Foreman had expected Amber to follow on his heels, or even get to the conference room first if she'd taken the stairs again, but he didn't pause before launching into the differential just because she wasn't there. She'd apprised the others of the paralysis, which was all he needed to work with. A few minutes later, she did ease into the room. Foreman had to fight to keep his eyes from picking her out, and he didn't even know why. To see how she was doing? However briefly, she'd looked shocked at what had happened to Casey, maybe even genuinely worried. In her place, Foreman knew he'd be feeling sick. Hell, he'd been in her place before, when he'd rushed in to treat without confirmation and someone had ended up getting worse--dying--because of him. They still had a chance with Casey. It wasn't that bad yet. But it was exactly moments like what Amber must be going through right now that Foreman had wanted to avoid. For both their sakes.
"We'll test," he said heavily. "But we can't put off treatment for a day while we run the cultures. Not when her airway might be compromised--" He stopped short when Brennan stalked to the whiteboard, staring at it like it had given him a religious experience. "What?"
Foreman's first thought was that Brennan was making fun of him. Or of all of them--what the hell did he think he was accomplishing, suggesting something so obviously ridiculous?
"Right," Taub said, drawing the word out. "And I think she probably also has small pox. And maybe some diptheria. Because you never can tell what people picked up in their last trip to 1879."
"I know what polio looks like," Brennan insisted.
"Then that's why you're seeing it," Foreman said. It was preposterous, and he wasn't the only one in the room rolling his eyes. "There hasn't been a case of wild polio here for thirty years! Stop wasting our time--"
Brennan turned on him, half-angry and half-smirking. "Oh, like you haven't wasted our time with your brilliant heatstroke idea? And did we really all need to hang around while you and your girlfriend played duelling diagnoses?"
Foreman snapped his mouth shut. Brennan was right in his face, trying to loom over him. For what? Foreman wasn't going to make a fool of himself by rising to the bait, but if he could have cut Brennan down with his stare alone, he would have. His anger surged up again--felt like he'd spent most of the day with his heart pounding and his fists clenched, looking for some direction he could lash out. "It's not polio. She's been vaccinated. There's no damn way." Face set, back rigid, Foreman kept up his glare. He was so fucking sick of Brennan's patronizing superiority over one symptom. Insinuating Foreman and Amber had acted unprofessionally at any point was going too far. Neither of them had done anything because of their relationship, and if Brennan was going to twist their actions around to that, then Foreman wasn't interested in putting up with him one second longer. "You think so, you can get the hell out of here. Seriously. I don't want you here."
"You can't fire me. If anything it's the two of you--it's her--"
"Stop embarrassing yourself," Foreman said. "Go on. Get out of here. You're off this case. You want to beg House to keep you? You can do that on his time, not mine."
no subject
"We'll test," he said heavily. "But we can't put off treatment for a day while we run the cultures. Not when her airway might be compromised--" He stopped short when Brennan stalked to the whiteboard, staring at it like it had given him a religious experience. "What?"
Foreman's first thought was that Brennan was making fun of him. Or of all of them--what the hell did he think he was accomplishing, suggesting something so obviously ridiculous?
"Right," Taub said, drawing the word out. "And I think she probably also has small pox. And maybe some diptheria. Because you never can tell what people picked up in their last trip to 1879."
"I know what polio looks like," Brennan insisted.
"Then that's why you're seeing it," Foreman said. It was preposterous, and he wasn't the only one in the room rolling his eyes. "There hasn't been a case of wild polio here for thirty years! Stop wasting our time--"
Brennan turned on him, half-angry and half-smirking. "Oh, like you haven't wasted our time with your brilliant heatstroke idea? And did we really all need to hang around while you and your girlfriend played duelling diagnoses?"
Foreman snapped his mouth shut. Brennan was right in his face, trying to loom over him. For what? Foreman wasn't going to make a fool of himself by rising to the bait, but if he could have cut Brennan down with his stare alone, he would have. His anger surged up again--felt like he'd spent most of the day with his heart pounding and his fists clenched, looking for some direction he could lash out. "It's not polio. She's been vaccinated. There's no damn way." Face set, back rigid, Foreman kept up his glare. He was so fucking sick of Brennan's patronizing superiority over one symptom. Insinuating Foreman and Amber had acted unprofessionally at any point was going too far. Neither of them had done anything because of their relationship, and if Brennan was going to twist their actions around to that, then Foreman wasn't interested in putting up with him one second longer. "You think so, you can get the hell out of here. Seriously. I don't want you here."
"You can't fire me. If anything it's the two of you--it's her--"
"Stop embarrassing yourself," Foreman said. "Go on. Get out of here. You're off this case. You want to beg House to keep you? You can do that on his time, not mine."