What could it be? Amber mentally ran through the symptoms as she reached the landing-- areflexia, loss of senses, fever, delirium.... lupus crossed her mind. Not likely, as rare a disease as it was; she'd probably only thought of it because it'd come up during past diagnostic sessions. But the more she thought of it, the more it appealed to her. Lupus was never easy to recognize, which it'd explain the head-scratching quality of Casey's case. Yes, lupus fit just fine.

Eric stopped at the top and yelled, face ugly and twisted. Running up those last few steps and get all the closer to him was the last thing Amber wanted-- but her job beckoned. She caught up, slightly short of breath. "I'll come up with my own ideas, don't you worry," she snapped. God, what was his problem? So she was strong enough to admit that she needed her damn boss’ help, what was so wrong about that? He should be more worried about himself, that he had to make a point of being right all on his own at the patient’s expense. Marching right on, Amber went to the hall door and pushed it open, hard. "We don't have time for this."