Chapter 4: The Team Assembles
The next morning brings Eric Foreman, and I know trouble when I see it.
He walks into the department at exactly eight o'clock, dressed in a pressed shirt and tie, carrying a leather portfolio like he's here for a board meeting. Johns Hopkins neurologist. Confident. Guarded. And already assessing me like I'm competition.
House doesn't bother with pleasantries.
"Chase, meet Foreman. Foreman, meet the guy I hired first because he's cheaper." House doesn't look up from his coffee. "You'll be sharing the office. Try not to kill each other."
Foreman's handshake is firm. Testing. His eyes are sharp, cataloguing everything about me in seconds.
He's threatened. Not first choice. Needs to prove he's better.
"Foreman." His voice is measured. Professional. "Neurology. You?"
"Intensive care, mostly. Some surgical background." I keep my tone neutral. "Chase."
"I know. House mentioned you yesterday." The way he says it makes it clear House didn't say anything complimentary. "You speak Japanese?"
"Missionary work, years ago."
"Huh." He sets his portfolio down on the empty desk. "Guess that's useful for the one patient per decade who presents in Japanese."
House laughs from across the room. "I like him. He's got that 'I need to be the smartest person here' energy. It's going to be fun watching you two compete."
Foreman's jaw tightens. I say nothing. This is House's game—put two people together and see what happens. Standard manipulation.
Don't play. Just work.
The door opens again, and everything shifts.
Allison Cameron walks in like she's entering a war zone prepared for casualties. Blonde hair pulled back, white coat crisp, eyes that take in everything and judge none of it. She looks younger than I expected. More idealistic. There's something in the way she carries herself—like she's been broken but taped herself back together with compassion and sheer will.
House straightens slightly. "Cameron. Welcome to the island of misfit toys."
She ignores him and walks straight to Foreman and me. Her handshake is warm, genuine. When she looks at me, there's professional courtesy but nothing more. No recognition beyond "new colleague."
Original timeline intact. She's focused on House, not me.
"Allison Cameron. Immunology." She smiles at both of us, but her attention slides past me to House. "Thank you for the opportunity, Dr. House. I'm looking forward to learning from you."
"Don't thank me yet." House grabs three folders from his desk. "We've got a case. Patient's been through four hospitals and nobody can figure out why she's dying. Sixty-year-old female, presenting with fever, confusion, and progressive organ failure. All the tests are in these files. You each get one. Present your differential in an hour."
He hands us each a folder.
"Oh, and Cameron?" House grins. "You're the team leader. Don't let the boys push you around."
Cameron blinks. "Team leader?"
"Congratulations." House limps toward his office. "Conference room in an hour. Try not to disappoint me."
He disappears behind the glass walls. Cameron looks confused. Foreman looks determined. I flip open my folder and start reading.
He told us each we're team leader. Classic House move.
Fifty minutes later, we're in the conference room. Cameron's written her differential on the whiteboard. Foreman's doing the same. They're both confident, thorough, and completely unaware they've been set up.
I stay quiet, reading through the file again. Multiple organ failure. Fever. Confusion. No clear infectious source. Autoimmune markers equivocal.
"So we start with the infectious workup," Cameron says. "Broad-spectrum antibiotics, fungal coverage—"
"That's treating symptoms, not diagnosing." Foreman cuts her off. "We need to rule out neurological causes first. The confusion could be seizure activity. Get an EEG, LP to check for meningitis—"
"I already said LP." Cameron's voice stays patient, but there's steel underneath. "And I mentioned checking for lupus, which can cause neurological symptoms—"
"You mentioned it third. Neurology should be first."
"I'm the team leader, so—"
"House said I was team leader." Foreman crosses his arms. "Half an hour ago when you were in the bathroom."
Cameron stares at him. Then at me. I keep my expression neutral.
"He told you that?" she asks slowly.
"Yeah." Foreman's starting to realize. "Wait. Did he tell you—"
"That I was team leader. Yes." Cameron looks at my silent form. "Chase? What did he tell you?"
"That I was team leader." I close the file. "About forty-five minutes ago."
The silence is sharp. Then Foreman swears under his breath.
"He set us up. He's testing us."
"To see if we'd fight." Cameron's disappointment is visible. "To see if we'd fall for it."
They both look at me. I've been quiet through their entire argument, just reading and thinking.
"You knew," Foreman accuses. "You didn't say anything."
"I suspected. Wasn't sure until now." I stand and walk to the whiteboard. "But arguing about who's in charge doesn't help the patient. She's dying. We need a diagnosis."
"You have one?" Cameron asks.
"Maybe. The organ failure pattern is interesting—kidneys, then liver, then lungs. Progressive. That's not typical infection spread." I pick up a marker. "And the confusion started after the fever, not before. That suggests a toxin or autoimmune process. What about medication reconciliation? Did anyone check what she's taking?"
Foreman flips through his file. "Herbal supplements. Multiple. Chinese medicine, she told her last doctor."
"Which ones?"
"Doesn't specify. Just says 'various traditional remedies.'"
I write on the board: Heavy metal poisoning? Aristolochic acid?
"Herbal supplements can be contaminated," I say. "Or contain things that aren't listed. If she's been taking them long-term, that could explain the progressive kidney and liver failure. We need to find out exactly what she's taking and test for toxins."
The door opens. House leans in, grinning like a cat.
"And now you know—I'm the only one who matters here." He looks at each of us. "Cameron, you looked disappointed. Foreman, you looked angry. Chase..." He pauses. "You looked amused."
I keep my face neutral. "It was an obvious play."
"And yet you didn't warn them."
"Wasn't my job to. We're not friends. We're colleagues."
House's grin widens. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you. All of you. Now get me that herb list before the patient codes."
He leaves. Cameron turns to me.
"You really just watched us argue?"
"You're both smart enough to figure it out. And the patient's file was more interesting than the politics." I head for the door. "I'll call her family about the supplements."
I'm halfway down the hall when Foreman catches up.
"That was cold."
"That was practical." I don't slow down. "House is going to play games. We can either waste energy fighting each other or do our jobs. I'd rather save lives."
He studies me for a moment, then nods slowly. "Fair enough."
That night, I'm back in my apartment, notebook open. Coded shorthand documenting everything.
Team Dynamics:
Foreman: Competitive, threatened, needs to prove himself. Smart but prideful.Cameron: Idealistic, focused on House, sees patients as people not puzzles. Will be a problem if she tries to "fix" broken people on the team.House: Exactly as expected. Manipulative. Testing constantly. Interested in me specifically—need to be careful.
Powers Update:
Deduction activating naturally. Noticed Foreman's threat response, Cameron's idealism, House's pain levels all without trying.Still no lie detection trigger—
The thought stops as I remember.
Cameron, in the conference room, before the argument. She'd said something to House when he first introduced us. Something about being grateful for the opportunity. And there had been a sound—sharp, high-pitched, like tinnitus spiking.
"I'm looking forward to learning from you."
She'd said it to House, and I'd felt a stabbing pain behind my eyes. Just for a second. I'd dismissed it as stress.
But now I replay the moment. Her words. Her tone. The way she'd looked at House with admiration that felt performative.
She was lying.
Not a big lie. She probably does want to learn from House. But "looking forward" was polite fiction. She's here for some other reason. To fix him, maybe. To prove something.
And I heard the lie.
The ringing. The pain. That was the lie detection triggering.
Great. Another power I can't control.
I add to my notes:
Lie Detection: ACTIVE
Triggered during Cameron's statement to HouseSharp ringing/pain when lie is spokenShe was lying about "looking forward to learning" (or at least, that wasn't her primary motivation)CRITICAL: Cannot react visibly when it triggers. House will notice.Need: Better pain management. Poker face practice. Understanding of trigger parameters.
I close the notebook and lean back, staring at the ceiling.
First day with the team is done. House is watching me. Foreman thinks I'm cold. Cameron barely knows I exist. And I've got powers I'm still figuring out.
Two weeks ago, I was dead. Now I'm here, playing a role in a story I used to watch for entertainment.
The difference is, these are real people now. Not characters. Real people with real problems, and if I screw up, people die.
No pressure.
I grab a textbook on autoimmune disorders and start reading. If I'm going to survive House's games and my own abilities, I need to be better than good.
I need to be brilliant.
And I need to do it without anyone figuring out I'm not who I'm supposed to be.
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