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“So our patient deemed it important to inform me of her supposed lycanthropy ,” Chase said in lieu of a greeting, shoving his way through the door to diagnostics with one hand while the other held a file.
The case was straightforward enough, probably, but it’s not everyday that a patient warns you that they’re a werewolf. Chase figured House would be interested in whatever mental condition could cause a person to hallucinate being a wolf every full moon, maybe make fun of the patient a bit at the same time, but solve the case easily enough and dismiss it entirely from their schedule. But screw it, both Foreman and Cameron brought cases they thought their boss would be interested in before, so it’s his turn to bring in something weird from the clinic, and a supposed werewolf probably fits the bill.
He expected House to take the file from his hand, browse it quickly, and pronounce a diagnosis in order to dismiss his interest in the case (not that he had any particular interest in the case , per se. He’s more interested in seeing House unravel a case than the solution itself, or the person it pertains to, but don’t tell Cameron that. She’d do that face where she doesn’t say she judges him, but he feels the judgment anyways). Maybe House would mock the patient, call her crazy, or put some sort of psychosis on the board for the differential.
That is not what House did.
No. His boss just narrowed his eyes, reached his hand forward and made a “gimme” motion towards the file. Chase handed it over.
After a few short minutes where Chase was waiting for House to snap the file shut and start writing symptoms on the whiteboard, upon which Foreman would stop pretending his coffee is any more interesting than whatever is wrong with their patient (the man is a neurologist , shouldn’t he be more interested in patient with clear brain problems?) and Cameron would express some sort of sympathy ( “ohh, poor girl. What kinda ~trauma~ must she have to think of herself as a monster :(“ or… whatever. His Cameron impression is still a work in progress). Instead, when House shut the file, he sighed and turned towards his office.
“Wait, wait, aren’t you gonna take the case?” Chase squawked, following after him. House still had the file in hand, and was making a beeline towards the balcony his office shared with Wilson’s.
“Nope,” House said, despite not throwing the case file away. “Wilson’s probably gonna want in on this one, though.”
Which.
“Wait,” Cameron said, her and Foreman finally catching up to them both. “You think it’s cancer?”
“Nope,” House repeated, in the exact same nonchalant tone as before, hopping over to the oncology head’s balcony, using his cane to rap on the door. In a short minute, Wilson opened the door.
“What.” He said, with the tone of someone who is probably pissed, and maybe about to inform someone of a cancer diagnosis.
“Werewolf,” House said cheerfully, thrusting the folder into Wilson’s chest. Wilson fumbled to not drop the file, blinking in surprise. He immediately gestured House to return to his own balcony, where the fellows were leaning from within the office to look at the both of them, and followed along to the diagnostician’s office with no complaint, presumably abandoning his own cases for this.
What the fuck is going on?
Chase exchanged a befuddled glance with Cameron, then the two attempted to get Foreman in on the confused action, but the neurologist refused to participate in the mild panic dawning on his colleagues’ faces.
“... You don’t actually believe she’s a werewolf, right?”
House sent Chase a look at that, expressing just how deeply unimpressed he is before striding over and leaning on Wilson, looking over his shoulder at the new patient file that Wilson is mouthing the words in as the two of them read on.
“Her name is Luna Wolfe !” Chase blustered. Their patient is probably just, like, a furry or something. A girl who hadn’t gotten over her play pretend phase. House entertaining the idea of werewolves being real is one thing, he could just be messing with the fellows, but Wilson? Didn’t he care about patients?
Wilson, funnily enough, blinked a few times at the name. Maybe he’s coming to his senses.
Except no, because he tilts his head to the side, not unlike a confused dog, and goes “huh” with no further comment for a quick minute. Then he says, “That’s a traditional werewolf name. Maybe I should take the case.”
And. Chase is not one to judge (too harshly), but Wilson knows way too much about werewolf culture to be normal. Luckily for him, Foreman is the one to voice that concern.
“And why should Dr. Wilson be the one to take the case?” he drawls slowly, drawing House and Wilson from where they’re both reading the file, House still leaning on Wilson in order to read the file over his shoulder. They both blink at him, then look at each other, and slowly, turn back to Foreman.
“It’s a long story,” Wilson says, right as House says “‘cause he’s a werewolf.”
Wilson turns slowly towards House, an indescribable pinched expression of flustered/embarrassed/betrayed on his face. Then he cuffs House over the head with the file, turns to the exit of the office, and says “I’m gonna talk to her family,” with no more explanation.
The three fellows turn towards House. The joke was funny when Wilson was in, but now he’s not, and that means House can drop the “werewolves are real” thing. Except he doesn’t. Now, after all that, he uncaps a marker and turns to write symptoms on the board.
- Rash
- Fever
- Joint pain
- Chest pain
- Headaches
“You forgot the irritability, psychosis, elevated blood pressure and high cortisol levels. Speaking of which, high cortisol probably caused the high blood pressure, irritability and headaches, so our patient’s probably just stressed and dehydrated or something.” Chase suggested.
House clicked his tongue. “She doesn’t have psychosis, and the irritability, cortisol and blood pressure are all classic werewolf symptoms.” He said.
“What do you mean , she doesn’t have psychosis. She thinks she’s a werewolf! Anyways, I think it’s probably an infection of some kind. Maybe fungal? And we should check for environmental symptoms for the chest pain,” Foreman suggested.
“Maybe it’s lupus,” Cameron suggested finally. “If we disregard what you seem to think are “werewolf symptoms”, rash and joint pain are very common for people with lupus.”
“It’s never lupus,” Chase and Foreman chorus. But House pauses his marker-twirling, looks from the whiteboard to Cameron, narrows his eyes at her, and clicks his tongue.
“At least one of you can listen,” he says, then hobbles on to follow Wilson.
—
Their patient is a slight young woman with messy dark hair and big, sad doe eyes. Or maybe “wolf eyes” would be more accurate, considering her supposed condition. And, now that Chase can think to look for it, the rash on her face does resemble the butterfly rash typical for people with lupus. Guess Cameron was right on that one, although that doesn’t explain the lycanthropy.
An entire family of six, two parents, three siblings and an in-law. The father is already talking with Dr. Wilson, who did arrive before House and co., and who is just about the most animated Chase has ever seen him. The rest of the family stand up to greet the new team of doctors who just walked in, startling the two out of their conversation. Chase can just barely make out the tail end of Wilson saying “-could probably still go out for this upcoming full moon.”
“It’s lupus,” House states as his first words to the family. The patient snickers at the proclamation, probably aware that she just got diagnosed with Extra Wolf, but apparently nobody in her family is aware of the prognosis or treatment, since the strongest reaction is, perhaps surprisingly, from Wilson. Perhaps not, though, since he’s apparently aware of whatever this “lycanthropy” actually stands for. His face falls, his shoulders slump, and he turns to the family.
“Lupus is a chronic condition, and it’s autoimmune; the best course of action is immunosuppressants. Which means…” he trails off, looking awfully defeated for someone who isn’t even in charge of this case.
“Which means no more gallivanting in the woods for you, Ms. Wolfe,” House completes for him. He doesn’t look particularly remorseful, but he does bother to take the extra two steps into the room to pat Wilson’s shoulder, like Wilson is the one in need of comforting. The patient’s face falls, as do the faces of all of her family. A low pitched whine, not unlike that of a dog, permeates the room. Foreman checks that all the machines connected to the patient are working, apparently concerned with the sound coming from those rather than their doggy patient.
“That… I can’t do that. You know I can’t–” the patient starts before crumpling and sobbing, her mother rushing in to comfort her. The dad gestures with his head to Wilson that they should talk outside.
“We’re not gonna do a full moon without her,” he starts, matter of fact, as soon as they leave the patient with her mom and siblings.
“That’s completely understandable,” Wilson starts. Then he pauses, licks his lips, and lifts his eyes to meet mr. Wolfe’s eyes. “But she can’t get sick if she’s on immunosuppressants. Even a tiny scratch can get infected, and then… if that happens, there won’t be anything we can do for her. I’m sorry.” His gaze turns down again, breaking the eye contact he just established.
Chase turns to Cameron and Foreman - Cameron appears sympathetic, tears in her eyes, seemingly forgetting the entire “werewolf” plot. Foreman is more sensible, though he doesn’t look at Chase. Instead, he just stands there, quiet, eyes narrowed at the sight before him, probably thinking Wilson is just playing along with this insane family, or considering accusing his boss’ best friend of being a furry. Chase is right there with him on those furry allegations.
Then, that fragile silence is broken by House clicking his tongue. “You can always just wolf out inside ,” he suggests, both like the idea is revolutionary and, at the same time, the most basic, boring solution to their problem. He turns his gaze to Wilson, some sort of knowing in his eyes that suggests an inside joke. Or maybe House is in on the furry shit. Chase, admittedly, does not want to know if his boss is into freaky furry sex. Just thinking about it is making his blood pressure rise.
Mr. Wolfe turns his gaze to House, eyes narrowing, before abruptly straightening his spine, un-narrowing his eyes, and looking between House and Wilson, a long “ohh” escaping him. Yes, this is absolutely not Chase’s business. Time for a lunch break. Chase grapples blindly for Cameron’s hand, closing his own around her wrist while they both still look at the scene like the world’s most fascinating trainwreck. Then he pulls on her arm gently and they both turn around and power walk away. Foreman can follow if he wants.
—
To be honest, Chase almost forgot entirely about the case. So, his boss is apparently into wild furry sex. With Wilson. So now both Cameron and Foreman owe him like, at least three lunch dates. Maybe more.
And then, a little over a month later, Luna Wolfe is rushed into ER after apparently getting nicked by something in the woods last night, getting an infection, and now all her organs are collapsing because apparently “wolfing out” indoors is boring and totally worth dying over.
And, like Wilson said, there’s nothing they can do for her. She’s gone in maybe two days.
Chase… doesn’t really feel bad about it. They gave her a diagnosis, told her what to do with it, and she didn’t. It’s not their fault. But House is brooding and Wilson looks heartbroken when they inform the family, now with a tiny newborn baby in the hands of one of Luna’s sisters, that she’s dead.
He says nothing as the family all raise their heads and howl, wolflike and bone-chilling, around the bed her body is laid on. He says nothing when, later, he can hear a similar, one-toned howl from Wilson’s office, where it shares a wall with diagnostics, and House swears and follows his furry best friend.
Maybe this werewolf thing means more to them than Chase can realize.