Nox, MD
Case 001My
Head Hurts

Nothing--and I repeat NOTHING--in this fic is to be taken seriously

I do not own Star Ocean or House. This is strictly parody, though there is a hint of Al/Nel(since that's MY favorite pairing)--if you look real hard . Because of the complaints of too many Al/Nel fics, you have been warned. If you don't like this pairing and continue to read, that's your own fault.

Dr. Albel Nox, most renowned diagnostician on Elicoor, sat at his desk with his feet propped up. He tossed an off orange bottle of pills in his right hand, listening to the rattle inside. Almost empty, that wasn't good. He'd have to make a run to the pharmacy soon. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the piles of folders spread about on his desk. Better now than never, he decided, tucking the pills inside the pocket of his long white coat.

He stepped through his office door, into the busy corridor of St. Aquios Teaching Hospital. Nurses in pale pink uniforms and white shoes glided by at varying speeds while doctors dressed in long over-coats adorned with black pens sticking from their pockets cruised on by, chatting with one another or studying files they held in their hands. Sick patients sat in the hallway, some on gurneys, others on fold out chairs, and a few just stood around, looking nervous and scared.

Nox smiled. Doctors were scary people. They had to be--because patients were notorious liars. Well, that could be said about humans in general, but lying came with a hefty price when it came to health. People died because of lies. And those people deserved it--they were stupid. There was no place in the world for stupid people. Nox had that written on a plaque in his office. It was a motto he lived by.

Stepping into the flow of people, Nox had almost made it to the junction that would take him straight to the pharmacy at the end of the hall, but someone called his name. He turned around and muttered a curse as his number one idiot underling came running at him. Following close behind was number two idiot underling. Number three idiot was no where in sight; probably because she was off somewhere with her nose buried in Hospital Director Koas' ass. Those two had a 'special' relationship. Now that he thought about it, most of his cohorts were 'special' in some way or another--and usually not in a good way.

Dr. Fayt Liengod skidded to a halt as he reached Nox's side. While the immunologist doubled over and panted for breath, Dr. Cliff Fittir sauntered up, winking at one of the nurses. Nox rolled his eyes. What a buffoon. His dumb accent made him seem even dumber, if that was even possible. The only reason he kept Fittir around was in the off chance he could dissect the ox's body to discover the secret behind his strength. So far, he hadn't devised a plan, though he knew it wouldn't require anesthetic. All in due time, all in due time.

Nox drew himself up straight and tucked his bad hand into his pocket. "What do you two want?" he grumbled, looking down at the blue haired moron. "Didn't I have you testing the sharpness of the biowaste needles out back?"

Dr. Liengod held up a hand, showing off the multiple bandages. "Yes, sir! We've finished. They're all very sharp!"

"Are you sure you finished? That was quite fast of you," Nox replied, frowning at the two doctors. He spent many hours rounding up all the used needles from neighboring hospitals; they couldn't be done yet…

"I held the boxes while Liengod pulled the sharpies out," Fittir replied with a hint of pride.

"Did you now?" Maybe the blonde one wasn't as much of a doofus as he thought.

Leingod nodded. "Yes, but I think we should put in a complaint. They make the holes in those things too small. I had to use a scalpel to make the opening large enough so my hand would fit in. I nearly cut my pinkie finger off!" He held up one of his small fingers, showing off a mass of tightly wound gauze.

"What a shame," Nox muttered. A shame he hadn't slipped and jabbed himself in the femoral artery. Oh well, there was always next time. "So, what brings you two flailing to my feet this time?"

Leingod's face lit up like a candle brae. "We have a patient!"

"Well, this is a hospital," Nox replied, turning on his heel and taking the corner exit to the hallway that led to the pharmacy.

"She was admitted early this morning with blurry vision, headache, and neck pain," Dr. Leingod said, almost stepping on Nox's heel in his excitement.

"Sounds boring," Nox said. The bright sign of the pharmacy was coming into view. Only a few more moments and he could get the fix he needed.

"Well, that's not the interesting part," Leingod said, pulling a folder out of his white jacket and thumbing through the pages.

Fittir nudged Nox in the ribs. "Yeah, she's a looker, if you catch my drift," he said with an exaggerated wink.

Nox stared at him for a moment. "You mean she has a horrible facial disfigurement?"

Leingod and Fittir shared a concerned glance. "Uh, no sir, she doesn't. But there does seem to be something wrong with her eyes."

They'd made it to the pharmacy, which sat next to the cafeteria. Vending machines lined the walls and the floor was slightly sticky. There was the hum of people and the smell of something akin to food. "You mean besides blurry vision? Give her some Visine and send her home," he said with a wave of the hand. He was almost there. His salvation was in sight.

"I don't think Visine will cure the problem," Leingod said, shoving a photo in front of Nox's face.

Nox stopped, his hand frozen above the Chiclets dispenser. "My god," he whispered, taking the photo out of Leingod's hand. He stared at it a long moment, then looked at the blue haired doctor. "Does she always look this surprised?" He pointed at the picture of the brown haired young girl, whose eyes were frozen in a perpetual state of shock.

Leingod nodded sadly, "Yes, the unfortunate thing was born that way."

"Unfortunate indeed," Nox muttered, a cold shiver running over his body. He turned the picture upside down and handed it back to Leingod. "I'm not a geneticist. I can't help this girl." Not that he'd want to either. Just looking at her gave him the creeps. The most he could do for her would be to tie her tubes so she couldn't pass on that horrible trait to her offspring.

"That's not it sir. We know the eyes aren't something we can fix. However, along with the other symptoms I've told you, the girl seems to be suffering from some sort of neurosis."

Nox dropped some coins into the candy dispenser and turned the knob. "All women suffer from neurosis," he replied. He'd be a millionaire if he could come up with a treatment for women--in general. At the last medical conference, he'd been thrown out during his speech promoting mass gendercide. No body liked the idea of babies being grown in test tubes and surrogated to full term by gorillas.


"No, you don't understand. One minute she's this sickeningly perky young lady, and then next she's swearing like a sailor on Sunday. It's quite bizarre. She even tried hit Fittir with a bed pan earlier today."

"Was it full?"

"No sir."

"A pity," Nox sighed, dumping the red Chiclets into the half empty container. "Fine, I'll take a look at the girl if it'll shut you up. But you two owe me double duty on the biowaste next week."

Leingod's face seemed to light up. He smiled and handed the pale yellow folder over to Nox. "We should find Dr. Traydor. She is our neurologist, after all."

Nox popped a Chiclets into his mouth and reopened the file. "You do that. Try looking under Koas' desk." Leingod gave him a funny look, but skittered away without asking questions. The boy had his good moments.

"I'll go prep the patient," Fitter said, starting off the other way.

Not looking up from the file, Nox called out, "Wait. What kind of prepping?"

Fittir smiled with all his teeth and gave Nox the thumbs up sign. "Checking the important stuff, doc. Her vitals, you know? Stats and such. I'll run some tests to make sure she isn't pregnant or has any STDs while I'm at it."

"She'll only need those after you get finished examining her," Nox muttered, waving his team member away. "Don't get us sued. The last thing I need to deal with is Zelpher screeching about my ethics."

Fittir laughed and gave Nox a push. "You know, doc, you two should just get it done and over with. You know you want to Take her into the OR and…"

"Fitter, have I ever shown you how good I am with a scalpel?"

Dr. Nox stood outside Sophia Esteed's room, listening as Dr. Fittir tried to calm the enraged girl down. His sides hurt from trying not to laugh, as there was something extremely comical about a tiny girl saying the word 'fuck' over and over again--and in so many creative ways. He'd actually taken his pen out and made notes on his prescription pad.

It was a shame she wanted to be cured of this disease.

"Now Sophia, sweetie, if you over exert yourself, that you'll only make yourself sicker," Fittir said.

"You're not a doctor! You're the devil! The DEVIL! You want my brain for science! Well fuck you! You can't have it! Go to…" Crash. Something, or someone, was broken. Nox put his pen away. Enough fun for the day. Time to play doctor.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Fittir was stumbling to his feet , a large bump forming on his head where the aluminum food tray had hit him. Sophia, bless her heart, was standing on her bed dressed in nothing but a paper hospital gown with her derriere hanging out the back. Nox took the scene in for a moment, then quietly clicked the door shut.

"Who the fuck are you and what the hell is wrong with your hair?" Sophia spat as she gripped the large tray in both her hands. Those large, unblinking eyes seemed to stare right into his soul, but Nox managed to keep a steady face. Never let them see you sweat. That was another one of his mottos. It was posted over his bathroom mirror at home.

"I'm Dr. Nox. Your worst nigh…I mean, your doctor," he said. He walked into the room confidently, and stooped over to jerk his idiot charge upright. "What are her stats, Fittir?" He assumed the moron could at least get the vitals rights.

"36-32-36--give or take a few," Fittir replied, rubbing the knot on his brow.

Sophia screeched from the bed. "You damn lair! I'm a 32-30-32!" For good measure she grabbed her crotch and gave them the finger.

The doctors stared at her.

"This does seem to be a problem, doesn't it," Nox said, not amused any more. There was just something horribly sickening watching a young girl make gestures like that while standing in nothing but a paper napkin with her ass hanging out the back. He felt like he'd walked into some bad, really bad, porn flick.

At that moment, Dr. Leingod and Dr. Traydor entered the room. Leingod dropped his clipboard and made a wounded noise in his throat. Traydor just pushed her thick glasses up her nose, her cold eyes studying Sophia. "Is this the patient?" she asked in a monotone voice.

Nox rolled his eyes. "No, this is the newest member of our team. She's from pediatrics."

Traydor gave him a look, he thought it was a nasty one, but sometimes it was hard to tell with her, and walked to the bed where Sophia stood poised with her metal tray.

"Be careful, Maria," Fittir shouted, moving to stop his partner before she suffered the same beaning he had.

Sophia growled and bared her teeth, but Traydor was unmoved. She pulled a taser from her lab coat and pulled the trigger. The electrodes hit Sophia in the stomach and pumped about twenty thousand volts into her body. She dropped like a sack of stones, falling off the bed and hitting her head on the floor.

The room grew very quiet. Nox imagined he was the only one who was actually impressed with Traydor's display of vigilantism. But he had hired her for that cold, ruthless streak she possessed, so he wasn't nearly as stunned (no pun intended) at her actions. She'd shut the girl up right and good. Now they could go to work. "No one says a word of this. If the wench asks what happened, tell her she had a seizure," he said, crossing the floor to stand over Sophia's crumpled body.

"Cerebral aneurysm?"

"No, the symptoms don't fit."

"Bell's palsy?"

"That might explain the facial paralysis…"

"No, the patient was born like that."



"What the hell is that?"

Dr. Nox drummed his fingers on the lacquered top of his oak desk. They'd been at this for hours. No one had a clue what was wrong with the girl, Sophia. She was suffering from headaches, neck pain, blurry vision, and a penchant for cuss words and vulgarity. Her stats, her real stats, were normal. None of the tests they'd ran shown anything out of the ordinary. All tox screens were negative. She had no history of mental disorders either--except for being blindingly stupid and naïve.

Something was missing.

"All people lie," Nox said, standing up.

"Wha--?" Fittir said.

Nox pulled his Chiclets from his pocket and popped a handful into his mouth. "People lie all the time. There's something little miss pirate mouth isn't telling us." He strode to the door and threw it open.

"Where are you going?"

Nox smiled over his shoulder. "To interrogate the patient."

Someone whimpered.

"Interrogate who?" a voice said from in front of him.

Dr. Nox closed his eyes. He really didn't want to look down. He knew that tone and that voice all too well. "Ms. Zelpher," he said after a moments pause. "How are you this horrible day?"

The red-headed lawyer looked at him over her wire rimmed glasses--it wasn't friendly. She clutched a large leather binder to her chest. Behind her stood Mirage Koas, the Hospital Dictator--er--Director. The two of them together was never a good sign. "Dr. Nox, I'd hoped to catch you in your office."

Nox looked around. "Close, but it's the first door on your right from here. But as you can see, I'm not there."

Nel Zelpher glared at him. "Funny. First class comedian. We need to talk," she stated.

"We need to do a lot of things," Nox muttered, running his good hand through his hair.

"What was that?"

"Ah, nothing. Anyway, I'm busy. Saving lives and all that jazz." He shrugged and tried to step around her. Zelpher wouldn't be had that easily though. They played a tap dance and he realized he wasn't getting away unless he heard her out. Zelpher was like leprosy, she just kept eating and eating at you until pieces of your will fell away. "I haven't done anything…yet," he snapped.

"Oh yes you have!" Zelpher snapped back, poking a finger into his chest. "What is this I hear about you threatening employees of Farleen and Tynave Inc? I received an official report today! They're going to press charges if you don't stop harassing their people!"

Nox's brow folded. Farleen and Tynave Inc? Who the hell were they? He honestly couldn't say. He threatened so many people on a daily basis, it was impossible to keep count. "Who?" he finally asked.

Infuriated, Zelpher threw the binder to the ground with a slap that made Nox flinch. "The candy people, you moron!" She bent over with a growl and picked up a yellow piece of paper. Reading directly from it, she continued, "Dr. Albel Nox approached Shelby in the cafeteria and demanded red Chiclets. When he was told that we had none in stock, Dr. Nox became hostile. He threatened Shelby, quoting 'I will come for you, your family, your pets, and your friends' if there was not a replacement of red Chiclets in three days. That evening, Shelby's cat, Snuggles, disappeared."

"Wait just a second! I don't know anything about the cat." Zelpher stared at him. "It's true!" And it was. He'd made it very clear to Fittir and Leingod that he didn't want to know what they decided to do with the cat after they'd captured it.

Zelpher was practically glowing with rage. "This is the five hundred fifty fifth complaint this month!"

"Can you say that again?"

"This is the five hundred fifty fifth complaint this month!"

"One more time."

"This is the five hundred fifty fifth…WHY?"

"I just like the number five. Has a nice ring, doesn't it? Anyway, I won't harass Sherry…"


"…Shelby anymore."

Zelpher blinked. As did everyone else. "What?"

Annoyed, Nox crossed his arms. "Did I stutter? Or is something wrong with your hearing? I said I promise not to bug Sherr…Shelby anymore. Happy now?"

"You can't mean that. Since when do you ever do what anyone tells you to do?" she said, frowning at him suspiciously.

"I'm doing it because I want to. Not because you told me too. Now get out of my way. I have a patient to attend. I hope for your sake she's not dead…or killed somebody already." He sniffed and pushed past the two women, feeling all eyes boring into his back. He'd keep his promise. No more picking on that sniveling vendor. There were other ways to get what he wanted. As he walked down the hallway, he tripped a clown and growled at a child. The day seemed to brighten up.

Sophia Esteed was sitting up in bed, her hands crossed in her lap. Her nasally, high pitched voice was subdued, demure--and downright polite. She answered all Nox's questions the best she could, and he'd come to the conclusion that his theory was wrong. Everyone BUT Sophia Esteed lied. This girl was far too much of a goody goodie idiot to fabricate a tale.

"Sophia, I have some bad news," he said. The girls eyes were already impossibly wide, but he thought he might have seen them open a bit wider. "After some long and thoughtful deductions I've come to only one conclusion for your condition."

There were the beginnings of tears in Sophia's eyes. "Is it bad?" she whimpered.

"You're crazy."

"Huh? That's not very nice, doctor."

"No, really, you are completely fucking nuts. Insane. Looney," He made a motion with his finger at his temple.

"Oh no!" Sophia began to cry. "I thought it was just a little headache, but then I stopped remember things and…Why did this happen?"

Nox sat back on his stool and dug around in his pocket for his Chiclets. "Who knows. I imagine it has something to do with you being too good. All those repressed emotions are just oozing to get free." He tsked her with his finger. "Maybe if you'd been a bad girl this wouldn't have happened to you."

"Bad girl?" The saucer eyes blinked. Nox shivered.

"Yeah, bad. Like swearing, sleeping around, drinking, hurting people--all that stuff," he said.

"So if I'm bad, this won't happen anymore? I'll go back to being good?"

Nox frowned. Damn, his Chiclets were gone already. "Yeah. I suppose so. Go kick back a few beers. Shoot some drugs. Get knocked up. That should cure you." Why were his Chiclets gone? He'd refilled them only a few hours ago.



"Really, really?"

Nox stopped groping his pockets and looked at her. "Yes. Think of it this way, with all that bad stuff in your life, no one would blame you for being a pissed off psycho."

Sophia seemed to consider this. "That does make sense."

Nox nodded absently and stood. "I'll file the discharge papers. Get dressed and go home."

"But doctor, what if it doesn't work? What then?"

Nox thought for a moment. "Well, we'll have to operate."

Sophia gasped. "And that would cure me?"

"Yes. If the symptoms progress, well have to remove your head."

Those unnerving eyes stared at him for a long moment, then Sophia smiled. "Well, that's a relief! It's always nice to have other options!"

Dr. Albel Nox shut the door behind him. The case was closed. He was pretty certain he'd covered all his bases. He was a genius, after all. He sauntered down the hall way, in the direction of the pharmacy. Now to find that candy machine.

Kids, don't do drugs, don't sleep around, and don't drink. In other words, don't listen to Dr. Albel. He's a quack. Now that that has been said, I have no idea where this came from. I've never done a stupid, nutty story before. Don't try and make sense of this.