(AN: My best friend and I have kicked around the idea of a Christmas scene and revisiting the prison setting of Twenty Vicodin for some time now. I dedicate this first posting ever to my best friend, writing idol and inspiration - Citizen Cane (.net/u/3223402/Citizen_Cane) )

"It's a good time to clean up - the other inmates are at the Christmas dinner. I'll make sure he's sent to his room. Of course, thank you."

Lying to her boss was nothing new for Jessica Adams. After all, the guy was barely a boss – showing up for a random moment here and there before parking his ass in his office. So a white lie here and there was hardly a big deal. Tonight was about more than just the lie she'd told, it was about her taking a gigantic risk. Logic said not to trust or confide in the inmates, but there was something House that made him seem nothing like them.

Being different was what was getting him pulled from his cell as the other inmates were taken to the cafeteria to eat donated poorly cooked turkey. Being different got him dropped off in front of the medical station. Being different got him buzzed through the door with his little cleaning cart waiting for him. It was only when the guard outside left that she stood up and locked the door. Turning on her heels to face him with a smirk that showed she was excited the plan she hatched had worked.

"So I know you were pumped about that undercooked turkey and the chance to get food poisoned but – I thought you might not mind eating with me?"

The contents of the grease stained brown paper bag she pulled out from the desk drawer had been a result of their conversations. Conversations that went on as long as they could until a passerby interrupted. Conversations that ultimately led to her realizing that Gregory House was no ordinary convict. Setting the bag on the table and motioning to the empty chair across from her, the same chair he often occupied to review a case file, she smiled excitedly.

"Reuben, steak fries and a beer."

The bottle was set in front of him as she helped herself to the club sandwich she'd smuggled in for dinner. The reward was excessive but his help had been the same or better. Stumped with a blood clot diagnosis, he'd shown her what was missing, the lack of blood flow stemming from the weak heart she hadn't checked. It not only made her look like a genius but it kept her boss off their ass, so he didn't question why the janitorial crew inmate was always around.

"Bad news though. Tiramisu got smashed in my purse. "

Jessica eyed him for a reaction but got nothing beyond the satisfied look he gave after devouring the Reuben and fries. Looking back down at her club, she allowed herself to get lost in thought for a moment, a moment that lasted long enough for her not to notice he was on his feet and on her side of the desk, he'd crossed their imaginary border. Backing up out of instinct, she froze in place when he put his hand heavily onto her shoulder, intending for her to sit down.

"Don'tâ€Ĥ"

They had this discussion several times before. If only things were different, if only they'd met on the outside before all of this happened. More than once, he'd promised to take her out for a fancy dinner when he was released, to thank her for letting him help in the infirmary. It seemed like an empty promise, a joke made between friends that really never had a hope of materializing. The punch line of that joke was the reality – if he did get out and keep his word, they'd have at least one date. None of that mattered at the moment as she remained frozen there in front of him. When he mumbled a "thank you" and walked out the door, she was left wondering what any of it meant, if it meant anything at all. Calling after him, she began gathering the trash to toss it away and hide the evidence.

"Merry Christmas, House."