A/N: The finale of my little episode is here at last! Yay! I hope it finishes up to your satisfaction and please do remember to review and let me know what you think when you’re through. Thanks for reading, you guys!

Additional side note: Amber Volakis will be referenced at the end of this chapter and I just wanted to remind you that all this was supposed to take place in Season 4 when she’s still alive. Don’t nit-pick at me, please!

Another Disclaimer: The diagnosis I have, if you've got a good memory, has been used on a previous House episode. However, this episode was released after I finished writing this - which means I didn't borrow it from the show. This was written way back in February because I was particularly inspired and the episode was released at the end of March. Just so you know.

Enjoy!

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VIII. The Little Idiocies That Could

--

By lunchtime, the weather had still not cleared up from the morning. The dreary clouds seen on the way in were very much present, constantly heading closer and closer towards rain – and a big one, judging by how cumbersome and miserable they appeared. The irony was a little bitter, considering how sunny the past couple of non-Valentine’s Days had been.

On a normal Valentine’s Day, this would certainly have put House into a good mood – irony was one of his favorite natural occurrences, after all – but it was not the case this year. His patient was as good as declared dead by now, having machines doing most of her functioning for her, and the case, the puzzle House usually thrived on, had not yet been pulled apart into something understandable.

He had his own storm cloud over his head this afternoon, and the rain had already begun.

House and Wilson sat together in the hospital cafeteria during their break at their usual table by the window, watching the gray weather consume their small slice of New Jersey, and House said little, preferring to eat and stare moodily outside. The pair were engulfed in silence for quite a while before Wilson finally tired of it and decided to speak.

“So, how’s the case going?” he asked, his sweetly brown eyes tentative but innocently curious.

“Why does everyone ask me that?” snapped House, taking a sip from his glass of water. “It’s going. It’s just…”

“Difficult?”

“No,” House snapped again. “It’s just a particularly elusive infection that’s progressing too fast to be what I would usually diagnose. And it doesn’t help that my team is full of idiots that got absolutely nothing done over the past three days.”

“You could have always gone ahead, tested, and proved them all wrong,” Wilson suggested. “That’s usually how this works, isn’t it? You go behind their backs and pull out a miracle?”

House polished off the first half of his sandwich with a smack of his thin lips, chugging down a gulp of water. “Sorry, I’m a little short of miracles today – may I interest you in a sarcastic comment instead?”

“Because I’m so deprived of those in my life, right?” Wilson rolled his eyes.

“Hey, hey, sarcasm is something to be admired,” House remarked. “It’s quietly intelligent, enjoyable to everyone –“

“Except the victim, of course.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in it if they’re enjoying the joke?” House rolled his eyes and continued, “The best part of the sarcasm is exactly that – it’s designed for the sole purpose of cutting an idiot’s head in half. Or into a fourth, depending on the idiot in question.”

“Well, when you put it that way, your fascination with it is almost justified. I could definitely see you as a sort of Jack the Ripper of Sarcasm,” Wilson mused. “But without the not-letting-people-know-who-you-are part. You’re much too arrogant not to bask in the limelight of your work.”

House nodded with straight-faced solemnity. “Someone has to create a sensation here. Otherwise, what would we do, cure patients? Work the clinic? Let Cuddy rampage the building with her prosperous cleavage sending us love notes? Gah, I can’t imagine the horror – hold me!”

His blue eyes bugging out with horror at such a prospect, House crammed the entire second half of his sandwich in his mouth and stared helplessly at Wilson, who could only roll his eyes.

“You are exactly the type of person the Democrats are working against in our health care system,” he said.

The diagnostician took a few seconds to chew and swallow in record time, so that his mouth was clear enough to say, “And that’s exactly why I’m not a Democrat – vote Nader!” House punched his fist in the air with victory. Then he went back to chewing his sandwich, taking special care to make as much noise as possible. Wilson wrinkled his nose in revulsion.

“Yes, by all means, continue making those attractive sounds – you know how they thrill me,” he said.

“Don’t mind if I do.” House smirked and stole the rest of his friend’s sandwich, much to Wilson’s irritation. However, he was too accustomed to this to care; he sighed, clearly despairing over his current situation, and reached for his can of Coke, opening it and taking a hearty sip. It was House’s turn to wrinkle his nose in revulsion.

“Wow, you’re supposed to be a doctor – you should have at least gone for the Diet stuff. Or maybe the Zero. Something healthy,” House chastised.

“Being your friend takes a big toll on my emotional well-being – caffeine helps keep me happy.” Wilson arched an eyebrow in challenge as he took another sip. “But I’m sure you know all about drug-related happiness.”

“Oh, it’s drug-related happiness time! Why didn’t you tell me, silly goose? Luckily, I came prepared.” House pulled out his bottle of Vicodin, beaming as he showed it to his friend. “My handy-dandy happy pills…I never leave home without these babies. They complete me.”

“I’m sure.” Wilson took a final sip and set his can down.

“God, Wilson, don’t you know anything about hygiene?” House swept up Wilson’s can and cleaned it off with a napkin. “Drinking from the can makes you sick. Didn’t Mommy Wilson ever teach you that?”

“Sorry, I guess I must’ve missed that lesson.” Wilson snatched the can back and took a sip, just to spite House, who smirked.

“Wilson, as a registered doctor who actually specializes in infectious disease, I’m ordering you to stop drinking from that can! Do you know…?”

At this, those blue eyes – bright, sharp, and full of cutting humor – glazed over, his face vacant and faraway with thought, the look he always got when he got an epiphany he could not do without.

Wilson, being the ever-faithful Best Friend, could only smirk. “I’m guessing you’ve got one last miracle left in your back pocket after all, huh?” he asked.

House didn’t respond. He barely registered that something had been said to him. He only abandoned the table, littered with the various wrappers both men had gone through, and began his mad limp to his office, abrupt and aloof as ever. Wilson was rather distressed.

“You’re not going to make clean this up alone, are you?” he called.

But it didn’t matter, because House was already gone and Wilson could only groan mutinously to himself in his wake.

--

Ignoring the considerable throbbing occurring in his bad leg, House went with startling speed on a cattle round-up through Princeton-Plainsboro to track down his team at their various locations. Of course, when he caught them and beckoned them to follow him, he did not explain the reason – but, as they had now become rather familiar with the quirks of their eccentric boss, they knew better than to ask too many questions.

However, that did not mean they did not ask any questions at all.

When House picked up Taub, one of the first things he had asked was, “If you already know what the solution is, what are you getting us for?”

“Well, mainly because I need an audience for the unveiling of the answer,” House had responded. “When you’re a genius, you don’t hide in your dad’s closet with your knowledge. And no, that was sadly not as dirty as it sounded.”

Taub had not asked inquired after anything further in the subject.

The five doctors went on their march to Elizabeth Dyal’s room, arriving eventually to where Elizabeth lay knocked out by her sedative and where Luke sat, agonized but reading a college textbook. At the door, Foreman made sure to open the door for House with, “After you, your majesty,” to which House went in and airily responded, “Well-done, sergeant, I have taught you well.”

The team trailed in after House, completely startling poor Luke, who jumped about a foot in the air at the sight of them all. He blinked a few times, blankly and bewilderedly, almost taking them in one at a time. House smirked.

“Good afternoon, sunshine!” he chirped sardonically, giving Luke a little bow. “Or, really, it would be ‘good afternoon, rainshine,’ considering the current weather, but technicalities aren’t important right now.”

Luke eyed the group suspiciously. “Hang on, wait…you’re all in here, so there must be something important you want to tell me.”

“Dr. House thinks he’s solved your case,” Kutner volunteered.

House shot him a filthy look. “Thinks he’s solved the case? I know I’ve solved this case. Don’t insult me like that or you’re fired.”

“Sorry, sorry…” Kutner blushed, but House ignored him, choosing instead to stride over to the table beside Elizabeth’s bed where an empty soda can sat. He picked it up, shook it, and showed it around the room.

“This…” he began.

“…is a soda can,” Foreman finished. “Congratulations, House, you know your beverage containers.”

“Must you be so snappy, Foreman?” House wanted to know, impatient. “It’s really bringing my vibe down. Not very nice.”

Foreman rolled his eyes and Luke looked very confused.

“Is this how you guys solve every case? Argue about it?” he asked.

Foreman opened his mouth to respond, but House swiftly cut him off by saying, “Do you want me to save her life or not?”

“Of course I want you to save Liz,” said Luke at once.

“Then stop tempting a retort out of my team with your stupid questions,” House responded. “Now answer me – do you drink directly out of soda cans?”

“Um…sometimes,” Luke said, plainly in a state of perplexity. “Why?”

“Does Elise –”

“Elizabeth!”

“Elise, Elizabeth, same thing.” House dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Does she drink out of the can too?”

“Yeah, she does,” Luke confirmed.

House grinned. “I knew it.” Now he turned to his team, a mad-scientist gleam in his eyes. “This is a case of leptospirosis gone wild,” he announced.

“Are you kidding?” Kutner exploded. “I passed that in the textbook yesterday morning!”

“Yes, children, this is indeed leptospirosis, manifested deeply into a college student who’s already got hormones and body functions out of whack due to higher education,” House said, looking with general satisfaction at Elizabeth’s still body. “It explains everything – the cold, the multiple organ failure, why it didn’t show up on any of the tests you all did.”

“Wait, what’s lepto-whatever?” Luke stared helplessly, blue eyes wide with incomprehension.

“Leptospirosis is an infection,” Thirteen took over. “It’s relatively rare in America, but not unheard of. It’s difficult to diagnose because it affects a variety of body functions and needs very specific tests to prove its existence. It often starts off as a simple cold, as it did with Elizabeth.”

“How did she get it then?” Luke asked.

“Most likely from a soda can,” House stated. “If she drinks straight from the can, and that can was some place it shouldn’t have been, it would have the bacteria in it.”

“Does that mean I’m going to get it lepto-whatever too?” Luke’s tone was laced with fear.

“Probably not, but I’d stop drinking from the can if I were you,” suggested House. “Use a straw from now on – or a sippy cup, whichever you prefer.” His gaze fell back to his team, specifically at Foreman.

“Do a PCR test to confirm the diagnosis,” he said. “Later, make sure you test him, too, in case he got it from her while he was here. Then start her on some doxycycline, and glucose and salt infusions to get her electrolytes back in tune.”

“On it,” Kutner said brightly, exiting the room with Foreman to do the ordered tasks.

“It might take some time for her kidneys and liver to recover, but we can get rid of the infection within about two weeks,” House finished, not as ‘cheerful’ as he had been a few minutes before. “She’s going to be fine.”

“She will be?” The look on Luke’s face was unadulterated ecstasy, bliss in its purest form spreading across his face. “You’re sure this is what she has and she’s going to live?”

“Yup.” House nodded. “She shouldn’t be contagious by tonight. You could make her dinner – leave some in my mailbox if you do.”

Luke snickered, but he was too overjoyed to care much about House’s sarcasm; he got up from his chair, closing his books and notebooks, and said to Taub, Thirteen, and House, “Thank you. Thank you so much for helping her.”

Thirteen smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You too,” he said fervently, overwhelmingly. “You too…”

By now, there was nothing else left to say. The case was through, all the pieces of the puzzle collected together in their proper order. Elizabeth Dyal was going to live and marry Luke in a few short weeks. She was going to continue studying and getting ready for her career as a chef. Her real life was going to move on, almost like a fairytale; her brief meeting with the Diagnostics Department of Princeton-Plainsboro was over. They were all ready to move on.

But, for the moment, Luke was left to stare adoringly at sleeping Elizabeth as House and his remaining team members left the room, allowing them their peace on what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year.

--

The end of the work day came relatively quickly after House’s case was solved and Elizabeth was taken care of. Night emerged upon the outside scenery, rich and deeply blue, and the rain that seemed to be so definite that morning had seemed to hold off until the next morning. The sidewalks were devoid of falling rain that evening and people could be seen exiting the hospital in clumps, excited for their special evenings after a long day of work, excited to let loose and be free and love without question for at least a few hours of simple pleasure.

Cameron and Chase left the building together, cuddled up against the February chill and chatting lightly, Cameron still wearing the enormous pink flower from Chase as they got into his car to go for dinner. Elation was obvious on her face as well as his, everything about them pure and youthful and fully invested in the other.

Taub, walking out of the main entrance, was pleasantly surprised to see his wife waiting for him in the parking lot, off of work early and smiling. He joined her at once, settling into the passenger seat for once instead of the driver’s seat, and the two of them departed, listening to the radio and smiling at a joke she had heard on the radio.

Wilson, wearing his brown coat and his usual goofy grin, was holding the hand of Amber Volakis and kissing her cheek, telling her she looked beautiful and watching her glow at the compliment, the warmth emanating from her into him. Together they walked, her heels clacking against the gravel and his sneakers squeaking along, the two thrilled to be together again after a day of being apart.

Foreman, Thirteen, and Kutner similarly walked out in their own little clan, their conversation cheerful and congenial as they made plans to meet up in an hour at the bar nearby. Valentine’s Day was not a priority for any of them so they treated it as a drink among friends, fueled by their familiarity at work but not made entirely because of it; just a night for three doctors to kick back and get a little drunk on a Friday night.

House was one of few remaining alone as he limped out of the building without bothering to sign out, his coat and scarf sparing him from the cold, his blue eyes the only source of vivid color on his gray-and-black-clad person. He left later than his colleagues, solely to avoid seeing them leave to live their real lives, and he looked forward to a night with his scotch and piano in the comfortable loneliness of his home.

To him, Valentine’s Day was no different from any other night, and this was exactly what he did every other night. It made no difference what the rest of humanity did. He stayed by himself, a quarantine sign plastered to his forehead warding off people who might care, and he approached his car without many plans to have anyone in it.

On his way, he happened to pass by Cuddy, also walking similarly on her own, hiding in her coat against the breeze, a hint of her red shirt visible from the angle at which he stood. He couldn’t help but smirk just the tiniest bit, seeing her there just like him when she so often claimed that they were miles different. At this moment particularly, precious little distinguished her from him.

A glint of humor, humanity, appearing feebly in his hard face, House slightly sped up his walk, ending up only a few steps behind Cuddy as she stopped, searching for her car.

“Cuddy,” he called, aimlessly, purposelessly, a schoolboy jeer audible in the single word. The woman in question turned to glance at him, something indecipherable about her expression, screwed up against the cold.

“House,” she called back.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She bit her lip, her features seemingly shrinking into her face at these five easy words. She didn’t say anything. She stared a second, maybe more, the two of them caught in the surreal glow of the night, before she turned back to where she had been looking and absconded, striding along even if she had no idea where she was going.

And he watched her go, watched longer than he should have, flickers dancing in his irises like moths in the outer fringes of a healthy flame.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Cuddy,” were his final murmured words, fragile and left to the carrying winds, before he got into his car and let the whole incident pass him by.

--

A/N: And that’s it! Oh my gosh!!

All right, now, I’m well aware that some thank you’s are in order. Here are a few of them.

First of all to Roohina, a good friend of mine in real life, who looked over these chapters so diligently for me while I was writing them. Thanks, darling, for telling it like it was.

Second of all to the Google search engine, which led me to all the sources where I got my sketchy medical knowledge for this story.

Third of all to another friend of mine, Emily, for sending me the e-mail forward that gave me the idea for the disease. Yeah, I got it from a forward – weird, I know, but very true.

Fourth of all, I would like to thank my lovely Liz, for whom this story was written. Darling, you mean the world and more to me, and all I can say is that I hope you enjoyed this. I did my best and I never would have dreamed I’d be brave enough to try it if I didn’t have you lying to me and saying I could do it well. Hope your fifteenth birthday was a good one.

And, last of all, I would like to thank all you readers, for sticking this out with me! It was my first ambitious House project, since I’ve only posted about three other one-shots before this, and I appreciate your reading/reviewing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hopefully, this was an enjoyable use of your idle time and please remember to leave a final review with your last thoughts! I would love to hear from you.

Cheers!
X

Love,
Zay