A/N: Hello House fans out there! It's very to meet you. This is my new fic, obviously, which I hope to keep updated. Feel free to terrorize me if I don't. Any mistakes, I'm sorry, THE mistakes are mine, and mine entirely.

Summary: Future fic! A story featuring the children of two certain members of the PPTH staff. Crapish summary...

Disclaimer: I House was in my possession, let's face it, It'd suck. Fortunately, for everyone (except possibly me), it doesn't. House M.D and all of its characters belong to David Shore and FOX.

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CHAPTER 1

"Mom, is uncle Greg coming?", I yelled to my mother from the bathroom, where I was currently getting ready. Allison Cameron emerged from the kitchen of our rather large home. A house in the middle of Princeton, close to PPTH, for obvious reasons.

"Do you ever know with that man?", she asked. "He's the most unpredictable person I've ever met."

I looked at my mother. She was getting older. She wasn't old, but older than she'd once been. No surprise there really, it happened to everyone, my father too. It just felt so different, strange, when it came to my mother. My young and incredibly beautiful mother. She was never supposed to grow old. I shook the idiotic thoughts away. She is NOT old!

"I know he can be an ass, it's just-", a bitter laugh. "I was hoping he'd show up. After all, everything's sort of thanks to him.", I continued in a slightly more sarcastic tone. "He's taught me everything I know."

"House teaching anyone anything?", she laughed. "I wouldn't believe it for the world!"

"Fine, believe what you want!", I said, pulling my arms up in mock defense. "He taught me how to ride that bike, remember?"

I couldn't help but snigger at the awfully funny look of disbelief mom sent me.

"He pushed you off a downhill slope, for crying out loud! We had to take you to the hospital to get stitches. How, in the world, is that teaching?"

"Well", I smiled. "I certainly didn't fall again...EVER!"

"No, you stayed away from House which, in turn, kept you from falling. Big difference."

"Me? Staying away from the sweetest person on earth?", I gasped, feigning shock. "You really think that low of me? Here I thought mothers were supposed to be all supportive. Guess I was wrong."

"Everybody lies!", she winked and left me smiling, getting back to the important task of applying my make-up for the day. I had a recital, piano of course, which uncle Greg had gotten me into. I'd started playing when I was two, and loved every minute of it. It was my passion. A passion shared with my uncle. When I was younger we'd always play together, any chance we got, and he didn't do it just to skip clinic. Nowadays we don't really play together like we play against each other. Competing over the role as best pianist. Most artistic, creative. It's still friendly though. I mean, there's really nothing more fun than mocking your friends, as long as you don't exaggerate it like Greg. That way you'll end up without any friends to mock. I'm actually extremely surprised I've been able to keep up with him for all these years. I guess he's just the sort of person you love to hate, that you have to learn to love. Being an ass was his twisted way of showing affection, or well, on the other hand...he was a complete ass to everyone, and he definitely didn't like everyone. I laughed. He was, indeed, a very complicated person. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror before heading downstairs, it'd just have to due.

"Did you kill dad or something? I haven't seen him all day."

"He had to head in to the hospital. A patient of his took a turn for the worse, but he should be back any minute." Mom handed me a huge sandwich. "You better eat it!" I took it from her and rolled my eyes. I just had breakfast. The thought of mom fattening me just to cook me up later crosses my mind, which makes me wonder if I'd taste better boiled or fried. Probably fried, I think, that usually tastes better. I take a bite. It's good, not quite as good as dad's though, but good. I take another bite in hopes of getting it down as fast as possible. I should be practising my performance right now. I suddenly feel nervous. What if I screw up? I'll never live it down on House' part if I do. Damn it! I don't get nervous. I swallow the last piece of sandwich and head out of the kitchen, back up the stairs again. Once in my room I immediately sit down by my newly lacked piano and let my fingers gracefully hover above the keys before a high C#m fills the air. F#m. This really is my drug. I don't know what I'd do without it. I'd probably be crumbled down in some dark hole hoping for the apocalypse. I get lost in the piano, it's the only place I can truly think. Music. Music depending on the mood I'm in. Depressing, or cheerful, colorful. Thank god there's so many different types. Imagine listening to the Happy song on someone's funeral. Not really appropriate. I myself happen to like things like Green Day, and, oh, have I been made fun of because of it. I guess people don't really expect it. I play classical music on the piano, and I'm not the punk-rock ideal. Not at all. I'm a lot like my mother, both by appearance and personality. I don't care though, they make great music and I love them. My oldest younger brother likes them too. He says he doesn't, but I know he does. It's just...he's twelve and all the "cool kids" listen to Hip-hop and RnB, evidentially, so does he. I hear my dad's voice call for me.

"Nikki, you ready to go?"

A deep breath. Let's do it!

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A/N 2: So...like it? Hate it? Let me know!

/wiis^^