You are mine, and I am yours (Gregory House)

Chapter 39

2013
House entered the conference room and stopped when he saw Kutner writing out symptoms on the board. "We have a patient with CIPA?" he asked as he tossed his backpack into his office. "That's a diagnosis not a symptom."

"She and her mother were involved in a car accident last night," Cameron told him as he moved to the table to pick up a file.

Reilly brought him some coffee and sat down next to him. "They did x-rays, an EEG, and blood work. No breaks from the car accident, no neurological issues but now she's spiked a fever. They got her cooled down but she wants to see her mom and she's apparently strong. She got away from them this morning and fell off the balcony in the lobby. Her leg is broken."

"Her brain doesn't process pain signals," House muttered. Tossing the file on the table, he picked up his cup. He looked at Kutner. "Go biopsy a spinal nerve."

"Wait!" Reilly told Kutner. She leaned in close to House. "Can I talk to you?" she whispered.

"I don't know? Can you?" he asked innocently.

"Office," she ordered as she stood up. "Now." She turned to the team. "Someone take Hannah to see her mom." She strode past House into his office. He followed more slowly sipping his coffee. When they were in the office and the door closed behind him, she turned to face him. "You are not grafting that child's spinal nerve into your leg," she informed him. "She could end up paralyzed and you could end up with an infection from the nerve or Host Graft Disease. Ending your pain isn't worth risking your life or hers."

"Is this how things are going to be now?" he asked stonily.

She sat down. "You can't risk the wellbeing of a patient for your own gain. I know your leg hurts. I know the pain is overwhelming." She looked up at him. "I can't risk losing you."

He leaned heavily on his cane and looked down at the floor. "The pain is unbearable sometimes. I don't want to alienate you because of it."

"What about methadone instead of the gabapentin?" she asked. "It's used for chronic pain."

"In patients with terminal cancer. We don't know the effect it will have," he told her as he sank down in his office chair.

"We'd just be replacing one pain med-" she began.

"For a synthetic one. You gonna stay awake to make sure I don't stop breathing while I'm sleeping?" he asked as he rubbed his thumb across his forehead. "The gabapentin and physio help me think. What if the methadone screws with that?"

"You can't biopsy her spinal nerve," Reilly said firmly.

"You don't understand chronic pain," he told her.

"You're right, I don't. But I do know all the things that can go wrong if you try to transplant that nerve into your leg." She shook her head. "It's your leg but you have to get permission from the mom. Informed permission."

"If I inform her, she'll never consent," he sighed in exasperation.

"That's the only way you can do it. You have no medical reason to biopsy a spinal nerve, Greg. If she agrees and her daughter ends up paralyzed-"

"I KNOW!" he shouted. He got up. "I'm staying at my place tonight."

Reilly rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You aren't getting your way so you're going back to your place to pout?"

"Maybe it's better if we just remain friends," he told her.

"No."

He turned to look at her in surprise. "No? I thought relationships were two way streets or some bullshit like that."