Dave, the store manager, had a new computer ready for me with its screen and accessories, just before Sheldon returned with a relatively small box in his hands.
"It costs twelve dollars and fifty cents before taxes. I can pay the difference," said Sheldon, out of breath, checking his wristwatch and visibly worried about running out of time. "Is that acceptable?" he asked nervously.
"Don't worry about that," I murmured amusedly, taking the box from the boy's hands. "Are you sure you want this?" I asked, reading the labels on the box—it contained ten floppy disks.
"Yes, please," Sheldon replied, still trying to catch his breath.
"All right," I said, nodding. "This too," I added, placing the box next to everything Dave had piled on the counter.
"Of course," the store manager said immediately, smiling widely—in a rather uncomfortable way, to be honest.
"Okay..." I murmured, nodding slowly. "So what do you need from me, apart from my credit card?" I asked, joking lightly, immediately eliciting an exaggerated reaction from Dave, who laughed in an obviously fake manner for a second.
"Yeah, just some details," the man responded a moment later, realizing my joke didn't warrant his reaction.
Without much more trouble, after filling out a few details and paying, we left the store.
Sheldon and Diane carried a few things, while I held the huge screen and computer in my arms.
Outside the store, still carrying the heavy boxes, I asked after several seconds of watching both Diane and Sheldon standing there doing nothing, "Can one of you two open the trunk?"
It was quite funny that, despite being two of the smartest people I knew, they both seemed incredibly surprised by my question.
"Yes," Diane said, snapping out of a slight daze and nodding firmly, apparently just then realizing my inability to open the trunk myself.
"Here," I said, straining to hold both heavy boxes in one arm while stretching out my other hand to hand Debbie's keys to her.
With the boxes securely stored in the trunk, we headed home much earlier than Sheldon had calculated. This allowed the boy, who had volunteered, to help me install the computer and everything necessary for the operating system.
After his work was done, carrying his box of floppy disks, I walked Sheldon home.
"Are you sure you don't want to read the manual on your own?" Sheldon asked, lifting the heavy book that came with the computer.
"Pretty sure, Sheldon," I replied amusedly. "You can keep it," I added, smiling at the boy.
"I'll return it by tomorrow after school so you can use your new computer without worry," he declared excitedly, pressing the book and his box against his chest.
"Great, thanks, Sheldon," I said, holding back a laugh and gently patting the boy's arm.
Upon returning home, in my room, Gabe was sitting in front of the computer with an interested Diane behind him.
"Do you think there are any interesting games on this thing?" my brother asked Diane.
"I'm fairly sure that with its processing power, it can run some video games," Diane responded formally.
"Cool," Gabe murmured, handling the mouse awkwardly.
Given the time period, it wasn't entirely strange to see my brother using the computer so clumsily. I doubted that, apart from visits to tech stores in malls, Gabe had ever used a computer in his life.
"I'll install some games for you later," I said, startling both Diane and Gabe for a second. "For now, I need to use the computer, buddy," I added, pressing my brother's shoulders.
"Sure," Gabe murmured, standing up and freeing my chair at the desk.
The computer—specifically the CRT monitor and the appropriately large keyboard for the era—took up most of my already small desk. Using the installation floppies I had bought, I began the process of setting up the newest word processor available.
"If there aren't any video games yet, why do you want a computer?" Gabe asked, puzzled.
"A computer is useful for many more things than just playing video games," I said, sighing.
"Like what?" he asked, completely incredulous.
The question caught me completely off guard. "You know, like coding, writing, and stuff..." I said, not entirely sure of my answer—at the time, I didn't really have the future internet in mind.
"Coding?" Gabe asked, tilting his head.
"I'll teach you later," I assured my brother, nodding softly.
I knew a little about programming—nothing practical, just enough to make the computer greet you.
"Why did you decide to buy a computer?" Diane asked curiously, sitting on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, I'm working on a paper," I replied, remembering I hadn't yet told Diane what had happened at the hospital.
"Oh, how interesting," Diane declared, visibly excited.
"For some of us," I said, smiling at her.
Gabe, who had been silent since I answered his last question, oddly snorted in amusement.
"What?" I asked, turning to my brother.
"You bought a computer to work on a paper? Not sure if you know this, but you have a bunch of paper in your notebook, and it's much cheaper," Gabe said mockingly, noticeably struggling not to laugh out loud.
"What!?" I asked, exaggerating my surprise. "You knew that?" I asked, turning to Diane.
"Yeah," Diane responded, nodding. "But you seemed so interested in buying a computer that I didn't have the heart to tell you," she added, shrugging.
Impressed—and admittedly proud—of how quickly Diane played along with the joke, I smiled goofily.
"Oh, hey, Diane," Mom said from the doorway of my room. "I didn't know you were here," she added, walking in with Charlie in her arms.
"Hello, Mrs. Duncan."
"Sorry, Mom. I got home early, so Diane helped me with some things," I said calmly.
"Oh, you're here too," Mom murmured, feigning disappointment with a small smile.
"Sorry, I live here," I said, raising my hands in mock remorse.
"Yeah, I don't like it either," Gabe said softly.
"Shut up," I said, lightly smacking my brother's head. "Hello, Charlie," I added, silently asking Mom to hand me my little sister. "You love me, right?" I asked, making funny faces at the baby in my arms.
Since I usually got home so late, my only interaction with my baby sister was the crying that apparently only woke up my parents and me.
"Yeah, I only love you too," I said, smiling at Charlie's laughter.
"So dramatic. How do you put up with him?" Mom asked sarcastically, pointing at me over her shoulder. I could imagine her rolling her eyes.
"He's really charming," Diane responded, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she wasn't entirely sure of her answer.
"Thank you, that I am," I said arrogantly.
"Not always," Mom murmured, joking.
"I'm your son, remember?" I asked in a whisper, teasing.
"Yeah," Mom whispered, lowering her head. "So, honey, do you want to stay for dinner?" she asked, smiling at Diane.
"Oh, I don't want to be a burden, Mrs. Duncan," Diane said, gently declining.
"Oh, don't worry, honey. I didn't cook anything, and I'm not cleaning, so no burden for me," Mom assured her immediately.
"Okay," Diane said, nodding softly.
"Great," Mom declared excitedly. "Is that a computer?" she asked a moment later, pointing at the obvious computer on my desk.
"Either that or a really heavy paperweight," I joked, making faces at Charlie again.
"Well, that's a really nice paperweight," Mom said amusedly, walking toward the door. "Dinner'll be ready... whenever it's ready. I'll ask Bob," she added, slightly embarrassed.
Mom left my room, leaving Charlie in my arms. Watching my still-smiling sister, I mentally counted the seconds until Mom returned.
Five seconds later: "Give me my baby," Mom said, stretching out her hands as she came back into my room.
After taking her baby back, Mom left my room, talking to Charlie in her high-pitched baby voice.
"What's your paper about?" Diane asked, returning to the earlier topic.
"Secondary prevention in patients with cardiovascular risk," I replied, smiling softly. "Here," I added, pulling my notebook from my backpack.
Diane took my notebook, opening it to the cloth bookmark, and within seconds read what had taken me practically hours to write.
"There seem to be a lot of statistical data. Do you want my help?" she asked, looking up from my notebook with interest.
With her astonishingly wide eyes even more open than usual, Diane stared at me intently for a few seconds, seeming anxious for my answer.
"I don't want to interfere with your time," I said, declining gratefully, noticing Diane slightly furrowing her brow.
"It wouldn't interfere at all. East Texas Tech isn't as demanding as MIT was," she said quickly, trying to change my mind. "I have plenty of free time, and I don't think the data will be that complicated," she added, lightly biting her lip.
It was obvious Diane wasn't entirely interested in the topic of my paper—after all, the data, though quite complicated for ordinary people like me, were practically child's play for Diane or Sheldon.
"Are you sure?" I asked, smiling slightly.
"Yeah," Diane responded, nodding immediately while pressing her lips together.
"Well, there's a section about medication adherence rates in populations with limited healthcare access," I said, searching through the materials I'd brought. "I can do the statistical analysis, but it would take me a while," I added upon finding the journal I was looking for.
I was already determined to do the analyses myself—I'd done dozens, if not hundreds, before—but that didn't make it any easier.
"Oh yeah, I can help you organize the data into a clear table and do an advanced statistical analysis," Diane said excitedly, nodding firmly. "Maybe using a logistic regression model for the risk factors?" she asked, reading the data from the paper I'd marked.
Letting out a heavy sigh, "This sounds so nerdy," Gabe murmured, walking out of the room.
"Don't be rude," I said, throwing a football at his backside.
Whining, Gabe immediately left the room.
"Sorry about that," I said softly.
"He's not lying," Diane assured me, shrugging while still reading the paper's data.
"Yeah, I guess he's not," I said, smiling faintly.
"Oh, look at this—I can correlate variables like socioeconomic status and frequency of medical visits with treatment adherence. I could even build a predictive model," Diane declared, looking back up with a wide smile, her eyes shining with excitement.
"That sounds incredibly interesting," I said, smiling slightly as I moved closer to the edge of the bed where Diane was still sitting.
"Yeah, it is," Diane murmured, tilting her head slightly while rhythmically tapping her fingers on the journal in her hands, noticing my slow approach.
Once close enough to Diane that my legs were between hers—me being a few inches taller—I leaned gently over my chair, keeping my gaze fixed on hers.
Lifting her chin slightly, Diane slowly closed her eyes, obviously preparing for a kiss.
Calmly, I brought my face closer to hers, softly cupping her cheek, feeling her breath slow slightly, as if she wanted the moment to last a little longer. Our lips met in a soft kiss that, as always happened, gradually warmed.
Diane placed a hand on my chest, gripping my shirt tightly, as if she needed to steady herself to keep from falling. With my eyes closed too, I let myself fully feel her closeness.
When I tried to pull away just a fraction of a second to catch my breath, Diane—eyes still closed—stretched forward, completely preventing me from separating, which was unusual for her.
Deciding to take advantage of the situation, I easily lifted her by the waist and gently settled her onto my lap, this time putting her slightly above me.
Diane let out a small sound, half-surprised, half-amused, at the change in position and wrapped both arms around my neck as if it were the most natural response. Her forehead rested lightly against mine as she caught her breath.
I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face, the rhythm of her chest—slightly accelerated—against mine, a rhythm I could alter just by lightly moving my fingers where I held her waist.
Once she'd caught her breath, Diane kissed me again, slower this time, clearly wanting to lead the moment herself. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the hair at the nape of my neck.
I was so focused on Diane's lips that I didn't hear the footsteps outside the room.
"PJ... Oh, sorry!" Teddy exclaimed from the doorway.
Diane, reacting much faster than me, launched herself backward from my lap before I could catch her, fortunately landing on my bed. She covered her face, obviously embarrassed.
Turning in my chair, "Teddy Bear," I said, eyes wide, smiling awkwardly at my sister, who was frozen in the doorframe. "What's up?" I asked, feigning ignorance of the situation.
Covering her face too, "Mom wanted me to tell you dinner's ready," Teddy responded, visibly flustered.
"Thanks," I murmured, discreetly wiping my lips.
"Yup," Teddy muttered, forcing her hands down, puffing her cheeks slightly with her face visibly flushed. Without another word, she backed out of my room.
Waiting until Teddy was far enough away, "Do you think she saw us?" I asked Diane, squinting slightly, unable to resist joking.
Diane, sitting up on my bed while hugging her knees, "Of course she did," she said, frowning in complete disbelief.
"Ah, and here I was planning to keep our relationship secret a little longer," I said, pretending to be disappointed as I stood up.
"You're joking," Diane declared, rolling her eyes slightly, finally catching on.
"Just a little bit," I admitted, amused, offering her my hand.
Without a word, Diane took my hand, letting me effortlessly help her up.
Using a bit more force, I pulled her into a hug. "You know, we could say we got lost on the way," I joked in a whisper against her ear, holding her firmly with no real intention of letting go.
Honestly, the rare times Diane took the initiative in our private moments, she completely threw me off balance. Not that I didn't like it—quite the opposite—but Diane, being so controlled, letting go even for just a few moments, had an incredible effect on me.
Diane didn't respond immediately. Instead, she lightly rested her forehead against my chest. Her breathing was calm now, and I could feel her body gradually relaxing in my arms.
With Diane in my arms, the constant worry and thoughts anchored in the back of my mind since Vogler had threatened Mom's job fell completely silent.
Several seconds into the hug, "Stop," Diane finally murmured softly, her words barely a sigh as she brushed the tip of her nose against the fabric of my shirt.
"Yeah, you're right," I said, tilting my head to lightly kiss the top of hers. "Mom might be next, and that'd be way more awkward," I added, raising my eyebrows.
"Yup," Diane said, pulling away from me, emphasizing the 'p' with a small smile.
Sighing softly, I fully let go of Diane, releasing the warmth her ironically always-cold body provided.
In the dining room, my family was already seated and waiting. Teddy was playing with Charlie, who was in Mom's arms, while Gabe and Bob chatted idly.
"Sorry we're late—Diane had something very interesting to show me," I joked as we reached the table, causing Diane to discreetly elbow me, Teddy to blush slightly, and Mom to look at me strangely.
"Ah, Diane is here," Bob said cheerfully, surprised.
"Why do you think I set an extra plate?" Mom asked, puzzled, pointing at the two empty seats across from her.
"Oh, I don't know," Bob replied, shrugging. "Gabe says you bought a computer?" he asked me, quickly avoiding Mom's incredulous look.
"Oh yeah," I responded immediately, pulling out Diane's chair. "I'm working on a paper for the hospital—actually, Diane's going to help me," I added, making Mom celebrate instantly.
"That's so great to hear," she said excitedly. "What's it about?" she asked.
After that, I briefly explained the general content and focus of the paper, letting dinner flow as other topics of conversation quickly emerged.
Much later, after we finished dinner, I walked Diane to Meemaw's house.
"Is Meemaw not home?" I asked, surprised not to see her car there.
"Ah no, she always goes to the laundromat on Monday nights," Diane responded, sounding unsure of her own answer.
"Laundromat?" I whispered.
After a rather long goodbye outside Meemaw's house, I started walking back home.
In Meemaw's front yard, I felt a drop of water hit my head. Just as I started jogging toward my house, rain began pouring down.
"Hey, welcome back—got caught in the rain?" Bob said, watching TV in the living room.
"Yeah, it came out of nowhere," I replied, shaking my hair slightly, feeling water droplets fly off.
"Sounds like a passing shower—it'll be over in five minutes," Bob declared confidently.
It rained until the next morning.
The next day, after school, I went to the hospital, where—after greeting all the nurses at reception—I was updated on everything that had happened the day before.
Apparently, not long after I'd left early, the transplant committee held an emergency meeting to decide the patient's position on the transplant list.
And after just a few hours of being accepted, surprisingly early in the morning shortly after the rain stopped, an organ became available for transplant.
"How long was she on the transplant waiting list?" I asked, sighing incredulously.
Usually, someone on the transplant list for organs as critical as a heart could wait years for a compatible match. That the patient was fortunate enough not to wait long—and that there wasn't someone much sicker ahead of her—spoke volumes about her luck.
"A couple of hours," House responded, shrugging. "You know what they say—first come, first served," he added sarcastically while playing with a stress ball.
"So, is she out of surgery?" I asked, checking my watch. I didn't know exactly when the transplant had taken place, but I knew the procedure shouldn't last more than six hours if there were no complications.
"Yeah, she's in the ICU pending transfer to a room," House said disinterestedly.
"Good," I murmured, still incredulous at how fast the transplant had happened. Good for her, I guess.
After that, House and I sat in silence for a few seconds. Before I could excuse myself to continue working on the paper, House's pager beeped.
"Oh," House murmured, reading the small device. "The songbird is here," he added excitedly, standing up. "Let's go to the clinic."
"Songbird?" I asked, confused.
"Your mute patient," House replied.
"Mr. Van Der Meer?" I asked, puzzled. "The culture came back that fast?"
Looking at me incredulously, "What? No," House responded, offended. "Oh, wait—you left early," he said a second later, smacking his forehead as if he'd just remembered. "I called the on-call guy and gave him a little Botox in his throat," he explained completely shamelessly.
"Okay, that makes sense," I conceded.
To be honest, House's approach would only work if there really had been an anesthesiologist's mistake. I was almost certain the man was lying, but it was important to verify... I guess.
Following House, who was walking at a surprisingly fast pace, we arrived at the clinic shortly after.
"Sing for me," House said as he entered the exam room.
Inside, Mr. Van Der Meer sat perfectly upright on the exam table. With a slight frown, he looked at House for a second before reaching into his shirt pocket for a small notepad and pen.
"Oh, no, no, no, no," House said, disappointed, as he approached the exam table to snatch the man's means of communication. "Come on, look—when you had your surgery, you were intubated," he added, placing the notepad far from Mr. Van Der Meer. "The surgeon stuck a tube down your throat. Now, it never happens, and it's never caught—but it happened. Your vocal cords were paralyzed."
Meanwhile, Mr. Van Der Meer, still silent, simply watched House with slight discomfort in his eyes.
"I treated the spastic dysphonia with Botox," House continued without hesitation. "Ironically, a substance that tightens every other corner of your face actually loosens the tongue. I have healed you. You can talk," House declared theatrically.
Mr. Van Der Meer frowned again and shook his head slightly.
Seeing the man's response, House sighed. "Oh, well," he said, slowly walking toward the door.
I wasn't buying it—House wouldn't give up that easily.
As he opened the exam room door, "Boo!" House yelled, suddenly turning back toward the man.
Startled, Mr. Van Der Meer jumped on the exam table, raising his hands and nearly falling off before barely catching his balance.
Slamming the door shut, "Okay," House conceded, exasperated. "You don't have to say anything—it can be our little secret," he said quietly, stepping closer to the man. "If you can talk, blink twice," he added quickly.
Mr. Van Der Meer just stared at him.
After a few seconds of nothing, "But you're not going to, because you think you won't be entitled to the money you won in the settlement with Simpson," House said, lowering his head slightly. "Yesterday, I would've said you had to give the money back. Today? The hospital's come into a lot of money. Mum's the word," he added sincerely.
With visible hesitation, Mr. Van Der Meer slowly shifted his gaze to me.
"I'm not even a hospital employee," I assured him, raising my hands.
Slowly moving his eyes back to House, after a few seconds—with a tiny but visible smile—the man blinked twice.
I knew it.
Satisfied, House left the room in complete silence, this time without trying to scare the man. Not long after, I followed.
Stopping abruptly at the doorframe, "Oh," I exclaimed. "You'll still get a call about Jack—you might have to come back," I added, slightly embarrassed, receiving only a small nod in response.
Outside the exam room, House was walking at his normal pace back to the lounge.
"Would you really have made him return the money?" I asked skeptically as I caught up to him.
House widened his eyes exaggeratedly. "Are you implying I wouldn't do the right thing by stopping an insurance scam?" he asked, offended.
Not intending to play along, I stared at House, slightly frowning.
Clenching his jaw slightly and sighing, "I don't know," he responded a second later. "It's a risky move, definitely premeditated—stopping speech right after waking up from surgery," he added, scoffing.
Before House or I could say anything else, his pager beeped, grabbing his attention.
"What?" I asked, watching as House changed direction after checking the device.
"She's out of the ICU. I'm going to her room," he explained, walking down the opposite hallway.
Nodding slightly, I continued back to the lounge. Aside from seeing the woman's thighs while she was sedated, I hadn't actually met the patient at any point—no need to visit now.
In House's office, deciding to make use of my time, I continued reading and taking notes for the paper, letting time pass.
Later, as I was reading a cardiology journal with a small article on post-cardiac event treatment, House returned to his office, visibly satisfied.
"How is she?" I asked, looking up from my reading.
"Eating," House replied simply, rummaging through his records—the first thing he did upon entering. "Now, I'll show you what real doctors do after a good day," he added theatrically, selecting a record.
Calmly, House placed a record on his office player, pressing a few buttons with a small smile on his face.
Holding one finger up dramatically, "For your uncultured teenage ears—The Who," he declared, pressing play.
The song started immediately with what sounded like an electric keyboard. House, eyes closed, began tapping his fingers rhythmically on his desk as if he were playing the song himself.
Snorting in amusement, I returned my attention to the journal in my hands. The song, truth be told, was quite interesting—and not a single word had been sung yet.
When the drums kicked in and House air-drummed enthusiastically, "Love this part," he suddenly said.
"I can tell," I murmured, sighing. At that exact moment, surprising me completely, an arm appeared from my side and stopped the music.
"Okay, he ruined it," House said to me, rolling his eyes with his jaw slightly clenched.
Vogler, who had entered the office unnoticed with his fake smile plastered on his face, "Just wanted to stop by and introduce myself," he said, ignoring House's comment. "I'm Edward Vogler, new chairman of the board," he added calmly. "In a way, I guess that makes me your boss," he said sarcastically.
"I am sorry about the lab coat thing," House said, oozing fake sincerity. "My dry cleaners just destroyed it," he added cynically.
Laughing falsely at House's words, Vogler took a seat in the empty chair next to me. "That was my very first heart transplant committee meeting," he said, still calm. "Very exciting," he added, widening his eyes.
"Trust me, Six Flags is way more exciting," House said sarcastically.
"Your patient's very lucky to have such a passionate doctor—stands up for what he believes in," Vogler said, clasping his hands, completely ignoring House's sarcastic remark.
"Sweet of you to say," House said, tilting his head slightly with a fake smile.
"Yeah," Vogler murmured. "But I'm afraid you've been duped, though."
Both House and I looked at the man, confused, as he maintained his indifferent facade.
Pulling something from his jacket, "The nurse found this in the patient's purse," Vogler said, showing a bottle full of ipecac.
"Oh, my," House said with painfully obvious falseness, visible to anyone with a functioning brain... and eyes. "If only I'd known," he added with even more fake regret.
Obviously, like me, seeing the falseness of House's words, losing his smile, "Tough being a doctor, having all that power," Vogler said after a few seconds of silence. "The power to play God," he added seriously.
"Yeah, I don't envy the transplant committee and their responsibility," House said, gently shaking his head. "They basically would have been forced to kill that poor girl," he murmured darkly. "I'm not sure I could have done that."
"This is not a game to me, Doctor House," Vogler declared, completely lacking his fake smile.
"No, it's more like we're dancing right now," House explained.
Certainly, the tension in the room since Vogler had stopped the music was quite uncomfortable.
"So let's get to the point. You don't like me, I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna like you. It's nothing personal, I don't like anyone," House said shamelessly, and to my dismay, "Hell, even the kid doesn't like you and he's unpleasantly nice," he added, pointing at me.
Until that moment, no one had addressed me, not even with a look. With House pointing at me, Vogler glanced at me sideways and at the same time at all my research material on House's desk.
Keeping a completely neutral face, I stared at the man until he returned his attention to House.
"But none of that really matters, does it?" House asked. "Because you've got money, and I've got tenure," he added nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. "I've got Cuddy," he declared.
"Right," Vogler murmured with a slight smile while nodding faintly.
"And Wilson," House continued, ignoring the other man, "so, as long as we're stuck with each other, we might as well ignore each other. That includes the kid, who by the way I'm pretty sure is more protected than I am," he added, surprisingly defending me somehow.
Smiling calmly, still staring at Vogler, House pressed a button on his music player, switching it to public radio, just as an announcement came on.
"The best mattresses in all of Texas," said an excited man's voice from House's player.
Quickly moving to mute the 'Ye-ha Mattresses' ad, "That wasn't nearly as dramatic as I was hoping," House admitted, smiling at Vogler.
Laughing, Vogler slowly stood up. "I looked into that tenure thing, and you're right," he commented while walking to the office door. Stopping at the doorframe, as if remembering something important, he turned around with a calm smile on his face. "It's actually easier for me to get rid of a board member like Cuddy or Wilson than to get rid of a doctor," he threatened calmly. "That's interesting, isn't it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "And we all know how easy it would be to get rid of a nurse," he added, shifting his attention to me for a second.
Without another word, still calmly smiling, he left the office.
"Well, that's a mood killer," House said sarcastically after a few seconds of silence. "No wonder why he isn't married," he added, raising his eyebrows.
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I sighed uncomfortably. I'd have to talk to Mom. Fortunately, she was on her maternity leave, so it was pretty illegal for them to fire her right now, but I'd have to warn her to be careful once she came back, because it wasn't like an unlawful termination had ever stopped anyone.
Recalling what had happened a few seconds ago, "Did you catch what he said?" I asked, frowning slightly. "About the nurse finding the ipecac?" I explained, noticing House's confused expression.
Leaning back in his chair, House thought for a second, surely trying to remember. "Yeah, you don't believe him?" he asked, interested.
"No," I replied immediately. "At least I don't think he heard it and I didn't," I added, frowning and thinking through the possibilities.
Smiling maliciously, "You think nothing happens in this hospital without your attention?" House asked.
"Of course not," I replied, rolling my eyes. "But I'm pretty sure that if any nurse found something important from one of the patients we're working with, I'd be one of the first to know," I declared, fairly confident.
It was no secret in the hospital that I was pretty well liked among the nurses, mainly because of Mom, but also largely because I wasn't dismissive toward their work.
Nodding broadly, "Ah right, your girlfriends. How could I forget?" House asked.
"Whatever," I said, exasperated. "I'm just saying, there's no way Vogler knows something the nurses told him and I don't."
There was also my request to the nurses to inform me of Vogler's movements. I was sure they'd do me that favor without hesitation.
House looked at me seriously for several seconds. "So you're saying the information came from inside. Are you thinking of any of your siblings?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
And as much as I wanted to, I couldn't answer. It was obvious Cameron hadn't done it—anyone who spent enough time with her knew that no matter what House did, she would never betray him. Foreman, despite being as serious as he was and constantly clashing with House, I was sure wouldn't do anything to affect working with him either—the man really enjoyed the challenge.
Chase, on the other hand... I didn't want to throw suspicion on anyone, but after his mistake and House's reaction—a reaction not at all inappropriate given the risk of his error—it was quite possible that, blinded by fear of losing his job, he could have done something without thinking.
"I'm not saying that," I said, forcing myself to keep my face neutral.
Nodding gently at my response, House leaned back in his chair.
The silence in the office was uncomfortable enough to push me to leave, using the excuse—partially true—of continuing with the paper at home. I said goodbye, leaving the hospital much earlier than ever. Honestly, all I could think about were the possible consequences of Vogler's hostility toward my mom's job.
Unable to decide how to talk about it with Mom, my time ran out as I arrived in front of my house. Taking a breath, I immediately found Mom sitting on the living room couch watching a movie, with Charlie asleep beside her while she folded laundry.
"Ah PJ, you're home early today," Mom said, softly, frowning slightly when she saw me. "Was there not much to do at the hospital?" she asked, puzzled.
"No, and I decided to come work on the article," I also replied softly.
With an extremely wide smile, Mom whispered happily, "Good."
Taking a seat on Bob's chair, "Mom," I whispered seriously, immediately catching her attention. "You know there's a new chairman of the board?" I asked, swallowing with difficulty.
"Oh yeah, I heard from Sally—she came by yesterday afternoon for tea," Mom replied, nodding. "I hope I can introduce myself before I hand in my resignation, ask him to take good care of you."
"Yeah, Edward Vogler—" I said, stopping once I repeated Mom's words in my head. "What?"
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps, not Arsene Lupin and not McLovin.
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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