Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D or any of the characters from it. I'm not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Announcement: I'm looking for a House M.D. beta for 'Venus Syndrome', preferably someone who enjoys the story as much as I do and who's ready to spend some time beta-ing it.

Prologue

It was a few minutes to 5AM and Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was just as it should be, quiet. Most of the upper floors were empty of staff except for a nurse here and there checking on patients. The ER, down on first floor, was probably the only place where there still was some activity this early in the morning. And still, on the fourth floor, the Diagnosis Department Conference Room was not as deserted as it should have been and what was even more unusual was its occupant.

"Rise and shine, boys and girls! We have a case," Dr. Gregory House exclaimed as the door opened behind him and he heard his team entering. There were groans and moans greeting him and he let out an evil chuckle. "What's the matter, kids, ain't you happy daddy's found us a new toy?"

"It's not even dawn," mumbled Dr. Remy Hadley matter-of-factly, dragging herself to the coffee machine, where of course there wasn't any coffee already made. She started making some.

"And your point is?" House questioned, the right eyebrow disappearing in his hair line.

"Nothing," Hadley better known as Thirteen yawned.

"That's better," House smirked turning to the board. "So, differential, people."

"Where's the file?" asked Dr. Eric Foreman looking all around the Conference Room.

"Don't have it, Big-bad-boss's gonna bring it later," House said still looking at the board. "Sooo, differential."

"What symptoms do we have?" asked Dr. Robert Chase.

"Dun 'know!" House replied.

"And were doing a differential on…" dragged Foreman.

"A blank board."

"There's nothing there," said Thirteen.

"Yeh… Perfect deduction, so, case closed!" House chuckled and started making his was to his office. "Get me a real case," he ordered. "Preferably, not before noon."

"You have a real case." Dr. Lisa Cuddy entered the Conference Room and dropped a stack of files on the table.

House walked back, took the upper most file and opened it on the last page, scanned the blood-work report and turned to his office again. "There, I read the ending. The butler did it."

"HOUSE!" yelled Cuddy.

"Oh, mum, five more minutes," House said opening his office door and entering.

"It's Cameron?" gasped Foreman, making House stop dead in his tracks.

"What do you mean 'it's Cameron'?" Chase asked, taking the last file of the stack. By now Dr. Christopher Taub and Thirteen were reading their copies already.

"Where is she?" asked House in a voice so low, it was barely louder than a whisper, still in the silence that took over the Conference Room, it sounded just like a shout.

"My office 'till you decide where to put her." Cuddy made her way to House and rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before turning around and walking out of the Conference Room.

He opened the file again, this time on the first page, scanning the information there. He went on with all the other pages in complete silence. Without a word he made his way to the board and started writing symptoms, previous treatments and diagnoses in three neat columns and needed tests on a fourth one.

"Go prep her," said House after what seemed like ages of silence.

"For what ?" asked Chase.

"Everything…"

House was hiding again, but this time he had a different reason from all the other times. He wasn't trying to get away from Cuddy or Clinic Duty, he was hiding to think, to think of her. He hadn't seen her in years, not since the day she came to say 'Good Bye', and now, here she was, back at PPTH and as a patient too. What the hell happened to her?

"Hiding?" asked Dr. James Wilson making his way to the bed House was lying on.

"Yeah!"

"And - ?" Wilson asked expectantly.

"And nothing."

"Where's your witty comeback?"

"Left it in my other pants."

"Right - " Wilson dragged. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!"

"Not in the mood, eh? Rough night? What are you doing here at this hour anyway?"

"Doesn't matter," he said through greeted teeth.

"Riiight - "

"I have a new case, fine!" House sighed out in exasperation which seemed to get Wilson's attention more than anything else.

House didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Wilson. He knew too much and would sure ask more questions that he was ready to answer.

"What's the matter?" Wilson asked worriedly.

"She's back - " House groaned. "She's fucking back. That's the matter."

"Stacy - ?"

"Cameron - " House got off the bed. "She's sick - she's - "

"Your patient." Wilson finished with a grim face. "What's wrong with her?"

Wilson raised his eyebrows in question and House sighed.

"Dun 'know, too many symptoms and too many previous diagnosis to tell."

"Is she going to be alright?" Wilson asked in a low tone.

"I have no idea." whispered House and got up and left the room and Wilson. He could feel his eyes on him, but he couldn't stay anymore. Not when the prospect of staying was questions he wasn't ready or even willing to answer.

What could he say? 'Yeah, I used to have a thing for her, but I was the biggest ass in the world and left her leave.' wasn't really his style, and 'I think I still have a thing for her.' was just too much to handle, let alone admit it to anyone. So, for now at least, running away and hiding was just what the doctor ordered.