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Thicker Than Water, Chapter Seven
by ParisWriter
Author's Note: Standard issure disclaimers apply on this chapter. Rachel, Miriam, and Bradley are all mine, however, so I reserve the right to make them dress up in clown uniforms and jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if it tickles my fancy.
Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed and to my wonderful betas. If I knew where you all lived, I'd send you flowers.
Chapter Seven
"Someone needs to call Shelly and tell her I'm not going to be back for a while," Rachel said before taking a sip of grape juice. Her father had promised to send food, but all she had received was juice, Jell-o and some broth - the standard, hospital-issued `liquid diet.'
"I'll call her first thing in the morning," Miriam assured her, a concerned look passing over her face.
Rachel was acting like nothing had happened. It was almost as though she hadn't heard her father say that she was suffering from failing kidneys. Miriam was bothered by her lack of melancholy. On one hand, it was a good sign that she was acting naturally - it gave her faith that Greg had been a little over-zealous in his diagnosis. On the other hand, however, if Rachel really was as sick as he said, she should at least be slightly worried.
"Sweetie," she started then stopped when Rachel gave her a withering glare.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I forgot your father--"
"Just don't call me that again," Rachel requested. "Please."
"Sorry," Miriam repeated. She stood from her chair near the door and started pacing around the room. Rachel watched her curiously as she continued sipping her juice.
"Mom, will you stop worrying already?" she requested.
"One of us has to do it."
"I'm going to be just fine," Rachel assured her mother, an annoyed sigh escaping her lips. "That's why you sent me here, isn't it - to get the best possible treatment? I know you didn't send me in hopes I would hit it off with my father."
Miriam sighed and reached up to massage her temple as she continued pacing. "I'm just concerned that things aren't going to get any better."
"You're being a hypochondriac."
Miriam stopped, her features contorted in shock at the derisive tone of voice that had just issued forth from her daughter.
"Just because I'm worried my daughter might die, I'm a hypochondriac?"
"You're over-exaggerating," Rachel argued. "I'm going to be fine."
Miriam opened her mouth to lecture her daughter about the severity of her condition when the door opened and a young man poked his head into the room. He wasn't much older than Rachel, with spiky blonde hair and blue eyes that were framed by stylish wire-rimmed glasses.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said, looking back and forth between the two women.
"Not at all, Bradley," Miriam lied, plastering a smile on her face as he came fully into the room.
"Hey Brad," Rachel called from the bed. He crossed the room and gave her a hug. After a moment they separated and he kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair down in the back as he did so.
"Your mom called and told me what was going on," he told her. "I came as soon as I could."
"You didn't have to," Rachel said as he took a seat on the bed beside her, his arm going around her shoulders. "I'm sure you're busy with work."
"Nonsense. You know I'm always willing to drop everything for my favorite girl."
Miriam smiled at the two of them, pushing her concerns to the back of her mind. They had been close ever since they were kids, hanging out together on the weekends. Bradley came home from college every weekend just to spend time with her, rather than staying to attend parties. Then he had taken a job in New York City and their time together was limited to holidays and a week every summer.
"Is this a bad time?"
Rachel turned from Bradley to the source of the voice. Standing in the doorway was the gorgeous blonde doctor from earlier.
"Not at all, Doctor... Chase, was it?"
"Yes," Chase replied, taking a few more steps into the room. He looked at both Bradley and Miriam, smiling at them in greeting.
"You must be the mother and... boyfriend?"
"Step-brother," Rachel and Bradley replied in unison.
Chase nodded. "Right. Sorry."
"What can we do for you, doctor?" Miriam asked.
Chase glanced over his shoulder at her before turning back to Rachel.
"I've come to inform you that we have placed you on the recipient list for a new kidney--"
"A new kidney?" Bradley blurted out. "I thought you were just having headaches."
"I'll explain everything to you later," Rachel assured him.
"I've also come to get you prepared for starting on dialysis," Chase continued.
"No."
The three of them turned to Rachel, surprise and shock drawn on their faces.
"Babe," Bradley said, "you gotta--"
"No," she repeated. "No dialysis."
She looked at Chase, holding eye contact with him until he was forced to look away.
"If you want to pump me full of drugs to keep my kidneys working, fine," she told him, "but no dialysis."
Chase knew there was no use trying to argue with her. If she really was House's daughter, she was bound to be as stubborn as he was.
"I'll go inform Doctor House of your decision," he stated before slipping out of the room again.
Rachel sighed heavily as she watched him go. She hated being mean to him, but she didn't want them treating her that way. Bradley let out a low whistle and she turned to him, a perplexed expression on her face.
"What?"
"You like him," he stated matter-of-factly, a wide grin spreading on his face.
"I don't even know him!"
"I can't say that I blame you. He is hot."
"Maybe you should ask him out then," she suggested.
"He's not gay," he stated, sighing dramatically. "But that doesn't mean you can't go out with him and then relay all the juicy details to me."
"Mom," Rachel whined, turning to her mother for support. Miriam simply smirked at the two of them.
"Brad's right - you should ask him out."
"He's so far out of my league it isn't even funny," Rachel stated. "Not to mention he works for my father."
"You thought Tommy was out of your league, too," Brad reminded her.
"And look what happened to me and Tommy."
"Point"
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"Hey!"
House looked back over his shoulder to see Wilson gaining on him. He had been avoiding him ever since he left Cameron in his office earlier, not wanting to have to face the inquisition that was sure to ensue.
"Hey," Wilson repeated as he stepped in front of House, blocking his escape. "I've been looking all over for you."
"And now you've found me," House replied, deliberately walking around him. "Guess that means I'm `it' now."
"What did Cameron want to talk about?" he asked, ignoring the not-so-subtle hint House was giving him to leave him alone.
"She wanted to know how I'm handling things."
"And..." Wilson prompted.
"And what?" House retorted. "I told her Rachel's going to be fine and she shouldn't get her panties in a twist over it."
"I hope you didn't use those exact words."
"Not exactly, no," House assured him as he reached the elevator, using the end of his cane to push the up button.
"Have you talked to Rachel at all?" Wilson asked as they waited for the elevator.
"I told her about her condition."
"That's not what I meant." Wilson gave him a meaningful look.
"What am I supposed to say to her?" House asked. "I'm sorry I was such a shitty dad, why don't we have a nice family hug and make up?"
"Something like that. Who knows, it might actually work."
The elevator opened before them, and they stepped aside as several of the passengers got off. They were about to get on when a familiar voice called to them. House turned on his heel to see Chase striding purposefully toward them.
"Rachel is on the transplant list," he informed them.
"Great," House said, stepping onto the elevator with Wilson. Chase hesitated for a moment before following them.
"She refused the dialysis."
House turned to him with an angry glare. "Did you explain to her how sick she is?"
Chase shook his head. "I didn't get a chance to. She is dead set on not getting dialysis."
"With the condition her kidneys are in... She'll last one week, maybe two," Wilson remarked. "Guess we'll just have to keep our fingers crossed that she'll get a donor in that time."
"That's the other bad news," Chase said.
"The other bad news?" House asked.
Chase didn't reply. He simply handed House the folder he had been carrying. House sighed and opened it, looking over the contents.
"Rachel's transplant workup?" Wilson asked.
"Yeah," answered House, still looking the results over. "I don't see what the... problem... is."
He trailed off, looking at Chase. The younger doctor cast his eyes downward, unable to meet his stare.
"You just love bringing me bad news, don't you?"
Wilson looked from one of them to the other, his face drawn up in confusion.
"Someone care to fill me in here?"
"Her blood type," House answered, turning back to him, "is AB-negative."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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