A/N: This is a gen fic. There will be no slash in here or any 'ships that deviate from any of the storylines, sorry. Unfortunate, I know, ahaha.


JD stared up at the ceiling, kicking the coverlet off the bed with his restless legs. He turned his head to the right, staring at the digital clock sitting on the bedside table, its neon red numbers glaring at him in the darkness of his hotel room. 6:09 A.M. He bit his lip, sliding his hands under the pillow beneath his head.

He shut his eyes, pretending he was in his bedroom back in his apartment. He could remember the dresser drawer juxtaposed to his bed, and his backpack on the floor, and a pair of fresh, blue scrubs hanging on the plastic coat hook he'd installed on his bedroom door. He could retrace his steps into the kitchen, and imagine himself pouring Cocoa Pebbles into the Spider-Man bowl he'd gotten at Target with Turk -- there had been a two for one sale on kitchen appliances -- when they were still into their second year at William & Mary's.

The Spider-Man bowl that was now sitting in a cardboard box in a self-storage unit, some three thousand miles away.

JD shot out of bed with a sigh, running a hand through his rumpled hair.

After taking a shower and gelling his hair, he pocketed his key card and headed downstairs for the hotel's complimentary continental breakfast. He picked up a cup of coffee and a cheese danish before retreating back into his room, his eyes flickering over his austere surroundings as he worked on his pastry.

He pulled back the thick, burgundy drapes shielding his window, taking in his limited view with a wrinkle of his nose. He could see the top and side of one of the annexed buildings, but other than that, not much else.

After finishing his coffee, he packed a pair of scrubs into his backpack before heading back down to the lobby. He approached the receptionist's desk, smiling kindly at the middle aged woman behind it.

"Good morning," he greeted her, glancing down at her gold nametag. It read Rachel.

She smiled at him. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to know how I can get to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Is it far from here?" he said, drumming his fingers on the lacquered countertop.

"Actually, it's about four minutes away. There's a shuttle that comes by here every fifteen minutes." She reached for a small plastic rack on the connecting desk just below the countertop, handing him a pamphlet. "This is the schedule. It's pretty fixed, unless there are weather delays. There's a bus stop right when you hit Scudders Mill Road, and from there you walk two blocks up and you'll see the hospital."

JD grinned, flipping through the pamphlet. "Thanks so much."

She smiled back. "No problem, sir."

JD eyed the schedule, noting that a shuttle would be arriving within seven minutes. It was still early -- a look at his wristwatch told him it was 6:55 -- but at least he'd have time to acquaint himself with his surroundings.

He stepped outside, grimacing at the temperature. New Jersey's summer heat was still very much present in the air, even though it was already mid-September. The shuttle pulled up to the hotel entrance on scheduled time, and he and a handful of senior citizens stepped onto the small, air-conditioned bus.

JD pressed the thin strip on the cabin wall to request a stop when he saw a street sign that read Scudders Mill Road, thanking the driver as he stepped off the bus. He could feel the heat rising from the pavement as he walked up the block, a tall, brick red building coming steadily into view.

He entered the building, sighing in relief when a gust of cold air greeted him. He took in the hospital's spacious, modernized lobby, and glanced up at the visible corridors of the second floor. The front desk was situated in the middle of the room, and at about one hundred feet away was a glass wall with glass sliding doors. Bold, red letters that read Clinic were superimposed on it.

JD wandered into the cafeteria, which was on the far right of the lobby. The room had large, tall windows that let an abundance of sunshine in, and the floors were covered with off-white colored tiles. He took in the salad bar and the buffet line, the two registers sitting at the far end of the extensive buffet table, and the white, square four-seater tables situated around the room.

JD collapsed into one of the white metal chairs, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.

He glanced up when the seat opposite him moved backward, the rubber stoppers on its legs grating against the tiled floor.

"Sorry," a middle aged man with short, dark brown hair said. He grinned sheepishly at him. "You seem kind of troubled. You okay?"

JD looked at him for a moment. "Psychiatrist?" he wondered aloud, donning a wry grin.

"Oncologist," the other man replied with a grim smile.

He nodded. "Ah. So I take it you're experienced with the consoling bit."

The older man shrugged. "This seat taken?"

JD shook his head. "You can sit."

"I'm James Wilson," he introduced himself, outstretching his hand.

JD shook it, offering him a grin. "John Dorian. But you can call me JD."

"So, what brings you here?" Wilson asked, spearing a black olive with his plastic fork. "Someone you know admitted here?"

"I actually start working here tomorrow," JD replied, sitting back in his chair and pushing it backwards a bit so he could sprawl out his legs.

The older man glanced up at him, his curiosity peaked. "Oh?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I applied for a position for a Doctor House's diagnostics team." He shook his head, frowning. "Forty doctors competing for three spots. Jesus." JD glanced up to find the other man staring at him, his brows drawn together in a thoughtful expression. "Do you know this guy?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually," Wilson said with a wry smile of his own. "Good luck," he told him, almost sounding incredulous.

JD chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. "So far I haven't really heard anything good about him, but I haven't heard anything particularly bad, either . . . "

"Particularly?"

"Uh, well, Doctor Cuddy discussed a few things with me," he said with a shrug. "I'm not sure if I should repeat it to anyone."

Wilson snorted as he ripped open a plastic packet of bacon bits, dumping them into his salad. "Trust me: whatever Cuddy has to say, I probably already know."

JD shifted uncomfortably, gazing out the windows. "Probably not this one, though."

The older man shot him another curious look, but he didn't dig any deeper. "Well, if you have any problems with House . . . " He shrugged, and then his shoulders shuddered as he laughed and shook his head. "Well, everybody has a problem with House," he remarked.

"Anything I should expect?" JD asked with a crooked grin.

"Lots and lots of cynical, acerbic, biting anger," Wilson laughed. He seemed surprised when JD grinned even more, a thoughtful look on his face.

The younger man chuckled as Doctor Cox came to mind. "I think I can handle it."

Wilson regarded him, seeming intrigued.

JD glanced at his watch, standing. "I gotta speak with Doctor Cuddy. It was nice meeting you, Doctor Wilson."

The other man nodded. "Nice to meet you too, JD. I'll see you around."

JD smiled and began walking to the back of the room.

"Uh," Wilson called out, "Cuddy's office is the other way."

"Right," JD muttered, pivoting on his heel and heading for the opposite direction. "Thanks."

Wilson smiled and shook his head, digging into his salad.


JD knocked on one of the many glass windows of the door to Doctor Cuddy's office, stepping back when a svelte, curly haired woman approached and opened it enough to poke her head out.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Hi, I'm Doctor John Dorian," he said with a small wave.

She beamed at him, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

JD entered her office, standing in the middle of an elaborate center rug as she closed the door behind her. She walked back towards her desk, taking a seat and folding her hands on the tabletop.

"Please, sit down," she said courteously, giving him a small smile.

JD sat in one of the wooden chairs in front of her desk, clearing his throat. "Was there something you wanted to discuss with me? I know I'm supposed to start tomorrow . . . "

"The other candidates were given a brief orientation about a week ago, so I'll have someone show you around today. I also would like to mention that I'm going to personally introduce you to House tomorrow so I can rub this in his face, so the first thing you're going to do when you arrive is head over here." She grinned smugly, although it did not seem to be aimed at him.

"Wait, I thought I was covertly your lapdog," JD protested.

Cuddy gave him a guilty smile. "Uh, about that," she muttered sheepishly, tucking her curly, dark hair behind her ears. "It is physically and mentally impossible for me to hide anything from House. But don't worry! Whatever he says will have a minimal effect on you. You've pretty much got immunity."

JD and Cuddy glanced up as a knock sounded on the other side of the door, and the Dean of Medicine stood up to answer it. When she opened the door, a blond haired man who was slightly shorter than JD stepped inside.

"JD, this is Doctor Robert Chase. He'll be showing you around the hospital," Cuddy said with a smile.

JD stood, shaking the other man's offered hand.

"So, you're working for House, huh?" Chase said by way of greeting, his Australian accent evident. "Good luck!"

JD stared at the blond as he was led out of the office. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"