Author's note: Couldn't resist posting since today is my birthday:)

"Butterflies and Hurricanes"

Chapter four: Crashing Worlds and Shattered Hearts

Office of Diagnostic Medicine:

Cameron, Chase, and Foreman stood there, three identical pictures of confusion. Caitlin lifted her eyes to give them a small sheepish grin, feeling horribly self conscious.

"What do you mean, you aren't old enough?" Foreman asked again, his head slightly tilted to the side, questions reflecting in his dark eyes. "Wait, just how old are you?"

"Twenty." Caitlin replied meekly. God, this was embarrassing.

"Twenty!" Chase spoke up, looking completely horrified.

"Well, that's what I said, isn't it?" Caitlin snapped back, irritated at Chase's tone. "I'll be twenty one in a month and a half," she added, suddenly feeling tired, lonely, and like the utterly lost little girl that she was.

"Oh- wow." Foreman said. The three of them looked like they were shock, but there was also another expression manifesting on their faces. This is exactly what she was afraid of. They hated her because of her age. It was a problem she had encountered since she had entered college at the tender age of nine. Caitlin suddenly felt the urge to cry, and she couldn't stand here and take this anymore.

"Excuse me." Caitlin said brusquely, and ran past them, hoping with all her heart that they wouldn't see her cry.

The House of Blues, an hour and a half later

The bar was filled with the smooth sounds of the house jazz band, and the slight smoky atmosphere typical of such an establishment. Business was slow for a Friday night, the room only about half full, soft conversations floating below the noise of the music. The demographic of the bar ran more toward the older generation, forty years and up. Shoved in a corner that was the least haziest, looking conspicuously out of place, a trio of young doctors sat and all quietly nursed the drink in front of them. There was no talk at all as the three found themselves lost in deep thought.

"Damn. Twenty. I'd have never guessed." Foreman finally brought up the topic that the three had been avoiding for the past thirty minutes. "She's obviously some sort of genius."

"She's just a child," Chase said grumpily. He hated that every topic of conversation seemed to be about Dr. MacKenzie, and he hated even more that he found himself sucked into every single one of them.

"Robert. Just shut up." Cameron snapped angrily. Chase and Foreman looked at her in surprise. Cameron was never angry. "You've been nothing but rude to her. She seems like a really nice girl, and young or not, she is our superior."

"Yeah, Cameron's right. You've been acting like a child lately," Foreman said. Chase was beginning to grate on his nerves, he thought. If he had a choice, it would have been Robert that had been left behind at the hospital and not the precocious Mackenzie.

"But, I..." Chase faltered at the dangerous look reflecting in Alison's eyes.

"No, Chase. Just drop it." Cameron ordered, her blue eyes flashing. Chase opened his mouth again as if to speak, but closed it again as he looked at Cameron's adamant look of fury. He bowed his head over his drink feeling slighted and angered.

Cameron felt irritated as she looked at her two coworkers. Obviously, she had been the only one who had seen the little girl hurt that reflected in Dr. Mackenzie's eyes before she had ran out the door. Cameron understood what she was going through, and the feeling only made her want to fix things, make the situation better for the girl. It was difficult to be in this particular field that was predominantly male with the 'boy's only club' feel.

Cameron had struggled herself with feelings of inadequacy on several occasions, most on House's expense. She couldn't imagine how much more difficult it must be for the younger girl who had to not only deal with her gender but her age as well. She silently vowed to herself to make friends with the girl. It would be nice to have another female around to talk to.

The three of them fell into another uneasy silence, as the smooth jazz notes floated on and on, going nowhere into the night.

Gregory House's apartment

When Caitlin pulled up to her uncle's apartment, she was surprised to see two cars, her uncle's sporty one, and another rathersensible looking vehicle, sitting on the street in front. She sat in her beat up Jeep that she had bought with one of her hospital paychecks at sixteen, and pondered whether to go up to the door or not. Finally, she determinedly pulled her keys out of the ignition and opened her car door. She tugged at the bottom of her t shirt, the motion full of unease and jitters, and walked up the pathway.

She could just barely make out the ringing of the bell through the door as she waited, feeling fidgety and nervous. The soft restrains of music filtered through and for a moment she contemplated turning heel and running, but then she heard a muffled voice shout out, and the heavy thuds of foot steps.

The door knob clicked and Caitlin was quite surprised at the face that greeted her.

"Oh, hello, Caitlin," James Wilson greeted her with a warm smile.

She did a double take. "Am I at the wrong apartment?" Caitlin asked worriedly.

Wilson laughed, as he held the door open so she could enter. "No, come on in. I assume you're looking for your uncle. I was just over for a visit."

Caitlin nodded as she entered the small apartment. It was surprisingly quite nice for a typical bachelor pad, tan with creamy accents, large comfortable looking pieces of black leather furniture, shelves crammed full of classic literature, medical texts, and sports magazines, but taking center stage was a beautiful glossy piano. House limped out of the kitchen, a glass filled with a warm amber liquid beaded with moisture in his other hand.

"Well, well. Caitlin... Should I ask why you are here? Or should I guess? Are you really that masochistic, or is it that you're just plain bored? I do like the masochistic angle myself... personal favorite of mine you know," House said, sarcastically.

"Cut the shit, uncle." Caitlin snapped, her nerves fraying, unraveling with every moment she stood there with his condemning eyes boring into her. Damn it. He was infuriating.

"I'm sorry, but don't you usually have to be post pubescent to use such grown up language?" House mocked, continuing to push not only Caitlin's patience, but her confidence as well.

Why had she come again? Because he might be your father, you idiot. Damn it. Here she was, desperately wanting, needing, his approval and hating every second of it.

"Fine." Caitlin said coldly. "If this is the way ye want ta act than go ahead. Act like a 13 year old for all I care."

House sighed. "Fine, Caitlin. What is it that you want? Money? Because I'm sure that my paycheck would be quite jealous of your paycheck."

Caitlin just stared at him. What had she been thinking? She was a fool. A damn bloody fool. He wanted nothing to do with her, and that cut her more deeply than she expected. "I don't need money, uncle," she said sadly. "I came ta see ye. That's all."

"Well. I'm busy," came House's terse reply. "New OC tonight. Can't miss it."

"It's Friday."

"TiVo."

Wilson who had been progressively feeling more and more awkward as the conversation began to escalate, cleared his throat and quietly said, "Well, perhaps this would be a good time to say goodbye, then."

Even his fights with Julie didn't have the same tension that was now filling the air, but then again the two of them had grown tired. Of fighting and of each other. The same arguments were recycled as if by mere habit, now old and stale feeling.

"No!" came the unison response from both Houses.

Both Caitlin and House turned and gave pleading looks to Wilson. Well, Caitlin gave a pleading look. House, Wilson noticed, was shooting him a look that read, 'leave me and I'll kill you... slowly... and painfully.' James, being the intelligent man that he was, stopped dead in his tracks.

"Well, you know... wasn't quite ready to go back home anyhow," he said weakly. Come to think of it, even this had to be better than going home. Not that Julie would be there to care. Not that he cared.

"Dr. Wilson, I was just about to ask my uncle here if he wanted ta have some dinner with me. However it appears that he has better things to do." Caitlin gave him a warm smile that made Wilson's breath catch. Damn, she was cute. "Perhaps ye'd care to join me instead?"

Wilson found himself grinning back at her, forgetting for the moment that he happened to be married. "Yeah, sure I'd love to. In fact I know this great little Italian place just a few minutes away-"

"Absolutely not."

Caitlin and Wilson turned around in surprise. House stood in the middle of the living room, cane gripped tightly in one hand, and brilliant blue eyes flashing with anger. "No way, am I going to allow you to take my twenty year old niece on a date!"

A date? Good grief, uncle... jump to conclusions much? Caitlin tilted her head, challenge flashing in her hazel eyes. "Oh, and how are ye going ta stop us?"

"I'm going too. And, I'm sitting in between you two."

"Fine!" Caitlin snapped. As if she cared. A small sarcastic voice taunted her with her feelings of inadequacies and her desire to be accepted. Damn it, Cait, she thought, frustrated. She did care, and way too much for her own good.

"Good." House snapped back. His angry gaze landed on Wilson. "And, can I remind you that you happen to be married?"

Wilson nodded, feeling it best to not say anything more and provoke House further. The three of them walked out of the apartment in silence, each caught up in his or her own thoughts. Caitlin quietly rejoiced that House was coming with them; House finding himself irritated that his niece had actually managed to manipulate him into going, and Wilson pondered whether now was a good time to tell House that he and his wife were separating. No, probably not.

A few hours later:

Caitlin had to admit that the dinner had turned out better than she had expected. The restaurant was a small little hole in the wall, barely noticeable if one didn't know where it was, but on the inside, it was warm, and cozy, with soft yellow stuccoed walls, and flickering candlelight washing over the dark grain of the wooden tables. It was actually quite romantic and suddenly she was glad that she had not come here alone with Wilson. It would have been awkward and too much like the date House had pictured in the first place.

Away from the hospital, she was able to see a different side of her uncle, perhaps father, as well. It warmed her heart to see the obviously strong friendship that Wilson and her uncle shared. James seemed to get House and all of his horrendous moods and downright terrible jokes.

As for Wilson, he became more and more intrigued with the girl who could keep up with his best friend's trash talk. With fascination, he noticed the subtle body language, motions, and mannerisms that proved that Caitlin was truly a relation of Greg's. He also found himself finding her more and more attractive. Well, crap, James, you're in a quandary now, aren't you? He was almost twice her age. He was 36 years old. An old man compared to her, for God's sake.

House, however, was using the occasion to get drunk. He slammed down his second shot and then chased it quickly down with his cold Bass ale. Seeing Caitlin was affecting him more than he cared to think about. Anna and her influence practically oozed out of his niece's pores. Now there was a memory that stung deeply. He had meet Anna, and he had known.

The same way he had known about Stacy, that the two of them were meant to be together. He supposed Anna had obviously not felt the same, seeing as she had dumped him for his own brother. That was what had killed him the most, he thought. That it had been his own flesh and blood she had left him for, leaving him to wonder what Matthew House had possessed that Gregory House did not.

Glancing over at his niece, who was smiling brightly at something that Wilson had just said, he couldn't bring himself to feel much more than a sense of forced obligation and duty toward what could have been his daughter. He had spent years trying to hate Anna. For what she had done to him- leaving him with only feelings of gasping hopelessness.

In his inebriated state, House was finding to his great vexation, that past memories- the ones he had barely managed to lock away for these past 21 years were flashing back to him with annoying clarity. In particular, the one that he had tried to erase from his mind completely...

It was a lovely spring day for an exuberant 24 year old Gregory House. Today, he would walk down the aisle with the woman he adored. To his love struck eyes, the sun seemed to shine with a brilliance and warmth that had never been felt before, the sky more blue, and the clouds- the most perfect he had ever seen- were cotton candy puffs floating in a crystalline sky. Even the birds seemed to be warbling a more cheerful tune today. Everything about today screamed happiness, bliss, and joy.

He grinned, as he drove toward the church. Only another two hours before he would stand before the alter. He had decided just a few minutes ago to forgo the golf game planned for the male half of the wedding party and go wait out the last bit of time in the little chamber that had been made available for him and his groomsmen. The breeze ruffled through his hair as he headed into the city of New Brunswick, the head bobbing tune of Michael Jackson's "Beat It" blasting from the radio.

Nothing could spoil his day, Greg thought, happily. Not even his brother. He and Matthew had always had a severely strained relationship, but for the purpose of his wedding, the two of them had decided to lay aside their angry feelings and celebrate. Greg had even reached out the proverbial hand and offered the status of best man to him. He thought that this might have been the best thing he could have done. Matthew, had in the past few months been coming over to visit more often, and even Anna seemed to enjoy his company.

Anna... oh Anna. Just the thought of her put a skip in his step as he got out of his car and walked toward the small, but beautiful Baptist church. Her jet black hair, those dark brown almond shaped eyes, and that brilliant smile that flashed so brightly against her olive skin. He had met her as an undergraduate at Princeton, and after dating for 2 years, had proposed to her just a little over a year ago, right after graduation.

The air conditioning felt cool on his warm face as he opened the door. His tuxedo was waiting in the groom's room at the end of the hallway. Perhaps he'd put it on just a little bit early. His pace quickened as he drew nearer to the room, but then paused before opening it, confused. Soft, indistinguishable sounds were emanating from behind the door. House wondered idly if someone had left a radio on.

He opened the door, and felt his entire world cave in.

The sight of two entwined bodies burned a hole into his mind, an image permanently marking, no, scarring, the grey membrane. There was his oh, so beautiful bride to be making love to his brother, a look of utter abandon on her face that he had never witnessed in their times together. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut, letting out a strangled cry, as his disbelieving eyes continued- against his own will- to take in the heartbreaking scene in front of him.

The two illicit lovers had heard him and had immediately scrambled out of their compromising position, guilty expressions plastered on their faces, as they self consciously plucked at their scattered clothes, carefully rearranging what remained on their bodies into something slightly more respectable. Greg found himself at a loss for words.

"Why?" was the first thing that his uncomprehending mind finally managed, as he dully stared at one of Anna's lacy white bra straps, resting there so innocently against a traitorous shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Greg," Anna had said, biting at her lip. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you earlier. I just couldn't."

Matthew had looked at him, with a look of such pity, that a surge of overpowering hatred consumed Greg. How dare that wretched excuse of a human being look at him with pity? How dare Matthew take what belonged to him?

"I thought you loved me?" Greg had asked Anna, desperate to hear the reaffirmation of their love.

He just had to hear it, see it in her eyes, and he would even be willing to put all of this behind him. He loved her that much. Everyone made mistakes at times, right? He thought, desperately. Even at that moment, he knew how futilely pointless that question was, he had seen the proof with his naked eye.

Pity, the twin of Matthew's look, shone out of her brown eyes. "Oh, Greg," she whispered softly. "I do love you... but not in the way you want me to. It just wouldn't be fair to you if I lied to you and said I did. It's better that you find out now- before we both did something we regretted."

"Marriage?" Greg answered, bitterly, unable even then to resist the need to keep pushing. "Is that what you're talking about?"

"We simply fell in love at first sight," Matthew said, finally breaking his silence. "It couldn't be helped, brother, I'm sorry."

Greg turned on his brother, pure unadulterated hatred burning in his blue eyes . "Don't ever call me that again," he spat. "You're dead to me, you bastard."

"Greg, please, don't be mad..." Anna had pleaded, as Greg stormed out of the room.

His world had crashed around him, leaving him with nothing but the scattered pieces of his shattered heart. As he walked out of the church, a single cloud had slowly drifted across the sun, leaving him in a dark, cold shadow.

After leaving the church that day, House had immediately gotten into his car, driven to the nearest liquor store and had proceeded to spend the next 3 days in such an intoxicated state that one of his groomsmen, Brian, had taken him to the hospital to have his stomach pumped.

Looking back, House decided that he had never really been completely abstinent from that day forward, whether it be drugs or alcohol, stone cold sobriety had not visited him since. About a week later, he had found out that Matthew and Anna had eloped and run off to Scotland.

The aching embers of pain had smouldered into a blazing hatred. It was a detestation that had sustained House these past twenty one years, and it had become such an inextricable part of him that he was loathe to part with it. Which was why he didn't want Caitlin to be here. Her presence was merely salt being rubbed painfully into an open wound.

His eyes narrowed a bit as he continued to examine his niece and his best friend. James was acting a little too solicitously toward Caitlin and House was slightly surprised to find that he didn't like it. It was the same feeling he had when Wilson had suggested this place for dinner. House decided to chalk it up to his chivalrous side, because he knew he had no familial feelings toward Caitlin at all.

Caitlin was now biting her lip, and in the soft glow of the candlelight, she looked so like Anna that House let out a small gasp, as forgotten pain stabbed through his heart. Caitlin and Wilson turned and looked at him, startled.

"Are ye okay, uncle?" Caitlin asked, concerned, as she took in her uncle's pained expression, his dilated pupils.

It was too much for House to handle. "I'm fine," he barked sharply, as he pushed himself out from behind the table. "I'm leaving."

"What, now?" Caitlin asked, now completely confused. "Wait, why?"

He turned his head and glared at her, his blue eyes icy and distant. "Leave me alone, Caitlin. I don't want you near me. Just... just go away." House continued determinedly toward the door, wanting only to be alone. Always alone.

Caitlin stood as if to go after him, his words still ringing in her ears.

"Don't, Caitlin," Wilson said. He had seen that look on House's face before, and from past experience knew that to talk to House when he was in that sort of mood, was asking for soul crushing comments and hurt feelings.

"But...but-"

"Leave him be. It's what he'll want." Wilson gently laid a hand upon hers. "Please, Caitlin. Just believe me."

Caitlin stared down at the hand resting on hers and then looked back at the door that her uncle had just exited, conflicting emotions warring on her face. Leave me alone, Caitlin. After an anguishing moment, she sat back down to Wilson's small nod of approval.

I don't want you near me. Caitlin stared blankly across the table at Wilson, as pieces of her world began to slowly crumble.

A/N cont'd: This story is obviously not completely canon. I have taken some liberties in each character's pasts and molded them to fit my own ideas. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading! I love to hear your opinions... so keep on reviewing!