A young diplomat is brought to PPTH under suspicious circumstances. Everyone is left stumped as to where he came from & how to treat him. Meanwhile, Wilson is being mysterious. House is puzzled. Ducklings quack. Humor/Drama/Medical Mystery

GAH! Fixed typos. First submissions are difficult! Forgive the monkey.

First go at fanfic writing. Used to writing original works. Figured if I'm going to study fanfic, I might as well learn how to write it, too. I'm actually a sociologist with a background in forensics, by trade. Please be gentle. Constructive criticism always welcome. Reviews appreciated.

Feed the monkey.

Medical drama to follow. I don't own any of these characters. I don't sail any ship.

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Prologue

Colder than a witch's teat. Possibly even colder than that - enough to freeze the nipples off a polar bear.

Just outside the doors, a short, bundled creature sporting a knee-length navy blue woolen coat and a long green scarf buries its head against the chest of a rather amused James Wilson. He leans down, wraps his arm around the small thing, nuzzling its cheek to warm his nose. They share a laugh, or so it would seem from the safe, warm distance where House observes the display of comfortable affection. Wilson and the creature are still wrapped in this rather awkward winter-clothing-impaired embrace, rocking slightly as if trying to stave off the cold.

A stray lock of curly auburn hair gently gets brushed away from a cold face and gets tucked back under a brimmed winter hat by Wilson's gloved hand. He smiles down at the creature, whose face House still can't see, in an almost nauseatingly sweet way.

From the warmth of the lobby, a lopsided grin creeps slowly across House's face.

This is going to be a great day.

The automatic doors of the hospital's main entrance slide open and with them cold air bursts in, sweeping powder-light snow along with it. The snow swirls around before melting in the warm indoor air as House lifts his gaze from the ground to his meet his friend's questioning look. Wilson dusts himself off as House takes a sip of his coffee and gestures in the general direction of the great frozen outdoors.

"So, who's the redhead?"

Wilson purses his lips and remains mum.

"Escort?"

"What?" Wilson asks, incredulous.

"Hooker?"

"NO!"

"Then who is she?"

"...A friend!" comes the incredulous reply.

"You play tonsil hockey at forty below with your friends? Damn, I guess I'm not as good a friend of yours as I thought I was. I'm devastated. No, no, I'm downright heartbroken," House quips as he turns to walk towards the elevators, leaving a speechless Wilson behind.

Stuttering, looking for the right response, Wilson follows, juggling his hat and his briefcase at the same time. "She's a friend, alright?" he calls after House.

"Mm-hmm," mumbles House, grinning, as he presses the elevator button, "Patient? Domestic violence victim?" Wilson remains stone-faced, giving House a look that borders on rightful indignation.

"Something has GOT to be wrong with her for you to be smitten. Sexual assault victim? Blind? Deaf? Dumb?" He pauses as Wilson looks at him, positively shellshocked, attempts to respond but is completely unable to do so.

"Cancer survivor patient's daughter! Man, that's almost downright poetical!" He pokes Wilson in the chest with his index finger, teasing. "Oh, you scoundrel you!"

"House, grow up! She's a friend." Wilson is not amused.

The elevator doors open silently. Wilson feels grateful for the escape but at the same time dreads being in a small, confined space with his friend. He knew questions were bound to arise - it was a bold move, to part ways like that on a Monday morning, in front of the hospital doors. But teasing is not the way to start a Monday morning... The lineup is one of cancer kids and hard, heart-breaking news to deliver. This isn't his idea of fun.

A receptionist from radiology and a nurse Wilson didn't recognize step into the elevator with them along with a pair of visitors. Wilson nods a curt hello to Smith, Johansson and Darrow, from cardiology as they run in, hoping to catch the elevator before the doors close. House holds the doors open with his cane for a few more visitors before shouting, in a loud, obnoxious voice: "GOING UP!"

In a rather agile move, House steps out of the elevator and smiles at Wilson. It takes a few seconds for it all to register - then realization crosses Wilson's face as he looks to the elevator button panel.

All the button, for all the floors, in either direction had been pressed. The last thing he sees as he sighs is a smiling House waving at him from outside the elevator doors.