Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! Anyway, please keep in mind that everything happens for a reason.

Some of this might seem pointless, but it happens for a reason as said above.

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Scarlett leaned on the wall, since she couldn't stand without toppling over. The wife, Marcia, sat hunched over in her chair, sobbing.

"Pipe down! I can't think!" House yelled at Marcia and she whimpered.

Thirteen put her hand on the end of the bed. "Okay… coma… Head trauma, stroke… what happened?"

"Hypoxia, maybe. Was he having trouble breathing?" Cameron pinched the bridge of her nose.

Marcia blubbered, "No…"

Scarlett stood up and tried to get a better angle, still furiously drunk. House reached out and grabbed her arm to stable her. All eyes went to his hand on her arm. He wasn't acting normal. She wasn't aware of his new attitude toward her. They weren't hesitating.

**********

House

I woke up. My back ached from sleeping in my office chair for all hours. A loud noise came from the other side of the room. Turning around, I found Scarlett bent over the side of a chair, throwing up in a trash can. She finally threw her head upward and plastered her hand on her head.

"Fun time last night?" I asked and shook my head.

Scarlett shouted, "Why are you talking so loud?!"

Funny, funny. "Sorry…" I yelled. "IS THIS BETTER???"

"Shut up, you asshole," she nestled over her knees.

I smirked. Scarlett was funny when she was drunk. Heavily drunk. Her bloodshot eyes were looked up at me and squinted at the light. The door opened revealing Wilson, frazzled and angry. "Where the Hell did you go last night?"

"Awww… dad!" I mimicked a teenage girl.

"Everyone shut your damned mouths!" Scarlett glared across us both.

Wilson began to whisper, "Where did you go?"

"Out! We went dancing and…" she stopped to vomit again. "Drinking."

"Obviously!" her uncle stomped his foot. "I can't believe you'd go get drunk. You're twenty five for Christ's sake!"

I smacked my cane on the floor and ogled at Wilson, "Yes, and I'm 49, but I still like to drink a lot."

Scarlett pushed her body of the chair and stood up. Black mascara was smudged around the eyelids. Red lipstick had dried on the lips. Hairspray made her hair crackle. The girl nodded apologetically and looked at her uncle, "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me, Uncle James."

How could anyone believe that crap? It was insane how badly she was acting. Wilson smiled, "It's okay."

She nodded and slowly stepped out of my office. Wilson turned back to me and crossed his arms. "Now, I never got to talk to you about the motorcycle incident."

"Yes, sir?"

He poked my chest, "Why were you taking my niece home?"

"You left."

"So?"

"So, I took her home."

"You'd never do that."

"What do you mean?"

"That's not the House I know. Something's going on in your head, and I don't know if I should be angry or sympathetic."

"I don't get what you're talking about."

"I think you're out of it."

"Out of what?"

"Out of your career! You don't know what's going on anymore!"

I paused, "That's not true."

Wilson stared for a minute and then nodded, "Right."

"I'm not letting go of my job."

"You're complicated. I get that. But you had more substance, and I don't know what's wrong?"

With that, he left.

*********

Scarlett

Groaning, I lifted my heavy bag into the backseat of my uncle's car. He opened my door and helped me in. Hangovers were hell. As he drove off, he turned a different way rather than the normal route we took to his home.

"Where are we going?" I asked sullenly.

Uncle James steered the car and mentioned, "I forgot I needed to pick something up from the grocery store."

"Oh, alright," I leaned back, relaxing.

"It could take a little bit, but you can stop in the stores if you like."

I smiled a little. Shopping! Finally, I could go shopping. It seemed like ages since I had. We pulled into a strip mall type area. The first thing I saw was the Gap, Nine West, a grocery store and Victoria's Secret. A few other stores were down the way He stopped the car and then said, "Be back in half an hour?"

"Sure."

He strode away and entered the store. I waited a moment before stepping out of the car. January 31st. It was gray outside, which I liked. First, to Nine West. A short, stubby man with thick black glasses welcomed me, "Welcome to Nine West, can I help you?"

"No thank you," I replied calmly.

I took to the shelves in a whirlwind, scanning the boxes for size eight and a half and opening them to see if I liked the shoe. The last pair I came across were pink, high heels with a sort of gladiator architecture. I bought them without much hesitation.

After sifting through a bunch of racks at the Gap, I had found a sweet, airy top with flowers surrounding the neckline. I walked out of the store, shopping bag in my hand, and quickly took shelter from a fast falling snow in Victoria's Secret. Again I was greeted, "Hi, welcome to Victoria's Secret. We have a special offer this week. With a purchase of twenty dollars or more, you get a fifteen percent of coupon and a free piece of luggage."

Of course, how could I refuse?