draechaeli

Lifestyle 3/?

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 02:06:57 GMT

Lifestyle 2.5/?

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 04:20:35 GMT

Using the brush, House removed as much snow as possible from the bike; he unfolded the cover, brushed off the seat last, and covered the bike hoping that it would help preserve the bike better in the cold.

Walking back towards the car House put the scraper in the back seat closed the door and walked around and got in the front seat. His fingers were frozen and a part of him felt like being childish and putting them up to the air vents in the car. But his plans were foiled when he realised that the car was still blowing cold air.

Wilson pulled out of the hospital parking lot and quietly drove to the restaurant. The oncologist was content to stay quiet, but House engaged him in small talk, “So how was work today? Tell anyone they were dying? Have anyone die?”

“I’m an oncologist, House!” Wilson bit back, shooting a quick glare towards his friend before looking at the road again.

“That’s why I ask,” said Gregory House with a false tone of caring, “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Wilson sighed, “I’m glad to see that almost dying, hasn’t affected you at all.”

“You say that like I almost die, all the time,” replied House.

The car was silent, Wilson stopped at a red light turned to look at House and glared, “Of course not House, only once a year for the last three years. You’re actually over your quota this year, you were already held hostage.”

“Green light,” said House and watched his fuming friend turn and begin to drive towards the restaurant again, “Not all of those were my fault, I didn’t ask to get shot. And you cannot count being held hostage; I wasn’t even shot in that one.”

Wilson sighed as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, “I worry about you, could you please try to hold a little bit more regard for your life.”

The two men sat there in the car looking at one another for a moment before House opened the door and got out of the car. Closing the door, he walked towards the restaurant. Wilson caught up to his friend and they entered the restaurant together.

They smiled at their hostess a young girl who recognised the two doctors, she picked up two menus looked at the seating chart momentarily and then lead the two friends to a corner table that was just big enough for two people. She smiled at them and left.

House leafed through the menu paying close attention to the burger baskets, deciding that he wasn’t in the mood for some sort of fancy burger he decided on a simple cheeseburger and closed his menu.

When the waitress came around they placed their orders and both of them got a coke. Neither of the doctors talked for the longest time. The drinks came out right when Wilson opened his mouth to say something to his friend; instead he put the straw in the soda and began to sip continuously at his drink.

The blue-eyed doctor didn’t seem to mind that his friend was stalling some sort of conversation. When the food came out House murmured, “You don’t have to worry about me, I am an adult.”

Wilson sighed took a bit from his own meal looking at his friend, “I know, and I am sorry.”

The two continued to eat their meals engaging in their usual banter and small talk. At one point House got up and told Wilson, “If the waitress comes before I get back I would like a refill.” The ex-Marine brat got up with the help of his cane and made his way towards the restroom.

When House returned he was only able to take a few bites of his fries before Wilson’s phone rang. House continued to eat until he saw a look on Wilson’s face that was close to panic. Under the guise of still eating, the elder doctor watched his friend closely.

While the doctor was distracted by his eavesdropping a waitress came by and placed two drinks on the table. Before Wilson sat a light coloured beer, and next to House’s own plate was a single shot of what looked like a form of whisky. The arrival of the drinks sufficiently distracted the doctor from Wilson’s conversation.

“Sorry, consult,” Wilson said drawing House’s attention.

House looked at his friend ate a fry and said, “When did you order these?”

“When you were in the bathroom. I thought a celebration was in order,” answered Wilson as he raised his glass towards House, “To cheating death.” Picking up the shot House clinked the glass against Wilson’s and watched as his friend took a sip. Blue eyes watched for a moment before putting the shot back down on the table, Wilson met House’s gaze and then added, “You off bourbon? We can get you something else.”

“I came here expecting a burger. Figured I’d have to endure a little lecture on moderation,” House countered.

Wilson scowled, “You never listen. So why —“

“Instead,” House cut his friend off, “I get a drink; a nice little serving of respiratory depressant on the day that my lungs stop working.”

“You seem fine now,” James Wilson tried to shrug off.

Blue eyes took in the oncologist, “You don’t believe that I OD’d on Vicodin. You figure I’m on something stronger, and because you can never, ever assume anything but the most screwed up scenario as far as I’m concerned —“

Wilson scuffed and cut into House’s tirade, “Funny how I’m usually right.”

“You think that I’m on Heroin,” House realised, letting anger seep into his voice, “this is your version of a tox screen. Because if I am on Heroin; I can’t drink that without risking another bout of not breathing.”

“Well?” said Wilson not expecting to have been called on his little game in public. He watched wide eyed as his friend looked at the shot, picked it up, and tipped it back.

Placing the shot back down, House glared at the younger doctor, “Goodnight.” Picking up his cane, House used it to help him stand and left the restaurant.

As soon as House was out of the restaurant and out of eye shot of the windows he picked up his cane and picked up his pace. Going around the back of the restaurant House lent against the dumpster in the snow and shoved his fingers down his throat hoping to bring up the alcohol quick enough. He gagged a couple time before he finally uprooted his dinner and most importantly the bourbon. Putting his fingers back down his throat, House forced himself to heave a couple more times to insure that all of the alcohol and sadly his meal were out of his stomach.

“You idiot!” yelled Wilson, the sudden noise startled House, he looked up and over at his friend feeling like a deer in the headlights if he didn’t look like it.

Thinking quickly, “Okay, I admit it. I have bulimia. I look good though, don't I?”

“Heroin,” Wilson was hysteric, “Heroin! House, of all the stupid—“

Greg cut his friend off, “I'm not on heroin.”

The oncologist was livid, “I just caught you with your fingers down your throat.”

House sighed, he really didn’t want to tell Wilson this, and he was going to stop the methadone in the morning, “I'm on methadone... stupid product... heroin without the high.”

“Yeah, and twice the risk of death,” added Wilson calming down if only slightly.

“But no risk of arrest,” if they were going to play the pros and con game, then House would.

Wilson sighed worriedly, “You nearly died.”

“Today was a fluke. I nodded off,” the nephrologist easily lied.

Wilson got angrier, again, “Right, you're safe as long as you never sleep again. Mistime your dose, you die. Couple of drinks, you die. Mix it with the wrong drugs, you die. You want to detox from Vicodin? Pick something that won't kill you.”

And this was exactly why House hadn’t wanted to tell his friend, “I'm not detoxing.”

As if to continue his tirade Wilson added, “If you're looking for something to help with your pain—“

House cut him off, “Doesn't help my pain, it eliminates it,” He glares at his friend for a moment, turning around he put his cane in the dumpster. Quickly glancing around the alley House turned towards his apartment and began to walk away from his friend. When he was at the entrance of the alley the elder turned around momentarily, “My leg doesn't hurt anymore.”

By the time House got home, what he had truly done had not permeated his head, until he had flopped down on his sofa to relax. The first thing he realised was that his bag was still in the back of Wilson’s car. The second was the bottle of vicodin that was in his pocket. He sighed, thinking that perhaps he should call Chase and set back his pain management regime. But thinking about it more he realised that the positive effects of the methadone, if he didn’t push himself, should last for a good portion of the next day.

Looking at the clock, he realised that it was almost 22:00 and his nurse-in-training would be there in a moment. Getting up, leaving the vicodin prescription on the coffee table House got dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt he had just entered the living room when there was a knock on the door.

House answered the door, greeted his night time watcher. There was never very much small talk between the two, she automatically went into the kitchen and poured him a dose of methadone before turning around and finding House rifling through the refrigerator.

The doctor pulled out couple day old Chinese takeout. Taking out a bowl, he emptied the container into the bowl before putting it in the microwave he hit the ‘reheat’ button and turned towards the woman in his home.

He took the plastic cup and sipped back the green medicine, “I fell asleep today and stopped breathing, you will really have to watch me tonight,” throwing away the cup he studied the girl before him, “Dr. Chase is starting me back on vicodin tomorrow morning. I would like you to stay for the next couple nights to make sure there are no lingering side effects of methadone use. When I fall asleep dispose of the remaining methadone and please bring me the bottle of vicodin that is on the coffee table in the morning.”

The microwave beeped and House turned retrieving his replacement diner. He slowly moved into the living room when the up-and-coming RN made him pause, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, this way you have a few days to settle back into your course,” answered House as he sat down on the sofa, picked up the remote and flicked through his TiVo.

House finished off the Chinese food and then finished watching the episode of ‘the L world’ before he got up to go to bed.

The up-and-coming nurse woke House up in time to go to work she handed him the bottle of vicodin. House sat up and weighed the current bought of pain. Taking a single vicodin he got up to get ready for the day. Before leaving his apartment he made sure that his stats throughout the night were fine, and then he asked if he could get a ride to the hospital, he didn’t want to risk driving aggravating his leg. He knew he could drive, but he also didn’t have his cane.

This was different then the ketamine issue, that had been a potential fix for the rest of his life. He had run to work every day, and did not want to admit that it could not last. Methadone, on the other hand, he had know for a while that it was not permanent and he had taken his own. He was not going to reveal to his friend that he had taken these measures, when he jumped to conclusions like he had.

House knew, as he entered Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, that Wilson would tell Cuddy and the both of them would be out to corner and lecture him. Not in the mood for irrelevant lectures, House signed in and snuck as best as possible into the clinic. Looking around quickly he decided that he would have better luck avoiding lectures if he did actual work.

Not wanting to walk unnecessarily House picked up about a dozen patient charts and walked towards exam room one. Blue eyes glanced down and read the name of the person on the chart on the top of the pile. He paused for a long moment thinking over the situation; to avoid Cuddy he would have to attempt to not over aggravate any of the patients. Firming his resolve, he called out, “Marita Jones.”

Blue eyes scanned the room until he spotted a young college age girl stand up. From where he was standing, he could see splotchy spots of redder skin. Allergic reaction, probably to her shampoo by the way her head and neck looked.

The girl walked in miserably gripping the edge of her baggy t-shirt. She had dark wavy hair that went down to mid-back; House could guess the extent of the rashes. Sitting heavily on the rolling stool he listened to the girl’s story.

For the better part of the morning, House continued as such each time a patient left he would finish his charting and then roll over to the door and call out his next patient. Never would House think that he would do his clinic hours at a time he was not assigned to avoid Cuddy. It had the advantage of making Lisa Cuddy think that House would prefer to do his work—without being asked, and in its entirety—than listen to her or even see her. Part of him felt that Wilson should feel guilty for driving him to do work.

When House ran out of charts the pain had returned to a dull throb, taking out his vicodin he took two before he got up and left exam room one. He walked over to the front desk after making sure that Cuddy wasn’t around and dropped the pile of files in front of a nurse.

The girl, someone House barely recognised stared shocked at him, “You never signed in, Dr. House.”

House watched the girl thumb through his files to see if they were all done, “I must’ve forgot.”

“To get these all done, you must have been here for a few hours,” the nurse turned her own blue eyes to stare into House’s.

“If it is lunch time that sounds about right,” House half-sneered.

She studied House for a moment then glanced down at the desk, “You’re still scheduled for this afternoon I will reschedule you.”

“No matter what, I wasn’t going to show up,” said House as turned away from the young nurse with a bored look.

The elder doctor made his way past the cafeteria and into the elevator. He figured he had it timed right so he could avoid everyone. Quickly glancing into the cafeteria he spotted his friend and smiled.

Greg House made his way up to the oncology break room. Peaking into the room he didn’t see anyone so he snuck in to make a peanut butter sandwich. House picked up the cleanest knife and the opened jar of peanut butter. Looking around blue eyes found the bread and gave a sneer of mild disgust—Wonder bread, you would think that doctors would be more concerned about their health then to eat Wonder bread.

Armed with a peanut butter sandwich House made his way back into the hall and down to where the vending machines were. House spared half a thought for his patient, but then remembered that labs did not magically appear.

Looking into the machines House decided on orange soda and pretzels to compliment the peanut butter. Since he was already at the end of the hall near the stairwell, he decided that it was an alright place to eat. Placing the soda and pretzels on the third step House carefully sat down holding out his sandwich. Once his legs were settled, house rested his sandwich on his left knee and popped the top of his soda can.

Eating quickly Hose decided that it was finally time to make an appearance in his office. As he approached the glass conference room and office he noticed that he was lucky they were both empty. Deciding to press his luck he walked into the conference room stood by the end of the table and waited a few moments. On the edge of the table was that month’s issue of a Nephrology magazine that he got.

The standing was getting to him not enough for House to take another vicodin but enough to remember that he hadn’t told Chase about Wilson yet. Taking out his cell phone House texted the blond doctor, “Wilson found out. I don’t want him or Cuddy to know the real situation. I don’t have a cane, might increase my pain.”

Putting his phone away House looked around the quiet office for a moment. Glancing back down at the journal House shrugged his shoulders and decided the hiding would still be a good idea. Not wanting to walk very far or risk the elevators again House made his way into the bathroom.

Looking around he decided the stalls would be more private and probably more comfortable to sit. Picking a stall House sat down on the toilet, locked the door, glancing around his confines the doctor put the journal in his lap and then used his hand to support his leg as he lifted it up and put it on the toilet paper dispenser. Leaning back and getting as comfortable as he possibly could he flipped open his journal and began to read.

House tried to ignore the comings and goings of the restroom that he was reading in. A couple times the door of the stall that he was in was pushed on; it was occasionally accompanied by a curse. House would always glance up with an amused expression before going back to his reading.

Finally House heard the click of high heels on the bathroom title. It was an odd sound to hear in the men’s room. The nephrologist tried to ignore it. Finally after a moment of silence Cuddy said, “You still breathing in there? 'Cause if not, I'm sending in janitorial.”

House sighed helped his leg get from its resting position to the floor while rustling his journal he reached into his pocket and quietly took out two more vicodin quickly swallowing them House answered, “I'm not breathing, but it's strictly voluntary. Should've seen the guy who was in here before me.”

“I know about the methadone,” said Cuddy a hint of concern in her voice.

House sighed, he had been trying to avoid this, “It's legal. I have a prescription.”

“Whatever doctor you conned into writing it clearly had no idea about your addiction issues — Your lack of —“

“He knows I'm in pain. What I put in my body is my business,” House interrupted. He was getting angry he had gone to St. Sebastian’s; they were wary since he had tried to con them numerous times before but accepted him into their Methadone Maintenance Treatment program. He had even called them after Chase had left that night.

“You keep taking this, you could die,” argued Cuddy

He knew that, that was why he wasn’t taking it anymore, “If you'd said that if I keep doing this you could die, then it'd be your business.”

“I can't sit by and watch you kill yourself. As long as you're in my hospital, you can't do methadone.”

House analysed the sentence first. There was an angry quaver in her voice, she didn’t want him gone, and she just wanted to be in control of this or wanted to have been informed. Using the toilet paper dispenser as leverage House stood up gripping the journal tightly. Unlocking the door he stepped out of the bathroom stall. He glanced at Cuddy seeing the anger masked worry, and it pissed him off. Throwing away his journal, which he would later regret, he walked to the door shooting back, “I'll send someone for my stuff.”

Cuddy momentarily stopped him, “That's it, you're quitting? You're choosing methadone over this job?”

The elder doctor could hear the waver in the administrator’s voice, “I'm choosing lack of pain over this job.”

Walking out the door, Gregory House made his way to his office to get his helmet and bike jacket. He had figured there was a sixty/forty percent chance that Cuddy would run after him, the forty was mostly for the shock value. Even if she let him leave the building it would only be a matter of days. As long as he played it like he was serious.

Entering his office without even trying to find his kids, blue eyes noticed that the bag he left in Wilson’s car the previous night was sitting on his desk. Putting on his leather jacket followed by the backpack—he wasn’t even concerned that Wilson might have searched his bag—House grabbed his helmet and made his way downstairs.

At the central desk in the main lobby House told the nurses he was clocking out. Nurse Brenda fumed, “Dr. Cuddy is looking for you.”

“She found me, why do you think I’m leaving now?” he sneered at his worst enemy, “Mommy was mean, I’m running away.”

House continued to walk out of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and out to his parking space. His bike was still there and the cover was in place, the air outside was warmer than last night, and the cover was not frozen. House hated contradicting weather, it was why he had taken his bike out of storage so early; since it had appeared that winter was ending early. Removing the cover gingerly he stuffed it into his backpack before mounting the bike.

‘Now all I need,’ thought House, ‘is to get Cuddy to admit she was wrong and invite me back.’ Putting on his helmet, he brushed his stubble when he clipped the helmet strap; he paused, a slow smile spread across his face. Turning on his bike House quickly made his way to the nearest connivance store/pharmacy.

When House returned to his own apartment and was safe inside, he dropped all of his things onto the sofa. Taking out the vicodin bottle he shook it a couple times before taking two. He vaguely registered that he had also done that before entering the connivance store, meaning his last six pills had been rather close together and his head gave a protesting spin.

Pushing his things to the floor and putting his plans on hold, House lay down and picked up the remote. House had decided on a Doctor Who and Torchwood crossover episode. He have figured when the episode was over he would conduct the next part of his plan. Half-way through the episode ‘Mmm Bop’ rang through his apartment distracting the doctor momentarily. The phone was on the floor with the rest of his things, besides he was technically off the case now. Turning his attention back to the television House was vaguely amused that his kids had kept their patient stable without discourse for so long.

By the time the episode was over, House was hungry. Deciding that it made more sense to shave in the morning, House sat up and went to the drawer that he kept the take out menus in. Deciding on the fried seafood place, House went over and found his cell phone, to place an order. The earlier call was from Kutner wondering if he was all right. With a sardonic smile he ordered his food and sat back down on his sofa.

House decided he was officially in the mood for British television. But the problem with the crossover episodes is that he couldn’t decide between Torchwood and Doctor Who. House finally settled on watching a British comedy called Black Books. Opening up his box set he put the first disc in the DVD player and relaxed back into his sofa.

Eventually the food came, and House enjoyed his overly fried fish sandwich. Time flew by as the only distraction was changing the DVD disc. Finally his soon-to-be-nurse arrived. House answered the door and went back to his show. The girl bustled around him taking his vitals. He had her mark down how many vicodin he took that day. Taking his last two vicodin for the day House got up, got ready and went to bed.

The next morning dawned, House had gotten up a little latter than normal, there was more pain in his leg then the previous morning but his mood had risen slightly at the prospect of getting back at Cuddy. House took the vicodin from his nurse and made his way out to the living room.

Taking the paper bag and his pager from his backpack he brought them to the bathroom. He had only taken the pager out of habit, but soon regretted it, when it went off as soon as he put it down on the corner of the sink. He glanced at it; there was an actual patient issue this time. Angry that Cuddy had said nothing to his team, House powered off his pager and threw it angrily into the trash. Taking a deep breath he emptied the brown paper bag and prepared to shave.

After shaving his face, House took a shower, and for once debated the pros of installing handicapped bars in the shower. His leg did not take to the partial supporting role while he shaved. His shower was quick and refreshing. He entered the living room in a t-shirt and sweatpants; he found his up-and-coming nurse was still there.

House called up a delivery service and asked them to bring him a couple bagels and a coffee. With a half-annoyed sigh House ordered some for the woman sitting in his kitchen. While he was waiting for the food to arrive, House tried to decide what to do next in his plan. It would have to appear that he was actually serious about leaving Princeton-Plainsboro. He picked up his phone for a second, thinking about calling St. Sebastian’s and requesting a meeting with their dean of medicine. He put the phone down when he realised that unless he got a letter of recommendation from Cuddy, his meeting at St. Sebastian’s would not go over well.

Deciding that he would have to wait until he talked to Cuddy, House relaxed until the food arrived. Paying for the breakfast reluctantly he sat down with his nurse-in-training and listened to her prattle on. What he did learn after taking a couple more vicodin was that she really wanted to be a nurse.

After a very late breakfast House moved to his bedroom to get dressed. He had mentioned to his up-and-coming RN that he was going for job interviews and she wanted to see him dressed up, but she also needed to get home and go to sleep; so instead he brought out his two ties for her opinion.

House heard the knock from his bedroom as he was buttoning up his shirt. A minute later he heard his up-and-coming nurse answer the door. He recognised Wilson’s voice more than the words and hastened to get ready. When House heard, “I'll be back around ten tonight.” He realised that he left his two ties in the living room, threw on his matching suit jacket and walked down the hall towards the living room.

He made it to the end of the hall just in time to see a bewildered Wilson edge around his up-and-coming nurse. Wilson looked up uncertainly at House, “Who was she?”

“I hired her to watch me sleep... make sure I don't stop breathing,” replied House nonchalantly.

“Home nurses usually wear scrubs,” added Wilson thoughtfully.

House shrugged, “She's not a nurse.” Which was true, she would become one soon.

Wilson looked scandalised, “You hired a hooker to watch you sleep? That just can't—“

The elder doctor walked into the living room more glancing around for his ties, “Surprisingly, hookers are cheaper. And they don't sue for sexual harassment.” Finding his ties he turned to Wilson hold one in each hand, “Which one?”

“You shaved,” James Wilson commented.

That was not what House was expecting to come from his friend’s mouth. Glancing at his ties, the not-quite-nurse had chosen red, “The red one then.”

The tie questions and comments finally caught up with Wilson he stared shocked at House as he began to put on his red tie, “You have two ties?”

House walked over to a mirror so he could see as he tied his tie, he lied, “Meeting at St. Sebastian's today. Gonna try and talk 'em into starting up a diagnostics department.”

“Sounds great,” said Wilson bewildered, “I just came by to check up on you. See how you were doing.”

“I'm fine,” said House as he carefully tied the tie.

Still in a state of shock Wilson murmured, “I guess you are.”

House finished with his tie, made it snug to his neck, lastly he straightened his jacket and twirled to face his friend hiding the wince from his right leg, “What do you think?”

Wilson ignored the lazy ‘I don’t really care’ tone of House’s voice, “Fine, good luck I guess.”

“You should probably get going, your lunch break should be over soon, and I have a proposal to write up.

Still in the shocked daze, Wilson agreed and made his way out of the apartment. House loosened his tie when the door closed deciding that he didn’t want to see Cuddy immediately, let Wilson do some of his work for him. He looked around his apartment trying to decide what to do for a couple hours. He noticed that the breakfast things have been cleaned up, also his stuff that he had dropped on the floor the previous night had also been put away.

His up-and-coming nurse was really good; she took his demands and his demeanour properly. And he felt that he was a good test for anyone who wanted to become a nurse. He was both the difficult doctor and the difficult patient in this situation. With all of that decided he found his laptop buried half under a pile of papers sat down and began to write a recommendation letter.

When the letter was finished, he realised that it had to be printed at the hospital—since a printer cost money and the one at his work place was free. Getting up slowly House straightened his tie and jacket checked to make sure that he appeared presentable. Before leaving the sanctuary of his apartment the doctor took two vicodin and headed out the door.

Figuring that it would look more professional and thus more like he was trying House drove his car to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. To his pleasure his parking space was still there. With a satisfied grin on his face House made his way into the hospital. Avoiding the nurses’ desks hoping to increase his chances of surprising Cuddy the ex-marine brat made his way to the administrative office off of the clinic.

House quietly entered the office and when brunet administrator looked up at him, he said, “I have an interview, in two hours.”

Lisa Cuddy stands up shocked, “Wow.”

“Hand over my letter of recommendation,” House said holding back a snide comment, hoping that that sounded convincingly professional-esque.

Cuddy looked down at her desk and rifled through some papers, before walking over to House, “Sorry, I haven't done it yet.”

Internally Gregory House smiled in triumph, outwardly he was angry, “You have no right to sabotage—“

“I was busy with this,” She cut off his tirade and handed him the sheet of paper in her hand, “it's a list of requirements for your methadone treatment: weekly drug tests, supervised doses administered on a precise schedule, by me, or, one of the nurses.”

There was another internal grin of satisfaction, “Seems weird, getting my meds here when I'm working somewhere else.”

“Yes,” agreed Cuddy before moving back to her desk, “I'm offering you your job back.” She sat down and looked up at House expectantly; blue eyes even caught a hint of desperation and worry in the look.

“I want a raise,” might as well try to get more out of the deal.

“No.”

“And a bigger office... but in the same spot,” added House as if he didn’t hear her first objection.

Cuddy looked like she was getting annoyed by House again, “No. We both know this is where you belong.”

“Okay,” House shrugged it was what he wanted.

“Welcome back,” Cuddy said with a smile.

Taking those words as a dismissal, House turned and headed for the office door. He was smiling in a way that said, ‘I won.’ When he realised that it was true, turning towards his boss, House sincerely said, “Thank you.”

Cuddy looked at him with a silly-happy smile and slightly wide eyes of shock, “You're welcome.”

House happily left the office and headed towards a secluded corner to ‘cancel his interview.’ The nephrologist took out his cell phone, scrolled through his contacts finding the one he wanted, he hit the send button.

The phone rang a couple time, until an accented voice answered, “What do you want House?”

“Hello John, the is Dr. Gregory House,” House said into his cell phone a little louder then need be, he saw a the head of a nearby nurse turn in his direction.

“I know who you are,” said the voice on the other end House could detect a sense of annoyance and amusement, he just hoped Chase wouldn’t hang up on him too soon, “and my name is not John.”

“I’m sorry John, but I am going to have to cancel our appointment this afternoon,” replied the blue-eyed doctor.

“Look House, I don’t really have the time to play your games, I’m busy.”

Quieter then before House replied, “I know, look I was just cancelling my interview with St. Sebastian’s, since Cuddy hired me back.”

“The interview you never set up,” realised Chase, then in a more amused tone, “What were her conditions or rehiring you?”

“You’re so smart wombat, why did I ever let you go?”

“You fired me.”

“Well, I don’t want to be like Cuddy, so I guess you’re still fired,” replied House with an amused smile.

“What was Cuddy’s condition?”

“Well, she isn’t pregnant. She stopped trying that. But she did say that she would be monitoring my methadone doses.”

“You’ve stopped right? I don’t want you taking methadone from her,” replied Chase.

A flash of anger passed through the elder doctor, before he thought about his situation a moment, “You know I don’t like being ordered around, but since I ordered you to make me do what I want, and I will accept your word.”

“Why Thank you House, I truly feel blessed,” the tone was overly sarcastic, “I need to go, and there is nothing that you need to tell me medically? Are you using your cane? Do you feel you still need to use your cane?”

“Nope,” House smiled hoping the answer would frustrate Chase, but then decided to add, “I do need to get a new cane though.”

“Bye House,” replied Chase.

The diagnostician said, “Goodbye John,” before flipping his phone shut. Looking around the clinic, House decided that he should go and see how his team was doing, he vaguely realised that he would also have to take his text pager out of the trash.

House made his way over to the elevator and got on. A few of the doctors and nurses in the elevator with him looked at House as if he grew a second head. Ignoring all of the looks House got out of the elevator and started to walk towards his office.

His right leg gave a protesting twinge of pain and up ahead blue eyes could see movement in the glass office. House ducted quickly into the bathroom and looked around. After a moment when he was sure no one was in the room with him, House took out two vicodin and swallowed them. Capping the bottle, House put it back into his jacket pocket, before leaving the lavatory.

House entered the conference room and saw Taub sitting at the table, Kutner was just sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee. The Indian doctor looked up at House and asked, “You okay?”

“I have issues with authority. You?” replied House.

Chris Taub watched his boss for a moment, taking in his new appearance, “We thought you were gone.”

“Cuddy missed me,” answered House in a childish tone.

“And what happened to your cane?” asked Taub his tone cautious and disbelieving.

“She asked to borrow it for some reason,” House said taking off his tie and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. After undoing the top button of his shirt he sighed in relief and asked, “Is our patient dead or do I need to do anything?”

“He's got scleroderma,” answered Taub as everyone’s attention was drawn to Foreman and Thirteen coming into the conference room out of breath.

“It's not scleroderma,” said Thirteen sitting down in one of the chairs by the wall.

“Wow,” said House sitting down and studying his fellows, “two days, and you've already got two separate theories.”

“You're back,” said Foreman his tone sounded shocked and disappointed, “good,” he lied, before talking about the patient, “we noticed a drop in AST levels. It's not from the anti-inflammatory meds.”

“It's because his kidneys got better from the testosterone,” added Remy almost excitedly.

Foreman smiled, “Which rules out scleroderma.”

House looked at two of his fellows, critically studying them, “When did you two come up with this?”

Foreman and Thirteen’s eyes widen for a second. Thirteen shifty in her seat, “We ran into each other in the lobby.”

House nodded, “So, what did we miss?” He glanced around, “When I say ‘we’ I mean ‘you,’ since I wasn't here.”

“We've ruled out Zollinger-Ellison,” said Thirteen.

“That was a dumb idea,” House sneered.

Thirteen looked annoyed, “Why?”

“Because it was wrong,” House smirked at his female fellow.

Taub added, “Also toxoplasmosis, dehydration, SLE, various intersex disorders.”

House thought about the words for a moment then swore, “Oh, crap,” he paused for a moment, “this kid like energy drinks?”

“I saw some empty bottles in the team locker room,” shrugged Lawrence Kutner.

Chris Taub shook his head, “But energy drinks don't explain—“

“Nice work,” House cut off the ex-plastic surgeon. He started to head for the door.

Foreman stopped him, “So, we're okay?”

“Why wouldn't we be?” House said looking at his duckling-turned-kid as if he were crazy then he looked at his other kids pausing on Remy Hadley, “nice heels.” House continued out the door of the conference room. The elder doctor half-hoped, the patient was still in the room that House left him in, and not moved to another room.

House walked into his patients room and noticed to his luck both parents were there, “This is all your parents' fault.”

The mother looked at House shocked, “Excuse me?”

Ignoring the women’s anger he turned to the kid in the bed, “Chug a lot of energy drinks before, during, and after practice?” Blue eyes watched as the kid nodded, “Your son came in here with simple dehydration. That's why he collapsed during the game.”

“The ER treated him for that. It didn't help the pain,” Melanie said.

“That's where the energy drinks came in. They put a strain on his kidneys so he needed more time to rebound from the initial dehydration,” said House with a hint of pride in his voice, waiting for husband to object.

Joseph asked, “Then why isn't he better?”

Not what House had expected but it still allowed him to reveal his genius, “That's where your idiocy came in. Before we could give him another glass of water, you two insisted I do an MRI. So, I go down a blind alley looking for a blind uterus. And my team injects him with contrast material. If his kidneys had been healthy, they would've filtered out the contrast in a couple hours. Since they weren't, it went around and around, eventually getting absorbed by his heart, his liver, and his pancreas; getting in trouble everywhere it went. Your son was fine when he got here. It was your freaked-out over protectiveness that nearly killed him.”

“Nearly?” asked Melanie not particularly happy.

“He's young. A few weeks of dialysis, he should be fine,” shrugs House he ignores the lovey-dovey scene between the parents, “you gave birth to a freak of nature,” House paused to turn and open the door, “doesn't mean it's a good idea to treat him like one.” With those final cutting, yet true words House left the room, he saw his kids out in the hall and told them the treatment that they needed to start. House waited until he saw Kutner head off down the hall, before he himself left the area to return to his office.

House sat down behind his desk, picked up his tennis ball threw it up and caught it a couple times before putting it back on his desk with a sigh. It only took him a minute to realise that he needed a plan. Glancing around House covertly took a couple more vicodin. Outside the sun was getting low in the sky as blue eyes scanned the glass office. To his relief in the corner by the door there was a metal hospital cane. House vaguely remembered that Wilson had told him that it would be good to have a spare cane on hand, since it wasn’t like he used a cane responsibly. Getting up from the desk, House walked over to the corner and picked up the metal cane. Twirling it in his fingers a couple times, House took a couple experimental steps using the cane, and then a few more without. Making up his mind House walked the rest of the way back to his desk, leaning the cane against the wall, sitting down and relaxing.

After a few moment House remembered the recommendation letter he wrote for his to-be-nurse. Grabbing the file from the e-mail, he mailed himself. House read over the letter then printed three copies. House went to the printer picked up the letters, he was happy to see that someone had left Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital letter head paper in the tray. Going back to his desk House glanced over the letters signed them. He sealed each letter in a separate envelope before putting all three in a separate larger envelope. Putting the envelope in his jacket pocket House leaned back in his chair and thought.

Time passed House unnoticed he vaguely remembered hearing voices in the conference room and when there wasn’t any noise taking a couple more vicodin. Bored with his ball and other larger trinkets on his desk, House opened the drawer in search of finding something to occupy his hands. There was the usual: pens, paper clips, rubber bands, sticky note. House smiled when he saw the pair of dice. Taking them out, he tossed them on the desk a few times. He distracted himself from his thoughts by asking yes or no questions and answering them with the dice—yes was even numbers, no was odd, mostly for the irony.

The distraction worked well for a little while but soon House was content to roll the dice in his hands and think. Cuddy broke House’s concentration when she came into the room, “Starting tomorrow, you'll come to my office for your fix.”

Blue eyes glanced to the cup of green liquid, “I'm done with the methadone. I screwed up.”

“The kid’s parents wanted that MRI,” argued the dean of medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro.

“I knew he didn't need it,” House said shaking his head, “I did it anyway. That's what got him sick.”

Cuddy still tried to argue her case, “You just solved a case that no one else could solve.”

House stood up, surprised that she wasn’t letting the matter go, “I created a case. I played nice because, I was in a good mood because, I didn't hurt.”

“You don't need your pain to be a good doctor,” countered Lisa Cuddy.

“I'm not interested in good,” replied House firmly staring at his boss.

She was getting angry now, “You're afraid to be happy.”

“Why do you care if I'm happy?” equally as angry.

There was a pregnant pause where the two doctors starred at each other. House more annoyed, while Cuddy suddenly looked nervous, finally she said, “You're afraid of change. The one thing you have is your intellect. You think if that's compromised, you have nothing” trying to entice him she held up the cup, bringing it closer to him, “just take it.”

Blue eyes looked at the cup, remembering the lack of pain in his leg, but coupled with the near death, it wasn’t worth it, “No.”

“Don't do this,” Cuddy whispered.

House looked at his boss, she didn’t know him, didn’t know what he needed, or what he wanted, just what she wanted in him. He had manipulated her many a time, she was another enabler, although Wilson was the better enabler—between the two, “It's already done,” taking the cup from her, he tips the methadone into the trashcan, before dropping the cup in as well. He reached over and grabbed the hospital cane that he had left against the wall. Looking at her he said solemnly, “this is the only me you get.”

Walking out of his office—turning out the light—leaning heavily on his cane, House did not look back. He did not want to see his administrator at that moment. The little part inside of him that was serious, in his joking, about Lisa Cuddy was shunned away by the whole ordeal—how she handled the methadone situation.

House made his way downstairs and signed out at the front desk. The nurses gave his a hard time about checking in, in the morning, saying that it wasn’t Dr. Cuddy’s job to do it for him. Brenda even told him that he needed to ease up on Dr. Cuddy she had a hard job and she worked enough to not have to deal with House. Blue eyes glared at the nurses as he pointedly popped a couple vicodin and walked out the door.

On the way back to his apartment House tried not to think of anything. He was sure the Cuddy would inform Wilson about what he did. There was a chance that Wilson would not question his sanity sometime in the middle of the night, or if he was lucky the next morning. Taking into account that Wilson wasn’t currently seeing anyone, it was more likely that he would show some leeway before coming to talk to him. Since in prior instances Wilson had used House’s screw ups as an excuse, even unconsciously, to get away from his significant other.

Pulling up in front of his apartment building House was surprised to see a blond sitting in front of the door. Getting out of the car and walking around blue eyes looked down at the other doctor, “What are you doing here?”

“Could we go inside?” asked Chase standing up, while picking up a long parcel that had been lying on the ground next to him.

House moved forward opening the outside door and then unlocking his apartment door, “That isn’t an answer.”

“I have a few important things to talk to you about,” replied the Australian closing the front door and waiting for House to enter his apartment.

Opening the door, House walked into his apartment and threw his jacket onto the sofa. After a seconds thought House sat down on the sofa and looked up expectantly at his ex-duckling.

Green eyes slowly took in the apartment, he had been there before, but it still felt like it was giving him some of House’s secrets. The apartment really wasn’t messy; probably because a stray magazine on the floor would be more dangerous for House. The most surprising thing that he found was a stray issue of ‘Outdoor Fishing’ House just didn’t seem to be the fishing type.

“Well?” House snapped bring Chase back to the present. Looking over the apartment and then back at House nervously, “Seriously Chase? Close the door and sit down on the sofa.”

Robert Chase barely nodded clutching at his parcel a bit tighter before he turned around and closed the door. Moving carefully around the coffee table, Chase sat on the sofa next to his former boss. After a moment Chase put the parcel on the coffee table. Green eyes met Blue, “So what happened with Cuddy?”

House shrugged, “Tried to force me to take something that was killing me... faster than usual. Why aren’t you with Cameron?”

“I told her I was working late,” murmured Chase.

“So you are not opposed to lying to your girlfriend, good,” replied a smug House, he took out his vicodin and swallowed two.

Chase ignored the jibe, “It looks like you are running low.”

Blue eyes looked at the three remaining pills, “I’ll take two before bed, so I’ll need more for tomorrow.”

The Australian looked around and then cursed under his breath, “I’m sorry I left my bag at home and that is where I had you refill. Can you take just one in the morning and get to work? I’ll leave the refill on your desk.”

“I could,” grumbled House.

“How is the pain? Is the vicodin working out all right?”

House nodded, “Its fine.”

Reaching into and inside jacket pocket Chase pulled out an envelope that said overnight mail on it. House gave him a questioning look. Chase sighed, “When I was thinking about how to do what you asked of me, I realised that I might be doing things that were slightly illegal; especially since you told me not to tell you my plans, so there would be no informed consent. I called my old college roommate who ended up being a lawyer. I explained the situation and he wrote up a contract, we need to both sign this send it back to him to double check and then he’ll notarise and seal the document for if at any time that I am brought to court for malpractice.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said House angrily, “I won’t bring you to court, and you should have told me before you got me mixed up with your British lawyers.”

“I was more thinking of Cuddy when I thought about the malpractice. And Marc is Australian,” replied Chase.

House held out his hand for the contract. Chase handed him a stack of papers, Blue eyes read the contract a couple times through before looking up to meet the green eyes of the blond doctor, “Well at least you learned to cover your own ass without jeopardising Me... or Wilson... or the hospital.”

“So you’ll sign it,” Chase looked hopeful.

House studied his ex-fellow for a moment, “I’ve never signed a form saying I was willing to ignore illegal doings that may occur to my person. If this works out in my favour, perhaps I could get patient to sign a similar form, you know: ‘I realise that my doctor is not intentionally stopping my living for any extended amount of time, and his test and procedures may be medically questionable. This includes an invasive brain biopsy while we are doing shots of tequila among anything else one can image; because my doctor cares and has best interest in hand.’”

Chase laughed, “You don’t care about your patients.”

“Well not on a personal level,” replied House his tone suggesting that his reply was obvious, “on a mysterious medical alignment level, I care a lot.”

“Just sign the papers, House, I do have people to see,” Chase laughed again.

House shifted the things around on the coffee table until a pen rolled off the edge and onto the floor. Picking it up House signed all three copies before handing them back to the blond, “But you see Allison,” House mocked, “everyday, unlike me.”

“I don’t know,” replied Chase looking up at House while signing the papers, “I’m the only doctor you ever call to do surgeries for you.”

“It’s because you’re a good wombat and I don’t have to bribe or blackmail you to get what I want,” replied House with a smirk.

Chase looked over the contract folded them back up and put them in the envelope before sealing it. He would mail it the next day. Chase sat back on the sofa for a minute looking over at House he then glanced down at the parcel on the coffee table before adapting a nervous look again, “I picked you up something... I saw it and thought you would like it.”

The blond picked up the parcel and handed it to House. Blue eyes studied the younger doctor for a moment. Taking the parcel, it was long and thin wrapped in a long brown paper bag, and the end was taped shut. Ripping off the tape, House reached in and pulled out a cane. The cane was mostly orange there seemed to be some sort of design in black, grey and white. House looked up questioningly.

“It matches your bike, I found it just after Christmas, and compared it to your bike a few days ago. I thought I would wait until next Christmas just to see what you would do. But then you lost your cane,” replied Chase quickly trying to explain.

House stood up using his new cane he walked down the hall and back. House nodded, “Hard to miss... good for rubbing it in Cuddy’s face that I am back to the vicodin.”

Just then there was a knock on the door, Chase’s eyes gone wide in shock while House looked at the time. House opened the door and let his up-and-coming nurse inside.

The woman looked at Chase and then House with a slightly disturbed looked, “You’re popular today, but if you were going to get a hooker you could of just called.”

The room fell silent, House suddenly chuckled, “You heard Wilson this morning!” Blue eyes turned to study Chase, his eyes roaming over the blond’s body in an almost lewd way.

“I should be going, it is getting late,” said Chase glancing around to make sure that he still had everything he needed.

House looked at his up-and-coming RN, “This is Dr. Chase, my new doctor, not a prostitute. Chase this is my up-and-coming nurse that has been watching me sleep. This will probably be the last night she needs to come.”

Chase quickly agreed and opened the door, turning back he said, “Good night House.”

House watched the door close behind the blond and then turned to the other person in the room. The woman was giving him this look, House nodded, “Yes, he is very pretty. You should have seen him before he stopped shaving. Still pretty though.”

Author’s Note: So I actually (gently) closed the door on my right hand to see the pressure applied to my hand. If you are holding the door and closing it towards you then the finger that receives the most pressure is your ring finger. If you are holding the jamb of the door the most pressure is on your index finger.
For those who do not know when you are quoting a poem in writing (without keeping the written form), as I do when Thirteen reads Jackson’s poem you separate the stanzas with a slash (/) It may not be true for a person reading a poem in a story but I do my best.

Lifestyle 2.0/?

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 04:19:18 GMT

Disclaimer: I don’t own House MD it was created by David Shore and owned by FOX and NBC/Universal, and produced by Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions. I also don’t own and film, book, television show, monster truck, bread, or anything else that references a real world contraption (since usually I avoid it for this purpose). Most things mentioned under this clause I suggest that you as the reader check out. And special thanks to the lj group Clinc Duty, for putting in their hours and providing me with the word for word (not to mention proper spelling) of the House episodes I modify. So Welcome to the Wonderful World of Fanfiction.

Warning: This is Slash (/): which means relations of the male-kind. With some Friendship (+): they are friends they hang out and are supportive. More specifically House/Chase and Taub+Kutner

Author’s Note: Explanatory AN is at the end.
Just so you know this is a 37 page chapter about, I had a couple people tell me that I wasn’t allowed to have a chapter this long. Just as I cannot have a ten page prologue, well screw it! As long as the chapter contents are longer then the chapter heading I’m all for it. Don’t get too use to this length though this is the longest chapter (so far, and I’ve written twelve separate post-able chapters as of yet).
Happy Reading!

Lifestyle

Chapter 1: The Softer Side

Gregory House woke up like every morning, he wasn’t really groggy or sleepy eyed he just turned off his alarm and waited a moment for the pain to make itself known in small little aches that promised a world of pain if he didn’t do something about it. There was a rustling off to the side of the bed and a quiet, “Good Morning.”

The doctor let out a silent breath and sat up, there really was no pain—a twinge of discomfort, but that was all. His up-and-coming nurse handed him a little plastic cup of green liquid, nodding at the girl he took the cup and tipped the liquid back. Handing the cup back the girl as she moved closer to House and took his stats writing them all down before she left his room so that he could get dressed.

House stretched and got out of his bed, today was a good day—a great day. After having talked to Chase and then spending another hour or so debating if he had made the right decision talking to his ex-duckling. Finally giving up he had gone home met with his soon-to-be registered nurse and gone to bed. Now that it was morning, everything just felt better.

House made sure to get quickly ready for work, he dressed quickly and was on his way down the hall to his living room when he remembered his cane. Turning around House almost skipped to get his cover; even thoughts of the Johnnie Walker Black Label that he couldn’t drink in his cupboard couldn’t bring his mood down. He spotted his up-and-coming nurse in the kitchen he smiled as he put on his leather jacket, “Were my stats fine for last night?”

“They were all within the normal range,” she said as she moved to follow House out of the front door, “I’ll see you at ten tonight?”

“That would be great,” answered House as he clipped his cane to his bike, “You know I talked to that doctor, and I won’t be taking methadone for much longer,” the girl nodded, and thought, ‘I’ll write her a recommendation for after she passes her exam and is a registered nurse.’

“Just keep me posted.”

House climbed onto the motorcycle and the paused looking over at the girl again he smiled and thought, ‘I should tell Chase in case I procrastinate with the letter, and I probably won’t have to explain anything, and he’ll remind me.” The elder watched the girl search for her car keys in her purse before opening the car door and getting in.

Putting on his helmet and turning the key in the ignition, House waited a moment to see if his up-and-coming RN was going to say anything else. After watching the girl start her car, he pulled out of his parking spot and pulled into traffic.

House loved his motorcycle, and he loved it even more that he was certain that his leg was not going to act up and distract him. Although the vibrations from the bike helped the pain in his right leg to a degree, that didn’t mean that the leg didn’t shake. Brushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, he was pain free and happy he wanted it to stay that way.

Pulling into the handicapped spot in the parking lot of Princeton-Plainsboro, House turned off his bike. He had a jerky lapse in memory for a moment; his muscle memory made a grab for his cane while brain said he didn’t need it. Shaking his head he dismounted the bike and grabbed his cane making it inside the building.

The Nephrologist decided that he wanted to grab something from the cafeteria so after quickly checking in with the nurses that all glared at him, he made his way to the cafeteria. When he entered the room he noticed two things one was that Chase was eating breakfast with Cameron. The not-so-shiny haired wombat sat back to the door and couldn’t see House, Cameron ignored him if she saw him, and Wilson was reading a periodical at a booth along the wall.

Making his way over to his one friend, House slid into the seat across from the oncologist. Wilson did not acknowledge his presence immediately but House just figured that he was angry at him, again or finishing the paragraph that he was reading. A couple of section of Wilson’s papers sat on the corner of the table. The oncologist finally glanced away from his paper, picked up his coffee mug took a sip and looked into blue eyes, “You can have a section of the paper, but I’m reading.”

“Have at it,” House shrugged with a look that clearly said he didn’t know why his friend was getting on his case. Adapting a bored expression House riffled through the discarded pages of Wilson’s Paper and settled on the front page. It was suppose to have the most interesting, eye catchers in the paper—which amounted to a car crash. Taking the paper away from his face he looked at his friend again, and then down at the paper plate with half a bagel, “You gonna eat that?”

Wilson folded the paper down so he could see House and then looked down at the half a bagel on his plate, “Have at it,” House picked up the bagel and took a bite, he scanned the cafeteria, when his attention was drawn back to Wilson who had put down his paper, “Did you just ask my permission before you took my food?”

“Yes we can,” House snarked.

The friends were cut off from anything else when Lisa Cuddy held out a blue file towards House, “Adolescent genetic mosaic collapsed during a basketball game, presenting with persistent pelvic pain.”

“Fun!” House said with a lit in his voice as he took the file off the administrator’s hands.

“The parents haven’t told their son that he could have been their daughter. They want assurance that you won’t either,” Cuddy added quickly.

Finishing off the bagel, House tucks the file under his arm, “Less fun, but still.” Standing up using his cane House slowly made his way out of the cafeteria.

As he was walking away he thought he heard Cuddy say, “That was easy.”

House made his way quickly to the elevator; there were a couple people in there with him, getting a steady footing the elder doctor hooked his cane over his left arm. Taking out his cell phone he text Chase a single word, “Euphoric.”

A little voice in the back of his head kept nagging the Diagnostician; he shouldn’t be smiling, step light, heart singing. The true bit of House behind the euphoric haze, sneered at the mere inkling of a singing heart, or any of the other drivel that was currently masquerading as himself. Stepping out of the elevator and walking towards the copy machine closest to his department and his kids, House was disgusted with himself and yet when the rational part of his brain brought it up the haze and singing drowned it out before he could even think that there was anything seriously wrong.

House made enough copies of the patient file for Foreman and his kids and then continued on his way to the glass conference room. He smiled at the sight that he greeted as he approached, all of his kids were sitting, and dare he think eagerly around the table waiting for him. Taking a deep breath and wiping the grin off his face, he had a passing thought that euphoria really wasn’t bad, in fact it was great.

Stepping into the room he moved towards the head of the table waiting for his natural presence to draw the attention of those in the room. Tossing each one a blue file he half smiled, “Our new patient, part girl, part boy, all Thirteen’s dream date.”

He ignored the look that he received from Thirteen, and then he looked around that table as his fellows flipped through the file. “Severe pelvic pain started during a basketball game, could be dehydration,” said Eric Foreman glance up from the file in his hand.

Kutner shook his head slightly and looked towards House, “ER gave him fluids when he came in.”

Foreman disagreed, “Still, it feels chronic.”

The elder doctor walked away from the table towards the window. Anyone who walked into the room would probably assume that he wasn’t paying any attention to the people talking, but to the happenings of the outside world. In truth House was intently listening and turning over each idea and fact that was said in his own head, weighing its importance. He just hoped his kids didn’t realise that he was listening to them. Foreman stated the obvious, Kutner supported him that the case was interesting, now it was time to hear something else obvious—but more useful. His mind turned towards Taub and waited.

The ex-plastic surgeon added, “We got a kid who could mate with himself and we think he didn’t have enough to drink? There are dozens of intersex disorders; persistent pelvic pain could mean Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia, PMDS?”

The Indian doctor who by now was standing said, “Those conditions occur in intersex kids who are chromosomally XX or XY, not XX and XY. Parents recently started him on testosterone, maybe there’s something—“

“Vitamins wouldn’t cause pelvic pain,” interrupted Thirteen, everyone turned to look at her in question as the room fell silent, “there’s a note in here, we’re supposed to refer to his testosterone shots as vitamins. His parents aren’t just liars; they want us to be liars too.”

The eldest quickly turned towards his fellows studying the seriousness of Thirteen,‘Everybody lies,’ thought House in mild disgust, “I won’t do it,” he said drawing the shocked attention of his fellows, perhaps it was the tone of his voice? He thought quickly about the situation, as fun as telling the kid would be—“You guys will though.” He stared to pace towards the door.

“He’s a kid. Parents don’t think he’s ready to deal with it,” said Taub trying to be understanding from a logical stand point.

The female doctor nodded, “My dad was the same way about me maybe having Huntingtons, its—“

“Well that was your experience... must surely apply in this situation,” sneered House, it wasn’t too long ago that she refused to look at her test results, then she was destructive—she really had no reason to be so open, it didn’t add up. And now she gave House this look of a mildly kicked puppy, as he walked closer to the table.

‘House is an ass,’ the thought was repeated a hundred times a day; Thirteen took a deep breath and retaliated, “Pain could be caused by a blind uterus hidden in his abdomen. He needs an MRI.”

Forman snapped back trying to make it appear like adding insult to injury, “Right, boy with girl genes; I’m sure you’re the first doctor brilliant enough to check for a uterus. He could have complications from the surgeries on his penis that can cause pelvic pain.”

“Way to multitask,” House smiled, he loved drama, “impress your boss and humiliate your ex,” He thought for a half a second before adding, “MRI’s a waste of time. To continue the humiliation, go put a camera up his penis.”

The kids began to get up and head for the door, House even turned towards the door of the conference room as if he was making sure his kids did as they were told. Instead of everyone being able to do their jobs their way was blocked by two figures that stood just inside the door. Blue eyes looked at the couple, and they were a couple; he was wrapped around her, as she worried her hands. They looked nervous, anxious, and worried—the parents.

“You’re Dr. House, aren’t you? What do you think is wrong with our son?” said the unknown woman.

This woman clearly shocked House, he knew that someone must have told the loving parents that he was an ass with a cane, so asking who he was followed by such a demand was just shocking, this way the reason he never saw patients, “These people were just coming to tell you. This is better; don’t have to worry about them losing their way.”

The woman blinked put back for a moment, “We think that he has a blind uterus, he should have an MRI.”

This was why House hated patients—and their parents, the thought they knew more than him. Blue eyes glanced over to look at Thirteen, “Did you send them a text?”

“Over the past thirteen years, we’ve educated ourselves,” the husband spoke, bringing everyone’s attention back towards them and away from the girl that was shaking her head.

House sighed in annoyance, “Well, who needs med school when you’ve got Wi-Fi?” House thought a moment tuning towards his team; an MRI was useless, but another hazy voice said that it wouldn’t hurt, “Go schedule their son for an MRI with contrast right away.”

When House glances back at the parents they have a sort of relieved look on their face, the husband murmurs, “Thank you,” before ushering his wife out of the conference room and back to their son.

Everyone starts to move the kids head out the door following the parents towards the patient and House with a minute shake of his head and a half-yawn turned to head into his office. At first the older doctor didn’t realise that he was not alone until Kutner spoke up, “You just said an MRI was a waste of time.”

Blue eyes glanced back at his most hazardous fellow, “So’s arguing with them.” House turned back towards his office and entered it, while Kutner watched him in confusion before leaving the conference room himself.

When he was sure that Kutner was no longer around, House drew all of the blinds around his office and dropped his cane. Pacing the length of his office a few times he smiled brightly, He knew on Chase regime he would soon lose this feeling of no pain, but it didn’t worry him, he almost didn’t care.

House’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, wondering if his kids had already screwed up he flipped it open with mild annoyance. Blue eyes quickly scanned the text and if it was possible the smile grew, and House didn’t know why the only news in the text message was that the patient was still relatively fine, which from House’s perspective really wasn’t that good.

He read the text from Chase a second time to make sure he knew exactly how he was going to answer, “Yes, the euphoria seems permanent” he said with another grin, texting the answer to Chase, House flopped back in his chair and let out a relaxing sigh. Today was a good day.

The rational part of House’s brain argued that it was just a temporary release of endorphins that gave him this euphoric haze that was caused purely from the methadone and House wasn’t truly happy but his usual miserable self. But a tiny miniscule part of House wanted to be happy; not this type of happy, more like the ‘with Stacy happy’—but House really couldn’t think about that at the moment.

The moment called for an internal bet with himself, the state of the patient when his kids came home. There was no blind uterus, he was sure of that. Complication with the surgeries on the kid’s penis was a possibility. He really wanted another clue, picking up his tennis ball he tossed it up and leant back in his chair and caught the ball. He looked pensively at the ball for a moment before turning his chair slightly. He threw the ball at his one opaque wall and caught it on its way back down. He did this partially in the hopes that the thumping would annoy Wilson and then his one friend would come and entertain him. It hadn’t happened yet.

Throwing the ball high against the wall, House leant far back in his chair in hopes to catch the wayward ball. The red and grey tennis ball brushed the outstretched tips of his fingers and rolled of and hit the far wall disrupting the blinds slightly.

With a sigh Gregory twirled his chair around and scanned the floor for his ball before he got up walked over and picked up the ball his hand brushed the blinds and he noticed that there was someone sitting at the conference room table. Standing up with the ball in his hand House put the tennis ball back on his desk and grabbed his cane. Walking over to the wall that separated his office from the conference room, House opened the curtain to see that his fellows were sitting around the table looking slightly stressed.

Walking into the conference room he looked around at the faces of his kids, “So what else do we get to add to the board?” Quickly glancing at the board as he walked around the table he noticed that it was blank. With a shrug he took a seat at the far head of the table. All the eyes in the room fallowed him and watched as he took his seat and leaned forward elbows on his knees, lifting up his cane he looked at it contemplatively, “well?”

The kids jumped and looked around finally Thirteen said, “We drained the fluid from his pericardial space; his heart rate is back to normal.”

Taub added, “Pelvis, plus heart, doesn’t fit with any of the syndromes associated with mosaicism.”

House listened carefully to his fellows holding his cane between his fingers and leaning his chin on the tops of his hands. He was content at the moment to simply let his kids say stupid or useless things, hoping to hit upon something that was at least a good idea.

“Could be drugs, toxins, an infection?” Foreman said but it came out as a question.

“You’re okay with this?” Kutner almost sounded angry as he turned towards House.

Blue eyes glanced up, “With what?”

Kutner looked a bit more annoyed, “That we’re considering a diagnosis unrelated to this kid being a shemale. Assuming a coincidence like that would usually torture you, but you’re completely unfazed.”

House sat back in his chair looking at the Indian doctor, “Completely unfazed? You think I’m totally lacking in any fazing? The idea that I’m anything less than half-fazed, I actually find offensive. It greatly fazes me.”

Thirteen cut in, “He started testosterone —“

“Vitamins,” House cut in mockingly.

Unfazed the female doctor continued her train of thought, “A few months ago. That can cause autoimmune diseases like Polyarteritis and SLE, which can cause pericardial effusion and pelvic pain. So it is related.”

House looked around the conference table lingering on his fellows that seemed to be angry, if only minutely, at him, “Now I’m unfazed. Start him on corticosteroids for the autoimmune and Finasteride to block the vitamins.”

Blue eyes watched as his kids got up from the table and left the conference room. Spinning his cane around he placed the end on the floor and stood up, walking over to his jacket he looked through the pockets for his PSP, it wasn’t there. Turning on his heels he scanned his office to see if he left his video game on his desk or any other surface in the room. With a long sigh he decided he should probably head down to the clinic before Cuddy began to bother him again.

When he reached the clinic and signed in, only twenty or so minutes late for his shift, he grabbed a file to get a patient. The nurse at the station stopped him and shook her head pointing to exam room one and the patient folder that was by the door waiting for him. House just nodded and headed towards one of his favourite sanctuaries, half wondering why the nurse seemed to be holding back a malicious smile.

Grabbing the file, House knocked twice on the door and entered exam room one. There was a boy sitting there waiting for him. Glancing down at the file he quickly read, the kids name was Ian looking back up at the kid he would hazard a guess that he was stoned. Taking a seat House glanced down at the file, “So, you have pain in one arm and both your legs. Does it hurt right now?”

“No, it’s, when, I like put pressure on them. See, it hurts when I do this,” Ian murmured as he held up right hand forefinger out. Slowly he poked his left upper arm. Looking up at House he gave a bored yet over dramatised, “Ow, and this,” he paid careful attention as he poked his left thigh with the same right index finger and in the same tone of voice looked at House and said, “Ow, and this,” and lastly on some form of horrid repeat Ian poked his right upper leg, “Ow.”

House looked at Ian through the whole ‘explanation’ one thought ran through his head, ‘If he is not stoned... he was dropped repeatedly on his head as a baby.’ With a sigh House rolled the chair forward taking the patients figure in his hand, “How about this?” with a mocking tone in his voice House squeezed the finger.

In the same detached voice Ian let out a load and long, “Ow!”

House sat back looking at Ian as if he was stupider than a sponge. While Ian just looked at his finger in some form of amazement. Hose shook his head writing down the actually diagnosis in the kid’s chart, “You have a broken finger.”

“That makes sense,” said Ian looking at House with wide eyes, “my hand did get caught in the door.”

With another sigh House put down his pen and took up Ian’s right hand checking to see if his other fingers were broken. When house touched either the middle or ring finger Ian twitched, House figured that was wince while high, the fingers were only mildly bruised. Noting that Ian was probably holding the jamb when the door closed on his hand House looked back up at his patient, “You only broke the one finger,” Ian bobbed his head, “next time you stupidly slam a door on your hand, “Ian opened his mouth, “or let someone else slam a door on your hand or do anything that you might not normally do... unless for a bet, make sure you don’t need a doctor,” House looked up at Ian who was back to bobbing his head and agreeing with the doctor, “On second thought you’re too stupid, just see a doctor.”

“That makes sense,” mumbled Ian.

House looked at the youth, he was very amusing it wasn’t often that he could insult someone to their face and they would agree with him. Deep down House realised that Ian was probably use to being called stupid. A little voice also told him that he wasn’t up to his usual level of cynicism. Running a hand down his face he set the patient’s file down on the tray using his cane to get up he moved towards the cupboard and rifled through it looking for a foam splint and tape. Ian had broken the proximal hand phalange close to the intermediate hand phalange; so he would need to splint the joint separating metacarpal 2 from the proximal hand phalange and the proximal hand phalange from the distal hand phalange.

Turning towards Ian he held out a length of foam splinting, “I’m going to splint your finger do not remove it and come back in a week to have it looked at again.”

Ian bobbed his head, “All right.”

House just nodded and held the foam up to Ian’s finger he made sure that the foam covered the knuckle before cutting it to size and taping it onto the finger. House watched Ian carefully when he was done as the boy frowned and flexed his hand, “Be careful in the shower, when you sleep, eat etcetera,” House watched as the frown increased, “Look at it this way it will be hard to write with your right hand or even type on a computer for a week with that on.”

Ian looked at him for a moment trying to figure out why House was telling him all that, but then he realised that he still had classes that week, “Sweet man!”

House got up from his spot and smiled at the ludicrous person he was in the room with. Opening the door he stepped out and waited for Ian to gather his things to leave as well. With an amused smile on his face he watched as the most idiotic person he had ever met walked away, suddenly Ian turns around holding up his right hand, forefinger and little finger up, “Thanks brah.”

The doctored just nodded, putting the file back in the slot he found it in; he twirled his cane for a moment, deciding that he had had enough clinic duty for a month with that idiot and walked off towards his office. They never missed him in the clinic anyways; he was normally never even there.

Standing in a surprisingly empty elevator, House decided he was a bit tired. He also knew that it would not be a wise decision for him to take a nap at work. He was half hoping that their patient had done something else new and interesting to help his brain move safely away from the stupidity of the clinic. He got out of the elevator and made his way over toward his office, he was disappointed to see the conference room empty.

House entered his office looked around for a moment he put his cane against the wall and took off his jacket. He looked around his office to see if there was anything that he wanted to do. Deciding against anything mindless at the moment, he flopped relieved into his chair and propped his feet up on the matching foot stool. Leaning back he stretched and yawned closing his eyes, ‘just for a moment’ he told himself, as he thought of anything else but Ian’s stupidity.

House was jerked awake by a terrible pain coming from his nipples he half flew off the chair with a load scream of pain.

As a way of answering the questions on House’s mind Wilson said, “You stopped breathing.”

Taking a couple more deep breaths House looked around the room to see not only Wilson, but Cuddy and half of his team all looking at him with worry. Cuddy interrupted House’s train of thought, “What the hell is going on?”

House felt a bit bad, Chase had even thought that he should have talked to Wilson or Cuddy. And it was true that he needed someone in this situation that wouldn’t cave to any of his ridiculous notions. In the same thought House realised that James Wilson was his friend and Lisa Cuddy did put up with all the crazy shit he had done over the years. But still a larger portion wanted to do this on his terms and as long as House had known Chase he was on House’s own terms.

The elder doctor was pulled from his thoughts by an oxygen mask being placed over his mouth and nose. Looking around his office he noticed that Taub and Thirteen had now joined the group. His attention was dragged back to Cuddy as she began to shine a light in his eyes checking for the reaction of his pupils.

Removing the mask House looked down at Cuddy, “I think my penis stopped breathing; do you know CPR?” before putting the mask back on.

Cuddy rolled her eyes with a disgusted look on her face, “Looks like your brain is Okay. Pupils are equal, round, and reactive.” She got up and moved away from House looking around for her stethoscope, or any stethoscope.

“I’m fine,” snarked House removing the mask and moving around in his chair, “other than the fact that my nurple is now purple, “ with a sneer at Forman he looks towards Thirteen, “no wonder you broke up with him. I’m surprised yours are still attached.” House looked his female team member over as she glanced at Foreman he noticed the folder she was carrying, “By the way, I can see that from here. I assume those are our patient’s lab results.”

Thirteen looked at House almost surprised, “Patient can wait; you could have died.”

House didn’t answer he didn’t want them all focused and worried about him, he sighed. Wilson watched his friend for a moment and then glared, “The only reason you’d ignore a near death experience is you don’t care or you already know why it happened.”

‘Shit,’ House thought, but said, “It’s called vicodin, I took too many.” Cuddy now came back over to him with a stethoscope and started to listen to his breathing, with a glare House spoke in raised volumes, “Can I please get some information about our patient?” House watched in self satisfaction as Cuddy winced and took the stethoscope away from her ears and House. Blue eyes then looked up at his team expectantly.

“Patient’s palms are red; lab tests confirm liver and kidney dysfunction,” Thirteen answered quickly.

“I don’t remember you taking any Vicodin today,” Kutner added looking at his immediate boss with suspicion.

House cursed at Kutner’s eye for the little things, as he buttoned his shirt, “I don’t remember hiring my Mother. What causes the enzymes in little Boy George’s existing heart problem and pelvic pain?”

Everyone ignored House as Wilson accused, “You didn’t take any yesterday at breakfast either.”

“I don’t remember having breakfast with my Mother,” House growled at his friend.

Foreman decided to answer House, “Amyloidosis with systemic involvement.”

“Protein levels are normal. This kid’s depressed, if he’s self-medicating with drugs and alcohol that would explain his symptoms,” Thirteen added.

House scanned the faces of his team, “Search the school; search the home.”

“Seriously, or are you just deflecting?” asked Kutner shocked.

“Both,” House snarls, looking around the room for his cane and jacket, he picks up his cane and stands up, walking towards his jacket.

Cuddy interrupts him, “Where are you going?”

House glance around the room and glares at Cuddy while he picks up his jacket, “Nowhere, I’m staying right here, so we can properly discuss this.” House walks out of his office and down the hall towards the elevator. He needed to talk to Chase.

Once Hose was in the elevator he watched and waited for the doors to close to make sure that no one was going to try and follow him. Taking out his cell phone House checked the time, last he knew Chase didn’t have surgery to attend. He quickly typed in, ‘911 meet me in your locker room.’ House got off the elevator and made his way towards the locker room nearest the ICU where Chase’s things were.

Unsurprisingly he was there before Chase, taking a deep breath he sat down on the bench in front of Robert Chase’s locker and began to tap his cane against the floor as he waited.

It did not take long before the blond doctor slipped into the locker room and leaned against the lockers opposite of where his old boss sat, “So what happened?”

“Fell asleep in my office, I wasn’t trying to so I might have passed out, I wasn’t breathing and my pulse was probably weak,” House told Chase as he looked up at the doctor, as an afterthought with a glare he added, “Foreman gave me a purple nurple to wake me up.”

Chase gave House an inquisitive look, “Foreman did what?”

“Is there no purple nurples in England?” House asked with a smirk, Chase just crossed his arms across his chest and looked hard at House, “Fine, he twisted my left nipple... hard.”

Robert Chase chuckled a moment before becoming serious again. Nodding his head he moved around the bench to his locker. Opening his locker he took from his messenger bag his notebook, flipping it to the back and his ‘House Notes’ he straddled the bench facing House.

“So when did this event occur? What were you doing before it happened?” asked Chase as hhe took a pen from the pocket of his scrubs and poised it on the paper.

Thinking for a moment, House said, “About a half an hour ago. I don’t know when I passed out exactly. I showed up for the clinic about twenty minutes late. I had the most idiotic college student ever, dealt with him for another twenty minutes or so and then decided I need a break,” Chase gave an amused snort waiting for House to continue, “went back to my office, but I forgot my PSP I sat down and was just trying to forget the stupid. The next thing I know my nurple is purple.”

“Were your stats checked by anyone?”

“Yes,” House nodded, with a sneer he added “I was given an oxygen mask, the only thing that had been said out load was that my pupils were normal, but how dare they because patient usually want to know what their stats are.”

Blue eyes watched as the Australian wrote down a few more things before he took the stethoscope from around his shoulders and put the buds in his ears. Chase checked House’s pulse and breathing. When he was done he returned the stethoscope to the place around his neck, and then wrote down his findings. When Chase stopped writing he sat up straighter and looked at all the notes.

Green eyes looked up and met blue, “We will have to take you off the methadone sooner than planned,” House nodded it was the wisest thing to do, “did you want to take one last dose this evening and start with the vicodin tomorrow?”

“That sounds fine,” answered House. Even he could admit that as much as he disliked pain the methadone was dangerous. The blond twisted reaching into his bag and pulled out a prescription bottle, handing it to House. Blue eyes looked at the bottle in his hand, he opened it as shook out a couple pills before placing them back into the bottle and the bottle into his pocket, “I’m not starting with high powered vicodin?”

“No,” Chase shook his head, “Think of this as a crude sort of pain level test. The addiction should be out of your system, so the pain should react better to the vicodin. Take pill as you see fit at the end of three days I want to know how you feel and how many pills you took in an average day, if there was any extra stress added that may have affected that amount and so forth. Based off of that amount, we’ll either move you up to the vicodin hp or keep you on this regiment. Whenever you need a prescription come to me I won’t be restricting your vicodin intake.” ‘yet’ thought Chase in his head, as he looked at House who opened his mouth as if to ask how this was going to help manage his vicodin intake but decided against it.

“Good to see you taking this seriously,” said House his voice sounded a bit on the defeated side.

“Of course,” smiled Chase, “I better be getting back to work though.”

Both doctors stood up and walked out of the locker room the turned in opposite directions and headed off. Chase glanced back at House as the elder walked towards the elevator. The blond doctor noticed that the elder certainly did walk away at that moment, more then he limped. He did feel for House who would go back to a state of pain, the next day.

House walked back into his office, at first he had thought that it was empty, he half wondered where his team, Cuddy and Wilson had gone. He hoped in the case of his team that they had gone to do as he had said. It did not take him long to notice however that he was not actually alone—Kutner sat in the chair that he had passed out in, holding a hand pump oxygen bag, “What are you doing here?”

“Wilson and Cuddy figured you would return here when everyone left, I was told to wait and then watch you to make sure you are still breathing.”

“How very kind of you,” House snarled, “but you can leave now.”

“Sorry,” said Kutner with a shrug.

House glared at the Indian for a moment before taking a seat in his office chair. Leaning his cane against the wall, he picked up his tennis ball and rolled it in his hands. He watched Lawrence; he was trying to decide what to do in his boredom, how best to get the young doctor to leave him alone. He smiled and threw his ball in the air, “Doesn’t it just make you feel special that Wilson and Cuddy both thought that you are such a great doctor they gave you this important job.”

Kunter pouted for a moment before turning half-hopeful eyes on House, “I know that most people around here think I’m an idiot, but you hired me.” The hopeful ‘right?’ was left unsaid.

Blue eyes studied his young fellow. Kutner did do plenty of stupid things, setting patients on fire, just to mention one. But just earlier that day he had noticed something that no one else had noticed his lack of vicodin intake, and Wilson—his best friend—hadn’t noticed until the Indian doctor had mention his own observation.

House tossed and caught the ball a few more times in a ploy to appear to be ignoring the other doctor, when that didn’t get a reaction he answered the unasked question, “Never had an employee get fired so many times and still stand before me.”

Lawrence Kutner smiled a goofy grin, House could still see the pain in his eyes, “No, you fired number six, nine, and ‘Former Foster Kid’.”

The elder doctor chuckled catching the ball again, “I feel like I might have fired the ‘Former Foster Kid’ more than once,” House shrugged and threw the ball up again, “So if I fire Kutner, what am I going to call you?”

Kutner laughed, “Doctor Kutner, or maybe even Lawrenc-“ dark eyes widened as House’s arms went slack, his eyes rolled back, and the tennis ball hit his head on its downward path and rolled to the ground, “shit!” Kutner exclaimed scrambling to get up and run over to House. In his haste he didn’t think to even check House’s breathing instead he put the mask over his boss’ nose and mouth.

Before the brunet could pump air into House’s lungs and hand reached up and pulled the apparatus away, “If you jump to conclusions like that, I might have to fire Kutner.”

“Don’t do this House, we’re worried about you,” answered Kutner with a hurt face as he moved to sit down again.

House got up and retrieved his ball as an afterthought he rubbed his forehead, sitting back down he began throwing the ball against his singular solid wall, “I never asked you to worry about me, there is really no need for you to baby sit. I am older then you, you know.”

This continued for a good portion of the remaining work day. House would fake passing out, the first couple times Kutner would rush over to check his vitals. At the very least after that initial fake out Kutner always checked to see how House was doing before trying to resuscitate his boss. After the third or fourth time House played his joke, he could hear the initial noise of Kutner jerking his feet, but a second later him murmured, “House I can see your chest rising from here.”

It was then that House decided that he needed to get more sneaky in his game and worked on slowing or even holding his breath. Kutner fell for it two more times. On the third time Kutner stood up but stayed near the chair he had been occupying until he saw House breath, in his head Kutner told himself that he would go over after three minutes.

Partially annoyed that his game was found out, and partially happy that his fellow was learning, House changed his tactic. Placing the ball down on his desk he glared at Kutner, “I’m going to take a nap, is that okay with you, mommy?”

The other doctor blinked, “You probably shouldn’t House.”

“Good thing you aren’t my mommy than,” replied House his he put his legs up on the desk and leaned back in his chair closing his eyes. House knew the risk he was running by doing this but his brain kept a buzz with trying to hear and guess Kutner’s next moves. He also felt a bit more secure because he knew that those dark orbs were watching him and would make sure that he would wake up, if not well he could see if and who in the religious debate wins.

In the first ten or so minutes Kutner got up and moved closer to House. He must have seen the older doctor’s chest rise and fall at the closer angle. House felt that it sounded like Kutner was walking backwards. Possibly, it was so that he could concentrate on his chest and tell whether or not he was breathing from the chair near the door.

The clocked ticked by as House continued to fake his sleep. He finally heard the sounds of footsteps enter his office and he perked to attention internally, there was a slight rustle of paper and then Thirteen’s voice, “I stand alone my soul and me/beneath the mask that others,” there was a brief pause “see.”

“His chest is still rising. He’s just screwing with me ‘cause Cuddy made me babysit.” House heard Kutner say but decided to still play his game.

Thirteen continued to read, “A pain that tears and bites and will not bend/only when I sleep, will it end.”

House sighs as he switches tactics, “Downer, and medically ire…” he lets his voice trail off to see the next reaction of his kids.

“You sure his chest is moving?” asked Thirteen.

Thirteen had disrupted Kutner’s flow; he stood up and took a couple steps towards his boss, “House?”

“If he’s faking you think he’s going to come clean because you said his name?” added in Thirteen.

House hears whom he assumes is Kutner still moving closer to him again, “Back off. Only Thirteen gets to grab my nipples this time.”

“You know, recreating the moment when you made us crap our pants isn’t actually all that funny,” Dr. Remy Hadley said.

Blue eyes cracked open and looked at the occupants of his office, he was going to say that it was funny when Kutner falls for it, but Foreman cuts him off with a sardonic sweet voice, when he puts his hand on Thirteen’s shoulder, “That is sweet that you’re worried about House.”

The eldest lifts up his head and looks at the former Foreteen it was truly strange to see, thinking about the poem for a second he adds, “Unless the next stanza reads, ‘Hoping to fry my brain to death/I smoked some primo crystal meth,’ I’m not interested.”

“You can’t deny that this kid may be suicidal,” Thirteen shook her head.

“We’re not here to make him happy; we’re here to diagnose him,” House pointed out.

Blue eyes could see that the female member of his team was about to object but at that moment the ex-plastic surgeon entered the office and said, “It’s an infection. Swab of the kid’s water bottle turned up Toxoplasmosis.”

He didn’t really like the idea but it was better than the poem Thirteen had found. House looks pointedly at the brunet female, “I’ll start him on Pyrimethamine.” House’s eyes vaguely follow Thirteen out of the room as Foreman stared at him, blue eyes locked with brown as the stared at each other.

The staring got old, without breaking eye contact with his eldest fellow, the one he never thought would stay in diagnostics, and he sat up, “Don’t you guys have somewhere to be? It is quitting time. If the kid gets worse the nightshift will page us.”

Everyone in the room looked at House for a moment before they turned around and exited the office. Right when they were exiting Wilson approached ready to go home. He waited until the doorway was free and then walked into House’s office.

“It’s snowing outside, you shouldn’t ride your bike home. I was going to grab a burger at that place you like near your place, did you want to come?” asked Wilson in his usual ‘I am helping you willingly at the expense of myself, love me,’ voice.

Blue eyes glanced quickly outside to see the light snow falling. Wilson was right the snow would make the streets very slushy, not to mention that the seat of his motorcycle would be covered in the wet flakes.

With a nod House reached down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk pulling out a bike cover, “All right just let me cover my bike first.”

“I’ll pull my car around and meet you by your parking place,” said Wilson with a half-smile as he turned and left the glass office.

The elder doctor watched his friend go, before he placed the bike cover on his desk. Moving around the office he made sure that his bag was packed. Glancing quickly at his bike helmet he decided against taking it with him it made more sense to leave it there. In hind sight he shouldn’t have taken the bike to work that day it really was too cold. Just because it had been warming up lately, he thought it would be fine but the city still had their Christmas lights up, so he should have known better. Dislodging his thoughts House put on his jacket, picked up his bag, and grabbed the cover and his cane; before shutting off his lights and leaving his office.

House made his way out of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, hoping that Wilson was already waiting for him. When he reached his bike and there was no Wilson, the doctor turned to face the direction that his friend would be coming from and waited.

Wilson pulled up alongside House with an annoyed look on his face. The elder doctor gave him a mocking smile before opening the driver’s side passenger door. Throwing his bag into the back of Wilson’s car, leaning over he picked up the windshield scraper with a brush before walking over to his bike.

Lifestyle 1/?

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 04:15:02 GMT

NaNoWriMo House Fanfiction

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 02:04:51 GMT

So I am having insomnia issues, due partially to stress due to not having a job. to counter this I am going to do NaNoWriMo but since it is a last minute decision the only story idea that I have in my mind is a House fanfic that follows the general story line of the episodes in season 5 starting between Unfaithful and The Softer Side.

The end result will be House/Chase; possibly House/Wilson/Chase depending on how the story writes. I spent all day (since I woke up) re-watching and taking notes on eps 15-21 I'm going to watch the rest of season 5 tonight or tomorrow. With help of Clinic Duty I am going to actually use the actual medical maladies (I'm an Archaeologist not a doctor, 200 yr old TB I would catch and that is about it.) from the episodes.

I would like some opinions on my general ideas outlined feel free to ask questions. If you hate the idea be kind my mental stability is on the line. If you read my other fanfics I'm sorry.

So there will be a BDSM feel to the fic (I have had this general idea since Chase admitted to the girlfriend who liked to be burned, and when House smashed his hand during detox and was reaffirmed when Cameron caught him cutting). It will be slow to progress in the sense that no R+ rated scenes until season 6 figuratively. I'm thinking an episode a chapter-ish.

So this House/Chase is going to have a side dish of Taub+Kutner (the + means friendship; depending on how it writes maybe more), mostly because I really like Kutner as a socio-personal archetype. So he is not going to die in ep 20 (he might die later not so sure yet) and yes I know why he committed suicide, I just don't want Kutner dead, yet.

So my major question is would it be horrible of me to ignore all of the Fore-teen bits since that is established and gets plenty of air time?

Do people really hate (like will not read solely because) BDSM? Because in reality there is a bit of SM, then BD, then D/s. And before anyone asks yes I am familiar with the lifestyle; I won’t tie anyone up and then go shopping, that would be just dangerous.

Can anyone really see why logically Kutner committed suicide?

I'll be bringing blatantly to the forefront that every time House needs a Surgeon he calls Chase (and Chase jumps) personally I know it is most likely because the writers need to keep Chase around. But I want to see a bit of House/Chase

I have a lot of highlighted parts that are outside of the frame of the episode (like visiting Wilson's Brother) that I have named as interludes in my note taking. I would like to heor peoples opinion if I do a chap per episode (or even chap 1.1-1.3, or whatever) should I just call these outside parts Interludes or count them as a chapter. Part of me wants to keep episodes as chapters only but another part of me is worried since my current chapter line up would be: P,1,2,I1,3,I2,4,I3,5,6... any thoughts feelings?

So the general plot... weee...

House realises that the Methadone is too high of a risk to keep taking before The Softer Side. He asks Chase for a consult since Wilson and Cuddy are both enablers and realises that he needs a non-enabling force. Chase takes over Houses pain regiment completely. Methadone will force a not so painful detox off of Vicodin. So we are dealing with a non-addicted House so Chase will progressively decrease House's vicodin and placebo ratio in each bottle that he receives. So House stays off the addiction and slowly weans off vicodin without taking less pills and rising suspicion.

If you see any really large plot faults please tell me and I will either tell you I thought of it already or I'll think about it. Please reply asap as NaNoWriMo starts 1.Nov. Thanks!