Disclaimer: I don't own House, MD or any of its characters. I write for entertainment, not money.

Author's Note: I know I do this same storyline for every fandom I get hooked into, but it's my favorite. If you like the House version, please leave a review. I need to know I'm not taping a dry well.

Unconditional Patience

By Arianwen P.F. Everett

Dr. Darryl Nolan Jr. closed the file he'd been sent by the government, and stood up to stretch. Mayfield's adolescent ward was getting a new patient, but unlike the rest of the hospitals' residents, this one had the unfortunate advantage of being sane and not in actual need of long term psychiatric care.

Not that he felt he couldn't offer her any help. She was presenting as a textbook schizophrenic, but Nolan knew that a presentation this textbook was just an act. She probably wanted the opportunity to leave whatever holding facility the government had her in, and going mad was her way out. Convincing the CIA to dump her in Mayfield proved to Nolan that she was as manipulatively clever as her father, as well as equally reckless with her body considering the antipsychotics she was allowing the CIA doctors to pump her full of in order to maintain the illusion of a psychotic. Yes, Dr. Nolan knew the girl's time at Mayfield wouldn't be a waste for either of them, even if the initial reason for her arrival was phony.

As if on cue, the buzz from his phone alerted him to the fact that the subject of his ruminations had arrived. Picking up the receiver, Nolan had to suppress a smile at the edge of panic in the security guard's voice. Obviously G-men weren't very big on the guy's list. "Yes, I know. Send them in."

The first thing Nolan saw of his new patient was her hair. It was well groomed, but long, dark brown and volumous, so volumous, it covered most of her face as she shuffled in. She wore a simple white tank top and navy blue sweatpants, with a matching sweatshirt tied around her waist. White socks and mildly scuffed sneakers completed the costume. Very astute; schizophrenics might not dress to the nines, but they weren't always scruffy and dirty like popular culture depicted them. He also noted she was swaying slightly and keeping her head down, but that was likely a result of the meds. He'd have to check her out as soon as the government agent left.

Nolan signed the paperwork he was given, and then shook the CIA operative's hand. "Thank you. I can take it from here."

The girl turned, following her former handler to the door. "You were nice. You need to be more green."

The man half-smiled accommodatingly to Nolan, and then removed the hands that had snaked their way up his torso to his shoulders. Pinning the hands together before he let go, the young agent beat a hasty retreat from Nolan's office, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I take back. Green enough," the girl slurred, then eerily giggled, the meds she'd been given slowing down the world around her. Now that she was at Mayfield, she could relax. The drugs would wear off. Dr. Nolan would know she was faking psychosis and purge them from her system. With her last ounce of childish faith, she knew Dr. Nolan would make everything right as he always had for her father.

Nolan held back another laugh. "I hope you don't plan on continuing that inappropriate behavior with the staff here, Miss House."

The brunette spun around, shocked, then eased as she recognized the man standing across the room. Her short term memory had been nuked by the antipsychotics, having made her forget he was in the room, but her long term memory was just fine and her face lit up as she raced to her father's psychiatrist. "Dr. Nolan!"

Nolan saw the giddy look on the girl's face and the increased speed of her shuffle. He knew that from her perspective she must be running towards him, so he moved to meet her half way, returning her hug. Nolan smiled to himself, pleased that the father's more caustic and untrusting aspects appeared to have skipped a generation, yet he also knew that there had to be more to this hug than the child being happy to see him.

Having worked with the government twice before, he knew the Area 51-like scenarios were decidedly off the mark. Still, the CIA couldn't allow a time traveler to freely mix with the civilian population without thoroughly debriefing and retraining them first, which meant months of detainment and interrogation, albeit under humane conditions. There was no need to treat a future American citizen with no significant political agenda like a radical jihadist, but the fact remained that she was 16 years old and had an IQ that permitted her to crack the very nature of space time, so laying down the rules and letting her make her own way in the world was also not realistic. The government was doing the best it could for the girl, including bringing her here when she started exhibiting signs of mental illness. It was Nolan who knew she had an ulterior agenda that wasn't necessarily in line with national security or her father, his patient's, continued mental health.

"I promise I be good. Stay here," the girl slurred, looking Nolan in the eye, the image of sincerity. She didn't want to make waves, at least not till she was mentally functional again.

Nolan chucked. "Don't worry. I won't hold you to that, but I will take you off the meds for now. We'll see what's underneath all that sedation, and then we can add what's needed. For now, let's get you checked out in the infirmary, and then settled into the adolescents' ward, and I'll see you again on Monday, when you're feeling more like yourself. Okay?"

"Okay, Dr. Nolan. Trust," the girl said, groggily, as she began walking along side Dr. Nolan.

He could see she was drifting and he sighed at the Fed's heavy-handedness with a needle. Still, the drugs would wear off. Where they would go from there would be anybody's guess but then that was what he liked most about his job.