Author's Note: New chapter! If, you know, that wasn't obvious. Okay, before we get too much further into the story, I just want to say that I'm going to try very hard to get all the medical stuff right, but some of it might still be wrong. You can tell me if you want, but I just wanted to warn you. That's all.

Disclaimer: Every day, I wish that I owned House and Bones, but I still don't. And I don't see it happening anytime soon.

"House signs out at four p.m. Be sure to write that down," House told the clinic nurse before turning and moving toward the doors as quickly as possible. As soon as he'd come out of the exam room, Cuddy had given him a look and started rummaging around in the files on her desk. He had no intentions of being here when she finally found the boring and predictable case she so obviously wanted to give him.

Alas, he was too late. By the time he reached the elevator, he heard the administrator calling him.

"House."

He ignored her, wishing the elevator would come just a little bit faster.

"House." She was standing right next to him now, much harder to ignore.

"Good afternoon, Cuddy. My clinic hours are done, and I have no new cases. So we have nothing to talk about. Unless you were looking to hook up on the elevator because that guy seems to want you." He pointed over her shoulder and succeeded in getting her to turn to look. When she turned away, the elevator doors slid open, and House walked quickly on, pushing the button for his floor.

Just as he was about to celebrate yet another close encounter, an arm slid between the closing elevator doors, causing them to bounce back open again.

Cuddy had her annoyed face on. "You have a case."

"No, I don't," House said, shaking his head. He pushed the button for his floor again, and when the doors started to close again, Cuddy stepped on the elevator with him. He sighed.

"37 year old male, brain tumor."

"Isn't a brain tumor one of those diagnosis-thingies? What do you need me for? Give him to Wilson."

"His partner's asking for you specifically," Cuddy said.

"His partner?"

"A Dr. Temperance Brennan, world-renowned forensic anthropologist and author. This isn't a request, House. You're doing this case. I'll give you three clinic hours for it."

"Five."

"Three, and you'll do it." She handed him the file as the elevator doors slid open again. "Have fun."

House headed to his office, crossing into the ducklings' side and throwing the file at Foreman, who was reading a journal. Chase and Cameron were nowhere to be found.

"Where are –? Never mind. I'll go get them. You read up."

He walked out the door and down to the janitor's closet where he picked up his cane and pounded on the door. "You two, out. We have a case." Then House walked off again, back to the office.

Cameron and Chase made their way out of the closet moments later, both trying to fix their hair and clothing to make themselves more presentable. By the time they made it to the office, House had already written the words 'brain tumor' across the white board.

"Go get me an MRI. Then we're done."

"That's it?" Chase asked.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Why are we on this case then?" Cameron questioned.

"Did I mention the guy has a brain tumor? Time is of importance, unless you want him to die."

Foreman, Chase, and Cameron left the room.

"Why do you think we're on this case?" Cameron asked her two colleagues.

"Who cares?" Chase replied. "If all the guy's got is a brain tumor, we'll be out of here faster."

"I bet Cuddy's making him do it," Foreman added. "Just don't know why."

"I do," Cameron said as they rounded the corner to the patient's room. They could now see inside – the man laying in the bed, a woman sitting by his bedside, and four other people surrounding them. "That woman - that's Dr. Temperance Brennan, famous author. Cuddy needed the best. But I don't know what they're doing in Jersey."

The ducklings entered the room then, and Foreman spoke, "Seeley Booth? I'm Dr. Foreman, and these are Dr. Chase and Dr. Cameron. They'll be taking you for an MRI, to see if we can locate that tumor."

The woman sitting by the bed, Dr. Brennan, spoke up as Cameron and Chase began getting Booth ready to go. "So, you think it's a tumor too?"

"We're just running this test to make sure. We want to follow up on what the other hospital told you."

"Are you a neurologist?"

"I am. Yes."

She nodded slightly. "Good."

"Okay," Foreman said. "I'm going to need to get one of you to give me a history."

While Foreman questioned Brennan and the others about Booth's medical history, Chase and Cameron got Booth to the MRI machine and on to the sliding table. They set up the machine and Booth within it before taking their seats behind the glass, watching the computers.

"We're going to need you to stay still now," Cameron said before turning to Chase. "House knew we were in that closet."

"Yeah, so?"

"How did he know?"

"Because he's House and knows things."

"I thought it wasn't that obvious we were sleeping together," Cameron persisted.

"Well, obviously, you thought wrong," Chase said, sounding somewhat bitter, as he always did when talking about House with Cameron.

Cameron was about to say something else when their patient started convulsing. Chase flipped the machine off as Cameron rushed out the door, sliding the table out.

"Call a code," she told Chase. "He's having a seizure."