This is my first House, MD fanfiction story. I've written for X-Files, Big Valley and Jericho over the past twenty-five years (with only the Jericho story appearing on ). I discovered House, MD in just the last year and have re-watched the entire series several times now. I admit that I sometimes pretend the last two seasons didn't exist. However, this story follows the series finale, and is my attempt at providing a possible path forward for House. Please let me know what you think.

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Chapter 1

It was the driving, single-minded intensity of purpose that caught Severson's attention. Trained to notice the unusual, Officer Dale Severson halted his progress and watched the man navigate the store's weekend crowd by the very unusual approach of not attempting to navigate it at all. Instead, the crowd was forced to flow around him, shoppers shifting and changing direction to enable his uninterrupted progress. Looks ranged from mildly surprised to extremely annoyed, but all of them moved without a word. Maybe it was because of the man's expression – pain and exhaustion clearly fighting for dominance as the jaw clenched and unclenched, making the lined, craggy features even more defined. Maybe it was because of the limping stride, the cane serving as an extension of the man's long, straight arm. Or perhaps it was the totality of the impression – the man was tall, gaunt, unshaven, hair somewhat long and unruly, dressed in tattered jeans and a rumpled t-shirt - and in obvious pain, with every step of the forceful stride. And yet, he still somehow conveyed a feeling of power and self-assurance.

Severson was off duty, dressed for family day instead of the job. But, the job wasn't something he could just turn off. He shifted direction and followed, careful to avoid detection. One of his skills was to blend in. He'd been described as 'non-descript' by his captain. Average height, average looks, brown hair, brown eyes, no distinguishing marks or features. It had allowed him to participate in several important undercover operations in the past. One thing he knew right now - this man's behavior was most definitely setting off his Spidey senses. Where in the hell was the man going so determinedly? He didn't look the type for a milk emergency, after all.

Severson slipped around the side of a neighboring aisle, losing sight momentarily of his quarry. He realized the awkward step thump of the man's stride was no longer part of the cacophony of the Saturday afternoon shopping madness. When he arrived at the end, the man wasn't where he expected. Eyes sweeping to the right, he finally realized why. He nodded to himself, feeling the mystery solved. He considered walking away, but found he couldn't just quite yet. There was still something…

House knew he had to get back to the cabin fast. He silently cursed the bad luck that had produced the confluence of events leading to him having to make this pick up in person. Wilson just couldn't wait for a later delivery. House clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the messages being delivered quite emphatically from multiple parts of his body. His leg was definitely protesting, having been stressed well beyond usual over the past weeks. His head was pounding and his stomach felt like it was in a vice. He knew he just needed something to eat and drink, preferably sitting down with his leg propped on pillows. He'd allowed himself to become distracted these past weeks and hadn't been taking care of himself like he needed to. He shook his head sharply, willing the spots in his vision away. He didn't have time for any of it, dammit.

The noise assaulted him, adding additional aggravation to the headache he'd sported for days. All the busy, happy people, enjoying their weekend, who wouldn't just shut the hell up. They had no business laughing, blithely going about their day as if all was well in the world. He wanted to shake them. Scream at them. He hated their ignorant obliviousness.

House clenched his jaw again. Raised his left arm to wipe away the sheen of sweat that had broken out. He saw his destination ahead and pushed himself to take the last few steps, until he was finally able to come to a stop at the counter. Thank God no one was in front of him. He just needed to get this over with and get back to the cabin. Back to Wilson.

Severson watched the man now standing still and slightly slumped at the pharmacy counter. The man slowly, deliberately hung his cane on the edge of the counter. Then, placed both hands flat on the counter, arms locked. Severson was surprised at what happened next. It was as if the man's body folded in on itself. His entire body slumped. His head dropped to his chest. And in just an instant, the man went from looking confident and self-assured to looking to be on the verge of collapse.

The young pharmacy assistant stopped across from the man. She paused before speaking, filled with uncertainty as she considered what to say. She took a deep breath, as if girding for battle, before finally asking, "Can I help you, sir?"

Severson wandered around the edge of the end-cap to get a bit closer, idly fingering the boxes there without even registering what it was. He eyed the man's response, not completely sure why he was still interested.

House dragged his head up, battling gravity through sheer willpower. His voice was deep and gravelly, sounding unused even to his own ears. "Pick-up for James Wilson. I'm authorized."

House shifted his weight, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn wallet. Flipped it open to an ID. The woman nodded and went in search of the right bag. House reached up and wiped his face again, the sweat running in rivulets down his face. He slumped once more, arms trembling. He was starting to question the wisdom of his coming. There had to have been a better way.

House felt the pressure mount with each passing second. He actually sighed when the woman returned quickly, bag in hand. He glanced at the label, seeing that it was correct, then pulled out some bills from the wallet and dropped them on the counter, waving off change as he returned it to his pocket. Gripping the cane in his right hand once more, House turned quickly. All he could think about was getting relief to Wilson as quickly as possible. He knew his mistake the moment he turned. His last thought, as pain shot through his head and weakness overtook him was that he just didn't have time for this crap.

And Severson saw it happen, as if in slow motion. He saw the man turn quickly, then lurch to a stop. The cane started a slow drop to the ground as the man raised both hands in the air as if to grab something to hold onto. Then the head rolled back, the legs folded, and he went down hard, head bouncing off the tile with a dull thud.

End Chapter 1