"I don't think I can adopt the baby, Wilson..." Sighed Cuddy, staring forlornly at her hands, frustration tugging at the corners of her mouth," House; I- but- well he... I just can't."

"That's perfectly understandable, Cuddy," Wilson urged with solid reassurance. "It would be irresponsible of you to take a baby at the time."

"I know, but... God forgive me..."Cuddy looked up to him helplessly. "I love him so much, but I think right now I hate him even more."

"God?" Wilson's eyes questioned her curiously, and comfortingly without judgment.

"No, House... He's taken himself away from us by not telling us he felt out of sorts, and now he's taken my baby from me. I don't know how much more I can take of this." She looked over to House, her face crestfallen and guilty. "Does that make me an awful person?"

"I don't think so. You can only love a person when it's possible to hate them. Love and hate are such kindred feelings that the slightest slip could change the emotion, and to experience one- at some time you must feel the other. Love is a funny thing, but it is what it is. And it does what it has too."Wilson turned to leave, his hand opening the thick door without a sound.

"Wilson- thanks," Cuddy smiled thankfully up to him, and sighed softly. "You know, if I ever do have a kid... I think I'd want you to be Godfather."

"Don't let him hear that, I think he'd be insulted." Smiled Wilson. Cuddy followed his brotherly gaze,and a smile crept to her face.

"God, he looks so peaceful doesn't he?"

"Nope." Confused, Cuddy turned to hear his explanation, but Wilson was already eyed House, wondering if he was on Morphine yet. Did he even need it?

House wobbled along, his feet every so often slipping on the metal beam. Everything else was gone,not white... just gone. Simply clear looking space stared back at him, and it seemed strange to him not see even anything looking out to see him. The floors-slash-ground as he referred to it was gray, the most boring grey you could imagine. It was the same drab color his skin had taken on at some point.

He hummed a purposefully off-key tune as if to epitomize the absurdity of the situation. He drifted idly along, his feat barely even touching the metal rail he was balancing on. He'd been wandering for hours, and he absently wondered if it was one giant, endless circle. He hefted a bored sigh from his lungs, forcing it out in a slow draft of air, his physique practically oozing boredom.

"You wanted this," House visibly jumped at the sound of his younger self. Startle felled him and down he swooped from the slender rail.

"I did not! You think I want to be bored out of my mind? I spend my days avoiding boredom!"

"You didn't want to feel anything. Boredom is the side effect of nothing, you know. If you want to 'feel' again, go right ahead. Let me know, because that can be arranged. But you may not like it." Warned Greg, though his face twisted into a smile. "But I know I will."

House fixedly at himself, desiring strongly to punch the little bastard in the face.

"Go ahead! Hit me! We're the same, one and all! You don't hate me! You hate you! And I've got your cornered like a little pup!" House took an uncertain step backwards as he watched himself aged thirty five years in a matter of seconds."Coward," House was running, fleeing from the monster spewing hate toward him. "Run like the little bitch you are!"

House laughed to himself a little as he dodged a projectile weapon. He just called himself a bitch. A bitch. He was still laughing when 'Greg' punched him in the face, only stopping for a moment to register the pain. And then away he giggled.

"Fight, you moron!" Greg dragged him upwards and then punched him once more. House narrowed his eyes and shrugged with a smirk.

"Fine." It was hard to not stop hitting after he'd started. All the years of self-loathing and pity seemed to fly off his hands as he landed blow after blow on the now defenseless reflection of himself. Even after the startling moral realization, House couldn't stop. He was trying to murder himself.

A passerby walked somberly to his room, where his wife was awaiting a checkup to see if she was pregnant. He wasn't ready for a kid, but she'd stopped taking birth control so she could get pregnant. He could just imagine the baby crying all night, loud bleating and endless wailing. Come to think of it, he could hear the bleating now! HE was going insane, wasn't he?

He looked to the left, his dark brows furrowing when he saw the man before him, his whole body trembling at one time. THe heart monitor was almost blurring a steady beep his heart was beating so fast.

"Nurse!? I think he needs help!" Shouted the man apprehensively. A nurse looked up to him, and then saw past him to the man bucking and trembling, shaking the bed in the process.

"We need a crash cart, stat!" Screeched the nurse, sprinting to the bedside of the man, and pressing him into the mattress.

"Hey, is he gonna be okay?" The man asked, looking around with surprise as someone pulled him out of the room.

"Sir, you can't be in here!" And then he was pushed from the room. He stared at the door for a minute, read the mans named, and then walked back to see his wife. House. He'd have to remember to ask the nurses later if the man was okay.

His arms were heavy, weighted down with heavy blocks tied to his arms. House was falling through a cloud of black, his reflection beside screaming in fear and panic. But House fell silently, content to suffer in silence.

He thought as he fell, realizing things he'd never noticed before. For one thing, he obviously had some serious self-loathing issues. Sure he knew that this couldn't possible be reality, and it had something to do with his brain stirring something up. He hoped it was a dream and not some strange alternative. But nevertheless, he understood now that he didn't necessarily like himself, but when had there ever been a time he truly had?

This reflection, not his younger self but is true reflection was either some sort of alter ego, or true reflection of his innermost feelings and emotions. The war that was raging in his subconscious, past the mere surface. It was odd to actually think about such things. Usually when confronted with such deep consequences he was more apt to pop a Vicodin than sit down and think about it. But this... well it felt good. Comparatively anyway, as opposed to feeling nothing.

'Shit...' House could see the ground rushing up to meet him, and he grabbed for anything that might help him, might slow him down. But then he remembered there was nothing. And so with a sigh he resigned himself to fall, wondering where he'd land.

More unsettling than the falling was that fact that he didn't land. He opened his eyes and looked around, his mind reeling. He was lying in something soft, and across from him, his younger self residided in a bed.

"Do you still want to feel?" Whispered Greg, his face nervous and excited at the same time.

House nodded, biting his lip as he did so.

"It's gonna hurt, though. You gotta trust me on this, okay? Do you really trust me?"

"I do. I trust you." House nodded. He wondered at the last moment if it was a bad idea, but it was already to late. Greg had already grabbed his hands, and now they were speeding. How could such a small boy move so fast? House knew it wasn't himself anymore, but someone else.

"You are me now, okay? When you wake up, everything's going to be easier, I promise. At least for the first day."

"First day?! But how- what do you mean the first day?!" Burst House.

"You'll see! Just trust me on this!" Smiled Greg.

"But I don't want to!"

"Stop acting like a child, or better yet, go ahead. See where that lands you." Shrugged Greg.

"What does that even mean?" Sputtered House.

"Don't worry. You won't even remember this. Not yet anyway."

"Huh?

"Goodbye, Gregory." The last thing House saw before the white washed over him was his smiling face, and the sound of his mother's voice calling him back to Earth.

"Wilson! He moved! Look! He moved!" Cuddy jumped up from the bedside, grabbing House's hand and rubbing it vigorously as if to wake him up. His long fingers twitched spaztically in her own, and she beamed.

"House?"

"Momma... Where's she?" Slurred House, looking around, one eye still drooping shut with drowsiness.

"House, do you know where you are?" Asked Wilson nervously.

"Huh-uh..." House tried to shake his head 'no' but grimaced painfully at the movement, and tears built up in his eyes. "I feel like my head got run over by a cemi... Where's my Momma?"

"You're Mom?" Asked Cuddy sceptically, raising a brow.

"Uhm, you're mom can't come out to see you yet," Improvised Wilson. "She's uh... She's sick too!"

"Oh... I forgot to get Dad something for his birthday... He's not gonna mind, but I wanted to get him something..."Slurred House, his words becoming incoherrant.

"Hey, buddy, just a medical question here, how old are you?" Asked Wilson, his voice light and cheery.

"Why do you need to even ask that? You have my file!"Protested House, his voice rising, cracking and cracking weakly.

"We don't need to know, it's to make sure you're still lucid- you know, feeling-"

"I know what it means. I'm not four, you know!" House said bitterly, his voice soft. "I'm sorry... I just don't feel good... Uhm, what was the question again?"

"How old are you?" Summarized Cuddy.

"Oh, I'm... Well, I think I'm nine. Nine or ten. I can't remember what day it is. My birthday is soon, and Dad said we could go to the theme park! We're gonna ride all the roller coasters, as long as I don't get sick on him again!" House smiled loopily, and giggled. "I threw up on him last time. Boy was he mad."

"Alrightie, buddy, that's all we need for now. Just hang out here, and take it easy. Watch some TV, okay?" Cuddy pressed the remote gently into his hand and smiled comfortingly before leaving with Wilson.

Out in the hall, Cuddy was panicking. "Oh my God, what are we going to do? I mean- we need him to solve al the important cases, and he's acting like he's high! We need to do something! Get him evaluated, tested-"

"Cuddy! We will get him evaluated. This is to be expected of a brain hemorrhage! We need to take it slow, and let what be what will be. He might get better, if not... Well, we'll be able to figure out why he is, well... was such an ass."

"I can still here you!" Called out House, his tone familiarly sardonic. That would be one of the last things familiar about him for a long time. The House they knew was gone, the fact being that they had no idea for how long. It could be forever, a day- even weeks or months. No one knew. Only House, and he would be back only when he was perfectly ready. Which might be a while.

Author's Note- I hope this cleared up what was wrong with him! I hope you liked it! Reviews are amazing, everyone loves them! Input is appreciated; ideas or suggestions, even questions are appreciated! :) Enjoy! I hope you hang around for some more, and uh... Have fun! :) Happy Almost- Spring time! :D

Lauren/Mellokai