Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Six.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

P.S. Spot the Discworld reference, and win my respect. ;)

-

It was nearly six before House was ready to leave. Wilson had completed the accumulated paperwork hours ago, and had tried to fill his time by researching the 'Nature's Way' company online. They'd had no real homepage, only an order form with a small note about the recall of the tonic at the bottom. It gave no details, but suggested customers to turn the tonic in to their local retailer.

'Great alert system.' Wilson thought dryly. 'Second only to the local news in usefulness.'

"Ready to go?" House had hopped the balcony again.

"Yes." Wilson turned the computer off. "I need to get out of these clothes."

"I've got the other stuff in the car." House gave him an apprising look. "You've probably moved into the 'pre-schooler' range.

"Don't remind me." Wilson groaned as he approached House. His eye line was just about waist-level with the other man.

"Hang on. I want to get this before we get back to 'Captain Trips One Stop Voodoo Shop'." House pulled out the tape measurer. Wilson stood still as the measurements were taken. "3'3."

"That's about what we expected." Wilson sighed. Apparently, he wouldn't be taking the tonic any time soon, even if it had arrived at the shop.

House took Wilson's hand as the left the office. Cuddy and the ducklings had gone home already, and no one else would approach House on his way out. Nobody who knew him, anyway.

Even with House's limping gait, Wilson found himself struggling to keep up. His legs simply weren't long enough to hold a walking pace with the older man. If House noticed, he didn't try to do anything about it. Wilson pulled his hand from House's grasp as soon as they hit the parking lot. He fell a few steps behind, but he was no longer being pulled along.

"We're going straight back to your place after the store, right?" Wilson debated for a moment before climbing into the back seat of the car. The middle belt would only go across his lap, and not cut across his neck and face.

"Aside from stopping at a drive thru." House replied as he got in.

"You're not going to make me cook?"

"I'm not letting you near any appliance that uses fire and is currently taller than you are. Bad combo." House shrugged.

"I guess so." Wilson sighed and looked out the window. Or, rather, looked up at the window. At this size, he could only see out of the top of the glass.

'Do kids have to put up with this stuff, or do they not even notice?' Wilson wondered as House drove. He couldn't remember anything especially frustrating, size-wise, from his young childhood, aside from being unable to reach things on high shelves, and that hadn't lasted too long.

"I'm going to see if the clerk can give us a better estimate of my end size than 'not microscopic'."

"It could be helpful." House replied dryly.

"At first I was scared that I was going to vanish--but right now I'm just annoyed at the inconvenience of it all."

"You're rationalizing, just like every other human in the face of a terrifying situation." House replied. "People can't be terrified 24/7. It's tiring."

"You're right."

"Don't worry about it--you'll be terrified later when your diminishing role in the food chain becomes more apparent."

House grinned as Wilson groaned. "Don't worry, I'm not going to let anything snack on you. I'd hate to have to tell your Mom you'd been eaten by a cat."

"Only because you actually like my Mother."

"She's not an idiot." House shrugged. "Unlike her offspring."

"You're so good at these uplifting talks. Remind me to have you give a speech to the terminal patients."

"Right after your lecture on fidelity." House replied.

Despite himself, Wilson smiled.

"Well, we're here."

"I couldn't even tell." Wilson said, surprised. He unbuckled the belt and stood up. "I couldn't see anything from these windows."

"It's getting dark anyway--not much to see."

Wilson didn't bother taking his hand as they went in. The young man was alone behind the counter, and took on a nervous expression as House approached him.

"Is it in?" House had gone back into his 'barely controlled rage' act.

"Yes sir." The clerk (who's tag identified him as 'Tim') retrieved a box from under the counter.

"You said earlier I wouldn't become microscopic. Is there anything more specific you can tell us?" Wilson stood back from the counter in order to see the man.

Tim did a double take as he looked down at Wilson. "Um, well, not really. It depends on personal metabolism and how much of the drug you took. You could end up anywhere between six inches and a quarter of an inch high."

"A quarter of an inch?!" The panic that he'd been ducking leapt into his throat.

"It's unlikely." Tim said quickly. "Most test subjects ended at a few inches."

"So we're somewhere between gnome and 'Honey I Shrunk the Oncologist.'." House said flatly. "It won't matter--I can always separate doses of antidote with a syringe if you get that small."

"Um, well, actually…" Tim trailed off.

"Actually what?"

"If he gets smaller than an inch, the serum won't restore him to normal. That's the cause of the 10% failure rate I mentioned before." He said submissively.

"WHAT?!" House and Wilson shouted together.

"It's your body's morphological field--it can't cope with sizes that far apart!" Tim said. "Once you've been compressed that small, it can't re-expand."

"What the hell is a morphological field?" House growled, leaning over the counter.

"We sell a book by Dr. Pratchett that explains it. It's your body's way of holding your aura in line with--"

"Never mind." House snapped, taking the box. "I assume we're supposed to wait an hour after we think he's stopped shrinking to use this stuff. That is, if he stops at more than an inch high."

"I would." Tim said meekly.

"Great."

"If you have any other questions, feel free to stop by." Tim's salesperson persona was obviously a good one--he was able to give the standard spiel even when thing were going horribly.

"Oh don't worry--I'll be back." House took a long look at him before heading out the door.

Wilson trailed behind him slightly dazed.

"I--"

"Don't dwell on it, it won't help."

"But--"

"You'll only make yourself miserable."

"House--"

"What did I just say?"

Wilson didn't reply this time.

"10% is a pretty small percentage. Just put it out of your mind." House advised as he got in the car.

"Yeah, thanks." Wilson snapped. "I'll just ignore the problem."

House paused a moment before starting the car. "We'll handled it, if it comes up."

Wilson pondered this quietly. If this thing did progress (regress?) that far, he wouldn't be able to handle much of anything. It would leave everything decidedly in House's hands, which the diagnostician seemed to accept.

Something about that was absurdly heartening.

"Okay."

"You won't spend the next few days fretting at the horror of your situation?"

"Not much point in worrying about it." Wilson's voice was stilted, but he was at least trying to sound normal.

"Okay then" House started off.

-

To be continued...