JACK BRISTOW

House looked up when the door opened. It was an older man, a scowl on his face. He had the largest head he'd ever seen. House was intrigued. Allergic reaction maybe.

"Well, Mr." House looked down at the chart, "Bristow. What seems to be troubling you?"

The man just gave him a menacing look.

"I see," said House, not having received any reply. He was looking more closely at the man's head.

"Look," Jack Bristow finally said, moving his body away from the nosy doctor. "I don't want to be here. You don't want to be here. I was told to come in and get a prescription." He looked at House expectantly.

"Well, are you sick?" The man seemed fine, other than the large head, which House concluded was just a natural abnormality. "The hospital tends to frown on giving drugs away to healthy people. My boss would take me over her knee if she found out…" A big grin erupted onto his face. "What can I get you?" he asked eagerly, pen in hand.

"A friend of mine came in the other day and got a prescription…" Jack let his sentence trail off. Why wasn't the stupid doctor getting it. The protocol was set. Jack was to come to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He was to walk into the clinic at exactly 7:18pm and ask to see their top doctor. Here he was. And this was supposedly the top doctor so what the fck?

"I'm happy for him." House was getting more confused by the minute. It wasn't a familiar feeling for him.

"My friend," Jack put more emphasis on the word friend. Was he really going to have to spell it out. "Tommy Nocker." He was so embarrassed. He was going to kill Marshal for coming up with that stupid code name. Anyone who read Stephen King was going to know it was a fake name.

House snickered. He was not a Stephen King fan, and had never read the book Tommyknockers, so he missed that little in joke. But at the sound of the name Knocker, he got an image of Cuddy in his head. He snickered again. Knockers. He said to himself in his head.

"Is something funny?" Jack asked, deadly serious. House stopped snickering immediately. There was something very creepy about this man.

"If you would just tell me what it is you want, I will write up that prescription right now."

"You don't know what I am asking for?" Jack was loosing patience.

God, I hope not, House thought to himself. "I'm afraid you have me stumped. It doesn't happen often. Go see Dr. Cuddy after our consult and she will give you your prize."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack bellowed. His eyes flashed anger, but only for a moment. Then he was his reserved self again.

"What are you talking about?" House shot back, tightening his grip on his cane. This guy was about to snap. He could feel it.

"I want that prescription." The patients voice was threatening. House gulped loudly, but stood his ground.

"Just a moment," he said, edging toward the door. He leaned out and raised his voice. "Oh, Dr. Cuddy, I need your assistance please."

"No," Jack demanded. "No outsiders."

House was confused. "Cuddy isn't an outsider, she's my boss."

"As in Boss?" Jack asked, using a capital B.

"Uh, yeah," House responded.

Just then, Cuddy walked in. "What is going on now, House?" She sounded impatient.

"This gentleman would like a prescription." House pointed to Jack Bristow, who was lurking in a corner.

"So, give him one." Sometimes House's little games eluded her.

"He won't tell me what he wants." Cuddy was about to respond, but was distracted by the gun that was now pointed at her.

Jack Bristow was staring at her. "Shut the door," he demanded and she complied. "Now move over there." He nudged the gun over to where House was. Once he had his two hostages corralled, he got on his mobile. "There's a problem." He started talking in a hushed tone. House and Cuddy couldn't make out what he was saying so they began mumbling amongst themselves.

"Is he looking for drugs?" Cuddy asked, leaning toward House so she couldn't be overheard.

"I think that is the point of a prescription, Cuddy."

"I mean…You know what I mean. What are we going to do?"

"Well, you could always flash your Distractions at him." House blatantly looked down her shirt. She stared at him until he was done.

"I doubt he is nearly as perverted as you."

"Oh, you love it."

"Seriously House, what are we going to do?"

"You mean other than get shot and probably die?"

"Yeah, other than that."

They couldn't continue plotting their escape. Jack Bristow stalked over to them and without a word, clocked House on the head with the end of his pistol, then followed suit with Cuddy. Confirming that his victims were unconscious, he left.

A few minutes later, House came to. He looked over at the prone figure of Dr. Cuddy. She was laying on the floor and her skirt was raised quite high on her thigh. He gazed admiringly at her legs for a moment. Then he realized he'd better wake her up, so he grabbed the pitcher of water that was always kept by the bed for the patients convenience, and threw it down on her.

"Argh," she screamed. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Hmm, I thought about leaving you there, unconscious on the floor, but then I thought, I can't let her die, who would I get to sign my paycheck."

"Thanks." She said, sounding like she didn't mean it, but meaning it anyway. "I'll go get your next patient."

"You've got to be kidding me," he called after her.