I don't own House or Wilson, or Cuddy, and this fiction is not intended to violate the owners' copyrights. This is a snippet of life, several years after Season 8. It is one of a number of sequels to my story "Eighth Day."

Foreman

House limped to the elevators from the parking garage, hat on, long winter coat buttoned up, scarf wrapped around his neck. Foreman stood near the glass doors and windows at the front of the lobby near the clinic, watching the snow piling up on the sidewalk. He too, was bundled up. House detoured to stand next to him. "Are you sorry you didn't take that job with Marty Hamilton in California?" he asked Foreman.

"On mornings like this, yeah. I'll never get used to driving in the snow."

"I can't used to walking in it," House muttered, lifting his cane.

"Got a minute?"

"What did I do now?" House asked. It was his usual response.

Foreman held the door to his office while House limped past him. "Have a seat."

House shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto Foreman's sofa. His hat and scarf followed. "Don't worry, they're dry," he commented. "Love that parking garage. Cuddy dropped me off at the staff entrance. She took the SUV to deliver the kids to school and daycare on the way to the hospital." He sat down in the chair by the desk at Foreman's gesture.

"I had a, well, a moment of inspiration," Foreman said, "Two weeks ago, after the Department Heads meeting. I realized that coffee with you and Wilson was the high point of my day. Everything after that went downhill."

'Pushing too much paper?"

"Remember when we were treating John Henry, you told me that I did something great?"

"You did."

"Well, that's why I became a doctor. That's why I came to work for you. All I do now is go to meetings and review contracts. So that's what I wanted to talk to you about. When we were over at your place for the Superbowl, Cuddy mentioned that her Chief of Neurology was retiring. She's offered me the position."

"It's a demotion."

"It feels like a promotion. House, this job has been good to me. I paid off my student loans. I own my car and we own our condo free and clear. My wife and I are putting money away for our daughter to go to college. But I'm not doing what I wanted to do."

"You've done a good job here, Foreman."

"You know, your wife sees the hospital as her patient. She can treat it by being a great administrator. We were lucky to have her at Princeton Plainsboro. Princeton General is lucky to have her. I can't make that leap. I'm bored and sick to death of being a bureaucrat instead of a doctor."

House nodded. "It would drive me crazy. I think the more of you for wanting out, but I don't want to end up with a dean with a god complex who wants to micromanage my department."

Foreman grinned. "Somehow, I think the Board will warn whoever they hire about you. Besides, I'll stay on until the position is filled."

House climbed to his feet. "I still don't understand why you aren't heading for a warmer climate. Though I suppose since your wife has tenure at Rutgers, that would be awkward."

"You don't get it, do you?" Foreman asked.

"Get what?"

"Why do you suppose Chase is still here? And Cameron brought her family back here. Hell, even Taub opened his practice here, not in Philadelphia or New York."

"Inertia? Princeton is a nice town, pretty, great educational system, but the climate is lousy and the taxes are miserable. Beats me why any of us stayed."

Foreman shook his head, smiling. "You kind of created a community here, almost a family. They're all here because of you. It seems to be home. So I'm moving down the road to work for your wife instead of someplace where I don't freeze the tips of my ears going to work in the morning. Now either go find a patient or try to catch up on your clinic hours."

House met his eyes and realized there was a fond twinkle in them. Had Foreman ever looked like that before? Maybe it was the prospect of escaping House's chaos that had him in such a good mood. House shrugged and limped out toward the elevators. His latest batch of fellows was too raw to be trusted with selecting the next patient. He'd have to bully them into shape.