Brush It Off With A Joke

House gently finished playing a beautiful sonatina on his piano when he turned to Benji. He was still so curious. Time to manipulate a kid into talking.

"You don't always have to manipulate people, you know. Sometimes they just talk," Benji mumbled from the couch.

A smile creaked across House's face as he stood up from the bench. He walked over and was about to sit on the chair when Benji pointed to the empty space on the couch.

"Here please," Benji whispered.

House nodded, unsure about being so close to someone. He preferred distance, but sat down anyway. "How'd you know about my leg?"

"You thought about it all day. House, there's no way I can prove what I can do, so could you just play along?"

"Yeah, I can do that," House nodded. This made him slightly nervous. "Who did you use to live with?"

"Ah, I lived in this abandoned building in the rough side of town. There were two other guys there, Rags and Tags."

"What were their mothers thinking?" House joked, even though it probably wasn't the time.

"Um, Tags was a petty thief. CD's and clothes, mostly. He got caught though, a few years ago. Idiot always left the tags on the stuff he stole and wasn't exactly subtle. Guy in court gave him his name, I think. His real name is Robert. That's what his mother called him but he hates his mother so doesn't mind ditching the name."

"And Rags?"

"He wears rags, pretty much. Some guys at a gas station gave him the name I think. They are good guys House, they just made some mistakes." Benji stared deep into House's eyes.

"Yeah, there should be show based on their humanitarianism." House didn't know why he kept doing that, brushing everything off with a sarcastic comment. He knew he was supposed to be there for the kid, encourage him to keep talking. That's what Cuddy and Wilson would do.

Benji swallowed and spoke quietly, still staring, "if it's a joke, it's funny and matters about as much as comic strip. If Garfield suddenly died in one comic, you wouldn't get hurt. It's just a cartoon. But if it's serious, it matters a lot. You start to care. And you are afraid you'll hurt them, like Stacey. When you hurt people you don't know how to help them, about as much as other people wouldn't have a clue how to help a cartoon character. So then what? Watch them fall even deeper? You can't do that, you have to solve the puzzle. You have to help them, don't you? You can help me, House."

House felt numb, stunned, "how can I help you?"

"The way you were meant to. Just be House. Going to bed right now, that'll help me."

House swallowed, trying to regain composure. He stood up, his leg unusually heavy. He fought back a wince and popped a vicodin. "Good night kid."

"Good night House."

House felt something touch his arm. He sat up abruptly and flicked on the lamp, looking around in paranoia. Turning to his left, he saw a figure laying beside him. Rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times brought the image clearer. It was Benji, sweating and twitching uncontrollably. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

"Benji!" House shouted. What was happening?

"H-hold my han-hand," the boy mouthed, speaking softer than the flapping of a butterfly's wings.

House quickly took Benji's hand and held it tight. Maybe he should call Wilson. "Wake up Benji!"

"Wake up Benji," Benji repeated, speaking just a little bit louder than he had before. "Wake up now Benji."

"Hey, kid, focus!" Okay, he was calling Wilson in five, four, three, two, o-.

Benji shook his head violently. "Wa-waking up now, House. Don't ne-need Wilson."

House squeezed the small hand even tighter, looking intently at the boy's face. He looked so incredibly scared, like he'd just seen a war or something. He'd better be waking up, and with any luck this would just be a really bad nightmare. Kids had nightmares all the time, right? This couldn't't be traced back to be his fault, not even by Wilson. But what if it was drugs?

Benji took a deep breath and sat up slowly. The twitching had stopped and his eyes were returning to normal, but he was still sweating slightly. "I'm okay, I'm okay. Nightmare, is all. Just a bad dream."

"Hey, Benji, did you touch my drugs?" House wasn't mad or curious. This was important.

Benji shook his head violently, "promised not to. I don't break promises. I don't lie either."

House tried just thinking what he wanted to say, hoping the kid would pick up on it. He didn't want to risk yelling, but Benji didn't seem to be picking up on anything. The only choice was to try his luck talking out loud, "I'm not mad, kid, you have to tell the truth. Did you take something else? Advil, maybe?" House was getting frustrated. Why was his toy broken?

"No, nothing. Just peanut butter. Talk, keep talking, I can't hear what you're thinking."

"Okay, um, how come? Why can't you hear?"

"Too busy thinking my own thoughts. It's like having the radio and the TV on at the same time. You're the TV. I have to turn you off now, so I can hear the radio. I'll turn you back on when I'm done" Benji face was set like stone, sweat dripping down slowly onto the sheets.

"What about in crowds? What's that like? I noticed you don't talk in crowds."

"Too many TV's on. The radio's off, but too many TV's. Gives me a headache. Can't focus."

"Can you always turn off the TV?"

"No, only when the radio's on. And the radio gets really bad reception. Doesn't always work and gets fuzzy with too many TV's. I can turn up the TV though. Rarely ever do. Don't like hearing people's thoughts. It's wrong."

That was enough explaining the mental limitations for now, "can you tell me what you took now?"

"Didn't't take anything." Benji crawled out of bed slowly and walked to House's side of the bed, who thought about stopping him but didn't't. Curiosity. Benji opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the kit for taking blood. "I would like you believe me. The easiest way to believe something is if there is proof," Benji explained and held out his arm.

House nodded. He wanted to trust the kid too. "This might pinch a little," House mumbled, trying to be professional. "Can you sleep now?" House asked when he finished, setting the vial of blood beside the lamp, "or you going to have more nightmares?"

"May I sleep here? Beside you?" Benji sounded unsure without being able to hear House's thoughts. He didn't't want to hear House say no aloud.

House thought this over. The kid didn't seem like someone to sleep in the spread-eagle position, "yeah, just for tonight."

Benji walked around crawled back into bed, trying to contain his joy. The pair were silent for minute. "House?" Benji asked quietly.

"Go to sleep kid," House replied sleepily.

"Um, may I watch your dreams?"

House rolled over to look at Benji's face. He looked scared again. "You can do that?"

"Yeah, um, when people sleep they don't think normally. They dream, which is much more complex. I have to focus in really hard on that. Paying extra for high definition, I guess. It keeps the nightmares away, but I won't unless you want me too. They're your dreams."

"Whatever, you're still mental though."

"Thank you House. Just brush it off with a joke." Benji grinned and carefully focused on House's mind, ready for the dreams to float in.