Medical Center
"He's cured?"
Adam got the call and was mildly surprised by the news. Then he chuckled, "Congrats!"
"See that?" House crowed on the other end, smug as ever. "This is real medicine! Sure, you can memorize every medical fact under the sun, but knowing how to use it to snatch someone back from the Grim Reaper—that's what tests a doctor's skill and ethics."
"Skill, I'll give you," Adam teased. "But hearing the word 'ethics' come out of your mouth, House? That just sounds wrong no matter how you spin it."
"Saving a patient's life is the greatest, truest ethic a doctor can have!" House shot back, dismissive. "Everything else is just small potatoes. So yeah, I can say it, and it's perfectly fine!"
"You're right," Adam sighed. "Deep down, I kinda feel the same way. But I can't exactly say it out loud. I mean, while you were busy saving Keith over the last three days, I've already saved 20 people."
"Twenty, huh? Big deal," House scoffed, clearly irked by Adam's humblebrag. "You think you saved them, but did you really? Even if you did, without you, any random doctor with a defibrillator and some CPR could've revived most of them. You being there or not doesn't make much difference. You're totally wasting your talent and your purpose."
"I like it," Adam said with a grin. "I've got so much talent—tons of it. What's wrong with blowing a little on something I enjoy?"
"Man, you're arrogant," House said, laughing despite himself.
"So, spill it," Adam said, curious. "What was wrong with Keith?"
"I've already done my job," House taunted. "Answering your questions isn't part of the deal—unless you come team up with me. Besides, aren't you tight with Chase and Cameron? Why ask me? They'll tell you eventually. I should just fire them already!"
"Fire them?" Adam snorted. "Sure, they need you, but you need them way more. They're top-notch specialists in their fields. Give them a few more years to build their reps, and they'll be famous names in their own right. Anyone better than them wouldn't put up with you. Anyone worse, you wouldn't even glance at. And there aren't many out there on their level who'd chase medicine with that kind of devotion, tolerate your sharp tongue, and shrug off your rule-breaking—not to mention risk their bright futures. Fire them? Good luck finding replacements like that. The odds are slim to none. And then what? You think new hires just as good would put up with your crap unconditionally? You believe that? Everyone's got a temper. The world doesn't revolve around you, Dr. House! Treat them right, or one day they'll walk away, and you'll realize how valuable they were. Oh, and one more thing—I talk to Wilson all the time. I'll just ask him about the case later. If you've got the guts, fire him too, and then I'll be impressed."
With that, Adam hung up, grinning, leaving a fuming House on the other end.
Wilson was House's one true bestie. House couldn't live without him. If the ducklings—Chase, Cameron, and Foreman—ever left, House might play it cool despite the sting. But if Wilson walked out? House would throw pride out the window, cling to him like a leech, and beg until he came back. Adam betting on that friendship was like a guaranteed win at a New York pizza joint.
Soon enough, Adam got the full rundown from Wilson.
Keith, the patient, had liver failure. House had pushed Cameron to use her charm to trick or ambush someone for answers—shady stuff that could land her in legal hot water and cost her license. Cameron trusted House but wasn't about to break the law or her own morals. So she leveled with Keith's dad instead.
But Keith's condition was so dire—he was already in the ICU—that transferring him again wasn't an option. With no other choice, Keith's dad greenlit House's plan to test drugs and hunt for the cause.
Then Keith started bleeding heavily from his rectum and hallucinating.
With his liver failing, he needed a transplant. But House, sharp as ever, latched onto the hallucinations, grilling Keith's dad about the name Keith kept shouting in his delusions. Turns out, it was their old family cat, which had died a month earlier after sleeping next to Keith every night.
House sent Foreman and Chase to Keith's house, where they dug up the cat's corpse, dissected it overnight, and found camphor inside. Keith had camphor poisoning. Camphor's a fat-soluble gas—once inhaled, it builds up in the body's fat cells. Before the hospital, Keith's body was burning protein and carbs for energy. But in the hospital, the lousy food killed his appetite, and when he couldn't eat enough, his body started tapping into fat reserves. That released more and more of the stored camphor, making him sicker by the day.
The camphor came from a termite infestation at Keith's house. Termites produce camphor to protect their nests. The cat, sleeping beside Keith, succumbed to internal bleeding first. Foreman and Chase cracked open the walls and found them crawling with termites.
"This is basically a goldmine ad for my dad's business," Adam laughed. "Pest control's a must—don't wait!"
"Heh," Wilson chuckled on the other end, knowing Adam's dad was an exterminator. Then his tone shifted, serious. "Adam, can you do me a favor?"
"Name it," Adam said casually.
"Next time you get a tricky case like this, send it to House," Wilson pleaded. "If you don't have any mysteries on your end, I can keep an eye out for you guys. Just keep pushing him, compete with him…"
"His drug cravings kicking in?" Adam caught on immediately.
"That bet you made with him over this case only lasted three days, but his deal with Cuddy was a week without Vicodin," Wilson sighed. "He just smashed his finger with a pestle."
"The brain has a pain threshold—it locks onto the worst signal and blocks out lesser ones," Adam said. "Did it work?"
"His hand hurts like hell," Wilson said with a wry smile, "but it did shift his focus from the withdrawal to the pain in his palm."
"So you're saying me roasting him, him breaking his own bones, or popping pills—it's all the same vibe?" Adam laughed, incredulous.
"In a way, yeah," Wilson admitted, exasperated. "House is a weirdo like that. But only someone as brilliant as you can challenge him, push his buttons, and spark that competitive fire strong enough to override his pain and addiction. So, Adam, please—I'm begging you."
"I'll try," Adam said, caught between laughter and disbelief.
It was the wildest request he'd ever gotten.
(End of Chapter)