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Torch Songs for Two	By : Veresna Category: G through L > House Views: 4667 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4: More
Than You Know

�Would you
please slow down?� Cuddy hissed, as House wove through the parked vehicles.

�Hey, I�m
just trying to get you to the ER in a timely fashion,� he protested. �I hear there�s an �Early Bird� discount if
you check in before 4 a.m.�

Decreasing
his speed only slightly, he steered the car around the end of a row and then
slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a car pulling out of a space in front of
them. The driver of the other car honked his horn and lowered his window to
make a rude gesture in their direction.

�Just ignore it, House,� she
warned, leaning over to put her hand upon the steering wheel. �And back up a little bit to give him more
room.�

�He has plenty of room to get out
if he turns the other way,� he argued.

�Just do it,� she said, her voice breaking into a screech.

�Geez, you�re cranky when you don�t
get enough sleep,� he observed, reluctantly shifting the car into reverse and
backing it up a few feet.

The driver of the other car pulled
all of the way out of the space, paused to shout a few obscenities in House�s
direction and then sped off away from them.

�Are you going to let him insult
you like that?� House asked.

�Yes,� she said. �It�s worth it for the parking space,� she
added, pointing at the now-vacated spot.

�Are you kidding?� he snorted,
driving past the spot and swerving around the end of the row. �These days I�m always guaranteed a ring-side
seat,� he boasted, the car wheels squealing again as he pulled a tight turn
into another parking space.

�You can�t park here,� she told
him.

�Why not?� he asked, turning off
the engine and pulling the key out of the ignition.

She pointed at the sign posted
directly in front of them. �It�s handicapped.�

�I�m handicapped,� he shrugged, picking up his cane from the
dashboard. �Is your memory failing
again?�

�Yes, but my car doesn�t have the
special license plate or tags.�

�Oh, don�t worry,� he said, digging
into his jean pockets. �I never leave
home without this.� He pulled out a card
upon which was pictured the silhouette of a wheelchair and hooked it onto the
rear-view mirror.

�You look a little pale,� he
observed, turning to look at her in the light flooding into the car from the
Emergency Room entryway.

�I wonder why,� she murmured sarcastically. �I�m sure it has nothing to do with the
white-knuckle ride I just took.�

She reached into her purse and took
out the compact and tube of lipstick.
She quickly applied the lipstick to her mouth and then held the compact
out at arm�s length, tilting it as she tried to get a good look at her entire
face.

�I wish I had brought some blush or
mascara,� she said, shaking her head.

�Don�t worry, I�ll pay extra and have
them airbrush the wrinkles out of your MRI images,� he assured her.

�How many times a day do people
threaten to ram that cane down your throat?� she asked, throwing the makeup
back into her purse.

�Counting co-workers?� he asked,
screwing up his face. �About three,� he
decided, �Actually, another orifice is the much more popular choice.�

Grunting slightly, he opened the
door and swung his legs over the side, once more having to support the right
knee from underneath to move it. Using
the cane, he rose to his feet and slammed his door shut before limping over to
the passenger side.

Cuddy was sitting very still, her fingers
tightly clutching the purse in her lap as she stared, unseeing, out the
windshield at the Emergency Room doors.

House tapped his fingers against
the glass, startling her.

�You look fine,� he said, opening the door.
�C�mon let�s go.�

�House,� she said quietly, looking
up at him. �Couldn�t we go somewhere
else?�

He tilted his head and considered
her request. �Well, Wal-Mart�s open
twenty-four hours,� he said. �Lowest
prices in town, but they were sold out of imaging equipment the last time I was
there.�

�Another hospital?� she clarified.

He turned to his left and leaned
against the car, looking over at the entrance.
�I know it looks like a dump from the outside, and I hear the Dean of
Medicine is a nutcase at the moment.
But, on the other hand, I hear they give out free lollipops.�

�It�s the best hospital in the
state,� she declared proudly.

�Oh, sure,� he agreed, mockingly,
looking down at her.

�But I could find adequate treatment at some other ER,�
she said, pausing to chew nervously on her lip.

�But you�d have to pay it all
out-of-pocket for going outside the PPO,� he pointed out.

�Fine with me,� she shrugged,
moving to shove him out of the way so she could pull the door closed again. �Let�s go.�

�Cuddy,� he said, refusing to
budge. �You know you are going to get
the best-and quickest-treatment if you go here.
And besides,� he said, suddenly turning around and bending down to sit
on the edge of the car seat. �We might
run into some problems if we go elsewhere.�

�Like what?� she asked,
suspiciously.

He placed both hands on his cane,
propping his weight against it.

�Unfortunately,� he admitted, �I�ve been thrown out of several of the
neighboring Emergency Rooms.�

�What?�

He shrugged his shoulders. �A malicious, obviously unsubstantiated rumor
about �drug-seeking behavior�.�

She sighed and dropped her head
into her hands.

�I�m going to regret getting my
memory back, aren�t I?�

�Maybe when you start remembering
things you really want to forget, I can whack you on the head with my cane,� he
suggested, rising to his feet. �To see
if I can induce selective amnesia.�

�One of us needs a good whacking,�
she said, opening her eyes and getting out of the car.

�Oh, you little minx,� he said,
winking at her as he slammed the door and used the remote to lock the car. �I keep telling you that we�re just going to
have to wait until you�re all better.�

They walked the few steps to the
Emergency Room and entered through the automatic doors. As in the car trip, she felt the out-of-kilter
sensation of being in a place that managed to be both comfortably familiar and
weirdly strange at the same time. The layout
of the department seemed little changed, but the colors of the walls, floors
and chairs were not what she remembered at all.

�Where the hell is Foreman?� wondered
House.

�Foreman?� she asked, turning to
him.

�Neurologist, member of my team?�
prompted House. �About this tall?� he
added, raising his hand.

An image of a young, attractive
blond man suddenly appeared in her mind�s eye.
�Yes,� she said, excitedly.
�House,� she said, turning to grab his arm, �I think I�m starting to
remember.�

�Praise Jesus!� he murmured,
sarcastically, moving his arm from her grasp.
�Stay here while I look for him.�

�What do I do if someone comes over
and starts talking to me?� she asked, nervously. She had already noticed several of the
employees turning their heads to look at them, obviously wondering what she and
House were doing in the ER at this time of the morning.

�Pretend you recognize them and say
you�re here for a consult,� he suggested, moving away from her and turning down
one of the hallways.

�Dr. Cuddy?�

She turned to see a middle-aged
woman in scrubs bearing down upon her.

�Hi,� she said, trying not to feel
like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

�This really isn�t fair, Dr.
Cuddy,� the woman said, looking perturbed as she stopped and planted her hands
on her hips.

�What isn�t fair�� Cuddy�s eyes
dropped down to the employee name tag pinned to the woman�s pocket and was
relieved to find her name was printed in large letters. �Dorothy?�

�I heard rumors that you might be
springing surprise inspections on us-� she began.

�Oh, no. No. Not at all,� Cuddy said, shaking her head. �I�m�here for a consult�with Dr. House�and
Dr. Foreman,� she assured her, hoping she didn�t sound nearly as stupid as she
thought she did.

�The car accident with those
teenagers?�

Oh,
god, should she say yes or no?

�No,� she said, raising a hand to
brush the hair away from her forehead. �Another
case entirely,� she said, waving her hand.

�All right,� said Dorothy, looking
slightly placated. �I hope you
understand why I was concerned.�

�Of course I do,� said Cuddy,
nodding enthusiastically. �You�re a
great employee and I appreciate all your hard work,� she added.

The woman beamed. �Why, thank you, Dr. Cuddy.�

�Well,� she said, shrugging her shoulders and
spreading out her hands. �I better go
find them.�

�Oh, I saw Dr. Foreman just a few
minutes ago. If I see him again, I�ll
send him over.�

�Gee, thanks, Dorothy.�

Now,
please, please, please just go away.

�No problem, Dr. Cuddy.�

She sighed, closed her eyes and
raised her fingers to her suddenly throbbing temples. Part of her wanted to go running down the
hallway after House. But another part
was afraid she might get lost and not find her way back to the ER.

She opened her eyes and smiled and
nodded to a few more employees as they passed by her. It took a few bemused smiles from the
passersby before she realized that she was still wearing House�s leather jacket
over her sweater. She hastily shrugged
it off and folded it over her arms.

The minutes seemed to crawl by.

�Dr. Cuddy!�

She turned and saw a handsome young
black man in a white lab coat approaching her.
His hair was shaved close to his scalp and he wore a neatly trimmed
beard and moustache.

�How are you doing?� he asked, smiling
at her in a very friendly manner.

Ok,
this time I�m ready.

�Oh, I�m just fine,� she assured
him, breezily. �I�m just here for a
consult with Dr. House and Dr. Foreman, Dr.-�

She glanced down at his badge and
her smile immediately disappeared.

She jumped as a hand unexpectedly materialized
over her shoulder, moving to point out the name on the ID card.

�FORE-MAN,� intoned House�s
voice. �I see you�ve had a relapse,� he
murmured, moving to stand at her side.
�Were you tempted by Satan?� he added, in a broad southern accent.

�I thought I knew who Dr. Foreman was,� she explained weakly. �Tall, blond guy?� she asked.

�No, no, no,� said House,
sighing. �Now, pay attention: Dr. Foreman is the dude with the �tude, and
Dr. Chase is the ass-kissing Aussie.�

�Oh, god, I�m so sorry,� she said,
turning back to Foreman.

�Don�t apologize,� he said,
reaching out to reassuringly squeeze her shoulder. �Believe me, I understand completely.�

�Yeah, I usually don�t remember his
name either,� said House. �Hey, they all
look alike to me,� he added in a loud whisper.

Cuddy turned to glare at him. �Shut up,
House!� she hissed.

He shrugged and reached into the
pocket of his blazer, pulling out the bottle of Vicodin. Cuddy reached out and snatched it away from him,
shoving it down into one of her own pockets.

�And stop gobbling those down like
candy.�

�Well, there�s a definite memory
impairment, but fortunately her personality appears to be in unchanged,�
Foreman said, smiling in amusement as he continued to study them.

�Fortunate for who?� grumbled
House.

�Anyway, there�s some bad news,�
said Foreman, crossing his arms. �ER�s
been fairly quiet tonight, but a couple of hours ago we got in a carload of drunken
teenagers who were involved in a rollover.
They�re keeping the imaging department pretty busy right now, so we�re
going to have to wait our turn to get in there.�

House clucked his tongue. �Oh, come on, this woman is obviously in
desperate need of urgent medical care,� he said, pointing at Cuddy. �Besides,� he added, �She�s the Dean of Medicine. Can�t the kids with the crushed craniums wait
while we figure out a way to fit her incredibly large ass into the MRI?�

�Very funny, House,� said Cuddy,
looking even more annoyed. �I, of all
people, am not going to pull rank here.
I�ll be happy to wait my turn,� she assured Dr. Foreman.

�You said there was bad news,� said
House, frowning. �Does that mean you
have some good news as well?�

�Actually, yes,� said Foreman,
uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on his hips. �Turns out that Patel called off sick tonight
and Cameron is covering for him in ER.�

House looked puzzled. �And that�s good news because?�

�Because she�s managed to arrange a
pretty private place for us to do the exam.
She�s also pushed through the paperwork so that Dr. Cuddy doesn�t have
to go through the whole admission process.
She just has to sign a few forms that Cameron will bring in with her. She�ll be with us just as soon as she
finishes up with her current patient.�

�Dr. Foreman, I am shocked!� House
said, indignantly. �This woman just
clearly stated that she wants absolutely no special treatment because of her
position. She wants to wait her turn
like everyone else.�

�Oh, look!� he continued, pointing
through the glass partition to the Emergency Room waiting area. �There�s even an empty chair for her to sit
in.�

Cuddy frowned and looked in the
direction of his finger.

�See?� he asked, �That seat right
there between the toddler with diarrhea running down his leg and the puking,
urine-stained drunk.�

To her distress Cuddy discovered
that, for once, House was not exaggerating.
She groaned slightly and took a moment to mull over the situation.

�Dr. Foreman,� she said, turning
towards him. �Is there anyone here in
the ER who is currently hemorrhaging, coding or seizing?�

�No,� he said, shaking his head.

�Okay,� she said, shrugging her
shoulders. �I�ll jump to the head of the
line just this once.�

�Smart move,� said House, nodding
his approval.

�So, House, I see you�ve finally
managed to corrupt her.�

For a few seconds, Cuddy tried to tell
herself that she was being paranoid, and that Dr. Foreman was only making a
joke about her sudden willingness to bend the rules. But it took only one look at the smug way he
was looking at House to convince her that the double entendre was completely
intentional.

It was clear that House thought so
too. He stared at Foreman for a few
seconds in seeming disbelief and then a dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes as
his upper lip slowly curled back, his mouth broadening into a smile that was
anything but friendly.

The trio stood in an uneasy silence
for several seconds, staring at each other until their attention was finally
drawn to the sound of heels clicking down the hallway, moving in their
direction.

�Here comes
Dr. Cameron,� said Cuddy. She was so
anxious to distract their attention from the currently uncomfortable atmosphere
that it took a few moments for her to realize that she had managed to identify
her.

�You recognize her?� asked Foreman,
sounding slightly suspicious.

�Yeah, I do,� replied Cuddy, the
surprise evident in her voice.

House studied the pretty young
woman�s figure as she approached them.

�Either that or she�s learned to
read barcodes,� he commented, pointing at Cameron�s chest.

Cameron looked down to where he was
pointing. The badge she wore clipped to
her labcoat had indeed flipped over, the side with her picture and name facing
against her clothes and the white side embossed with a large black barcode
facing outward.

�Oops,� said Cameron, quickly
turning the name tag over so that it was facing the right way.

�Go figure,� said House, shrugging
his shoulders. �Maybe if you bleached
your hair �Hooker Honey Blonde�, she�d have recognized you too,� he suggested
to Foreman.

�She does not look like a hooker,
House,� said Cuddy, angrily. �Your hair
is lovely,� she said to Cameron.

�Thanks.�

Cuddy took another look at the
other woman�s badge and sighed. �But,
since you have blonde hair in the picture, I�m guessing it�s not all that new?�

Cameron smiled and shook her
head. �Over half a year now.�

�Well,� said House, twirling his
cane like a baton. �This is certainly a
fascinating subject. I tell you what, since
you gals obviously want to catch up with each other, why don�t you just go on
ahead and grab the table for us?� he said, pointing down the hallway. �We�ll give you a couple of minutes alone to
have some �girl talk� about hair and clothes before we join you for the main
course.�

Cuddy and Cameron both turned to
scowl at him.

�Foreman and I will stay here at
the bar for a while, and do some guy stuff,� he said. �You know, drink a couple boilermakers, throw
some darts, arm wrestle��

�Sure,� said Cameron shaking her
head. �No one�s using Room C tonight,�
she explained to Cuddy. �We�ll head on
down there and you can sign some forms while I get your vitals. Don�t be too long,� she called, looking back
over her shoulder as she led the way.

Cuddy followed for a few steps and
then turned back to look at the men.
�And don�t kill each other,� she admonished.

�Oh, we�ll play nice,� promised
House, flashing another evil grin at Foreman.

House waited until they had
disappeared around the corner and gestured for Foreman to follow him. He walked over to an alcove that held
telephones, a drinking fountain and a row of chairs. He bent down and took a long drink out of the
fountain as Foreman leaned against the wall with his arms folded, waiting for
him to finish.

�So, House,� he said, �I haven�t
seen any sign of Taub, Kutner or Thirteen.�

�Why would you?� asked House,
straightening up and wiping his mouth.
�I didn�t call them.�

�Why not?�

�Because they�re not needed,� he
said, shaking his head. �You�re here as
a neurologist to help me complete an exam, not as part of the diagnostics team
to solve a medical puzzle. Pretty
straightforward case, don�t you think?�

�Since when do you, of all people,
hear hoof beats and immediately assume it�s a horse and not a zebra?�

�When it actually is a horse, of course, or course,� he
replied widening his eyes. �The complete
lack of black and white stripes is a dead giveaway,� he added in a confidential
whisper.

�Right,� said Foreman, sounding
unconvinced. �And you�re sure you didn�t
miss any stripes because you did a very thorough examination?�

�Yes,� said House, turning away and
beginning to walk down the hallway.

�Since you and Cuddy just happened
to be together in the middle of the night when this happened?�

�You know,� said House, turning
around and snapping his fingers.
�There�s that odd tone in your voice again, almost like you�re implying
something. Got something on your mind,
Dr. Foreman?� he asked, leaning on his cane.

�You got something to tell me, Dr.
House? Or, are you going to act like
most people who bring someone in and then lie to us about something that might
actually have some medical significance to the patient�s condition?�

�You�re absolutely right,� said
House, nodding his head. �Well, let me
figure out the most delicate way to put this.�
He pushed his cap up as he thoughtfully scratched his head. �I�m pretty sure we�ve got a horse here
because-�

He paused and took a step towards
Foreman, leaning down so that their faces were only inches apart.

�I rode that little filly pretty
long and hard last night, and put her away wet,� he hissed, staring directly
into Foreman�s eyes.

�Situation clear to you now?� he
asked, pulling back.

�Absolutely,� shrugged
Foreman.

They walked halfway down the
hallway before Foreman spoke again.

�You know, you make an awfully cute
couple,� he observed.

�And you know,� said House, stopping
and thrusting out his cane in front of the other man�s body. �That I can make your life a living hell.�

Foreman snorted out loud. �You do that anyway, House,� he
protested. �At least now, I have
something to make you squirm a little bit in return.�

�Yeah, but I�d be very careful
about disseminating that particular piece of information,� said House,
frowning. �Remember that �My Friend
Flicka� here is the only administrator on the eastern half of the United
States who was willing to hire you after you
stormed out of here and screwed up at Mercy.
You really think it�s a good idea to piss her off too?�

�But on the other hand,� said
Foreman, walking around House�s cane and continuing down the hall. �She�s going to feel a certain amount of
gratitude to me for helping to cure her.�

�You don�t cure TGA,� House pointed
out, �It resolves on its own.�

�If it is TGA.�

�It is,� House insisted.

�And if it isn�t? Foreman asked,
stopping and turning back to look at him.

�Well,� replied House, tilting his
head to consider the question. �Let�s
just hope �My Little Pony� doesn�t have a broken leg. Then we�ll have to shoot her!�

By this time they were standing
outside a pair of swinging double doors with glass windows at the top. House peered through one of the windows and
saw that Cameron was pulling the privacy screen around the only bed that was
occupied in the long, ward-like room.

�So,� said Foreman, standing behind
him. �Is this going to be one of those
cases where you�ve already settled on a diagnosis and ignore any test results
that don�t support your hypothesis?�

�Absolutely not,� said House,
turning back to face him. �It�s going to
be one of those cases where you stop wasting time by arguing with me, do the
tests I tell you to do and prove that I�m right.�

Using his elbow to push open the
door, he strode into the room.

�Happy
trails to you,� he warbled, pushing the curtains aside.

Cuddy was sitting on the end of the
bed and Cameron was putting a blood pressure cuff around her arm. They stared blankly as House grinned broadly
at both of them.

�You�re comparing me to Dale Evans
for some reason?� asked Cuddy, uncertainly, squinting her eyes.

�Close, but no cigar,� House said,
reaching over to pick her chart up from the bed.

�Ask Foreman, I hear he�s anxious
to talk to you about it,� he said, quickly flipping through the few pieces of
paper contained within the slim folder.
�Something about trigger
factors,� he said, tossing the file onto a nearby cart.

Cuddy�s eyes flicked over to Foreman,
who only shook his head and bent down to take a seat on a stool next to the
cart. He picked up the chart and began
reading it.

�You can put down 80 over 60 as the
BP,� murmured Cameron, removing the stethoscope from her ears and releasing the
pressure from the cuff.

Foreman nodded and took a pen out
of his pocket to note the numbers down on the chart.

�What�s wrong with this picture?�
murmured House, stepping back and tilting his head to the side.

�I know,� said Cameron,
smiling. �It�s very difficult to get
used to the idea of a fellow physician as a patient,� she said, patting Cuddy
on the shoulder.

�No,� said House, shaking his
head. �I mean, what�s up with this?� he
asked, stepping forward and feeling the sleeve of Cuddy�s hospital gown. �Are you sure this is the only style it comes
in?� he asked, dropping his hand. �She�d
really prefer something a little more low-cut, maybe with slits up the sides?�

Cuddy rolled her eyes and turned to
look at Cameron, who was tying a tourniquet around her left arm and preparing
to draw blood.

�Why are you using Betadine?� asked
House, leaning over and pointing at the orange oval that Cameron had just
painted upon Cuddy�s arm.

�Because I�m drawing a blood
culture,� replied Cameron, her tone implying that the answer was obvious as she
inserted the needle.

�Yeah,� snorted House, �Temperature
of 98.6, normal pulse and respiration, complete lack of chills,� he noted. �My first guess would be septicemia too!�

�An infection could cause clots,
which could cause strokes,� she replied, her eyes focused on her task as she
switched tubes.

�But she didn�t have a stroke,�
insisted House.

�Well, after we get the blood tests
back, we should be able to confirm that,� murmured Cameron.

Cuddy remained still, turning only
her head back and forth as they debated.

�No wonder this hospital is so hard
up for money that we had to start charging for cable,� he fumed, �with all this
unnecessary testing being performed.�

Cameron looked up at Cuddy. �Remind me to tell you about the time he
fried the MRI magnet trying to use it on a guy with bullet fragments in his
head.�

�House!� said Cuddy, turning to him
in outrage.

�The guy was already dead,� he said. �Tattletale!� he added, glaring at Cameron.

�Yeah,� she murmured, reaching up
to release the tourniquet. �Hold this,�
she said to Cuddy, pressing a piece of cotton gauze against her arm as she
removed the needle.

�So, what did you plan on ordering?�
he asked, stepping over to study the tubes she had drawn.

�CBC, CMP, INR, PTT, D-Dimer and
blood cultures,� she replied, placing a piece of tape over the gauze to hold it
in place. �Pretty standard stuff.�

�Except for the blood culture,�
sniffed House. �You drew plenty of extra
too,� he noted.

�For whatever weird, esoteric tests
you ask me to run later,� she said, grinning up at him.

�My turn now,� asked Foreman,
moving the stool closer to the end of the bed.

�Sure,� said House, stepping back
and sitting down on the side of the bed.

�Dr. Cuddy,� he began, throwing her
a friendly smile. �Please know that I
don�t mean to be at all condescending-�

�Yeah, right,� interjected House.

Cuddy threw him an annoyed glance
and then returned her attention to Foreman.

�But your memory is a little
impaired at the moment and since your specialty is not neurology, I want to
make sure that you know what we think we are dealing with here, and why.�

�Oh, don�t be so delicate,
Foreman,� House urged. �The woman has
been a hospital administrator for nearly a decade. We all know that whatever medical knowledge
she possessed was sucked out of her brain years ago, along with her soul.�

This time, both Foreman and Cuddy
ignored him completely.

�When a patient presents with
amnesia, we first determine what information appears to have been forgotten. You obviously know who you are, you�re
capable of carrying on a conversation, there is no apparent change in
personality, but you have seemingly lost your memory of recent and some
not-so-recent events.�

�But you and Dr. House don�t think
I�ve had a stroke,� she said.

�No,� he said shaking his head,
�Although I am not going to rule that
out until we get the labwork and imaging studies back,� he said, glancing over
her shoulder at House. �You do not
appear to have any problem with speech or mobility, and you�re showing no sign
of paralysis or weakness in your limbs,� he continued. �Your memory since the attack seems to be
fine. For example,� he said, leaning
towards her, �if I asked you how you got to the Emergency Room?�

�Dr House drove me here in my car,�
she replied, swiftly. �Since his own car
was in the shop.�

Foreman blinked and turned to look
at House. �Your car was working fine
when you left here Friday afternoon,� he said, suspiciously.

�Yeah,� House agreed, nodding his
head.

Cuddy looked puzzled for a moment,
and then she groaned and clucked her tongue.

�You lied to me,� she hissed,
turning to stare at House.

�Hey,� he shrugged, without
a trace of guilt, �would you have let me drive your precious BMW otherwise?�

�Anyway,� said
Foreman, �it would appear much more likely that you are suffering from TGA, or
Transient Global Amnesia.�

�Which sounds like a fancy way to
say I�m suffering from a temporary but extensive loss of memory,� she said,
smiling.

�Exactly,� Foreman replied, nodding
his head.

�If it�s not a stroke, what�s going
on in my brain to cause this?� she asked.

�If it is TGA, the MRI and PET
should show that you have areas of hypoperfusion in the mesial temporal
structure and/or the thalamus, and that they are probably already beginning to
resolve on their own.�

�So, I have had a temporary
disruption of blood flow to my brain which has affected my memory centers, but
it hasn�t progressed to an actual infarction and tissue death.�

Foreman nodded again.

�But, what would have caused this
temporary disruption?� she asked.

Foreman shrugged. �A number of seemingly benign actions have
been proven to cause a significant congestion of venous blood flow, leading to temporarily
impaired cranial circulation. Some cases
of TGA are believed to have been triggered by something as simple as the
patient performing a Valsalva maneuver.�

�Sneezing?� asked Cuddy, her eyes
widening in disbelief.

�Technically, it�s purposefully
keeping your mouth and nose shut while trying to forcibly exhale, but, yeah,
some patients have caused it by trying to suppress a really large sneeze,� he
said, raising his fingers to pinch his nose and miming the action.

�You know what else can cause it?�
House said, rising to his feet.

Cameron, Cuddy and Foreman all
turned to look at him.

�Humping!� he said, energetically pumping his
pelvis into the air a few times. �Your
turn,� he said, pointing at Cameron.
�This is better than charades!� he enthused.

It was immensely satisfying to
House that, even after all these years, he could manage to provoke that, �Ew, I
don�t believe you just did that!� look on Cameron�s face. For his part, Foreman was sitting back on the
stool, arms folded over his chest, regarding House with one of his patented one-eyebrow-raised
stares. The daggers being thrown from
Cuddy�s icy blue eyes would have reduced a lesser man to a quivering mass of
jelly.

House smiled broadly and stepped
over to throw his arm around Cuddy�s shoulder.
�We were having a sneezing contest,� he quickly assured them, before
leaning back and giving Cameron and Foreman an exaggerated wink. �She was cheating,� he added, as Cuddy
shrugged away from him.

�How do we proceed from here?�
asked Cuddy, returning her attention to Foreman.

�Well, I�ll be performing a full
neurological exam to make sure we aren�t missing any abnormalities, and we make
sure the blood tests and scans are all consistent with our tentative diagnosis. Then you basically just sit back and wait for
your memory to return on your own.�

�How soon will that be?�

�Should be twenty-four hours tops,
and maybe as little as three or four,� he assured her.

�But, I�ll probably want to keep
you overnight anyway,� Cameron said, walking over to her other side and
beginning to put the tourniquet around her right arm.

�Because she�s always way more
cautious than she needs to be,� said House.
�Which is why you are drawing more blood?� he asked.

�Just getting a second blood
culture,� she replied, leaning over to gather her supplies.

House reached over and jerked the
knot loose, causing the end of the latex strip to snap loudly against Cuddy�s
arm.

�Ouch!� she said, rubbing her reddened
skin.

�She didn�t need the first one,�
House insisted, tossing the tourniquet over to Cameron.

�And you know what House?� said
Cameron, catching it in her fingers as she raised herself to her full height
and planted her hands on her hips, �It�s not your call.�

He narrowed his eyes and stared
down at her.

�She�s in the ER and I am her
attending physician at the moment,� she said, her nostrils flaring
slightly. �Foreman is here as a
consulting neurologist and you,� she
said, pointing a finger at his chest, �are just the guy that brought the
patient in.�

They glared at each other for a few
seconds and then House stepped back and feigned wiping a tear away from his
eye. �Ah, my little girl is all growed
up and ordering tests on her own,� he said, walking back to the side of the
bed. �Fine,� he said, sitting down
again, �draw your stupid blood culture.�

�I will,� Cameron assured him,
tying the tourniquet around Cuddy�s arm again.

�I�ll just sit here and be quiet.�

�That�ll be the day,� murmured
Cameron, rolling her eyes.

�No, I mean it,� he said, lying
back on the pillows and lifting his feet up on the mattress. �I�m not going to say a word,� he promised, pulling
his cap over his eyes and crossing his long legs.

The three other doctors stared at
him suspiciously.

�Especially,� he said, lifting his
head so that he could squint at Cameron, �when you ask �Anna Anderson� here if
she can tell you anything about her current medical history.�

Cameron�s hand hovered over Cuddy�s
arm, an orange-colored swab gripped in fingers.
She looked at House for a moment and then turned to meet Cuddy�s gaze.

�Your chart here is pretty slim,�
she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.
�All we have is your pre-employment physical, your latest Hepatitis B
titers and your yearly TB tests.�

She hesitated for a few seconds
more and then reached up to release the tourniquet.

�You win,� she said to House,
straightening up and tossing the iodine swab into the garbage.

He smiled and pushed the cap back
off his forehead. �Don�t do the talk if
you can�t do the walk,� he advised, rising back to a sitting position. �Ready to write?� he asked.

By this time Cameron had settled
herself into a chair and had picked up the chart. Taking a pen from her pocket, she nodded her
head.

�The patient is a healthy, fairly
buxom and exceptionally well-assed female-,� he began.

Cuddy groaned and closed her eyes.

�-who has, in the past two years,
been consulting with doctors Irwin and Keel at the Trenton Fertility Clinic. She has also obviously not chosen to have
copies of her treatment there sent to her chart here at the hospital.�

�Approximately two years ago, the
patient began investigating the possibility of becoming pregnant by utilizing
�In Vitro Fertilization�. The initial
testing revealed that, to her doctors� surprise, the patient was not only in
possession of female reproductive organs, but that they appeared to be in
reasonable working order.�

Opening her eyes, Cuddy sighed and
crossed her arms. She noted that Dr.
Foreman and Dr. Cameron were doing their best to keep their expressions
noncommittal.

�After a self-medicated course of
�Red Clover�, the patient embarked on a series of injectable gonadotropins and
used really stupid criteria to select an anonymous sperm donor before
undergoing oocyte retrieval and fertilization.�

Cuddy turned to glare at
House.

�Real loser,� he said, shaking his
head. �To continue,� he said, frowning
in concentration, �there were three subsequent attempts to implant a fertilized
embryo. The first two were unsuccessful,
and the third implanted but was spontaneously aborted after only a few days.�

There was a short silence.

�I�m sorry,� said Cameron, reaching
out to pat Cuddy�s knee. �I had no
idea,� she said, gently.

�Well, obviously, in my current
condition, I don�t either,� said Cuddy, trying to make a joke.

She stared down at her feet, resisting
the urge to rub her hand over her stomach.
Even though a moment ago she had not known about the loss of the child
she had so briefly carried, her womb felt curiously empty.

�After the third attempt had
failed-�

Cuddy squeezed her eyes shut and
tried not to flinch at the word.

�-there was serious discussion
between the patient and her doctors as to whether another course of IVF was
advisable. Although no specific
structural or hormonal abnormalities had been encountered during the IVF
attempts, the patient ultimately decidedly that she preferred not to continue
pursuing this expensive and invasive process.�

�Instead,� he said stretching out
his legs and massaging his thigh, �the patient decided to pursue the
possibility of becoming pregnant using fertility-enhancing drugs. To that end, she was placed temporarily on
oral contraceptives in order to re-establish a normal menstrual cycle. The oral contraceptives were withdrawn, and
the subsequent hormone level measurements and continuation of a regular cycle
confirmed that the patient was still capable of ovulation. For the past four months, the patient has
been taking clomiphene citrate, beginning with a 50 mg dose that has
subsequently been increased to 100 mg. The
patient is carefully monitoring her ovulation by using a commercially available
fertility kit in combination with close observation of her rectal
temperature. When it appears she is
ovulating, she is spiritedly engaging in coitus with her new, improved sperm
donor, Dr. Gregory House.�

He waited for Cameron to finish
writing before continuing.

�Dr. Cameron will please note in
the chart that these acts of copulation were confined to the interior of Dr.
House�s apartment, and at no time did he and Dr. Cuddy attempt to have carnal
knowledge of each other while on hospital property; say in the janitor�s closet
or a bed in the Sleep Disorder Laboratory.�

�What?� said Cuddy, startled,
�Who-�

�Not important,� House assured her
waving his hand. �I�m sure that no one
here would think of gossiping about
anyone�s sex life,� he said. �At least I
wasn�t sleeping with a drug rep,� he added, smiling at Dr. Foreman.

�Earlier this morning, at
approximately 2 a.m., Dr. House was
awakened from a post-coital slumber by Dr. Cuddy. Although Dr. House first attributed Dr.
Cuddy�s agitation to the fact that she had obviously been experiencing a
nightmare, after she physically assaulted him he began to suspect that her
condition was potentially much more serious.
It quickly became clear that she was suffering from more than
post-nightmare confusion, and since she had only had two glasses of wine the
previous night, it did not appear to be an alcohol-induced blackout. After calming the patient down and performing
a brief neurological exam, Dr. House delivered the patient to the Emergency
Room at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

�She assaulted you?� asked Foreman,
looking at him with interest.

�She kicked me in the thigh,� he
said. �The right thigh,� he added.

�Given the circumstances, you
probably got off lightly,� commented Cameron.
�I wouldn�t have aimed for his leg,� she said, looking at Cuddy.

�I wasn�t aiming at anything,�
Cuddy protested, �it just kind of happened.�

�You�re just a fountain of
compassion,� House said to Cameron. �It
really hurt,� he whined, rubbing his leg again.

�Yeah,� said Cameron, nodding.

�Will you write me a Vicodin script?�

�No,� she said, shaking her
head. �So, is there a chance��

She had begun to direct the question
to Dr. Cuddy, but realized mid-sentence that she would have to ask House
instead, and turned back to him.

�-that she is pregnant now?�

�As of noon yesterday, she was ovulating. Since then, she�s had over a billion chances
to get pregnant,� he replied.

�A billion?�

He shrugged. �You know, about four hundred to five hundred
million sperm per release times three releases,� he explained.

He turned and smiled again at
Foreman.

�Sure it�s not your Viagra that you
need refilled?� asked Foreman, dryly. �Or
are you using Cialis?�

�No, it�s okay,� said House,
shaking his head. �Dr. Irwin wrote me a
script for that.� He was quiet for a
moment. �But, the bastard wouldn�t write
me one for Vicodin, even after I explained that it was medically necessary for
some of those positions they recommended.�

�House, they do not need a �blow by
blow� description of everything we do,� Cuddy protested.

�No blowing,� said House, laughing
derisively. �That would kind of be defeating the purpose of why you were there. I mean, your anatomy�s not that screwed up.�

�Anyway,� interjected Cameron, �I
guess we could go ahead and run a quantitative HCG.�

�Even that test isn�t sensitive
enough to detect if she�s been pregnant less than twenty four hours,� protested
House.

�No, but we could get a baseline
and test it again in a few days and see if it�s at least rising,� said
Cameron.

House considered this for a
moment. �All right,� he said, nodding
his head. �As long as you delete the
blood culture.�

�No,� said Cameron, reaching over
for a lab requisition and beginning to fill it out. �I am going to do it in addition to all the
other tests, plus run an LFT panel since you�re on Clomid,� she told Cuddy.

�Do you think that this problem was
at all caused by my medication?� Cuddy asked, directing her question at Foreman.

�No,� he said, �To tell you the
truth, the typical patient presenting with TGA is usually over fifty, and some
studies have indicated that women�s attacks are more commonly associated with
an emotional trigger like high stress situations rather than a physical cause.�

�So, this may not even have been
caused by the sex?� she asked.

�Maybe by the stress of having sex
with me,� House suggested. �They were
both too polite to say that, but we know they were thinking it,� he whispered
to Cuddy.

�Then why did you have to tell them
every detail?� sputtered Cuddy.

�Hey, I didn�t tell them every
detail! For example, I didn�t tell them
that we started out on the couch and-�

�Don�t you dare, House!� exclaimed
Cuddy, her face instantly flushing an angry red.

�Cuddy, you�re not going to die of
embarrassment because of what I�ve just told them,� said House, rising to his
feet. �But, as Dr. Foreman pointed out
to me in the hallway, I have often had a patient end up on death�s doorstep
because either he or his family felt something was a little too embarrassing or
a detail too unimportant to mention to us.
I am absolutely sure that you are suffering from TGA, but if it turns
out that you�re not,� he said, holding out his hands, �then maybe something
I�ve revealed here will turn out to be absolutely vital to the diagnosis.�

�Come on, Cuddy,� he said, shaking
his head. �Would I have handed all this
ammunition to Foreman if I thought I could have avoided it?�

She looked at him uncertainly for a
moment.

�Okay,� he said, lowering his head
for a moment, �you don�t remember Dr. Foreman well enough to make that
call.� He raised his eyes back to her
face. �But you can believe me when I say
that there is no way in hell I wanted anyone in this hospital to know what we were
doing, much less why,� he said, tiredly.

She studied his face for a moment,
and then nodded.

There was a long silence in the
room.

�One more thing,� said Cameron.

Cuddy turned to look at her.

�We�re going to need a urine sample
too,� she said, holding out a collection cup.

�You think the less-sensitive urine
test is better than the quantitative serum one?� said House.

�No,� she said, shaking her
head. �But, since you are suffering from
loss of memory, we do need to run a tox screen on you just to be sure there�s
nothing else causing it.�

House slapped his palm against his
head. �A urine drug screen!� he
exclaimed. He peered over at Cuddy,
�Now, why didn�t you think of that?�

Cuddy just made a face at House and
put her hand out for the cup as she jumped off the end of the bed.

�I�ll go with you,� said Cameron.

�You don�t have to,� Cuddy said,
pulling back the privacy curtain.
�Surprisingly enough, I seem to remember where the bathrooms are at this
place.�

�Makes sense to me,� House called
after her. �After all, you spent all
that time writing your name and phone number on all the walls.�

�That�s how we hooked up,� he said,
directing this to Foreman and Cameron.

Cameron just shook her head and
focused on finishing writing up the lab requisition and labeling the tubes.

House sat down on the edge of the
bed again. �Check to see how long it�s
going to be to get the MRI,� he said to Foreman.

He nodded and walked over to the
wall phone and dialed a number. After a
short conversation, he replaced the receiver back on the hook and turned to
House.

�Still about half an hour to
forty-five minutes before we can get in,� he said, sounding slightly
frustrated.

�Good,� said House, standing
up.

�Good?�

�That gives you plenty of time to
do a full neurological exam and to get some of the labwork back before you take
her in. Be sure to include all the
�bells and whistles�, and let me know if you find anything wrong, even if it�s
slight,� he said. �Since, if it is TGA,
we expect to find absolutely nothing.�

�Will do.�

House walked over to the stack of
Cuddy�s discarded clothes, which were lying on another cart, and began fishing
through the pockets. Finally finding the
bottle of Vicodin she had taken away from him, he transferred it to the pocket
of his blazer.

�And when you get the imaging
results, come wake me up,� he said, beginning to walk out of the cubicle.

�Wake you up?� asked Foreman.

House nodded. �I�m going to be in my office sleeping.�

Both Cameron and Foreman looked at
him with puzzled expressions upon their faces.

�It�s the middle of the night
people, at least one of us should be sleeping,� he observed. �I nominate me,� he said, pushing the curtain
aside and limping out of the room.

He was halfway to the elevator
before he heard her heels clicking down the hallway behind him. He ignored it and attempted to quicken his
pace, although he knew there was no chance that he could outrun her.

�House? House!�

Cameron finally caught up with him
and grabbed him by the elbow, forcing him to stop and turn towards her. He saw that she was carrying a clear, plastic
bag that held Cuddy�s blood samples in her other hand.

�Where are you going?� she asked,
sounding clearly annoyed.

He reared back, his eyebrows
knitted together. �I�m going to my
office,� he said, sounding surprised.
�Don�t you remember,� he asked, sounding concerned.

�Hmm, epidemic amnesia, maybe this
isn�t TGA,� he mused, out loud. �Unless-�
he said, slowly, snapping his fingers.

�Did you and Dr. Foreman just have
sex?� he asked, at the top of his voice.
He was immediately gratified to see that his exclamation had caused at
least half a dozen of nearby employees to stop in their tracks and gaze
curiously at them.

Cameron ignored them completely and
continued scowling at House.

�Why aren�t you staying with her?�

�You think I need to stay in there
while Foreman gives the exam? Why?� He tilted his head to the side. �You think they�re going to have sex, now that he�s discovered how easy she
is?�

�Do you have any idea of how scared
she is right now?�

He stared down at her silently for
several seconds.

�What exactly is it that you want
me to do?� he said, finally. �Stay in
there and hold her hand?� he asked, facetiously.

�Maybe,� she replied.

�I hate to shatter your illusions,
Cameron, but most guys, after they�ve gotten to third base, aren�t really
interested in going back to the �holding hands� stage,� he confided to her.

She just shook her head in
disbelief.

�But, you know someone who is very
good at holding hands?� he asked. �You
are,� he said, patting her shoulder. �Go
hold her hand,� he urged, turning away from her.

He had taken only one step before
she had managed to stride past him and block his way.

�I would, House, except for two
things. In the first place, you are
apparently the only person she really remembers at the moment. And secondly, I have other patients I have to
attend to right now.�

�Oh, yeah, that�s right,� he said,
breaking into a smile. �You have other
patients, but I don�t, do I? In fact,�
he added, leaning on his cane, �I have no
patients at the moment, remember?
You specifically told me that I�m not her physician, right?�

�House,� she began, sounding
frustrated.

�And you know what else, Cameron?�
he asked, his voice beginning to rise in anger.
�I�m not her husband either. Or
her boyfriend. I am sure your inherently
rose-colored nature has already painted a romantic glow over this whole
situation, but the fact is-�

He bent down to move closer to
her. �I�m just her fucking sperm
donor. The fact that it�s being
delivered via a penis rather than a syringe and she�s getting a little
incidental pleasure doesn�t mean she�s any more emotionally involved with me
than she was with her last donor.�

Her mouth dropped open in shock,
and a look of absolute disgust crossed her face. But, it lasted just a moment before a being
replaced by a look of dawning comprehension.

�Oh, god,� House groaned, closing
his eyes for a moment. �Let me guess,
you�re about to give me some advice?� he asked, resignedly.

�Yes,� said Cameron, nodding. �Don�t do this, House,� she said, quietly.

�Don�t do what?� he snapped,
screwing up his eyes and mouth.

�Don�t do this to yourself and
please don�t do this to her,� she whispered.

�What?� he asked, throwing out his
hands.

�Don�t push her away like this,�
she said, her voice a mixture of sadness and concern.

For the briefest of moments, she
hoped that he might actually listen to her.
But instead, she found herself involuntarily jumping backwards as he suddenly
raised his cane to her shoulder.

�Can I push you away like this?� he
asked, mockingly, shoving her back with the cane. �Hey, it works!� he noted, happily.

�House,� she began, and then
immediately recoiled as he lurched towards her again.

�Tell you what though,� he said,
snatching the bag out of her fingers.
�Since the lab is on my way to the office, I�ll go ahead and deliver it
for you.� He turned and began to limp away
from her.

Her head dropped tiredly to her
chest, and she rubbed her hand wearily across her forehead. The sudden sound of shattering glass made her
jump and turn in surprise.

House was standing next to a
plastic biohazard waste container that was mounted on the wall.

�By the way,� he said, resealing
the bag. �Expect a call from the lab in
a few minutes, complaining that you ordered a blood culture but they can�t find
the tube.�

He smiled triumphantly.

�Told you not to draw it.�

With a sigh, she turned to make her
way back to the ER.

A few minutes later, he was at his
desk, turning on the lamp and rubbing his eyes with his fingers as he waited
for his computer to boot up.

He took Cuddy�s cell phone out of
his pocket and switched it on, searching her directory, looking for the names
of various members of the board and hospital administration. Finally finding the name of the person he
hated most, and who therefore would give him the greatest pleasure in awakening
at this ungodly hour, he punched a button to begin the call. He only let it ring one time, however, when
he abruptly switched the phone off.

Pulling out a desk drawer, he
searched for a while before finally pulling out a piece of paper which he
placed on top of the desk. Consulting
the numbers written upon it, he reached for his desk phone and dialed.

There were two rings before a beep
sounded and a mechanical voice informed him that �The number you have reached is not a working number.�

Sighing, he reached over and
pressed down on the receiver hook.
Lifting the receiver to his ear, he reached over and dialed a different
number. After four rings, a sleepy female
voice answered on the other end.

�Hello?�

Oh,
great, she had to answer.

�Put Wilson
on,� he said.

There was a slight pause. �Is this House?� asked the voice.

�Is this Cut Throat Bitch?� he asked,
his voice rising in feigned surprise.
�Hey, I didn�t expect you to be there, Wilson
told me he was planning on dumping you this weekend! Oh, I guess he decided to
give you one more for the road, kind of a �let her down easy� maneuver or-�

�Sorry, House.� It was Wilson�s
voice now. �But Amber was handing the
phone over to me, so neither of us really got a chance to hear that
diatribe. Shall I put you on speaker
phone so you can repeat it?�

�No, but thanks for asking,� he
said.

�So, House,� Wilson
said, suppressing a yawn, �what�s up-at four-thirty in the morning-besides you,
and therefore us?�

There was a short pause.

�I assume that you have Stacy�s new
unlisted phone number?�

He could imagine each and every one
of the Wilson�s myriad responses to
his request. There would first be a look
of doubt, as Wilson made sure he
had not simply misheard what House had said.
Then he would frown and try to figure out why House was asking and then,
of course, why he was specifically asking him and then, finally, why this
conversation was taking place at this time of the morning.

�House,� he said, slowly, his mind
still obviously trying to process all the possibilities, �are you drunk?�

�No, but thanks for asking,� he
repeated.

�House, I know this is a completely
unproductive exercise, because you�re obviously going to find some way to get
her number whether I give it to you or not, but I�m going to take a swing at it
anyway.�

House sighed and lifted his legs to
the desk, knowing he was in for one of Wilson�s
lectures.

�It�s taken them over two years,
but Stacy and Mark have just managed to get their marriage back on track,� he
began.

�And you know this because?�

There was another short pause and
then Wilson sighed again. �Because, Amber and I had dinner with them
just last week.�

�Oh, my, that must have been cozy,�
observed House, tilting his chair back. �The President, Vice-President and Secretary of the �I Hate House
Club� all sitting at one table.
What special celebrations are they planning this year?�

�Well, they�re trying to find an
arena big enough to hold the annual �Burn House in Effigy� event. Unfortunately, The Meadowlands seems to be
pretty booked up this year.�

There was another pause.

�Do me a favor, House, please wait
until Monday morning and then, if you�re still determined to talk to her-�

�I think that will be too late,�
said House, frowning. �I�m sure she�ll
be discharged by then.�

�Who�ll be discharged?�

�Cuddy.�

�From where?�

�The hospital.�

�Are you serious?�

�Yes.�

�Seriously?�

�Am I ever anything but?�

�Ah,-�

�Look at your caller ID, Wilson,
I�m calling from my office.�

He heard the bed creak as Wilson
apparently looked over to double-check.

�Okay.�

�And Cuddy is in the ER right now,
getting a neurological exam and waiting her turn, like a good girl, for the
MRI.�

�Oh, my god, House, what is it?�

�Oh, just a touch of amnesia, you
know, the twenty-four-hour kind.�

�Seriously?�

�We�re not starting that again,� he
informed him. �Anyway, her
overconscientious doctor seems to think that it might be beneficial to her to
have someone she knows nearby for a while, and I guess she may be right. I have no idea who she considers a close
personal friend at the moment-�

�Besides yourself?�

�Yeah, right,� House snorted. �But, she did specifically mention Stacy�s
name earlier, so I�m betting that it wouldn�t hurt for her to come out. You know, hold her hand for awhile.�

�Sure,� said Wilson. �I will give her a call right away.�

�Thanks, and be sure to give Mark
my regards,� he said. �Hey, by the way,
ask him how that whole walking thing is going.�

�I hate to break this to you,
House, but he has actually recovered full use of his legs.�

House laughed shortly. �Just when I thought my night couldn�t get
any better,� he murmured.

�House?� Are you okay?�

�Of course, my memory is
absolutely, remorselessly clear at the moment.�

�Do you want me to come in?�

He considered the question for a
moment. �Sure,� he said, shrugging his
shoulders. �Unless Foreman�s really messed
up the exam, she still has the use of both hands. You can come hold one too.�

�I meant-�

House�s finger pressed down on the
hook before he could finish his sentence.
He released the hook and then placed the receiver next to the phone,
ensuring that Wilson could not call
him back.

With a grimace, he lowered his feet
to the floor and then bent down to open another drawer. This time, there was no need to search, and
he grasped the whiskey bottle by the neck with his right hand while unscrewing the
lid with his left. He raised it to his
lips and took a large swallow. He placed
it on the desk and then searched in his pockets. Bringing out the Vicodin bottle, he dispensed
another pill into his hand and then reached for the liquor, taking another swig
to swallow it down.

He smiled and turned over to his
music system, switching on the turntable and lifting the stylus to place it on
the third grooved section of the disc.
The strains of a loud, jazzy song immediately rang out in the empty
office. He reached over to turn the
volume up a couple of notches and then reached over to pick up Cuddy�s cell
phone. He punched in the number again,
and tapped his fingers in rhythm with the music as he waited for his call to be
answered.

�Hi!� he shouted over the music. �Is this Bob Smithers? Sorry to wake you up so early on Sunday
morning��
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Torch Songs for Two