Once again House woke up in his chair with a little gasp, yet this time he already felt the rock was cooking and so was only mildly surprised, when he found Foreman standing in front of the chair, looking down at him. His face was somewhere between serious and annoyed, as per usual, yet there also was a certain coldness to his eyes, that for some reason made House feel uncomfortable.
He however tried to not show any of this and instead said,
"Lemme guess, you also need to show me something?"
Foreman said nothing, he just kept looking at House through cold, distant eyes for another moment, before he simply turned around and headed for the door.
"Hey, what about that cool trick? Oh, it was clear you would let a cripple get up on his own." House called after Foreman, getting out of his chair himself this time.
Foreman had merely waited in the doorway and when House followed, walked through it, with House in his wake.
"Where are we now going? You gonna show me how the parents of the little guy cry at his grave, because I could not find out what was wrong with him? Well, I would definitely appreciate some more concrete information then, if you only gonna try torture me with my subconscious guilt, we can both stop right here." House said gruffly, he already was really having enough of this cryptic dream.
Foreman did not answer anything, he just stopped right outside the office and turned around again.
A little confused, House also turned, finding them looking at his office, however, it no longer seemed to be his office. A janitor was just busy scratching his name off the glass door.
House furrowed his brows somewhat and turned to Foreman, who still did not say a thing, but just watched coldly. It was then, that House realized, that also Cuddy was standing in front of the office. She had her arms crossed and her eyes showed a mixture of anger and sadness. She heaved s bit of a sigh, just to raise her glance, when she saw Wilson approach, whose expression reflected hers a lot, just that he appeared even more sad than angry.
Cuddy placed a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture for a moment, Wilson nodding gratefully.
"He had it coming. We shouldn't be sad, he wouldn't be either." Wilson finally said.
"Don't say that. You know, it's not true. He maybe would've pretended not to care a bit, but the truth would've been different." Cuddy returned firmly.
"Yes, but sometimes it's just comforting to pretend." Wilson sighed.
Cuddy nodded understanding,
"Then let's pretend." she nodded, just to add, "How was the funeral?"
"Hardly anybody was there, I thought his parents would come, but they were away, so..." Wilson told.
House stopped to listen, but furiously turned his attention to Foreman.
"Seriously?" he sneered, "You are showing me, that I died and nobody cares? What sort of shit us this? Do you hope I will get all scared and become, I don't know, Cameron? I had enough of this bullshit, can I wake up now, so I least can try helping the little hobo?" House commanded.
Foreman again just looked at him coldly and unimpressed. House heaved an aggravated breath.
"No such luck, huh?" he asked, Foreman just shook his head.
House gave an annoyed click of his tongue.
"Then least give me something to wor..." he stopped in mid-sentence, when he heard Wilson say: "Do you know who will get the office after him?"
House turned to look at the door, where the janitor was done scratching off the old letters and had just finished sticking the new ones to the door. 'Clause Santa, M.D.' they read.
"Are you fricking kidding me?" House hissed, throwing Foreman a glare, before ripping open the door and rushing inside, where He was sitting behind his desk. Santa. Glaring at him, but this time, House glared back.
"What! What do you want! Why do you keep following me? Even in my dreams! If you got a problem, say it!" he yelled, all this making him furious.
Santa just glared at him for another moment and House glared back, when suddenly Santa got up and holding out a little, nicely wrapped parcel said in an all too familiar voice:
"I got a gift."
House stared for a moment, his eyes becoming big.
"Oh." he said, when it suddenly all made sense.
With a mighty start House woke up. It took him a couple of moments to realize he really had woken up now, but the now dull, yet persistent, pain in his leg soon ensured to him the fact, he was no longer sleeping. He was no longer sleeping! He had to find the team! He knew what was wrong!
Struggling back to his feet, he rushed out of the office as fast as he could, just to run straight into Him. Santa. Once again glaring at him from behind beard, wig, hat and fake brows.
"No time to play anymore, Cuddy. Gotta safe a life." he just said, pushing pass her and hurrying on.
"How did you know?" Cuddy called after him, while pulling off beard and hat.
"Not even all the stuffing can properly hide your rack!" he called over his shoulder, not slowing down.
Cuddy looked after him for another moment, before she couldn't help, but smile to herself.
"Listen, we cannot allow you to leave. We will have to inform CPT if you do." Foreman said, while Timmy's mother continued packing the little belongings they had into an old sports bag.
"So you want to take away our child?" she said.
"No we..." Cameron began, but was interrupted by Foreman.
"Yes, we do, but only because we want the best for him. He needs more tests." he told persistently.
"And because we can't afford them, you want to steal our child." the father returned.
"Yes, because you can't afford the treatment he needs." Chase crossed his arms.
"But he needs his family!" the mother again cried, while her son just watched weakly.
"Mrs. Cratchit, please..." Cameron began, but was interrupted, when the door was suddenly ripped open by House. Everybody in the room turning to stare at him.
"Santa left him a gift!" House told in a triumphant tone.
"A gift?" little Timmy piped up.
"No real gift, kid. Wasn't even Santa, I'm just using it as a metaphor, because I'm constantly being harassed I don't live up to the Christmas spirit." House said with a little shrug.
"Are you high?" the father finally asked.
"A bit, yes. But that got nothing to do with the fact I know what's wrong with your son, so sit down, my dear children, gather around the fire and good uncle Greg is gonna tell you the tale of the boy, who received the worst gift ever." House said, sitting down dramatically in one of the armchairs.
Mr. And Mrs. Cratchit both looked at the team confused, yet when Foreman gave a reassuring nod, they also turned to look at House questioningly.
