Author's Note: I'm back with something a little different. This was written for October Friday night challenge on the O/C Babes Forum. The prompt was: House is forced by the Board of PPTH to take a brief leave of absence in October... Why? And where does he go? Who does he meet or take with him? It's also inspired by the old Ginger Rogers film, The Major and the Minor.

House grunted in pain as the train took a curve. He braced himself as best he could with his cane and his arm, grateful that no one was behind him in the corridor. This was a really stupid idea, he told himself for the third time that day. Maintaining his balance against the train's sway had proven more difficult and painful than he'd anticipated, and it was almost impossible when the train took a curve. When they finally straightened out, he took a moment to find his equilibrium again before continuing on his painful way to the dining car.

The car was crowded with people and it took him a moment to spot an empty booth. He'd just reached it and was about to sit when a petite woman stepped up to the opposite side. Her red hair was in pig-tails and she was wearing an Abercombie and Fitch t-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. A back-pack was slung over one shoulder and there was an iPod clipped to her belt-loop. House's first thought was Why is this woman dressing like a teenager?

"Hey," she protested, narrowing grey-green eyes at him. "I was going to sit here." Her tone was petulant and for a second she sounded just like a spoiled teen. He studied her for a moment, trying to assess her age. Despite the clothing, youthful hair-style, and attitude, he still wasn't convinced.

"You snooze, you lose," he retorted, sliding into the booth. He breathed out a sigh of relief to be off his feet. Stupid, he thought again, stretching his bad leg out and resting his foot on the bench across from him. Gimps and trains are not a good mix.

"Fine," the woman-girl huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. A second later she gave a startled cry and reached out to catch onto the back of the bench-seat as the train took another curve.

"Sit down already," House growled at her. "Before you fall in my lap."

"You'd probably enjoy that," she retorted. She glared at him for a second before shrugging off her back-pack and flinging it into the bench. House yelped when it landed on his foot.

"Hey!" he protested, kicking the bag off.

"Sorry," the girl/woman muttered, slipping into the booth. House glared at her and was surprised when she met his glower head-on. After a moment he reached for a menu on the table and she followed suit. They each lifted the laminated folders at the same time, not looking away from each other until the menus were blocking their faces. Once he was sure his expression was hidden, House allowed himself to smirk. She's certainly got the attitude down, he thought, but she's no teenager. He turned his attention to the menu and was pleased to see that Ruebens were offered. When a waitress turned up a few minutes later he placed an order for a dry Rueben without pickles, French fries, and a Coke.

"You two together?" the waitress asked, turning her attention to the woman-girl. House opened his mouth to say no and was startled when he was cut off.

"Yeah. He's my uncle." House closed his mouth and sat back, studying her as she placed her order (a Chef salad without tomatoes and a Coke). The waitress moved away and he waited. The woman-girl looked at him and chuckled nervously.

"Don't worry - I'll pay for my own lunch," she said.

"Uh-huh." House kept his face still with an effort, enjoying the way she was squirming.

"Look – all the staff on the train are flipping out 'cause I'm 15 and travelling without a parent. I just thought if I told them you were my uncle, they'd back off and leave me alone." She gave him a tentative smile, her eyes pleading. "Can't you help me out?"

"You are not 15," he replied.

"I am!" she protested. He shook his head. "I really am. I can show you my id…"

"Save it," he said, holding up a hand. He didn't doubt that she had a fake id listing her age as 15; she would have needed it for the discounted ticket. The thought amused him – he'd bet it was the first time someone had asked for a fake id showing they were underage. "Here's the deal. You'll pay for your lunch, and mine too."

"Why should I pay for yours?" she demanded.

"Consider it a service charge," he answered. She glared at him for a moment before sitting back in the seat.

"Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms across her abdomen. The move only served to emphasize her breasts and House took a moment to admire them. He winced when she kicked him under the table. "You're supposed to be my uncle, not a pervert," she hissed.

"You haven't done anything to make me say 'uncle' yet," he retorted. For a second her lips twitched and he thought she would laugh, but then she resumed her sullen expression. House shook his head. "There's another nail in your coffin," he said. "A 15 year-old wouldn't get that reference."

"That doesn't prove anything," she sneered. "I happen to like old movies."

"Riight." He folded his arms across his chest and waited, watching her. After a moment she turned her head to look out the window, fiddling nervously with her braid. House could see her jaw working, but she didn't turn back to the table until their food arrived.

"So," he asked once the waitress had moved away, "what do I call you, niecey?"

She looked at him for a moment and smiled. "You can call me Ginger."

"But that's not your name," he said. "There's no way your parents named their red-haired daughter 'Ginger.'"

"It's the only name I'm giving you," she replied with a shrug. "Take it or leave it." She held his gaze for a second before turning her attention to her salad. He shook his head and reached for his sandwich. They spent a few minutes eating before he spoke again.

"So… Ginger, where are you headed?" he asked. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. "Hey – if I'm going to pass as your 'uncle' I need to know."

"Albuquerque," she said, stabbing a chunk of lettuce.

"And are Mommy and Daddy waiting for you there?"

She paused, her fork mid-way between her plate and her mouth. "Yes."

"Which one am I related to?"

With a sigh of exasperation she put her fork down and frowned at him. "I don't think we need…"

"If someone asks, we'd better both have the same answer."

"Look, when we're done here I plan to go back to my seat and hopefully never see you again. So can we skip the twenty questions and finish our meals already?" She picked up her fork and bit off the clump of salad forcefully.

"You are sooo not fifteen," House said, smirking at her. She growled around a mouthful of food and let her fork clatter against her plate. Once she'd swallowed, she spoke.

"Would you just let it go already?" she hissed.

"Nope."

"You need to accept the fact that I've told you all I'm going to tell you," she said. "And please, keep your voice down when you're making your baseless accusations."

"Oh yeah. That's exactly how fifteen-year-olds talk." Her face flushed and he chuckled. She's pretty when she's angry, he thought, and then laughed at the cliché. An image of an angry, screaming Cuddy flashed into his mind, sobering him at once. Unlike someone else I know. With a grimace, he pushed his plate away and turned to look out the window. The sun was setting, casting a reddish-orange glow over the passing scenery. By the time they reached Pittsburgh it would be dark out. Good timing – rusting-out steel mills don't make for great scenery, he thought.

A few minutes later he became aware of Ginger stealing fries off his plate. He reached out to catch her wrist in mid-snatch.

"You weren't eating them," she pouted. "And I'm paying for them."

"That's more like it," he said. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost believe you were a teenager."

"I am," she replied. Their eyes locked for a moment and then she tried to pull her hand away. "You need to let go of me, Uncle."

"Right." He released her wrist and sat back in the booth. She copied him, leaning back in her seat. She started to fold her arms across her stomach again and stopped herself.

"Are you done eating?" she asked, nodding toward his half-empty plate.

"Are you?" he countered.

"Hey – my dish is empty over here," she replied, lifting her plate for him to see. Sure enough, aside from some smears of Ranch dressing, there was nothing on it. He looked back to his half-consumed sandwich and sighed.

"Yeah. I'm done." He shifted on the bench, pulling his foot down. Stabbing pain shot through his leg and he winced before he could stop himself.

"You ok?" Ginger asked. She'd gotten to her feet already and was standing in the aisle, watching him.

"Go pay the bill already," he growled, embarrassed by her attention. "Then you can go back to your seat and never see me again." He thought he saw her flinch when he flung her words back at her, but he wasn't looking straight at her so he wasn't sure. By the time he did shift his gaze back to her, she was moving, heading for the cashier. He got carefully to his feet and moved slowly after her.

By the time he caught up to her, she was finished paying. She turned, a small wad of bills in her hand.

"I need to leave a tip for the waitress," she said. "I'll be right back." House nearly snarled that he'd be on his way, but the cashier was watching their exchange. He simply nodded his head and moved to lean against the wall by the door. His leg was throbbing just from standing; he wasn't looking forward to the walk back to his compartment.

"Ready, Uncle?" Ginger asked, stepping up to him.

"Let's go," he replied. He motioned for her to go ahead, not wanting her to see him grimace when he pushed himself off the wall. She held the door for him as he made his way into the next car. He was aware of her behind him as he moved down the aisle and into another car. When she followed him into the third car, he stopped.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. The front of third of the car contained seats; the back contained compartments, including the one reserved for House.

"My seat's back here," Ginger replied. "Oh, don't tell me – yours is too?"

"Hmph." He turned away and continued on his way. He could feel her watching as he moved past the last row of seats and on to his compartment.