Firstly, I am not a doctor. All medical knowledge used in this fic is from the internet or medical dramas, so don't take it seriously. I have tried to make it as real as possible, though. Secondly, any non-canon characters, along with all storylines, are original – Baker, Lyle, Hartwood, Taylor, English and all patients are figments of my imaginations. Finally, I do not own House, though I wish I did, and this story will include spoilers from all eight seasons, along with my ideal version of what happened to all the canon characters after 'Everybody Dies'. Set after the finale.

"What have we got today, ducklings?"

The three white-cloaked doctors who were sitting around the wooden table looked up from their files and coffee mugs to see a limping shape stumble through the door, the sound of his cane on the floor a repetitive thud.

"16-year-old white female. Lost consciousness after she fell off a balance beam," replied one, a dark-haired, bright-eyed American as he pushed the medical file across the table.

"And we care?" retorted the oldest of the four, leaning on his cane.

"That's what-"

"She's been experiencing double-vision and temporary, intermittent facial paralysis for roughly three weeks. Her room is 'spinning', apparently," interrupted the female doctor who was sitting at the table, leaning back in her chair and staring at the three others with clear blue eyes.

"Has she been put on any meds in the past month?" asked the last, flicking hair out of his brown eyes.

"Only mild anti-antidepressants for mood swings," replied the woman.

"Symptom?"

"No way," she shot back. "Try hormones. She's a teenager. Her parents are just overreacting."

"ER ruled out concussion?" asked the limping doctor as he walked up to the whiteboard and picked up the black marker, scribbling symptoms on as his team spoke: Double vision, facial paralysis

"Without a CT," replied the dark-haired doctor. "The paralysis could be causing the double vision – weak facial muscles cause her eyes to point at different angles and causes double vision."

The limping doctor stopped scribbling on the board and turned on his cane, waving the hand with the pen in.

"Hartwood, this is where you tell me what caused the face paralysis and we all go home," he clarified.

"Um…," Hartwood fumbled, glancing around for help, but none was offered. "Head trauma?"

"Not likely," answered the female doctor.

"Infection," he corrected. "Causes inflammation in the facial nerves. Explains everything."

"Hartwood, Taylor, go treat with broad-spectrum antibiotics-" the two men pushed their chairs back and stood up. "-And, Lyle, find me a new case. I don't trust these two."

"I wouldn't either," replied Lyle, standing up and dropping the closed file on the table.

Standing up, the three doctors looked quite different to each other – Lyle, who's milky-brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, with strands falling into her face – stood a head shorter than Hartwood, who had floppy black hair and bright orange-y eyes and a clean-shaven face. Finally, Taylor, who was making his way to the door, had blond-brown hair that let loose the occasional strand to fall into his cloudy green eyes. The door swung open as he and Hartwood disappeared, and Lyle was soon to follow when the aging doctor stopped her.

"Lyle?" he called, making her turn and her fly out behind her, as she let out a half-hearted 'hm?' in reply. "You have blood under her nails." Glancing down, the woman saw red turning black under her bitten nails.

"Huh. Guess I do," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. "Anything else?"

"Did you kill someone, Lyle?" Without a second's thought, the woman burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against the glass door that was still open.

"Right, sure. That's totally how it got there." Laughing under her breath, Lyle fell through the door and into the corridor and glancing back into the office as the door shut.

"I'll be back in a minute," she called, turning on her heels and striding off down the hall.

The doctor in the glass-walled office watched as she went until she disappeared around the corner, before falling into his chair and leaning back, dropping his cane to the floor. Staring at his desk, he read the name on the bronze plaque that sat at the very front, and grinned to himself. Gregory House, M.D.