NOTES: Hey there! I know it's seemed like forever, but it's not from a lack of our working on the story. There were some big decisions to make for things moving forward from here so that all had to be sorted out before we could get out this chapter. Atavares has been a super beta as always helping me get the details all sorted out. :)

So this has spoilers for A Pox on Our House. I didn't follow every scene like I have done on some stories in the past. I figure you have all seen it, but it might be a good idea to review it if you care about some of the details that I figure wouldn't change much are skipped over in favor of telling my version of the story. Any dialog from that is obviously not mine.

Also, there is some play on Spock's death scene from The Wrath of Kahn in here as well. I have always assumed House and Cameron are Star Trek fans and I couldn't resist the similarities with the setting in this story. So if for some reason, I can't fathom, since that is the best movie ever, you haven't seen that you really should. If not, you might not get the reference and wonder what the hell they are talking random gibberish about. :P You can see I played off this in the title as well.

Hope you all enjoy! The next few chapters will be a ride. :)

Chapter 21: The Wrath of Pox

Another case solved. All it took, in the end, was telling a little white lie to Cuddy. She'll never be the wiser. Besides, she got her result. At the end of the day, the result is all that matters. Your reward for being a brilliant bad ass, yet again? Leaving work early and taking a swim in your pool. It's nice to get more laps in while it's still warm, another month or so and you'll have to start going back to the gym.

You don't even bother going to your room to get in swimming trunks. Who needs trunks in a private pool? Certainly not you.

"God, I love this!" you say to yourself as you surface from jumping in and float on your back. The water is warm thanks to a sunny day. All you need now…

Swimming to the edge of the pool, you reach for the pants you discarded a couple of feet from the edge. You dry your hands on the leg and fish around in the pocket for your phone. Finding it you text Allison, Come home. The water is warm and Little Greg's feeling frisky after my case.

No more than 20 minutes later a naked Allison is cannonballing into the deep end.

Having a pool, in a private yard, must be the biggest perk of your new home. Or rather it creates the ability to have the biggest perk — fucking Allison while standing in the pool, naked, in broad daylight. You revel in the way her body shakes against yours as you press her front to one of the circulation jets, lining her clit up perfectly for the onslaught of water. You enter her from behind; her legs bend up at the knees on either side of your legs. Her reduced weight is supported by your arms, which you slide under her armpits, holding onto the side of the pool.

It takes next to no time for her to get off on the water stream. You don't even have to thrust, opting to simply remain pushed as far inside of her as the position will allow. The way her inner walls clamp down on your cock as she has a hard orgasm is magnificent. She fights to get away as she peaks, but you hold her against the jet so she must endure. She screams with the second crest. You don't care if the neighbors hear. It isn't the first time, and it won't be the last.

You begin moving inside her as the third wave overtakes her. She's practically seizing from coming so hard. The water around you gets warmer, and you know you've made her spray this time around.

Your dick is so sensitive you can feel every ridge and fold of her flesh against its head. Pulling a limp and sated Allison away from the jet and your cock, you turn her, wrap her legs around you and press her back to the wall of the pool, then slam back inside her again and again until you see white and go slack against her.

Laying back, you pull her with you and float from the edge, basking in the ease the pool gives you to stand and fuck her.

"That was intense," she sighs as she clings to your floating form. "Mrs. Birch is going to give me more dirty looks for that one, I'm sure."

"She's just jealous. If anyone needs a little me time with a water jet, it's that stuck up broad."

"Yeah. I few orgasms could go a long way there. Never understood why some women are so weird about sex and masturbation. Honestly, we get to have multiple orgasms, you'd think people would want to capitalize on that."

"Do you masturbate a lot when I'm not around?"

"I'd assume no more than you."

"Maybe if I were still 30 that'd be true. Demand for production is so high these days, I am afraid to waste too many loads on my hand. But, if he's up and you aren't around, might as well get a few strokes in." You pause for a moment, remembering your last real relationship. "Stacy used to hate that."

"Why?"

"Well, after the newness wore off, and we weren't fucking like bunnies every day or two, sometimes she'd come in from work late and horny, but I might have just wacked off in the shower or to porn or something and not be able to get it right back up. She thought it meant I'd stopped enjoying sex with her. But really, I just like to masturbate. It's different from sex. It just happens to use the same appliance."

"I totally get it. Sometimes I don't want the tension and the surprise and everything else that sex is. Sometimes, I just like getting myself off and not having to focus on what that means for someone else."

"Exactly! It's so fucking cool you think that. And honestly, it's fucking hot knowing you fuck yourself. It also gives me a puzzle to solve. Did she masturbate in her office today? Maybe in our bed, while I was asleep beside her? How can I tell? Should I put in surveillance? Hmm… That's…"

She pulls back from you, treading water a few feet away so she can look you in the eye. "Greg, if you video me fucking myself without my knowledge, I will not be a happy camper and so you will not be a happy camper. Just putting that out there so we don't have any doubt if it happens later."

You move closer and tease, "But with your knowledge?"

"Maybe," she answers with a smirk.

"I love you."

"Yeah, yeah. You love anything to do with porn," she laughs and splashes you.

Wiping your face and spitting out water you agree. "That too." Then join her in a playful water fight. Yes, your pool is definitely one of the coolest things about your new home.

The next day you get called into work early. You wouldn't have even answered the text, but Cuddy texted Allison instead. Ask him if a possible case of smallpox is worth getting out of bed early.

If that's not cool, and totally worth missing out on morning sex, you aren't sure what is. So you are up with Allison for the first time since her new job and catch a ride with her into work. Of course, at 7:30 am no one on your team is there yet, so you figure you can peruse the case files in the meantime.

It's a fascinating case. Kids scuba diving to an old shipwreck in the Bahamas find a jar with skin samples from a group of infected slaves — old-school inoculations. Girl breaks said jar, cuts hand and gets infected samples from the jar in her wounds. According to the information on the ship and the symptoms, there is actually a strong case to be made for smallpox.

Fuck, life is so cool sometimes! Well, your life is cool, poor kid might be fucked, but you can't control that part, so no harm in acknowledging your luck. This is like the holy grail of infectious disease and up until now, you've only seen it in textbooks.

Israel, China, and Africa are on it by 8:00, none of them believing it is an actual case of smallpox. Australia hasn't made it into work, must be in a different timezone or something. While the United Nations is off doing tests, you spend the morning studying the case, making some phone calls, and manage to get your hands on the shipwreck's captain's log. Unfortunately, the fun ends as Cuddy barges into your office. "House, I need you in the clinic. Now. You owe me double hours."

Glancing up, you wonder for a moment why she is busting your chops after giving you the most awesome case ever. Then it hits you. "Damn, you know."

She raises an eyebrow. "Of course I know. You lied about the test. You had four hours, now you have eight."

"But, you just gave me the case of the century." You tilt your head, and grab your chin in mock contemplation. "Let's see… runny noses or smallpox… damn, it's such a hard choice."

She smiles her 'don't fuck with me' smile, steps forward, and leans forward on your desk. "Do I look like a boss who gives two shits? Just get your hours in, Mick. You know how the song goes. I don't have to remind you of that which you know so well."

Sniffing back crocodile tears, you whine. "You're a cold and heartless…"

"Careful House," she interjects and stands upright, "or I'll hand it over to Samson. He's really eager to prove he's every bit the doctor you are. And he takes more than one case at a time."

"You wouldn't." You challenge, with a head tilt and squint of the eyes. "Samson's an idiot."

"Well, I guess you'd better get your hours in if you want to ensure your patient gets the best care."

With that Cuddy spins on her five-inch heels and saunters off, leaving you to wonder how such a lovely ass got attached to a cold and heartless she-devil.

There's only one thing to do at this point. Pulling out your phone you text Wilson. What I need is more important than what you are doing.

Wilson frowns, hands on his hips as he stares you down from just inside your office door. "Seriously, you have a team. What the hell is wrong with sending one of them?" He waves dramatically toward the conference room.

You look at Wilson like he's from Mars. "I can't send them. They are trying desperately to prove to me this isn't really a case of smallpox. Of course, they're going to fail, because it's totally smallpox. Giving them the chance to fail, yet again, is what makes me a great teacher. And it's way more important than whatever cancer kid you are trying to save. You already know for sure they have cancer and cancer isn't half as cool as smallpox."

"Dammit, House. I don't have time for this." He turns and storms off, and you hear, in the distance, his ranting continue. "What an ass! I can't believe I…"

"Well, that didn't work." You mutter to yourself as you begin to read over your email and consider the possibilities. There's a message from The Sperm and Embryo Bank of New Jersey. You smile. It's going to be a great gag gift for Allison's birthday! Hell, who knows, maybe it could actually come (oh, yes you mean that pun) in handy at some point. Mostly you want something funny to give her at her party since you gave her the drums early. You figure after the teasing over vacation, a few samples of your baby makers will do nicely as gift number two. Even found a penis card at Spencer's to stuff with the confirmation letter.

Man, life is so good. You read over the email. Seems they are willing to collect your sample from the PPTH lab and will store it for up to ten years. They've already faxed the documents to the lab. Very considerate of them to make it easy for you. Now you just have to go do the deed. Beating your meat sure as hell beats doing clinic hours. The only downside is not being able to ask Allison to help you.

Less than 15 minutes later you find yourself in a private room next to the 3rd-floor lab. Porn's on the flat screen and Little Greg is in your hand, you pull up a naked picture of Allison on your phone as well. Can't have too many stimuli during this procedure.

You weren't joking with Allison. It's been awhile since you jerked off not as a part of having sex with her. Of course, it's like riding a bike and it doesn't take long for you to fill the jar. Pleased with your excellent execution and the volume of your load, you screw on the lid and zip up.

"Don't fuck this sample up." You tell the lab nurse as you hand it off. "Could have the next Einstein or Mick Jagger in there."

She rolls her eyes. "Believe me, Dr. House, I'll make sure this doesn't get mixed up. Heaven forbid some unsuspecting woman is accidentally forced to birth your evil spawn." She hands you a confirmation letter, which has all the information Allison will need if she ever did decide to use your 'gift'.

"Evil genius spawn." You correct her as you read the paper and walk out. Satisfied with it, you fold it and stick it in your breast pocket.

Now, what the hell are you going to do about clinic duty? Certainly not do it. Man, the look on Allison's face is going to be… Oh, yeah, maybe she would help you out. She loves you, and it is for smallpox.

"Come on, Allison, I'll pay you back in oral sex. You don't want me to have to make that offer to Foreman, do you? He's probably twice the size of Wilson, and I only barely manage to take all of him."

Not bothering to look up from her paperwork, she answers you as she writes. "You're smart and love to solve problems, so I think you can figure it out. I can give you some pointers on how to open your throat properly. Or… there's always Chase."

"Much smaller, I take it?" You ask and sit on the edge of her desk and lean over her work, like a cat demanding attention.

She sighs and sits back, tossing her readers to the desk as she does. "One way for you to find out."

"You'd like to see that."

"God yes." She leans in and looks up at you with a smirk. "And, maybe for that price, I'd go do your hours."

"But… smallpox!" you whine, standing up and stomping like a stubborn five-year-old. "Besides, you should be champing at the bit to get a dress rehearsal at being a Dr. House. I mean, it's almost like you don't want to be Dr. House."

"You aren't going to leave me alone until I give in, are you?"

"Nope."

"Christ. Fine. I can do some later this afternoon. But not before then. I have a lecture this morning and some patient appointments after lunch. Masters can do my 3:00 rounds. That's the best you're gonna get, so take it or leave it."

"Deal."

"I still expect oral sex." She says seriously as she begins to write again. You smirk.

A knock comes from her door. You shout out crassly, "Quick, put your clothes back on and take it out of your mouth. God, you are a hungry little… "

"Come in. It's safe." She yells over you.

"Dr. Cameron," Masters greats her boss warmly, then shoots you a dirty look and delivers a curt "Dr. House." before ignoring you to make her report, standing at the front of the desk like a good little soldier. "I went through the records for Ms. Burman but didn't see anything that might explain the rash. I ordered more tests. The full list is in my notes. Was there anything else you needed me to do this morning? If not, I thought I might get some hours in with the ER. I still have a laundry list of procedures to check off, and the ER always seems to have plenty of opportunities."

"This looks good," Allison tells her as she flips through the pages of the file. "I need you to fill in for me during my rounds at three. Other than that, feel free to work on your list." She closes the file and places it on a stack at the corner of her desk.

You smile and walk up to Masters, with a saccharine sweet tone you tell her, "You know, I'd be happy to let you do my clinic hours this week and I bet there are a ton of little things you could put big fat check marks by. In fact, I'd be more than willing to sign off on a few extras if you make sure to sign in as me and wear my name badge."

She looks truly mortified at the suggestion. Her eyes squint at you incredulously. "You mean lie about who I am to the patients and lie about my requirements for graduation?"

Shrugging you clarify, "Well, less to the patients and more on the charts and the work log. And, from what our Mistress tells me, you're already more than qualified. A few little checkmarks shouldn't define your ability to do the job. It's just bureaucratic red tape."

"Beyond my moral objections to lying, that's illegal." Masters crosses her arms defiantly.

You roll your eyes and wave your free hand, "Oh, come on. The best rules are made to be broken. Besides, doctor's trade hours all the time."

"The keywords there being 'trade hours' as opposed to 'impersonate one another'." Masters comes back.

Allison sighs, "House stop trying to corrupt my intern and go work on your all-important case of smallpox."

Feigning fear you hide behind Masters, putting your hands on her upper arms holder her between you and Allison and say over her shoulder, "Uh, oh. She called me House. Looks like I'm going to get disciplined when I get home."

Masters smacks a hand away and whips around. "She should discipline you more; you're completely out of control. Wait a second, did she say you had a case of smallpox?"

Finally being serious you give her the short version. "My team thinks no. I think yes. Test came back negative for varicella and measles. Taub thinks her blood work suggests some other infection, but she's been diving recently and under all that pressure everything in the blood gets scared, panics, runs, and hides." Of course, you can't resist trying to get under her skin a little more. "And you sound rather comfortable with the idea of discipline. Your name is Masters… Do you have a boyfriend? If not I hear Chase's Tuesdays are open, and he likes a little…"

Allison, who has gotten up to file some paperwork, smacks your ass with it as she passes for that comment, and you jump a bit, turning and sticking your tongue out. Masters shoots back "That's none of your business."

The wheels turning in her mind, obviously, you've hooked her. She opens her mouth ready to lay a barrage of questions about your case. "Ah, ah, ah. I can't play with you right now. Mistress says I have to go to work and that I'm not allowed to corrupt you."

Just as you're about to top off your dick move by leaving, Cheng storms into the office. "We found pustules behind her knee. You were right. Taub called in the CDC."

Your team found a rash. Damn. You thought you had won the lottery. CDC Dude, who flew in Mission Impossible style doesn't think it matters. You're less prone to believe in coincidence. Only question now is, what is it? Suddenly, you have a puzzle almost as good as getting to see smallpox first hand.

Almost.

Well, better for the girl and her family anyway. You're not so heartless that you'd wish death on her for the chance to see it.

Your team is worse than useless right now. Not one of them seems to give a rats ass about what she has now that the CDC has swooped in and stolen your fun. To punish Taub for jumping the gun and calling the CDC and, since you're all locked up with nothing to do, you decide to make him go be you in the clinic for a few hours.

Foreman lost interest and is reading the paper. Chase hasn't been at work long enough to have any interest, even though he managed to get in by 9:00. Cheng, at least, seems to be mulling the problem over as she works on catching up your charting. She has been almost as useful in that regard as Cameron had been. Now if she would just come up with a Cameron grade idea.

You did manage to get a PDF of the Captain's log from the Maritime Museum in Bermuda. Problem is, it's in Dutch. Of course, it'd be a language you don't speak fluently. Other than knowing how to ask to have sex with someone's sister and a handful of other useful phrases to get oneself into a fight, or a bathroom, you don't speak Dutch at all.

Calling into the conference room, you ask "Any of you speak Dutch?" To which you only get confused glances and are ignored again. Maybe, Allison's super-genius speaks a few languages that you don't. If not, there's always the European sex chat sites.

Wandering to the ER, which you haven't been to for a while, you reach over the counter of the nurses' station to steal a sucker for old time's sake. "Hey, long time no see." A familiar voice calls to you.

Looking up, you see Rebecca. "No reason to for me to be slumming it these days. I heard you put in your notice and started classes."

"Yep, two more days and I'm officially just a full-time student again. Decided you were right. Now or never I suppose." She shrugs and tucks the clipboard she is carrying to her chest as she leans against a desk.

Ripping the cover from the confection, you pop it in your cheek and ask "You coming to the party?"

"Of course. So, what brings you down here? I'm sure it's not to ask about me and I can't imagine the quality of our suckers are that much greater than the ones on your floor."

"Nope. I'm looking for Allison's minion."

"Oh, the one with a stick up her ass?"

"I knew it wasn't just me."

"Bed 12."

"Thanks."

"No problem. See ya tomorrow."

You nod and head off toward bed 12.

Throwing the curtain back dramatically, you announce to a shocked Masters and her topless patient "You wanted to play with the big kids. I'm here to see if you know the secret password. I'll give you a hint. It's in here." You shove the print out of the log in her face. Still shocked, she apologizes to the patient who is pulling up her hospital gown, obviously embarrassed to have her boobs fly free in front of you.

"What is this? Is it in Dutch?"

"Oh, goodie. You get at least some bonus points for language recognition. Question is, do you speak it well enough to translate that?" You poke at the papers with your cane.

"I know German. But that's not going to get us very far."

"Same here. Damn. Oh, well. Sex-chat it is." You grab the document back from her, turn and stalk away. You glance at your watch. Allison should be starting her lecture soon, you can use her office. Too bad you already made your sperm donation. A naked translation is sure to be hot. Hell, you could always stop by the lab and get another sample jar. Never know, maybe Little Greg will decide he's up for round two. Hate to be wasteful of your natural resources.

Just as you hit the button in the elevator, you hear a voice. "Wait! Why do you need a translation? Is this about the smallpox case?"

Sticking your cane through the closing doors forces the elevator to hold and Masters runs in. "And if it is?" You ask her.

"I heard the CDC took you off the case. I also heard you don't think it's smallpox anymore. Why?"

Hitting the close button you glance at her casually before staring forward at the doors again. "Not your case. Don't wanna talk to about it and break all those hippo rules and everything. I'd hate to do that."

Out of the corner of her eye, you can see her shove her hands into her coat pockets in frustration. "You really are a pain in the ass. I have no idea what Dr. Cameron sees in you."

"Dito. Pretty sure with me it's the copious amounts of amazing sex. But in your case... Have you even had sex? Wait, don't answer that. TMI, even for me. You got a key to Cameron's office?"

"Yes."

"Well, then maybe you aren't completely useless. You can save me bribing the janitor, and in exchange, I'll let you play a round of What Looks Like Smallpox, Acts Like Smallpox, But Isn't Smallpox." She nods just as the elevator dings and the doors begin to open. "C'mon. We're going to hire an online translator."

She unlocks the door, of course knocking first as if she doesn't know Allison's schedule, and then you're in. You head straight for Allison's seat and flip open her laptop and type in the password that she doesn't know you know. While you do a little google search, Masters asks "So where's the rest of your team?"

"Not everyone is an eager young intern basking in the glory of my genius."

"Do they have another case now or something?"

"Nope. Just being useless."

"So what is this thing you need translated, and how is it relevant to the case?"

"It's the Captain's log from the disease infested slave ship our patient found her jar of goodies in."

"So hopefully more detailed information about how it progressed in other patients."

"Yep." Finding what you were looking for about halfway through the first page of results, , you click the link and pick the chatroom of a hot little brunette named Geerte. She's clad in a black naughty nighty, seated eagerly on a little red sofa.

"Oh, yes. My name is Geerte. Are you handsome sexiest American man?"

"Seriously?" Masters groans and you smirk.

"You know, some people" you turn and wink at her, "I would say that I am, yeah. I want you to translate something for me."

Geerte, a little confused, asks "Why you want I translate? I do topless, toys," Hmm, that would so awesome, "and —" Masters interjects loudly, "Just do the translation." to which you reply feigning offense "She can translate however she feels most comfortable."

"Whatever." Greete says, over wasting her time for no pay, "You put in credit card."

You do as she asks and ask her via chat for an email. She messages back and you jot it down and pass it to Masters "Honey, could you email our new friend the Captain's log."

She takes it with a strangely smug smile. "Sure thing … Sexiest American man."

Well, you'll never hear the end of this one from Allison now. "While you're at it, go tell my team that if they'd like to do their jobs sometime today to get their asses up here. Except for Taub. He's making himself useful in the clinic."

This is what you get for feeding other people's pets. Your father always warned you and now look at you. Trapped in a room with a man who's getting worse, and looking more and more like a man infested with smallpox. You sent away your team. All they were good for was rubbing your screw up in your face. All that's left is sitting on the floor, thinking about how the air in your orange hazmat suit will run out in a few of hours and force you to expose yourself once more.

Fuck. For all the good the suit is likely doing you after your bold move to run into the room with no suit at all to inject the patient with interferon.

You were so sure of your diagnosis. All amped up on the juicy ideas that you wouldn't have even had if it weren't for Masters taking to this case like a dog takes to a stick. At least, Cuddy has honored your requested thus far and kept your current predicament from Wilson and Allison. But at some point, you imagine your luck will run out there too.

She promised that when you were still confident you were right, but now? Even if she doesn't say anything, at some point Allison will look for you, and when…

"Goddammit Greg, why do you always do this?" Looking up you see what small amount of luck you still had has run out. "And what the hell is this?" Allison holds up the proof of your deposit to the sperm bank against the glass wall. "Did you think leaving me sperm would somehow take the edge off of you risking your life?"

"Actually," you say as you start to get off the floor. Once upright, you walk over to the glass and continue, "that was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. I had a penis card and everything." She rolls her eyes, trying to make light of everything, but you can see she's on the edge of losing it, so you hope to lighten the mood by joking back. "But, looks like the timing couldn't have been better."

"You idiot." She states simply. It's not like she'd ever be surprised but your crazy behavior at this point. "Did you at least knock out Wilson and implant your katra before you decided the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few… oh wait. This isn't that scene is it?"

She makes a frustrated reference to The Wrath of Khan, which you'd watched together recently, amused to find you both could quote it. And, well, the situation does kinda fit.

"I have been, and always shall be… your friend," you say with a raspy voice. Looking down at your gloved hand you say in your normal tone, "You'll forgive me if I don't take off the glove for the Vulcan greeting."

"Dammit," she says, with a strange smile as she wipes the tears that are now flowing from her eyes. "I always cry at this part."

"I'm sure that's all it is."

"Has to be. Why would I cry over my fiancee risking his life for the patient, yet again, because he doesn't ever think about anything other than the solution to the puzzle? It's not like I don't know that about him, or should ever expect to be thought of before he charges in where angels fear to tread."

"Because you love him for it."

"Yeah, there's that." She wipes her eyes again. Her eyeliner is smearing. Great. You did that. Thing is, if you were right, it would have saved the patient. The odds have simply caught up with you. And of course, they do just as you get a real life away from your puzzles.

"What the hell do I do?" She asks. "Just sit out here and wait to see if you die? Haven't I done that enough times at this point in my life? You do know there's not going to be a mystic ceremony to bring you back, with comical interludes of Wilson acting crazy like you because he is carrying your soul?"

"That's really too bad. 'Cause… It would be really funny."

"Where is Wilson?"

"I asked Cuddy not to tell him, and I guess the hospital gossip mill hasn't made it to him just yet."

"So, how did you find my little present? It was supposed to be a surprise."

"You asked me to do hours for you, remember? I went to your office to find your name badge. I looked in your jacket for it when it wasn't in your desk."

"Ah, that's because I made Taub go do them."

"That explains why I never found your name badge. I went to my office because I figured you'd be there if this was some joke and found your team with Masters there instead, on my computer, talking to a sex chat worker. They gave me the short story and here I am."

You nod. At least your team hasn't given up, but odds are you've made your last extreme move. Suite or not, you've already been exposed. Whole thing really just gives you a little bit of mathematical comfort.

"Masters is really upset. She apologized to me at least ten times. Funny how I had to calm her down, and not the other way around."

"You know me."

"You better not die on me. What the fuck will I to do with that big house all by myself?"

Oh, fuck. The house. The all of everything you own there. Well, Wilson won't screw her. He'd know you'd want her to have it. Fuck. You should have redone your will when you did the medical proxy. Man, you've left a mess for the two of them to clean up.

Or… It can't be that simple, can it? You've been looking for an excuse to force her to get on with the wedding. Nothing like dying to seal the deal with Allison Cameron. This makes you even more her type. Guess this means you've lost a bet with your lawyer. Got to make sure that you tell Wilson to buy the man a beer or something because he's saved you.

"We need to get married. Now."