A/N: My apologies for the wait, and no, I did not fall off the edge of the earth; that was only my social life and free time you saw. But thankfully it managed to grab hold of a limb and crawl its way back up long enough for me to write this next chapter. So once again I'm sooo sorry this took so long, but I won't make you wait any longer by apologizing anymore, so please read, review, and most importantly, enjoy!

Disclaimer: see chapter one, or any other chapter that will inevitably lead you back to chapter one.

House closed the file and slid it deftly across the smooth surface of Cuddy's desk and back into her awaiting hands with a quizzical expression adorning his weary features.

"Did you neglect to mention to them the futility of holding a hospital hostage for a patient who has absolutely no chance of survival whatsoever?" House questioned Cuddy while making his way now cane-less away from Cuddy's desk and towards the comfort of one of the couches adjacent to the door separating himself and Cuddy from the commotion surrounding the nurses' station.

"Somehow I don't perceive that going over too well." Cuddy replied curtly, "They're not quite as understanding as you are." she added sarcastically, rising from her chair with the file still in hand and moving quickly to join House on the couch. "I have a feeling this guy isn't going to just give up and go away because we ask politely." Cuddy said, memories of her and Michael's last encounter still fresh in her mind as she plopped uncharacteristically ungracefully into the softness of the plush pillows garnishing the end of her office couch. She opened the file over her lap and scanned over it once again as if looking at it for the hundredth time would make all her problems disappear.

House reached across Cuddy's lap and snatched the illustrious file from her delicate hands' grasp. He couldn't help to prevent his all observing eyes from noticing the slight tremble in them she was expertly hiding. "There's no use in torturing your eyes with this guy's boringly incurable disease." House stated as he flung the folder across from him and onto the smooth and neurotically gleaming glass surface of Cuddy's office coffee table.

Cuddy threw her hands up in defeat and rose from beside House on the couch to begin pacing in front of him anxiously. "Well then what do you propose we do, huh?" Cuddy asked desperately. "Our only way out of this mess is dying with absolutely no chance of survival." she said with a slightly raised voice while she pointed towards the file still resting peacefully unperturbed on the coffee table. "We either operate on him and he dies…" Cuddy began hopelessly.

"Or we don't." stated House plainly.

"Then he still dies…" Cuddy said morbidly, "As do we." Cuddy released a hampered breath. "I don't know about you, but I think that constitutes a lose/lose situation for everyone involved."

House remained wordlessly contemplative for several moments before he began to gradually nod his head in confirmation. "Okay then."

"Okay, what?" Cuddy asked confounded, House's cheerful expression restoring a small speck of hope back into her.

"I've always loved surgery." House acknowledged with a sinister smirk. Cuddy's renewed hope vanquished in an instant, but she put up no argument. Not today. It had to be done. She supposed in a way she'd brought this upon herself.

Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, October 24, 2002:

Cuddy strolled confidently into exam room one, her eyes cast downward over her patient's file as she closed the door to the exam room and took a seat across from her patient on a three legged stool near the used glove disposal and biohazard trash container.

She set the file down on the counter beside her and cheerfully greeted her newest patient. "Good morning, I'm doctor Cuddy, how are you today Mr. McKeaver?" she inquired with a pleasant smile embellishing the sharp features of her flawless face.

A tall man with stormy grey eyes and mused, jet-black hair turned his attention away from where it had been, observing and evidently memorizing every aspect of the room, to the warm, kind voice that had been directed towards him.

He took a slow breath and disregarded Cuddy's question with one of his own. "What's wrong with my son?" he asked in a gruff, husky tenor.

From the back of the room a young boy emerged from behind his game boy and came to stand beside his father. He paled in comparison, the young boy at least three feet shy of meeting the shoulder of his impressively large father, who towered over him as if he were standing on a ladder.

Cuddy examined the boy visually for a brief moment and after finding no apparent injuries she began to question the young boy's father.

"It says here that your son's only symptoms include frequent stomach discomfort." she said indicating towards the young boy's file with a brief sweep of her now gloved hand. The man nodded sharply and patted the seat behind him, indicating for his son to sit down on the exam chair. He did so, with the assistance of a step stool, and returned his attention back to his father and Cuddy.

Being the optimistic doctor she prides herself in being, Cuddy pushed the plain idea of a stomachache out of her intuitive mind as she advanced towards the exam chair and little boy. "It's not a stomachache if that's what you're thinking." the man stated. "His eating habits haven't changed, no preexisting conditions or family history of anything." the man answered all of Cuddy's unasked questions in one breath while simultaneously shaking his head in dismissal. Cuddy lifted the boy's shirt and felt his stomach. She noticed that it was slightly swollen. She turned, snapping her gloves off of her hands and quickly scrawled something down on her clipboard in her neat printed handwriting.

"If you'd like we could schedule a CT scan to check for any problems." She recommended.

The father nodded his thanks and turned to leave, his son jumping off the exam chair and following him obediently on the way out.

Dean of Medicine's office, present time:

"Although before we get to the fun part I think it might be beneficial for me to know what happened here." stated House. Before Cuddy could respond House clarified his question. "The physician's name on the chart states that this case belongs to one Dr. Lisa Cuddy." He acknowledged Cuddy with a nod of his head. His voice lowered in pitch from a berating tone to a bewildered one. "You diagnosed a twelve year old boy with pseudomyxoma peritonei."

"Yes, I know it's a rare disease, especially for a child to have, but after the CT scan revealed the accumulation of mucus in his abdominal cavity it was obvious." House listened patiently. "We'd found it early so I decided to go the route of waiting it out and seeing how it advanced, but the father…Jay McKeaver," she added his name as an afterthought, and perhaps to help jog her memory, "he had other ideas."

"He wanted to choose the option behind door number two…" interceded House.

Cuddy nodded her confirmation. "Surgery." she sighed and continued, "he went to another hospital somewhere in New Jersey and had a debulking surgery performed. Of course the tumor came back, which unfortuanetely for that poor boy meant more operations. McKeaver must have seen surgery as a quick fix as opposed to IP chemotherapy and each time the tumor reappeared he immediately resorted to more surgeries."

"Why didn't the hospital just say no?" House asked.

"According to my understanding he was able to find a different hospital each time." Cuddy answered. "His son has had multiple surgeries in limited time frames and suffers pain from the adhesions caused by complications from the numerous operations."

"And what, he's been through all the hospitals in Jersey so he's come back here for his next fix?" House asked incredulously.

"He wants to completely remove the tumor now." explained Cuddy. "With intensive surgery by means of the Sugarbaker technique."

House turned and picked up the file from the coffee table and scanned over it. Not finding what he was looking for he abandoned the file once again. "When was the kid's last surgery?"

"I'm not sure." answered Cuddy. "None of the surgeries have been recorded very accurately…I suppose that's how he gets the surgeons to agree to operating."

"They must be pissed when they discover it's not the first operation he's had." pondered House.

"Yeah, and it's not good for his son either. I don't think his body can take anymore operations…at least not now."

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Michael nervously paced outside Cuddy's office seemingly abstracted from the current situation all around him. He had watched as him men apprehended a wild and seemingly crazy woman, but ignored it and let his men deal with her as he attended to his ringing phone. He looked at the number on the screen and stalled for a brief moment as if he had become temporarily paralyzed. He walked to a desolate corner on the far side of the lobby and answered the dreaded call.

"Yeah." Michael greeted briskly.

"Is everything set?" asked a deep, gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"I'm working on it." Michael started quickly.

"That's not good enough." barked the man forcefully yet calmly down the other end of the line.

"Just a few more minutes." pleaded Michael, pacing back and forth desperately.

The man on the other end sighed in aggravation. "Don't waste my time." He warned. "You're debt to me isn't paid yet." After a short pause long enough to take in a single breath he continued. "I'm sending him in now. Be ready."

A distant gunshot rang out over the line just as it went dead and Micheal shivered, shutting the phone and shoving it into his pocket hastily. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face as he regained his composure. Turning around he headed once again towards Cuddy's office to finally begin to set events into motion.

A/N: So what do you think? I admit I've been making this whole story up as I go along, so whenever I get reviews pertaining to what's going on I think, I don't know either. To make up for my lack of metaphor last time I'll give you a double today. Your reviews are like Tuesdays. I live for them. Like today. House was amazing as always :D …Your reviews are like music. They rock my world. Lol, give me a break, it's late. Oh and don't worry, Wilson and the ducklings will make an appearance in the next chapter.