"It is lupus." Erica Foreman, one of Greta House's fellows, said.
House frowned looking over her shoulder.
"It is not lupus." House said, as though everyone knew it.
Roberta Chase was rubbing her chin looking at the board contemplating what kind of disease the patient of the week had. The year was 2006. Her friend, Allison Cameron, was reading the patients file. Cameron was the only male on the team. Besides to being caught in the middle when the girls started going at it at each other, he preferred to give it a go at the diagnoses with his best theory. Cameron had on a pair of glasses sharing a glance at the board.
Foreman had curly black shoulder length hair on the shoulders of her white coat and she had a emotionless expression on her face. Underneath that was a dark suit followed by pants rather than a skirt like Chase. House had on a dark shirt decorated in skulls with a halfway buttoned up white shirt on that and a black jacket over that with matching black jeans. Cameron had a white shirt with a black sweater on top and dark blue jeans.
"Lupus would explain the blood in the urine," Foreman said. "The rash,and the weight loss."
"What if the weight loss is not part of the symptom?" House asked, twirling his cane leaning to the side of the board.
"Great, now we are back at square one." Foreman said.
"Not essentially," House said. "Cameron,when you were last with the patient, were they experiencing back pain?"
"Yes." Cameron said, with a nod.
"And hallucinations." House said.
"Hallucinations of being chased by bats and flying monkeys," Foreman said. "He is scared of birds, obviously."
Cameron leaned forward.
"There is tumors in the brain?" Cameron asked.
"The previous documents from the patients other doctors show otherwise." Foreman said.
"Perhaps the tumors have grown," House said. "MRI and lumbar puncture him. Foreman and Chase, check the house for toxins after the MRI."
House made her way out of the room then down the familiar hall. She walked this hall with her aching leg every day for the past six years. Walked the four sides of floor two with her ducklings behind her telling what the results came up for the tests and usually, most of the time, her recommending even more tests. She walked the floor because her leg hurt and she had to distract herself asides to vicodin. Some days it did not hurt as much and some days it hurt like hell. Every day she was in pain. Steven, her former husband, had made the decision to get rid of the dead tissue. Refusing to amputate her leg had left her in this way.
House headed in the direction of a familiar door she had seen for twenty years.
Doctor Jamie Evan Wilson, head of oncology.
House opened the door to Wilson's office and fortunately for her, there was only good old Wilson. Wilson had shoulder length brown hair that was starting to get gray but damn did she look attractive. Wilson looked up in the direction of House with a raised eyebrow and a raised head. She had stopped writing on the paper she was filling out then returned her attention to it and resumed writing.
"I am busy, House." Wilson said.
"Did Greg die of liver cancer?" House asked.
Wilson looked up in the direction of House who fell onto the couch then leaned the cane on the cushion of the couch. There was a look of surprise on the woman's face hearing that from Gretta Wilson. The person who hardly gave a shit about anyone else except for her. Wilson stopped writing.
"No," Wilson said. "House, what do you know?"
"I don't know about you. . . but I heard he was in Greece." House said.
"House!" Wilson said.
"You told Greg to mail to my apartment." House said.
"No, I did not." Wilson said.
"You moved back into the hotel!" House said, getting off the couch using her hand as support to get up.
"Because your miracle kids gift." Wilson said.
"He had rabies, and rabies is not a gift. So are cold sores." House said.
House approached the desk.
"You gave him six more months to live by accepting that patient and why are you asking about someone who is busy dying not unless you are getting my mail because I wouldn't give her my address-" House dropped a package on the table. "To mail to me." Wilson held her pen up staring at House with her usual fascinated expression. "Unless. . ."
"What can I say?" House asked. "You are my BFF for ever and ever."
"I am doomed with your royal presence." Wilson said.
"That's the spirit!" House said.
"Get out." Wilson glared at her.
"I didn't open it." House said.
"House," Wilson said. "My ex-boyfriend thinks I am a lesbian (Which I am clearly not) and living with you. What did you do to him?"
"Nothing!" House walked out of the office closing the door behind her.
Wilson looked around, just to be House had left, then she tore open the package.
"A pack of silverware," Wilson said, with a bewildered expression. Wilson lowered the package. "Why that is oddly un-Houselike."
Lawrence Cuddy was at his desk, the dean of medicine, in charge of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching School. The best of the state of New Jersey. The hospital that most high profiled people went to when nobody could cure them. House was the most sought after doctor. Every day five case files would land on Cuddy's desk, when House wouldn't chose, and he would force her to decide or else scale back on the vicodin. He couldn't fire her. She was the best doctor they ever had. She was the Sherly Holmes of the 21st century.
He was expecting House to come in at any moment as he signed off on paperwork.
He had dark curly hair with crystal eyes and in a dark suit complete with a purple shirt.
The doors flew open.
"You are an idiot!" House said, limping her way in using the cane.
At least that was better than being called bastard.
"What kind of idiot was I being today,Doctor House?" Cuddy asked, looking up with a raised eyebrow.
"You know what exactly you did!" House said.
"Refusing to give a go ahead on a surgery that could affect his entire live, yep, that I am sure of." Cuddy said.
"He is a moron!" House said. "And he needs it."
"So, Doctor House," Cuddy said, lowering the pen to the board. "Do you have any real proof to why your patient needs his head split open besides saying he's a 'moron'?"
"He's gonna die, Cuddy!" House said, putting down a clipboard with the paper (unsigned but had the standard date) on the table. "What more proof do you want?" She pointed toward the paper. "Now sign!"
"I need real tangible proof that I can tell his health insurance and his family why we permanently gave him brain damage."
"Cuddy, if I don't do it now, he is going to get brain damage and be unable to control himself in the near future if I operate later when I have the proof!" House said. "He has worms in his head!" She paced back and forth. "At least the damage we make his hands are shaky, he will be able to function, and walk and speak. His brain is going to send out a self destruct signal if the worm population gets out of hand in the next twenty-four-hours."
Cuddy had a pause.
"How did he get worms in his head again?" Cuddy asked.
"He ate them." House said.
"He ate them." Cuddy repeated.
"He ate them alive, uncooked, and not prepared the way chief should," House said. "The rest of the worms can be killed off by the pills in his intestines. Turned out he tried to replicate a delicacy that he enjoyed in some foreign country."
Cuddy picked up the pen and the clipboard.
"You got the surgery." Cuddy said.
The two males and one female were sitting in three chairs watching the film crew filming the scene of their doubles. They shared striking resemblance to the actors on set. The man in the middle had a cane in between his legs and seemed to be disgusted, furrowed eyebrows, and a glare that could kill. The female, with curly black hair, seemed to be amused by the production.
"What the fuck is this shit?" House said.
"It's your shit." Cuddy said.
"No way I would order you to sign that way." House denied.
"Frankly, they are dead on." Wilson said, one hand on the side of his cheek with dotting loving eyes at House.
"We are not modeling for the kids, Jimmy." House said.
"And cuut!" The director said. "Scene four up next, surgery room!"
"I can't believe they are shooting the scenes in order!" Wilson said. "I mean, they got your ducklings down."
"They are not my ducklings." House denied.
"They follow their daddy duck." Cuddy said.
"They are Greta's ducklings," House said. "She is the mother."
The middle aged woman approached the three.
"How did I do?"Alex Macey, the actress, asked.
"Good," Cuddy said. "You got the attitude down."
"Awful." House said.
"You did splendid, Macey." Wilson said.
"And you look terrible, Doctor House." Macey turned away waving the cane over her shoulder whistling her way from them.
"Two can play at this game." House said.
"Here we go again," Wilson rubbed his forehead. "You are not going to get her fired."
House went past the two.
"She started it," Cuddy said. "Lets see if she can stand the antics of the character she is going to be playing for the next few days."
"Did House have a patient with worms in his head?" Wilson asked.
"At one point he did." Cuddy said, her hand on the side of her cheek.
"I still cannot believe someone is making a movie out of House," Wilson said. "Out of billions of people in the world. He had to have a patient who was director." Cuddy had a smile on her face. "And here I thought he was a book agent."
"Wait until we get to the CIA part." Cuddy said.
"Wait a second, House met the CIA?" Wilson asked.
Cuddy had a small laugh.
"No, but in the movie they do come in because his next patient. . ." Cuddy said as Wilson relaxed. Cuddy looked over in the direction of Wilson. "Wilson, read the script."
"I rather watch than know." Wilson said.
"Too bad his team is currently on a new case," Cuddy said. "They would really enjoy seeing their doubles."
"Actually. . ." Wilson said. Cuddy raised an eyebrow as in the background behind them we can see Foreman giving advise to the actress portraying him and some background information regarding a situation that occurs later in the script. Chase looked absolutely terrified that Cuddy would notice. "About that."
Chase and Foreman ducked under a table when Cuddy looked over then she shrugged.
"As you were saying?" Cuddy asked, turning her head in the direction of Wilson.
Chase and Foreman got out of their hiding spot with strange looks.
"House treated them to being supervised by Cameron and some movies and a cell phone to call in case they, I quote, 'Manage to pee themselves that they can solve this one being countless miles away from their prestigious daddy.', unquote."
"Sounds like what House would say." Cuddy said.
House returned with a triumphant look on his face.
"What did you do to her?" Wilson asked.
"I gave her a insight to how my leg feels." House replied.
"MY LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGGGGGGG!" Macey screamed.
House looked generally surprised at that.
"I did not stab her with a conspicuous needle!" House said, earning glares from the two. "Honestly."
We see Cameron dart into Macey's trailer.
"Why did I bother supervising you?" Cuddy asked, with a sigh.
"Because you value me." House said, sitting down in the chair as Wilson darted in the direction of Macey and so did her co-stars. "She will be okay in time for the next shoot."
The End.