Welcome to the sequel to Infectious Personalities. If you haven't read that fic, I do recommend it. It's probably not necessary to understand what's going on in this fic but it might help.

Disclaimer: The boys, Cuddy and the ducklings do not belong to me. If they did the show would be much stranger.

Chapter 1

"I'm not sure all of your stuff is going to fit in here if you keep going like this," House observed from his seat at the piano.

Wilson glared at him from over the top of the box he was carrying. "There's only one more box to come. It's not that much stuff. Most of it is books, clothes and music anyway."

"Julie's keeping the furniture then?" House asked.

Wilson dumped the box down on a pile of other boxes and straightened, stretching his back a bit. "Most of it," he said as he rocked his head from side to side, trying to get a kink out. "It's not like I really need it." He headed back out the door to get the final box.

Wilson's divorce was proceeding along its merry little way and he'd finally decided, after a blistering phone call from his soon-to-be ex-wife number three, to move all of his things into House's place. Julie's threat to take it all to Good Will had been surprisingly motivating. Of course it had meant that he'd been forced to listen to her bitter diatribe about himself, his work, House and his new relationship with House while he packed. Julie's usual description of House as a crippled troll had been about the nicest thing she'd called his lover and what she called him didn't bear repeating.

He sighed as he hefted the last box out of the trunk of his car. He set it down on the ground as he closed the trunk and shook his head. The fact that everything he'd wanted to salvage from his former home had fit into his car said quite a lot and not things he really wanted to hear. Admittedly it wasn't like he'd needed to bring much other than his personal belongings. House had everything else he might need when it came to furniture, kitchenware and electrical toys…particularly the latter.

Wilson picked the box up and headed back towards House's apartment. His relationship with the other man was going surprisingly well. It seemed that their years of friendship had been oddly good practice for this new development. Nothing much had really altered except for their living arrangements…and the fact that they now shared a bed and had some rather good sex on a fairly regular basis. A bit more regular now than when they had first moved their relationship from the platonic to the romantic…or at least as romantic as one got with Gregory House. The attack by Armitage had led to House being kept in hospital for a week. Seemingly a bit excessive for a simple case of cracked ribs but House's leg had hurt more than usual at first. Both Wilson and Cuddy had been worried that some more damage had been done by Armitage's vicious attack. Thankfully that worry had turned out to be unfounded but Wilson felt the caution had been worth what had followed.

House's response to the extra stay in hospital as a patient had been vociferous and entirely predictable and Wilson had been forced to make some very lurid promises in order to get his lover to behave. He had, of course, followed up on those promises, partly because it was fun but mostly because if he hadn't he would never have been able to use that tactic with House ever again. Years of association with House had taught him that when you found an effective tactic for getting him to do something you held onto it as tightly as you could for as long as you could make it work. He had got the impression during that week that House's team had quite enjoyed the respite from their demanding boss and considering the case that had led to the whole situation, Wilson didn't blame them.

House had been back at what passed for work with him for two weeks now and Wilson had been conspiring with the ducklings to keep things as easy as possible. House's ribs were healing nicely and his leg was as good as it ever was but he'd been oddly restless ever since the attack. Wilson had woken several times in the middle of the night to find himself alone in the bed and House out in the living room, sitting at the piano playing softly. Wilson wasn't entirely sure what was prompting these bouts of insomnia and House was being his usual elusive self when it came to discussing it.

Not that it seemed to be affecting House's work. He'd had a case last week and had solved it with his usual aplomb and his normal quota of insulting comments, gratuitous remarks and scathing asides. He'd even managed to ignore the amused comments from Chase and Foreman on his new relationship with Wilson with a certain amount of smug superiority. Cameron's reaction had been responsible for many of the scathing asides House had unleashed; she seemed to be alternating between not caring about their new relationship and being terribly hurt. On the whole, Wilson preferred it when she was in one of her 'I don't care' modes; the hurt ones seemed to involve a large number of sad, slightly betrayed doe-eyed glances at both of them that were quite frankly starting to get on his nerves.

He kicked the door closed after he entered and dumped the final box down with the others. He then collapsed onto the couch and ran a tired hand down his face.

"You know, the fact that the sum total of your life can fit in so few boxes is really…pathetic," House said. "I expected at least a dozen more to clutter up my place."

"Our place," Wilson muttered as he let his head drop down onto the back of the couch and ignored the first part of what House had said.

Silence greeted that and Wilson very determinedly did not look over to see what expression House had on his face. House was the one who had suggested that he move in permanently and that definitely made it their place now, House's compulsive possessiveness be damned.

"If you start putting up frilly curtains, it'll be my place again," came the eventual response.

"Perish the thought," Wilson replied with a smile.

"So what's in there?" House asked and Wilson heard the man's cane impact with something solid and not box-like.

He tilted his head so he could see what had caught House's interest then blushed slightly. "Uh, well, it looks like a guitar case so I suppose there'd be a guitar in there."

"I didn't know you played," House said, giving Wilson an interested look.

"Well, I haven't for a while. Haven't really had the time."

House grunted and nodded but didn't say anything else. Wilson knew House wouldn't ask him to play; the man rarely asked for anything that might verge into the personal unless there was some serious entertainment value in it for him. He eyed the guitar case for a long moment then pushed himself off the couch and grabbed it. He opened it up and sighed. One of the strings was broken and he knew he didn't have any replacements. He took the guitar out anyway and rather skilfully removed the broken string.

"No tunes until I get a new string," he said regretfully. He plucked at a couple of the remaining strings and grimaced as they twanged out of tune. He put the guitar back in its case and looked casually over at House. "So are you ever going to tell me why you're not sleeping? I've asked four times so far and you've avoided answering the question each time."

House ignored him and turned back to the piano. He began to slowly pick out a vaguely recognisable tune. Wilson decided to wait him out this time.

"I'm fine," came the short response.

"Uh huh," Wilson said dubiously. "That's why you're only sleeping a few hours each night."

"What does it matter?" House said irritably. "Is it affecting my work? Did Cuddy put you up to this?"

"Well, no, on both counts," Wilson said reasonably. "But you do keep waking me up at night."

House snorted. "You are aware that the world does not revolve around you?"

"I know that," Wilson replied with a small smile. "It revolves around you."

"Damn right," House said firmly.

"So what's wrong?" Wilson pressed.

House stopped playing and stared into the distance. "Did we ever find out how he got in?" he said after a long silence.

"Who? Armitage?" Wilson said with surprise. "The police said he picked the lock. Is that what's eating at you? That Armitage broke in here?"

House turned around and glared at him. "It doesn't bother you?"

Wilson was about to answer then he paused and took a breath. He knew that House valued his privacy greatly and that he was the only other person to have a key to the apartment. He just hadn't realised how much House valued his space and privacy. Having a stranger violate that so cavalierly had obviously pushed something in House's complex and quixotic brain.

"The door and the lock were replaced," Wilson said calmly. "We used the people the police suggested and the lock is one of the best. It's supposed to be almost impossible to pick. I doubt anyone's going to try that again."

"You build a better mousetrap, you just end up with a smarter mouse," House grumbled. "Because it kills the dumb ones."

"We could put a security system in if it worries you that much," Wilson suggested.

House gave a noncommittal grunt and turned back to the piano and Wilson made a mental note to get some information on security systems. They wouldn't need anything too complex and if it helped House sleep better at night then it would be money well spent. Wilson eyed his lover curiously; he never could quite predict when House was going to come up with some odd megrim but at least this one was pretty understandable. And speaking of megrims, Wilson had a suspicion that there was a discussion looming at some point in the near future regarding House's addiction and its effects on him. For now however House seemed happy to leave the subject alone and Wilson wasn't interested in rocking the boat until House was back to what passed as normal for him. It was liable to get moderately unpleasant.

He gave a deep sigh and pushed himself off the couch. He walked over to the pile of boxes sitting on one side of the room and pulled the tape off the top one.

"I hate moving," he muttered to himself.

"You should stop getting married then divorced," House said over his shoulder. "Then again, it clearly helps you keep the clutter to a minimum."

"Well, I think I'm fairly safe now," Wilson replied with a wicked grin. He then gestured around the apartment. "Besides, smaller space. That always helps keep the clutter down. When you have a big house, you feel compelled to fill it with stuff."

House gave an amused snort. "So what did Cuddy say when you told her you were moving?"

"Not much," Wilson replied as he pulled some books out of the box and walked over to one of the bookshelves. "I think there were a lot of things she wanted to say. I think she's saving them up to use on you."

"Well, that's hardly fair," House said as he turned on the seat to watch Wilson unpack.

"You annoy her more than I do," Wilson replied with a grin. "She doesn't need to torment me."

"I'm so misunderstood," House said dryly.

"I don't think you're misunderstood at all," Wilson replied, equally dryly. "At least not by Cuddy. Are we eating tonight?"

"Yeah, what do you want?" House said idly. "Unless you want to cook?"

"House, I burn water," Wilson said patiently. "So unless you want to cook, pizza will be fine."

"Now I see why you got married all those times," House said as he grabbed his cane and stood. "You were afraid you'd starve. Don't think I didn't notice that each of your wives was a skilled cook."

"Yes, that was always my first criteria," Wilson replied as he continued to unpack the box and House limped across the room. "Cooking ability, dress sense and skill in the bedroom. Always my priorities."

"Hmm, I guess two out of three ain't bad," House mused as he picked up the phone to order the pizza.

"Who says Meatloaf doesn't occasionally get it right?" Wilson replied lightly and was rewarded by a short laugh from House as he continued unpacking his belongings.

House limped into his office on Monday morning and dumped his bag behind his desk. He headed out into the conference room to get some coffee and found his team suspiciously absent. The fact that there was fresh coffee and the paper was strewn over the table told him they were here somewhere, they just weren't here. They could be avoiding him, something that wasn't out of the realms of possibility except that he was their boss and therefore avoiding him would probably be classed as a career-limiting move for them. Foreman might still avoid him regardless of that but Chase and Cameron wouldn't. That meant that they were either down in the clinic, had been called to the ER, were out looking for cases or had actually found a case. He poured himself a cup of coffee then a second when Wilson walked in from his office.

"Have your ducklings run away?" Wilson asked as he accepted the coffee.

"Hmm, now that was possibility I hadn't considered," House replied. "I suspect they're out trying to find ways of making me miserable."

"You mean they're looking for patients?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?"

Wilson chuckled as they walked back into House's office. "Maybe they'll find something interesting this time."

"That'll be an improvement on last week," House grumbled. "It's always disappointing when it does actually turn out to be vasculitis."

"Actually I might have something for you," Wilson said idly in an attempt to cultivate House's curiousity. "I won't know for sure until I get the test results back but it's…a possibility."

"Why?"

"Sixteen year old boy being treated for lymphoma," Wilson replied. "I sent him to have tests to see if he's got pneumonia."

House snorted. "He's on a regimen of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. He's got a compromised immune system. How is getting pneumonia unusual?"

"He's also getting severe headaches."

"Stressful stuff, this whole having cancer and possibly pneumonia thing," House replied dismissively.

"I've also sent him off for blood tests," Wilson continued. "I think he has a kidney infection."

"All at once?" House asked, finally looking curious.

"Yeah," Wilson replied casually, keeping his satisfaction firmly to himself.

"Hmm, that is interesting," House said. "Let me know the test results."

"If it turns out he has lymphoma, pneumonia, constant headaches and a kidney infection, I will," Wilson replied.

Movement outside his office caught House's attention and he snorted. "Well, here come the hordes."

Wilson looked around and chuckled. "There's only three of them, House. I don't think that counts as a horde, let alone hordes. But it looks like you might have some work to do."

House's eyes narrowed as he watched his team walk into the conference room. "Let's see if they can convince me of that." He grabbed his cane and stood. "Going to come and find out?"

"Why not?" Wilson replied as he too stood and the two men walked towards the door. "I've got some time."

They walked out into the conference room and House limped over to stand near the white board while Wilson headed over to sit at the table.

"Well, you all look disgustingly chipper," House said in a reasonably abrasive tone as he waved his cane at them. "I take it you're going to try and foist some poor unfortunate off on me."

"Twenty-four year old male," Foreman said evenly, ignoring the tone and the cane-waving. "He's been suffering from abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting off and on for the last five days. He was brought into the ER this morning by his girlfriend. He could barely stand and his feet and hands hurt when they touch anything. He's been having hallucinations and when that's not happening…well, he's having trouble seeing colours."

"He's seeing in black and white?" Wilson asked curiously as he sipped his coffee.

"No," Foreman replied. "He's seeing the colours in odd ways, blue as red, yellow as grey and so on."

House had started writing the symptoms on the whiteboard after Foreman had mentioned the hallucinations. Now he stared at the list for a moment before turning back to his team.

"Well?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "Suggestions?"

"Thamine deficiency?" Cameron said.

"Some kind of poisoning?" Chase suggested almost in unison.

"Guillain-Barre Syndrome," Foreman stated.

"Porphyria?" Wilson suggested with a small smile.

The three young doctors stared at him while House snorted.

"Porphyria? That's good. I like that one. Maybe he thinks he's a vampire too." House looked over at his team. "Okay, convince me it's what you say 'cause I like the vampire idea the best."

Cameron and Chase rolled their eyes while Foreman shot Wilson a mildly irritated look.

"Guillain-Barre Syndrome produces weakness in the legs and sensory abnormalities," Foreman stated firmly. "It can also affect the vision which could account for the hallucinations and the weird colour thing."

"How do you explain the abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting?" House asked.

"Guillain-Barre can also cause fluctuations in blood pressure, irregular heart rate, constipation, incontinence, difficulty swallowing," Foreman said with a shrug. "Any of those could either cause or be mistaken for the initial symptoms he had."

"Well, he's coming second to the vampire idea," House said as he turned to Chase and Cameron. "What can you two muster?"

"Thiamine deficiency can have nervous system involvement," Cameron said patiently. "It's called dry beri-beri and its characterised by both sensory and motor impairment in the extremities. And if Wernicke encephalopathy is involved then that explains the vision problems as well as the nausea and vomiting."

House arched an eyebrow at Chase. "Is yours as good as theirs?"

"Heavy metal toxicity," Chase said firmly. "Two of the organ systems most commonly affected are the central nervous system and the gastrointestinal system which could explain the symptoms he's presented with."

House turned to Wilson. "If they keep this up, I might be able to sit in my office and let them do all the work."

"Don't you do that anyway?" Wilson replied, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

House gave him a scandalised look that suddenly changed into a challenging one. "Alright, Dr Wilson, defend your diagnosis."

"The hepatic porphyrias affect the nervous system and can result in abdominal pain, vomiting, acute neuropathy and hallucinations," Wilson replied.

"See? He does know what he's talking about," House said to his team. "Alright, let's find out what he's got. Lumbar puncture, an electromyography exam and a nerve conduction test for the Guillain-Barre. Take blood, urine and a stool sample and do a CBC. Test the blood for lead and mercury and the urine for mercury and arsenic. Test all three samples for porphyrin levels. And start giving him thiamine, 50mg intramuscularly daily."

Chase, Cameron and Foreman nodded and pushed their chairs back almost in unison. They trooped out of the conference room, talking amongst themselves.

"Well, they seem to have found you something interesting," Wilson said as he also stood.

"Hmm," House replied as he stared as his scribblings on the whiteboard. "I think they're missing something though."

"I'll leave to figure that out then," Wilson said with amusement. "And I'll let you know if I need you for that case I was talking about earlier."

House waved a dismissive hand, his concentration wholly on the whiteboard. Wilson shook his head with tolerant exasperation and headed for his own office.