TITLE: The Apple and the TreeAUTHOR: Same as last chapterPAIRING: Gen, with allusions to House/OFC
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: Ridiculous amounts of sarcasm, bad attitude, and angst.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. NOTES: Yes, if you plug an appliance in the wrong way the current will run through the casing rather than the wires. Oh, and regardless of which duckling (if any) gets axed, they all remain in place for this story.

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER TWO

"The MRI was inconclusive," Cameron told Nicole.

Nicole nodded. "Which is doctorspeak for 'You're in excruciating pain and we don't know what's wrong with you. Here, take these painkillers.'"

Cameron laughed a little. "You are your father's daughter," she said before she could think. Quickly, she added, "It also means you don't have cancer, an aneurysm, or a stroke."

Nicole's blue eyes darted in Cameron's direction. House's eyes, Cameron thought.

"How do you know who my dad is?" Nicole asked warily.

"I work for him," Cameron said, setting up the IV.

"My sympathies."

"It's not too bad," Cameron reassured, swabbing alcohol along Nicole's left forearm.

"Does he know I'm here?" Nicole's voice had gone from sarcastic to tentative.

Cameron paused a moment before sticking the IV in her patient's arm. "Yes, Nicole, he does."

Nicole just nodded.

"I'm sure he'll be up to see you at some point." Cameron taped the needle in place.

"Don't hold your breath." The sarcasm was back. "I'm not."

"It's not stroke, aneurysm, or tumor," Foreman announced. "What is it?"

"Good question," Chase said as he prodded at the coffee maker.

"So it's not vascular or cancerous," Cameron mused, looking at the chart through her glasses.

"I think that's what I just said," Foreman fired back.

"What are our other options?" Cameron asked.

"The coffee maker's not working," Chase announced.

"Let me see," Foreman moved over to it. "What are her other symptoms?"

"Um…" Cameron flipped a page. "Not much, really. No vision problems, no-"

ZAP! Foreman went flying and crashed into the wall.

"Oh my gosh!" Chase gasped.

"Foreman!" Cameron rushed to her colleague's side.

"What's all the excitement?" House asked as he entered the room and hobbled over to the coffee maker. "Cause I'd hate to think-"

"No!" Chase and Cameron barricaded the coffee maker.

"Don't touch it!" Cameron ordered.

"No, House, don't touch it!" Chase said at the same time.

House raised his eyebrows. "Does it bite?"

"Yes," Foreman groaned, picking himself up from the floor. "What was that?"

House looked over the heads of his employees. "Ah." He reached out and unplugged the coffee maker, then plugged it back in. "The plug was upside down. Made the current run through the casing." He limped over to the table.

Foreman rose to his feet. "Chase, how did you not notice that?"

Chase shrugged innocently. "I don't know…felt kinda tingly."

"What's the diagnosis?" House asked.

The three doctors looked at each other. "Diagnosis…?" Chase asked.

"The young lady upstairs with the headaches?"

"Nicole?" Cameron asked. "We…we don't know. And…you're not on this case."

"I'm not?"

"Cuddy told you, I know she did," Foreman said. "Doctors don't treat members of their own families…even if it's members of their own family they're estranged from."

If House's expression could be interpreted as anything, it would be busted.

"Why didn't you tell us about her?" Cameron asked.

House shrugged. "What's to tell? I haven't seen her in four years; she hates me, end of story."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"What were you saying before Foreman got zapped?" Chase spoke up.

"Oh." Cameron looked down at the paper in front of her. "Right. No vision problems, no motor problems, no speech problems-"

"Sounds like everything's just hunky-dory," House put in.

Cameron looked at him a moment before continuing. "She said she was feeling nauseous when she got here, but now that we have her on pain medication she said she doesn't feel so sick anymore. It was probably a reaction to the pain."

"Hm," House tapped the handle of his cane against his chin. "So it's not stroke, aneurysm, or brain tumor-"

"What part of 'not on this case' didn't you understand?" Foreman asked irritably. "You shouldn't even be here. Go…put in some time at the clinic or something."

As if on cue, Cuddy burst into the office. "There you are," she said to House. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You were supposed to be in the clinic half an hour ago."

The other three doctors stifled their laughs.

"Come on." Cuddy grabbed House's arm. "Let's go."

"Aw, Cuddy must I?" House asked in an exaggerated whine. "If I lay off the Vicodin-"

"I don't want to hear it," Cuddy snapped. She dragged him down the hall, carrying on about how he was actually far more pleasant when on the meds.

House hated the clinic. Hate was too gentle a word. He didn't like dealing with people. Many doctors went into medicine because they liked helping people. House liked curing diseases. He liked solving the problems. Dealing with patients made most doctors miserable.

"Hi," House said with as much cordiality as he could muster. "I'm Dr. House. What's the problem?"

The girl was probably about twelve and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Mom?" She said softly to the woman standing next to her. "I want a girl doctor."

House tried not to roll his eyes. Great. Female problems. This just isn't my day. Where's Cameron when you need her?

"Don't worry, Andrea," the mother said. "I'm sure it's nothing Dr. House hasn't seen before."

House smiled as best he could. "Probably not. What's going on?"

"My stomach hurts," Andrea said shyly.

House nodded. "Lie down." Andrea obeyed. "Where's it hurt?"

"Down here." Andrea pointed to her lower abdomen.

House gently felt the area. No hard masses. He looked at Andrea. "Are you sexually active?"

Andrea flushed.

"Doctor!" Her mother said accusingly.

House turned his gaze to her. "Are you Andrea?" He looked back at his patient.

Andrea shook her head.

"Have you begun your period yet?"

Andrea's face was bright crimson. She didn't answer.

This was getting annoying. "Look," House said. "I've been a doctor for a very long time. Nothing you're going to say will shock me." Of course, that was the same thing he'd said to the young man who, it turned out, had an MP3 player stuck up his butt.

"Last month," Andrea's voice was barely audible.

"It's due again sometime this week," Her mother spoke up.

"I see," House said.

Andrea's mother looked scared to death. "Doctor, what's wrong with her?"

Good heavens. Moms were the worst. Why didn't fathers ever bring their kids to the clinic? "She has severe postprandial lower-abdominal distention."

All the color drained from the mom's face. "What's that?" She asked weakly.

House waited a moment before answering. "Menstrual cramps."

"A mom brings her twelve-year-old girl into the clinic with lower abdominal pain," House said later. "Sexually inactive; due for her period sometime this week. What's your first thought?"

"I don't want to have this conversation," Wilson said quickly.

"Come on, doctor," House said in that annoying, abrasive manner of his. "What's your expert diagnosis?"

It was clear that House wasn't going to let him off this. "Ah…menstrual cramps?" Wilson guessed.

"Exactly!" House said. "Now, how is it that you, a man raised with two brothers and who has no children, could figure that out and a mother could not? That's why I hate the clinic."

"No." Wilson picked up a folder from the clinic nurse's station. "You hate the clinic because you're a misanthrope."

House raised his eyebrows. "A misanthrope?"

"Yes." Wilson began walking toward the elevator. "A misanthrope. You know, someone who's against his fellow man."

House followed him. "I'm not against my fellow man." His voice had that quasi-offended tone he often used when such a sentiment was expressed.

Wilson snorted and stepped into the elevator. "You're most assuredly not for him." He paused a moment, knowing this was going to be a delicate subject. "Have you been up to see Nicole yet?"

No answer.

"You haven't." He should have known.

"Why should I?"

"She's your daughter," Wilson said patiently. "Don't you think you should see her?"

House mulled that over. Or, more likely, pretended to mull it over. "Not really, no."

"Don't you want to see her?" The question was out before Wilson could think.

The door opened. House stared at Wilson for a second. "No." He left the elevator.

The doors closed again. You know that's not true, he thought to himself. Another thought occurred to him. Isn't this Nicole's floor?

House hobbled his way through the hall, having an internal debate. He didn't not want to see Nicole. Not really. Part of him wanted to see her, ached to see her. The other part was deathly afraid of the reaction he'd get. Nicole and he were nearly strangers now. Best to let sleeping dogs-

House stopped. Lie, he finished the thought.He was standing outside a door looking right into his daughter's room.

She'd seen him.

House stood there a moment, weighing his options. He could walk away. No, that would be heartless even by his rather lofty standards. He could go in. But there was no way that could end well.

Nicole held his gaze, her face expressionless. It was almost like she was daring him to enter.

Before he even realized what was happening, House crossed the threshold into Nicole's room. "Hi."

Nicole looked at him. "Hi."

"How you doing?"

"I'm here," Nicole said coolly, her face still betraying no emotion. Girl would be a fierce poker player. "Why are you here?"

"I work here."

"I meant why are you I here," Nicole said. "In my room."

"Well, I was walking by, I saw you, you saw me, and I thought it would be rude to not stop in." It was the truth, after all.

"I see." Her headache must have left her unable to move her head, because she hadn't done so once since House had been there. Various diagnoses began running through his mind, but he knew it was worthless. He couldn't consult. "So you didn't come up here with the express intent of seeing me."

House shook his head. "I didn't even know you were on this floor."

"If you had, would it have made any difference?" Nicole asked.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Father and daughter just stood, staring at each other. Nicole hadn't changed much, if at all. Her hair was shorter. It had been down to her waist last time House saw her; now it looked like it was somewhere around her shoulder blades. That was the only change he saw.

"I miss you." House gave voice to his thought before he could stop himself.

That got a rise out of Nicole. "You I miss me?"

"That is what I said, yes."

"I don't believe this," Nicole said. "For four years, my only contact with you is a college tuition and now you say you I miss me?"
House fumbled for words. "I-"

"Um, Dr. House?" It was Foreman. "I'm sorry, but I need to work on Nicole. You'll need to leave for a few moments…" he looked at Nicole. "Unless you want him to stay."

"No, no," House said quickly, trying to spare his daughter the embarrassment of actually kicking him out. Or maybe he was trying to save himself the embarrassment of being kicked out. "It's OK. I was just leaving."

Nicole stared at him hard. It was a look she'd clearly picked up from him. House got the message: "Leave and don't come back."

As he stepped out of the room, House decided to follow her unspoken order. He wasn't going to go back. It was clearly a waste of time. Let sleeping dogs lie he thought to himself, a bit more dejectedly this time.