Chapter 4 [CHH—later that afternoon]

[A/N: For those of you who read my "Dubois Chronicles" know, Angie and House have *quite* the history between them. The flashbacks are from there. The one here is from "The Forbidden".]

House emerged from the Clinic feeling even more frustrated and tired by the Whiners Anonymous meeting in there. Granted, the steady stream of runny noses, bruised knees and pseudo-informed patients made him want to vomit.

The duty nurse shook her head at him. For such a great doctor, why does that man have to be such an ass? As with a lot of people, she wondered what Cuddy saw in him.

Of course, House could care less about her—or any minion's—reaction. His mind was already wrangling over the latest Gordian Knot to land in his toy box. How to deal with the mystery cancer. While he'd only given a cursory glance at the file, he knew that to bring Dubois in meant it was cancer. Why the Hell couldn't Wilson just come? Damn Wyngate! He limped into the suite and collapsed into his chair. He thumped the racquetball several times against the wall to burn off his frustration.

Then his phone rang.

He glared at the caller ID and recognized Wilson's cell. "Interesting." He allowed the phone to ring and then the message machine to pick up.

"House, if you're there, please pick up. We need to talk," Wilson noted. "Anyhow, sorry I can't be there this time. Look, Angie's a great oncologist. I recommended her personally and…."

At those words, House snatched the phone from the hook and growled, "YOU WHAT? Wilson, you idiot!"

"Hello to you too, House. Nice to see married life hasn't mellowed you too much," Wilson deadpanned. "I'd ask how everything's going but I guess you're pissed."

"Damn straight I'm pissed! I can't believe you'd dump Angel Cakes off on me especially after what happened at Mercy!" House spat taciturnly.

Wilson took a deep breath. "As I heard, that was your fault not Dubois'! She actually saved your ass in that suspension hearing."

House snorted. "Nice version for those of us who were there, Wilson. Care to recount her every tear for the viewers in Outer Mongolia who missed it?"

"Maybe we should ask Cuddy? She was also in the room at the time. House, you've had it in for Dubois since med school. Maybe now would be the time to act like—I don't know—a grown up—and treat her like the colleague she is?" Wilson pointed out.

"Nobody screws with me in my tank, Wilson. I don't care how many articles she's published or that stuff. She did it to me," House insisted.

"Yes, yes. She conveniently made up some story about how your concern for a patient caused you to overstep your bounds." Wilson laughed sarcastically. "House, you aren't going to win this one. Apparently your donor wants a big shot to treat her in her backyard. Dubois is that big shot. You're going to have to play nice with her."

"It's still my sandbox, Wilson!" House snapped a sharp toss of the ball against the wall.

"You're going to give the guy in the next office a headache. Quit it," Wilson declared. "Just work with it. It's not like Dubois is going to be there forever."

"You'd have to be at that meeting this week, Wilson."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't realize I had to rearrange my life around your needs anymore, House. I am your friend. However, we do have to work within certain rules and realities. My reality is committed here in Prague for the next two weeks actually. Yours is to deal with the political garbage and not to stress your wife so badly that she miscarries."

"At least I've been married like six whole months without an affair, Wilson. That would be a record for you," House retorted.

"I've actually been married longer than that, House. Surprise, surprise. How's the baby? Any word?" Wilson wondered.

"The bomb'll hit any week now. We're waiting with baited breath," House mentioned while hiding his own concern. He wished they could get it over with and deal with the squalling one sooner rather than later.

"Really nice way to speak of impending fatherhood, House," Wilson chided. "I'm sure Cuddy and your mother feel the same way. How's your Mom anyhow?"

"Mom's okay. Cuddy and I go over there to make sure everything's all right. Now that Dad's gone, she isn't so bad," House informed him.

At least he's doing that much. "That sounds great, House. I'm glad you two are at least getting along. And the team?"

"The minions are still obeying their Master. Hadley's getting used to the new regime but it's a matter of time before she falls into line," House reported.

"Nice to see that doesn't change either," Wilson muttered.

"What was that?" House snapped.

"Nothing. Well I have to get back to the conference. Just work with everyone. We'll catch up when I get back to Princeton. See you later," Wilson concluded before hanging up.

House growled to himself. He mouthed five vicodin pills while recalling the hearing in question….

****

[Detroit Mercy Hospital—late May 1989]

Despite not coming in until nine, House knew something was going on. He saw Michaels keeping Blackwell close by his side, shooting him threatening glares every so often. Rivers and Douchene talked together in the latter's office. Everyone who passed him in the halls seemed almost sympathetic--a strange thing in itself. They know the whole thing.

He checked his box. Much to his surprise, he found a long white business envelope in there. He didn't have to open it to know what it contained. "Damn they move fast." He headed for the Clinic, knowing that Cuddy was just getting off her shift. He reached the area just as she was exiting it. "Hey, Cuddy!"

"House, not now," she declined, rushing to get through the door before he could stop her.

"Yes now!" he snapped. "What the Hell's going on?"

She turned with a perturbed look on her face. "You really screwed up this weekend, House."

"I bet Angel Cakes really dumped on me. Didn't she?" he presumed.

She drew him aside. "Actually, House, she surprised me. She could've pinned your balls to the wall. She didn't. You owe her an apology and a big thank you."

"Yeah right," he scoffed.

"Don't be such a horse's ass. Look, I can't say anymore until this whole mess blows over. You know why," she told him point blank. "Think on it, House. Quit picking on her. Hell, just stay away from Angie. Understand? As your friend, I'm asking that of you. Please." With that, she left, heading down the hall toward Radiology.

He shook his head. She wouldn't stand up to Rivers and Michaels like that. Sorry, Cuddy, I'm not buying it. With that, he headed for his office to read the summons in his hand.

****

[Three Days Later--Douchene's Conference Room]

True to House's sense of the matter, the review board was looking to send a message. He knew Michaels, Rivers and Douchene would want the book thrown at him; a fact confirmed by the grim and tortuous questioning the panel had pursued. Typical. He rolled his eyes sarcastically.

As Cuddy walked out from her discussion, she gave him a sympathetic glance before hustling toward the elevator.

Blackwell kept her eyes averted, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

I must really be in for it. He frowned.

The door opened and Douchene peered out. "Dr. House, we're ready."

The diagnostician stood and walked back into the room, finding the hot seat again.

Douchene sat beside Rivers and the Neurology chair. "We have reviewed the case and heard those people involved in this case. Dr. House, this board finds you guilty of professional misconduct. You took a file from the hospital in the effort to steal a case from one of your colleagues. Furthermore, you verbally assaulted one of your junior colleagues in her own home. You might be surprised to know that said colleague pointed out the mediating circumstance that your compassion overrode your common sense. That was taken into consideration too."

"Gee, Blackwell's a real saint," House retorted.

"She tolerates more from you than she should," Douchene informed him. "Dr. House, you are a brilliant diagnostician. I've seen you solve cases that nobody has an inkling of. However, your lack of respect for colleagues and patients is alarming. You are suspended without pay for a week. Furthermore, I am releasing Dr. Blackwell from the Diagnostic component of her internship. You are to keep your distance from her. If you need an oncological consult, go through Dr. Rivers. There will be a letter placed in your permanent file. Thank you for your time. You may go."

House stood and walked out; the steam spewing from his ears. As with the kid who was caught with the hand in the cookie jar, he hated getting his hand slapped.

Maybe he had to keep away from Angel Cakes but he still had to get even. He smirked; a plan forming in his mind as he took the elevator toward the lobby.

****

House brooded over the events. "Yeah she's a real saint all right." He got up and limped out of his office. Maybe the two would work together but he didn't have to like it.