Rash(ness)
Standard disclaimer applies.
Complete OneShot Crossover of Labyrinth/House. Enjoy if you can.
Working at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital under the direction of House made Robert's life very much like a transoceanic voyage: there were days of excitement and life or death decisions but mostly there was routine. And routine was tragically boring.
It didn't help that the department had hit a bit of a dry spell. The only new cases had been easily remedied and the depths of boredom they were reaching were all too apparent in his colleagues' activities: Cameron, after watching House for far too long, was teaching herself how to juggle while Foreman reviewed countless cases in search of something interesting enough to call to House's attention.
He tried watching them, finding humor in Foreman's complaints and Cameron's straight faced attempts at catching, but found that despite the lightness of the activities, the atmosphere was entirely too serious. He wanted to see something not quite so absurdly boring and silent. He wanted to see something light. He wanted to see something interesting. For all these reasons, he found himself in the children's wing.
For those who can appreciate it, the children's wing of any hospital can be a wealth of good emotion. Even the sickest of children seem to find smiles and the mood is Enforced Upbeat. The usual hospital smell and attire is usually purposefully subdued in favor of apple air freshener and colorful smocks. If one knows how to forget the reason these children are here, and Robert was thusly skilled, the wing could be a haven even for those who do not like children.
There was a woman in the hall when he entered the wing, a fairly pretty woman with dark hair and clear features, but she was obviously anxious as she waited outside a closed door. Not particularly interested in becoming part of the hospital's everyday drama, he walked slowly, soaking up the atmosphere while avoiding eye contact. When the door opened, however, he couldn't help but watch as she spoke to the exiting nurse before exhaling with relief and entering the patient's room. He noted the room number and decided checking the patient's file might relieve him of some of his boredom.
It didn't help at all. Child, male, aged eight, in for broken leg -- it was a routine case and the only thing remotely intriguing were the scratches through the boy's eye color (were they brown or green or blue?), as well as one question mark near the end -- "right forearm: rash?" The eye color issue was worth a slight snort as no one really looked at eye color anyway, but the hesitancy present in the rash comment made him wonder. After all, a rash was a rash was a rash. There was generally no question whether a rash was a rash or not. Why was this rash so questionable?
His curiosity was piqued, and he was fairly to moderately sure it had nothing to do with the attractive woman that was in all probability the boy's mother.
The door to the room was open when he approached, and he could hear the pleasant sounds of the woman's voice. The subject matter became clear only after he paused out of sight beyond the door.
"'Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be! Take this child of mine far away from me!'" she said dramatically as the child giggled.
"Mom, did you really think that would work?"
"Of course not, but then I didn't expect the actual words to work either. 'I wish' is so common it made it unexpected, which is exactly as your father wanted it."
"When is Dad coming back?"
"When he's done. You know as well as anyone how long 13 hours can last."
"It's long this time."
"Yes, it is, but he'll be here soon enough."
They lapsed into silence and Robert, feeling a bit silly at wishing to interrupt them because he was bored, backed out and away. A rash was just a rash, after all, and would undoubtedly disappoint him.
Thus, an interesting development in his routine life was delayed for three hours until House became inextricably involved, as usual.
Sarah Williams hated being a single mother, especially as she was by no means single. However, as the Underground would have to be recognized as a sovereign nation, let alone a real place, before its laws could be recognized Above, she found it altogether easier to forgo explaining her awkward relationship status and grudgingly accepted the much simpler title of Single Mother.
As an attractive woman and Single Mother, she was more than accustomed to being flirted with, especially in elevators. However, she was not accustomed to being spoken to as if she were an idiot.
"Did it not occur to you that visiting a sick person while you yourself are sick might not be the best idea?"
The man didn't even bother looking at her when he said it, but she could see his eyes in the reflection on the elevator door.
"I'm not sick," she responded while pulling out a small bottle of hand disinfectant. "It's just allergies."
"Yes. Allergic to being sick. How silly of me to assume otherwise."
"I'm not sick."
"Yeah. And you don't have a rash on your arm either."
"It isn't a rash."
"Because healthy skin naturally turns that color."
"It's... something else. I know what it is, and it isn't a rash."
For a guy on a cane, she didn't expect him to move so quickly. He had hold of her arm and was tugging up the sleeve of her sweater before she even registered his movement.
She sighed in resignation as he saw exactly what 'something else' was.
"Okay, it's not a rash. But it is interesting."
"Told you," she stated plainly while ineffectually tugging her arm away.
"The redness is definitely irritation but the sparkling... You didn't happen to have glitter tattooed into your arm, did you?"
"Would that make you let go of me?"
"Not until you give me the name of the artist." They stared at each other for several long seconds, gauging their own perceived abilities against that of the other until the elevator door finally opened, and she used his distraction to free herself from his grip.
"It's just... it's just a rash. Now if you excuse me, this is my floor."
She was smoothing out her sleeve halfway down the hall before she tempted a look behind her. The man was standing at the elevator, leaning heavily on his cane, and watching her go with a curious expression. She knew at that point that getting out of the hospital with any expediency would be trouble.
"When is a rash not a rash?"
Having had that thought almost exactly three hours before, Robert immediately took notice. His colleagues were barely phased.
"The boy on the third floor? You saw him?"
"Nooo... but now I really am interested."
"I didn't see the rash, but I looked at his chart and noticed it was speculative. When is a rash speculative?"
"When it sparkles."
"Sparkles?"
"Sparkles."
"But couldn't that be explained by irritation due to glitter? It's not uncommon."
"There's no glitter on my hands."
"And?"
"The nature of glitter is not to stick to its intended target. Glitter spreads, quicker and more effectively than a cold."
"What, then? Glass shards?"
"Because the attending can so easily miss sharp pointy things embedded into the skin."
"Trick of the light?"
"The attending's eyesight is tragically perfect."
"Irritation of the sweat glands or follicles?"
"Sparkly, not icky."
"Instead of arguing over adjectives, why don't we go look at the rash?"
"Brilliant idea, but she's probably hiding from me. I might have been too touchy."
"Is the patient admitted?"
"She isn't. Chase seems to know more about it though."
"It's probably unrelated. A boy in the children's wing has a speculative rash."
"Two similar unusual items occurring within hours of each other are usually unrelated. Check out the kid. I bet you his arm sparkles."
"Jared, we need to go."
"Mom?"
"Pull on your shirt, then I'll help you with the shorts."
"What happened, Mom?"
"My arm."
"Oh."
She was rushing, even though she didn't believe the man could possibly put the puzzle together so quickly. Still, it was better to be well out of the way by the time anyone came looking for her.
However, she underestimated him. She was helping her son into the wheelchair when the room was invaded by the rude man and several doctors. Upon seeing her, the rude man grinned and turned to his colleagues.
"That's twenty from each of you."
A bit irritated, she turned back to her son, making sure he was comfortable. Perhaps if she ignored them, they would go away. It happened in the Underground often enough.
"Don't mind us. We're just here on official doctor business."
"It's unnecessary. We were just leaving."
"Were you?" He raised his cane to block the doorway. She glared pointedly, but it only seemed to humor him.
"Do you mind?"
"Absolutely. Show us the kid's arm, and we might stop minding."
"It's just a rash."
"No, it isn't, and we've already had this argument."
"It's not your concern."
"Nope, but it is curious."
"Curious or not, we are leaving."
"But, you see, there's all these tricky forms you need to fill out before you can check out a kid early. Really tricky forms when you have four doctors on your arm."
"Why won't you leave?"
"Cripples aren't good at running away."
"Mom..."
"His leg is cast, and the rash is nothing. You can't keep us here."
"It's ridiculously easy to make a rash something."
"Mom, Dad's here."
Sarah paused, looked away from the annoying doctor's bemused expression, and turned her gaze instead to the bemused King relaxing in the doorway.
"Am I interrupting anything?"
"Jareth, thank goodness. Do you mind?"
Though Sarah well knew that such a request would put her in her King's debt, she grinned smugly as she wheeled her son through the jungle of frozen doctors and out of the room.
Robert blinked, dropped his hand, and blinked again. All traces of the woman and her son were gone, as well as any sign of the strange man that had appeared at the door.
"Where..."
"Apparently it wasn't just a rash."