Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the TV show House (otherwise known as HouseM.D.) including, but not limited to, the characters, locations and props.

AN: I love this show, especially House and Wilson (the characters, not the 'ship), and so I decided to write something for this fandom. However, as it's me, there has to be an OC, two in this case.

I do not like Chase (Chase fans please do not run off, yet), so he's not presented as the sharpest tool in the box. However, he gets the only romantic interest shown in this piece.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my first forray into writing House fanfiction.

The scene opens with a gentleman in his mid-forties and a dark suit jacket, blue shirt and dark jeans limping across the almost deserted lobby of New Jersey's renowned teaching hospital. For all that he's walking with a cane, he moves very quickly and only speeds up when a dark-haired woman of average stature started calling his name. Eventually, she caught him just as he entered the elevator.

"I've got a case for you."

"I'm not interested."

"I think you will be."

"You've got 2 seconds."

"A 23-year-old woman is asking to transfer to you." The man paused and the woman shoved the blue-bound file in his chest before stalking away.

*~*

That afternoon, as Dr House was explaining how seizures was caused by drug use, using a stork metaphor, there was a knock at the conference room door. The three men and one woman all turned to see a young woman with a rucksack hoisted on one shoulder and a messenger bag slung across her respectable bosom. Dr Cameron, who was closest to the door, opened it and the young woman walked in. She smiled at every one, but walked straight up to the eldest of the gentlemen doctors and held out a hand.

"Dr Gregory House, I presume?" she asked in a soft West Tennessee accent. He shook her hand and returned her penetrating gaze; it looked as though they were seeing into one another.

"Yes and you are?"

"Alexandra Fabiano. But please, call me Alex; my full name is too unwieldy."

"That was quick," said House, turning towards the coffee machine and one-handedly self-administering some tablets.

"What was quick?" asked Cameron.

"This is the transfer patient I was telling Chase about this morning. I hadn't expected to see her until tomorrow at the earliest."

"Yeah, well, I got fed up being prodded at by people who had no idea what was wrong with me, but were sure that it had to be connected to their own specialty." Alex rolled her eyes. "So, I discharged myself and had my friend drive me here."

"Well, that explains it. Cameron, get her admitted."

"Oh, great! More lying around with nothing to do," said Alex in an irritated voice.

"OK, I've got an idea," said House, sitting himself at the head of the table. "Instead of us reading your file and then having to come to talk to you, why don't you just tell us what happened?" He had meant it sarcastically, but she just smiled and sat at the opposite end of the table, after having dropped her rucksack by the side of the chair..

"With pleasure. I was in New York with this orchestra I play for. We had just gotten through to the semis, we were in one of the dressing rooms, and I suddenly collapsed -- blacked out. I came around before the ambulance arrived, but they still insisted on taking me to the New Haven hospital. I've been there for about a week." She was interrupted by a dry, hacking cough. "Perfect. That leads me on to what happened next. Because of the cough, I was diagnosed as having some sort of airways infection, so they put me on a course of antibiotics for a couple of days. But, as you heard, it didn't fix anything. So, they then decided, due to the fact I had also fainted, that it was hip cancer, but couldn't find any cancer cells, so that blew that one out of the water. The next brilliant idea was that I had HIV, which was effectively impossible but they insisted on testing me anyway. They then reckoned I was suffering from Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease and started treating me for it. When that didn't work, they wanted to do a lumbar puncture and that's where I drew the line. I put in the request to be transferred and refused the test. However, they were still pressuring me to have the test done and I was not convinced they had passed on the request, so I called my friend and I've already told you the rest."

"OK, people," said House after a pause. "Differential diagnosis."

"You're going to diagnose a patient, while she's in the room?" asked Dr Foreman, sceptically.

"Sure, why not, she might have something to add," he said with a pointed look.

"OK, OK, I'm going," said Alex, holding up her hands in a defensive way. "Sheesh, I was only trying to help." She picked up her bag and waved Cameron back towards the discussion. She went back to the lobby and had herself admitted as Dr House's patient.
Meanwhile, House and his ducklings were making a list of possible complaints.

"I vote heart," said Dr Robert Chase, leaning back in his chair. House gave him look that very clearly said 'explain'. "I would reckon there's either a malformation or valvular problem."

"I think it's more likely to be pulmonary fibrosis," chipped in Allison Cameron.

"It could just be chronic fatigue," said Dr Eric Foreman.

"Except she's not complaining of any fatigue," said House.

"I thought you said everybody lies," said the neurologist.

"You're going to tell your doctor that you're fatigued before putting in for a transfer," pointed out Cameron and her boss nodded. "What about cryptococcosis or Eagle's syndrome?"

"OK, do blood tests, but don't bother with a tox screen. Also, echo her heart, if there is a problem there I want to see it. If they picked up GERD, then it could very well be cryptococcosis, so test for that as well." He looked around at them all still sat there. "Well, why are you still here?" Amidst resigned sighs, the conference room cleared.

*~*

Alex was, as she had predicted, bored. The nurses had had her fill out the paperwork, then they had dressed her in the stupid, thin blue 'gown' and then left her in a bed with nothing to do. They had stored her bags in the closet by the window, in the furthest corner from the bed, and there was nothing on TV. She was debating whether to risk getting up to fetch her book and writing materials, when doctors Foreman and Cameron came in.

"Ah, wonderful," she said, eying the tray that Foreman was bearing warily. "I hate needles."

"I would have thought that you'd be used to it," said Cameron with a frown.

"No, this is the first time I've ever been in hospital as anything except an out patient for a one-off appointment. I don't tend to get myself into the sort of situations where you get injured and the only disease I suffer from is the common cold, I don't even get flu."

What about vaccinations?" said Foreman as he prepared the needle. Alex turned her face away and gulped.

"Last time I needed a vaccination was when I was 18. I went to Mozambique, working as part of a Christan mission that were helping to improve conditions for the poorest. Before that, the last vaccination I'd had was those you get as a tot. My mum then found all that anti-vaccination stuff and so I didn't get anything else."

"O-kay," said Foreman, glancing at Cameron and then inserting the needle. Alex hissed loudly and then started panting in pain.

"Ah, ah, ahhhhh..." Foreman sighed, that was just the first vial and he needed to take five more. He unscrewed the vial and inserted the next. Alex seemed to be trying to excavate the mattress with her heels but she was holding her arms perfectly still. Cameron moved to the other side of the bed and took Alex's hand.

"You uh don't ahh want to doooo that," said the patient, squeezing hard on the other woman's hand. Cameron had to admit to herself that the younger woman was right: giving her her hand to squeeze had been a bad idea. Both the women were relieved when Foreman had drawn all the blood samples he needed. They swabbed her arm, applied a piece of plaster and then headed to the labs to run the tests. Alex, her left elbow still stinging like mad, reached across her body and picked up the phone receiver. Laying that on the excuse for a duvet, she then pulled the top drawer of the unit open and took out her notebook. She flipped through several pages until she reached the one she wanted. Venting her frustration at only having one arm she could currently move by means of a cough, she dropped the notebook on her lap, picked up the receiver and typed in the number. The phone rang about nine times, before it was picked up.

"House," she said, between clenched teeth. The spot on her arm had just turned from painful to itchy.

"Who is this?"

"Patient..." Alex had to pause to check her wristband. "6129-481."

"What do you want?" She dissolved into a coughing fit for a couple of seconds. Once it had cleared, House added: "How did you get this number?"

"Found it when I was looking for where to transfer," she answered, simply. Suddenly, a twinge of pain shot up from the puncture wound and terminated in her heart. "Ah-ahhh! No more needles," she hissed. "Unless you explain why I need them and can prove it in triplicate!" Alex ended the call and let the hand holding the phone to drop on to the bed, while she laid her head back against the pillow and let the pain course through her.

*~*

"Who was that?" asked Chase, gesturing at the phone.

"Coughing girl," answered House.

"She has your number?" The younger man's eyes seemed to be popping out of his head.

"Said she found it while looking into where to be transfered to."

"What did she say?"

"No more needles." Chase frowned at him.

"How are we meant to do any more tests?"

"Unless I explain it to her and can... prove it in triplicate." House leaned back and started tossing the grey and red ball across himself. "At least it tells us something."

"What can it possibly tell us?"

"That she has a low pain tolerance."

"How does that help?"

"It doesn't," said the head of diagnostic medicine happily, getting up from his chair. "Except it makes it very unlikely that she's experiencing any pain that she's not telling us about." House left his office, Chase following him, and limped his way along the corridor, then got into the elevator to get down to the basement. Chase got out at the third floor to echo the patient's heart.
As he was carried further down, House wondered why it was that this outspoken young woman had given him her patient ID and not her name the second time. Had she read or heard something about his way of dealing with patients when searching for the right hospital to transfer to? That, of course, was another question. Why had she chosen him? There were other diagnostics departments in the area and she obviously thought she didn't need to be in hospital. So, why choose to transfer to him?
The idea that she had not looked around for the best diagnostics department, but had heard of him and had chosen to come to him for some reason flitted through his mind as he made his way into the lab where Foreman and Cameron were working. "What have we got?"

"A crushed hand," said Cameron, flexing the extremity in question.

"How did that happen?" asked House, interested.

"Patient," said Foreman, still not looking away from the dropper he was currently using to transfer Alex's blood on to a microscope slide.

"Yeah, she crushed my hand to jelly when we were taking the blood," Cameron told him, taking the print-out that the computer had just spewed out. "Her urea and creatinine levels are raised."

"How high?"

"24 and 1.8 milligrams." House frowned, musing on what could cause those results.

"She's negative for HIV and blood cancers," Foreman informed them, bringing his eye away from the microscope and looking at his boss. The other man nodded and started limping away, leaving his two fellows to grab there things and follow.

"Where are we going?" asked Cameron as she hurried to catch up.

"I'm going to talk to Wilson."

"But she tested negative for cancer!"

"I know," he said, stepping into the elevator and turning to look at the other two. "Page me once Case's finished with the echo."

*~*

"There's a puzzle within the puzzle," said House, limping at speed through the door that bore the name: James Wilson. The owner of the office sighed and dropped the file he had been reading onto the desk. "Why would an attractive, young woman choose to transfer into my care?"

"Maybe she's attracted by your raw masculinity," suggested his friend, wryly. House gave him a look that said he thought Wilson was being idiot. "She probably heard you were the best diagnostician in the country."

"But!" said House, twirling his cane and then pointing it at his friend. "She knew I don't like having to deal with patients as people. When she burst into my office, she used her name; however, when she rang me to refuse the use of any more needles, she gave me her patient ID number. The only reason she would change is if she knew that patients, to me, are just diseases to be cured. But how would she know that?"

"You said she had your phone number?"

"Yes, she said she found it when she was looking about where to transfer to."

"Well, Cameron answers your calls, right?" House nodded, not quite sure where his friend was headed with this. "Obviously..." Wilson looked at House, expecting him to provide the name. He had just remembered that the other man probably did not know it, when his friend surprised him.

"Alex."

"Right, well, Alex must have called your office, Cameron answered and told her about your way of dealing with cases."

"Firstly, why would Cameron tell her that? And, secondly, why would a young woman who does not believe she needs to be in hospital choose to come under the care of someone who has a lousy bedside manner?"

"Maybe because she doesn't feel the need to be in hospital." House just stared at him, disbelievingly. "No, she hears you're the best in the field and decides she can put up with your manner to get cured quickly. How's that going, by the way? The curing her."

"We've just done the blood tests: came back negative for HIV and cancer, but with raised creatinine and urea." House suddenly shook his head as though the medicine was distracting him from what was really important. "23-year-old women generally want people to be nice to them and now she's insisting on me interacting with her whenever we want to do a test that involves needles."

"So... you're thinking that she chose to come here to enter some sort of battle of wits with you?"

"I don't know, but it's an interesting idea," House said with a grin, but then his pager went off so he left the office. He had meant to leave Wilson in peace, but his friend was now interested in this case. As he did not have any patients of his own to deal with for another hour, he pulled on his coat and followed House to his set of offices. "So, what did the echo tell us?"

"It looks like her right ventricle is enlarged, but it was too difficult to tell."

"So, we can rule out cardiac malformation," said House, using his marker to put a line through it on the whiteboard. "Who said pulmonary?"

"Uh, I did," answered Cameron.

"Looks like you were right," said House. "Do a chest x-ray, I want to be sure."

"Have you done a serological test?" asked Wilson. House turned his 'Huh?' face on his friend. "For the cryptococcosis." House swiveled to face his team.

"Uh..." started Cameron.

"No, we didn't," Foreman told his boss.

"Why not, Cameron? It was your idea."

"Uh, because you didn't tell us to?"

"I told you to run blood tests," explained the diagnostician.

"Well, after getting the blood out of her, I had kinda forgot about cryptococcosis," retorted Cameron.

"OK, Chase, Foreman do the x-ray. Cameron, use the blood you've still got to do the serological."

"Why not take a new vial?" asked Chase.

"I wouldn't want to try," answered his female colleague, getting up to run the tests.

"No more needles, remember?" added House, turning back to look at his whiteboard.

*~*

"So, let me get this straight," said Alex, pushing herself up straighter to look at the two doctors. Her eyebrows were raised and her expression was of one completely unimpressed by what they've just been told. "You want to do a chest x-ray because of something to do with my heart that you couldn't see on the echocardiograph?"

"That's about right," said Foreman with a shrug.

"Didn't New Haven send you my file?" she asked, annoyed.

"Yeah, they did," answered Chase, shooting a confused frown at Foreman.

"Well, why can't you use the chest x-ray they did?"

"There was no x-ray in the file," Foreman told her.

"That's odd," she bit out, her irritation rising with every passing moment. "Because they did one after the antibiotics didn't work." The two doctors exchanged another frown, before Foreman said:

"Excuse us a moment." The pair left the room normally enough, but then raced up to House's office.

"New Haven aren't telling us everything," said Chase as soon as they entered.

"You only just figure that out?" asked his boss.

"You knew?!" exclaimed Foreman.

"No, I guessed," answered the older man seriously, swinging his crossed legs off of his desk. "There's something seriously wrong with her and they had her a week: somewhere along the line, someone must have screwed. Now, how did you know?"

"Alex said they did a chest x-ray after the antibiotics failed," Chase informed him.

"Yeah, she was pretty annoyed that we weren't using it," Foreman added.

"So, she knew they ought to have been in there," mused House to himself. He was thinking that this patient knew an awful lot about medicine and hospital protocol for a trainee attorney.

"So...? What do we do?" asked Chase.

"Getting the other x-ray will take too long; do it anyway," instructed House, before heading out of his office. The two fellows he left behind exchanged a puzzled glance and shrug before racing back down to her room.

"Doctors," said the Asian nurse as they entered.

"What is it?" asked Foreman. The petite, dark-haired nurse turned to Alex, who shuddered and went to pull up her hospital gown.

"No," she said in a gagged voice.

"She's got skin lesions," said the nurse in an exasperated voice.

"Alex, we need to see," said Chase, apologetically. She took a deep, ragged breath and pulled up her gown to mid-thigh, but turned her face away. Chase crouched down to have a better look at the two small red pustules on her left shin.

"There's another on her right calf," the nurse told him. The Australian just looked up at Alex, who nodded and got up from the bed. She turned around and rested her palms on the mattress, silent tears gilding her face. On the back of her right leg was red area, about two inches in diameter, with a white, oddly-shaped blister just right of the centre.

"OK," said Chase, returning the gown to its previous position. "Let's get her into the x-ray studio." The nurse nodded and brought over a wheelchair.

"Pur-lease!" snapped Alex. "I can walk, you know!" Foreman shrugged and Chase offered an arm. Alex just rolled her eyes and walked past them.

*~*

"She's got skin lesions on her lower legs," announced Chase as he and Foreman entered House's office. The African-American doctor passed his Australian colleague and thrust the chest x-ray onto the viewer.

"Wo-ah!" exclaimed House as soon as the light was switched on behind the black sheet.

"I guess we know what New Haven was hiding," said Cameron, quietly.

"What causes a persistent cough, blackouts, skin lesions, raised creatinine levels and blotchy lungs?" mused her boss, his ball once again being toyed with between his hands.

"Sarcoidosis," said Foreman. House looked up and nodded.

"Yeah. Sarcoidosis." If it had been anyone but House, the team would have sworn they had heard a hint of regret in his voice.

"The symptoms have appeared suddenly, " said Cameron. "So, they'll probably clear up on their own, we can discharge her." The head diagnostician shook his head, grabbed up his cane and started for the door.

"We know there's a pulmonary problem. If pulmonary fibrosis has already set in, we need to treat. If we don't, the scarring could be so extensive as to cause her long-term respiratory problems. I don't know about you, but I think that's a bit unfair to a 23-year-old." He then limped to the door and pulled it open.

"Where are you going this time?" asked Cameron.

"To talk to my patient," her boss answered, cheerfully. The three fellows exchanged shocked glances, but let him go without comment. The 44-year-old hobbled to the elevator as fast as he could, but Wilson managed to slip in between the sliding doors.

"What is it with you and this patient?" asked the oncologist.

"We're passionately in love," dead-panned his friend.

"I'm starting to wonder if you are," retorted the first.

"She's interesting," said the cripple in a voice of seriousness and innocence.

"Normally you stay as far away from patients as possible and yet this time you're actually choosing to visit a patient... What's she got that none of the others do?"

"Sarcoidosis?" House suggested, flippantly. Wilson sighed as House limped off at top speed towards Alex's room.

As House approached the room in question, he saw another woman in there by Alex's side. The pair looked very similar and his patient was being very careful not to cough or let her legs be seen. His interest was piqued: why was she trying to hide all vestiges of her disease from her sister. However, he also realised that this meant he the sarcoidosis could have come upon her gradually but she had just suppressed the symptoms which would be why they only just manifested to this extreme. He was impressed by her ability to hold back that cough and still be able to talk; that had to be excruciatingly difficult.

"Don't worry, Emma; I'm fine." Alex was smiling as he slid the door open. The younger woman smiled back, got up and passed House on her way out. His patient watched her sister down the hall with a smile, but collapsed back against the pillow, and into a coughing fit, once she was sure that Emma was not going to see her.

"I've got your diagnosis," he told her quietly, when the hacking coughs had abated.

"I don't care," she said in a low groan. "I don't want you to fix me." It came out extremely quietly, but without the raspy quality of a whisper. "There can't be anything there to fix." She did not say it as though she was in denial, she said it like a politician ordering a cover-up.

"Why not?"

"I can't be weak, I've always been the strong one."

"You've got sarcoidosis," he said, softly.

"It doesn't matter," she answered just as quietly in a sad tone.

"You're going to die."

"So?" She gave a slight shrug. "I die because the doctors were too stupid to be able to diagnose me. Better than living with a disillusioned sister who has lost her last stable feature." Alex fell silent for a while, expecting him to argue with her. When he did not, she rolled herself over to face him and locked her penetrating gaze onto his eyes. "Patch me up and send me home to die."

"Then your sister will sue me for incompetence." Alex shook her head.

"I'll leave a letter" - cough - "at work." She fell into another fit, then carried on. "Emma" - cough - "would only trust someone from the firm." House looked at her, properly looked at her as a person for the first time. Here was a woman that had actually thought of everything, she probably even had had her will written before the collapse, knowing there was something terribly wrong with her. He could not let her kill herself. This was new for House, normally when he came to respect a patient he let them do whatever they thought was best after giving them the facts.

"I can't let you do this."

"If I do what you want, then it will destroy her. I can't watch her crumble; I'm not that strong," she told him, choking back a sob. "As soon as I make her face everything I've been facing for the last eight years, she's going to fall apart and she won't talk to me about it because she won't want to burden me any more. She'll think I'm too weak to deal with it."

"She's going to find out what you've been keeping from her sooner or later; you can't protect her forever."

"She's in college and she hasn't questioned me yet. I can't remove her safety net until she's strong enough to deal with it." They both noticed she had not argued with the idea that she was denying her sister the chance to see the full breadth of life.

"Have you ever heard the song 'You Raise Me Up'? I think Josh Groban is my favourite version." House asked, as though changing the subject to lighter things, and seated himself in the visitor's chair. His voice dropped back to low and intense as he looked into her golden-brown eyes. "If she's always leaning on you, she'll never get stronger: she'll just get more dependent." In the moment that followed, the pair both realised how right he was: the more you rely on something, the more you need to rely on it.

"Start the treatment," said Alex in a defeated tone. "But... I'll tell her." Greg nodded and stood up to leave. She did not thank him, but then he did not expect it and he had his own revelation to deal with. He limped back down the corridor, passing Emma who was returning from the cafeteria with a cup of coffee.
In the elevator on the way back up to the fourth, he thought about Alex. Not about the sarcoidosis, but about the person. The amazing young woman that was young enough to be his daughter but was the closest to an equal he had ever met. Maybe Wilson was right, maybe he did like her. Except... it wasn't her body he was interested in, apart from medically. He admired her mind and strength. From what she had said, it was apparent that she been through a lot and yet she was still marching on. He wondered if she had ever sat at home, alone one night, and contemplated ending it all. If he had known the answer to that, he would have been even more struck by the similarities: the only difference was that she payed violin and clarinet as well as piano.
He stepped out into his corridor. It was really, his. Yes, of course, Wilson had his office on there too, but then wasn't Wilson also his? Pushing all the possible connotations that phrase could have to the back of his mind, Dr Greg House pushed through the door to his conference room.

"Start her on predisone," he ordered, short-temperedly, as he entered. He went straight in to his office, refusing to acknowledge the questioning looks of his three fellows and one friend.

*~*

"Who was that?" asked Emma as she re-entered the room. Alex sat up and grinned at her younger sister.

"That was my doctor: Gregory House. You remember, Sophie told us about how he saved her mum's life because he looked past the cancer." Emma nodded and then grinned.

"He's very good-looking," she said, slyly. "By your standards, at any rate," she added, tossing her long auburn locks over her shoulder.

"Why is it you have such a low opinion of my choice in men?" Alex asked in an annoyed tone, it was more from the nerves of having to tell her little sister about her problem.

"Because they aren't really that good-looking, only in your mind, and they always upset you more than they make you happy," shot back the other young woman. "Anyway," she continued, calming down. "what did he want?"

"He came to give me my diagnosis and to ask if they could start treatment," answered her sister, her pillar strength, fiddling with the top of the blanket.

"What is it?" asked Emma, anxiously, leaning forward.

"I've got" - a gulp - "sarcoidosis." Alex's sister gasped, but the older girl stretched out her hand and took the coffee-free hand. "It's fine. It often goes away by itself: Claire told me."

"But the doctor wants to treat you?" Alex had to bite back tears at the fear in her sister's voice. The patient grinned at Emma. "Yeah, he's kinda impatient; he can't be bothered to wait two to three years." Emma's face cleared and she grinned back. Just then Chase and Foreman entered.

"Ah, the Aussie in shining hair?" said Emma, grinning and arching an eyebrow at her sister. Alex rolled her eyes, but then motioned to the younger doctor as though to say 'be my guest'. Emma laughed and kissed her sister's cheek.

"Excuse me," said Chase, slightly flushed. Emma moved out of his way and grinned at her sister, who just shook her head.

"I'm going to go get something to eat, then," said Emma. "I'll see you later, Alex."

"Yeah, bye, darling," her older sister mock-groaned.

"Does she know what's wrong with you?" asked Chase, still stretching over her head.

"Of course," answered Emma, who still had not left. "Sarcoidosis."

"You're not worried?" Foreman was evidently surprised.

"It normally clears up on its own, right?"

"Yeah--" answered Chase, although he cut off whatever he had intended to add at Alex's shake of the head.

"So she'll be fine," said Emma confidently, nodding. She then bounded out of the room, her hair bouncing off of her shoulders.

"Don't you think she deserves to know about the long-term problems you could suffer?" prompted Foreman, carefully.

"What long-term problems?!" she asked sharply, sitting up straight. "From the treatment?"

"House didn't tell you?" asked Chase, a look of irritation and disbelief on his face.

"He told me, I would die without treatment... Then he talked me into agreeing to the treatment, then he left," she answered with a shrug. "So, what should he have told me?"

"Well, you're not going to die," Foreman assured her.

"Unless the pulmonary fibrosis is really advanced," added Chase.

"But, if that were the case, then you would have more than a cough," shot back Foreman.

"Could you two leave the unprofessional bickering in the Diagnostics Department and tell me about these possible long-term problems?!" the patient broke in, before it escalated to a full-scale medical row.

"If pulmonary fibrosis has set in, at all, then you are going to be left with scarred lungs," explained Chase, slipping into his serious, consoling voice. Alex rolled her eyes and turned to Foreman.

"Scars don't tend to cause long-term health problems, why will these ones?" she asked, her irritation only having ebbed a little.

"Because it's on your lungs. It could cause respiratory problems," answered Foreman, also speaking quietly.

"Hey!" she snapped. "You just told me I'm not going to die, so stop speaking to me as if I am; it's extremely annoying."

"OK," said Chase, rocking back onto his heels and holding up his hands.

"There are some side effects to the steroids, however, which you should know about," added Foreman, still quietly. Alex's jaw clenched: what was it with professionals that they thought they could do whatever they liked, just because you're unlikely to argue with them 'cause they've got the training and you don't?! At least House was honest about, unlike these two.

"OK," she seethed on a vent of anger. "What are these side effects?"

"You might suffer from insomnia, nausea, dizziness or bruising," answered the offending neurologist.

"We will of course be keeping you under surveillance until the sarcoidosis is in remition," added Chase, hanging the IV bag. "but it's only fair to warn you." He flashed her a smile that made her understand why her sister said that, sometimes, aesthetically pleasing was enough. Alex still thought he was an idiot. Foreman took her hand as Chase inserted the IV needle. Her face scrunched in pain, as did her hand around Foreman's, but then relaxed into a smile directed at the neurologist.

"Thank you," she said softly, a smile still illuminating her face.

"No problem," nodded Eric, struck by just how beautiful this young woman was. They left her and she lay back, horribly conscious of the needle that was still in her arm.

*~*

That evening, just as Greg House was on his way out of the hospital, his pager went off. He pulled it out: Foreman. The one he had left in charge of Al-- coughing girl. The diagnostician turned around and hobbled back to the lift. He exited on the third floor and saw a group of nurses rushing to his patient's room.

"She's seizing!" called Foreman, having spotted his boss.

"You paged me for that?!" shouted back House and turned to re-enter the elevator.

"Doctor House!" called a frantic, female voice; not his patient, but similar: the sister, Emma. He sighed and paused, which was strange in itself. He did not think about patient's by name, he did not listen to patient's relatives... Wilson was right, there was something about this patient. Unfortunately, he did not know what it was or he would get rid of it. "Doctor House," said the 20-year-old, standing in front of him, eyes downcast and arms folded. Emma outstripped Alex in looks by far, but lacked her sister's confidence and flair. "What's wrong with her?"

"Didn't she tell you?" House was fairly shocked: he had expected Alex to explain as soon as Emma returned to her side.

"I know about the sarcoidosis, but they were treating her for that. So, what's wrong with her now?" The girl glanced up from under her voluptuous eyelashes and through her fringe. Greg was dazzled: this girl was drop dead gorgeous.

"It's a side effect," he explained.

"From the IV?"

Also not as smart or attentive as her sister, thought House, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Prednisone is a steroid. Your sister's system obviously does not react well to steroids. As soon as she's ceased seizing, we'll start her on--"

"That can't be right," frowned Emma, an annoyed edge to her voice. Greg was glad to see the resemblance to her sister, maybe this girl would survive without Alex.

"And why not?" he asked in a childish voice. Instead of giving him a dirty look, she grinned.

"Because, when she was about 11, she had to use a nasal spray for reducing her adenoids and that had steroids in it and she didn't react badly to that at all." House frowned, if that was correct than why was Alex reacting so badly.

"We're still going to change her medication," he told the redhead before him. "Probably to azathioprine. We would normally use methotrexate, but that can damage her lungs and liver and, as her lungs are probably already damaged, we're not going to take that risk."

"What are the side effects of as-a-thee-o-pree-n?" asked Emma, sounding out the drug name which proved Greg's earlier point about her attentiveness.

"It can cause nausea, diarrhea and muscle aches, but we'll be monitoring her."

"That's what they said last time," said Emma wryly with a twist of the lips and a widening of the eyes.

Very Alex, thought Greg and bit back a smile. Then, however, Emma frowned and opened her mouth.

"Wait a minute. They said that nausea was a possible side effect before, doesn't that mean it's likely she'll react as badly to the new one as she did to the old one?" House could not stop himself staring, slack-jawed at this girl. How was it possible these two were even related? The one was almost as brilliant as he was and this one was... a ditz. Emma caught his expression looked down embarrassed.

"I guess I did it again," she muttered.

"Did what?!"

"Alex says it's one of our similarities, no-one else agrees. Basically, we both extrapolate from the tiniest hints. The difference, she's normally right and I'm generally wrong. She's so much better than me." House could not miss the bitterness in her last, muttered, sentence.

"What makes you think that?" he said, trying his hardest not to sound sarcastic.

"That's what people always say: that Alex is a genius, that she's got such a wonderful personality, that she's so strong and that I'm lucky to have her. But all they say about me is how pretty I am and what a shame it is that my parents split up." Emma sighed. "I want to be like her, but I never can be."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because to be her I have to go through everything she did and she won't let me."

"You think she's being over-protective," he stated as he spotted Cameron and Chase coming towards them.

"No," Emma said with a radiant smile. "She's just going to make sure I have the advice my mother never had."

"She's stable, but unconscious," said Cameron. Emma smiled and thanked them, then started back towards her sister's room.

"Hey," called Chase, starting after her. "Can I get you a coffee? You've been in there all afternoon." House rolled his eyes as the pair flirted and then headed to the cafeteria together.

"What should we put her onto? She's obviously steroid intolerant."

"The sister says not. Start her on azathioprine and watch her skin and stomach," he instructed and headed home again.

*~*

The only side effect Alex developed was slight nausea, which passed on its own, so she was able to leave two months later.

"Ready to go back to work?" asked Emma with a grin, re-entering the room once Alex was dressed.

"What do you think?" threw back her sister, the younger laughed.

"That that was a stupid question?" she suggested, her eyes glittering. The pair left, Emma insisting on carrying the rucksack. In the hall, they passed Robert who caught Emma's arm to check she was still up for Saturday night. Alex shook her head and carried on to the elevator. She pressed the button and, a few moments later, the doors slid open to reveal Foreman, Allison and James.

"Heya," she said, grinning at James.

"Oh, I'd forgot you were getting out today," said Allison.

"Who's discharging you?" asked Foreman.

"I'm perfectly capable of discharging myself, you know," she answered.

"Oh, we know," said James with an affectionate roll of the eyes. Alex laughed and joined the others in the elevator with Emma entering right behind her, slightly flushed. As the elevator started to move, James wrapped an arm around Alex's waist and pulled her close. "I'm rather disappointed that I won't be seeing you every day," he said, quietly so the others would not hear.

"James," she said, sadly. "I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea for us to keep this up. I don't want to lose your friendship, but you work long hours here and I work long hours down in Lakewood: it's not going to work. If it weren't for the distance, I wouldn't think once about dropping this." She gave him her perfected sad, resigned look. This was what had attracted him to her: she had always had to give up what she wanted to do what was right, it was time someone gave her a chance at happiness.

"But Emma--"

"Is at Princeton college. I'm sorry, James," she said, laying a hand on his arm. Just then, the doors slid open at the fourth floor and the two diagnosticians got out. Alex kissed James' cheek and then gave him a slight push. He stepped out and turned to face her, looking dejected. Alex smiled at him, happily. "Life goes on." The doors slid shut and she exhaled deeply.

"That was easy," remarked Emma, smirking. Her older sister laughed and stretched.

"James is a great guy, but as romantic partner..." She pulled a face. "He's too clingy."

"I still can't believe you lied to him."

"I didn't," she sighed. "If it wasn't for the distance, I probably would have stayed with him. It was nice having someone be over-protective of me and jealous of any other guy that touched me. Plus, he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered." She smiled quietly, remembering all of their time together. "Yeah, it was nice."

"Wow," smirked Emma. "I think big sis has fallen in love for the first time."

"What makes you think it's the first?" shot back Alex, tossing back her hair and grinning at her sister. They walked out into the lobby and to the front desk. Alex hesitated; Greg was leaning against the counter, evidently waiting for them.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder," he said, turning to the nurse behind the desk. "Fabiano, A. discharge." The nurse nodded and handed over the relevant paperwork. House scribbled his signature and the notes at the correct points and then handed the sheaf over to Alex. She signed and filled in the sections she needed to. Suddenly, she laughed: a mirthful, truly happy laugh.

"Honestly! They say doctors' hand-writing is appalling, but yours is better than mine." She grinned up at him. "I guess that's what I get for being a paralegal." She handed the paperwork back to the nurse and then turned to House. "Looks like I made the wrong choice, doesn't it?" she said, wryly. He looked at her inquiringly. "I came here because I was told you got quick results. I thought coming to you would get me out of hospital quicker." She laughed, this time cynically. "How wrong I was." She looked him over, shook her head and then walked away.

"What?" he called after her. "You're not even going to tell me what it is?!" Alex whipped around to face him, her jaw taut, hurt shining in her eyes.

"I was told you were a haunted genius," she sneered. "She was wrong; you're not haunted. You don't fight against your past. Everything you deal with, including your leg, is in the here and now. You have no idea what it is to be haunted, Greg. Yet, you feel you have the right to decide what happens to me." He limped up to her and looked down his long, straight nose at her.

"I would never presume to tell you how to live your life," he told her quietly, his blue eyes piercing her golden-brown ones. Alex smiled and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a bone-cracking hug. After a moment, he hugged her back, drawing her close to him. Emma only just managed to catch his cane as his arms closed around her sister's waist. The younger Fabiano woman smiled to herself. She had been completely and utterly flabbergasted when her sister had told her about her and James. Emma had been sure Greg was the guy for her beloved sister. So she was pleased at this sign of mutual affection.

"Here," said Alex, pulling back and bringing a scrap of paper out of her pocket. "Call me," she said, sternly. "Or expect me to turn up in your department the third weekend from now." Greg nodded, he knew when he had lost to her. It had happened quite a lot over the last two months. What no-one knew, apart from Alex and Greg, was that more than half of the times he had told his team he was going to speak to Wilson, or would normally talk to Wilson, he had gone to her instead. She might not have trained as a doctor but she was intelligent enough to keep up with him. She had acted as a sounding board, but there were three or four cases that Greg could say that she had sparked the idea that had led to solving the case.
The pair broke apart completely, she smiled at him one last time and walked away.

The sisters got into Alex's car, Emma drove them down to Lakewood and that very night the elder Fabiano girl received five phone calls: Emma, checking she was OK; Robert, wanting to know her sister's favourite flowers; Allison, complaining about House; James, 'just wanting to hear her voice'; Greg, debating with her about the patient he had been telling her about at lunch and playing her some jazz on his piano, before ordering her to bed at quarter to one in the morning. As she lay there, waiting for sleep, Alex grinned. Life was definitely looking up for the first time since her mom died.

AN: Well, there you go. I know it's not much, mainly something that could happen in an episode, but I hope you like it.

I might write something else with Alex, I like her and I think she's the sort of character who could realistically form a friendship with House.

Btw, the title comes from a poem I found on the net and thought suited the story. It's called L'Amitié Maladie and can be found at: .com/poems/8348742/lamitie-maladie-the-friendship-disease
I would recommend reading it.

Please review. I know everyone says that the more they hear, the quicker they write but it is true. I do write for the pleasure of writing, but I let things lapse when my interest wanes if I don't get reviews.
So, please let me know what you think, good or bad.