired," I said, pointing at Chase, stepping forward. "You're a fucking coward."

Chase also stepped forward, his jaw tense, his eyes fixed on mine with a pretentious air of superiority, obviously born from 'having' Vogler behind him.

"What did you say?" he asked, trying to be threatening, taking another step toward me, unsuccessfully trying to intimidate me.

"I said you're a fucking coward," I repeated, slower this time, letting each word land with weight.

That had been enough. Chase was close enough to be within arm's reach. Possibly not knowing how to punch someone, he simply shoved my shoulder, again.

"And you're not a fucking doctor," he said with contempt on his face, "you're just an experiment that lasted long enough."

His words meant little to me. Nothing, to be honest. And his shove, without a single ounce of technique and completely telegraphed, would have been easy to dodge. But that wouldn't have given me the excuse to do what I was about to do.

Chase, seeing that I did not react to the first shove, prepared to try again just as Dr. Foreman began to move forward, clearly intending to stop him. But before anyone could intervene, I dodged the pathetic attempt with a simple sidestep. In the same motion, I turned my hip, anchoring my body with precision. My muscles tensed at the exact angle they needed to be. My arm slid relaxed until the last moment. It was a short, clean punch, directed with trained precision to the liver.

Enough to knock the wind out of him.

Chase froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes wide open. Then, as if his legs gave up, he nearly dropped to his knees, clutching his abdomen with a hoarse grunt, his breath caught in his chest.

Catching him immediately, taking him by the arm, I shoved him to the nearest chair, as if I hadn't just knocked him out.

"I warned you once," I said calmly. "Just breathe, nothing's going to happen to you" I added with disgust watching him squirm.

Turning my attention back to the rest of the people in the room, I could see complete disbelief on the faces of Foreman, who was frozen where he stood, and Cameron, who covered her mouth in shock.

The silence that followed was dense, almost physical. Foreman stopped mid-step, his face torn between surprise and thinly disguised respect.

Cameron was frozen, her mouth slightly open, staring at Chase as if still trying to process what had just happened. "Jesus Christ," she finally murmured, barely audible.

Chase, hunched over, panted trying to fill his lungs, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He didn't even try to respond.

House, leaning on his cane, snorted with complete disinterest in what had just happened. "Well," he said finally, breaking the silence with a casual tone. "I guess we know who won this round, do the MRI" he added jokingly.

No one moved, until finally Dr. Foreman cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding looking at Chase, who was still hunched over his abdomen, drooling a bit as he gasped for air.

Cameron, snapping out of her shock thanks to Foreman, let out an incredulous exhale, crossing her arms tightly. "This is not right," she scolded me, not moving to help Chase, who was still trying to catch his breath. "This was-."

"Self-defense," I interrupted. "He attacked me" I clarified defending myself.

Chase raised his head slightly, his eyes red. He didn't say anything, perhaps because I was still close... Or because he couldn't.

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Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps, not Arsene Lupin, not McLovin, not Elliot, not Capone.

Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:

11332223

RandomPasserby96

Victor_Venegas

I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thank you for reading! :D

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