So…Chapter 2…It's not too bad.

I'm using this fic to do several things: Speed up my 'publishing'; such as it is; write a story with an average chapter length of 1500 words (otherwise I tend to go on and on and never post anything); and work on my dialogue – to that end House offers all sorts of intriguing opportunities.

Anyway, feedback is welcome…more than welcome actually.

Revised and edited 11/7/2011

Love is a word that is constantly heard,
Hate is a word that is not.
Love, I am told, is more precious than gold.
Love, I have read, is hot.
But hate is the verb that to me is superb,
And Love but a drug on the mart.
Any kiddie in school can love like a fool,
But Hating, my boy, is an Art.
- Ogden Nash

"House! Yo, House."

The unconventional salutation was enough to stop House in his tracks. Turning to face his assailant he was only mildly disappointed to note that it was Wilson who, by dint of friendship – and a Sisyphean tenacity – was somewhat immune to House's dubious charms.

"Yo? Wilson? What is this 'Yo'? Is this some feeble attempt to acquire a measure of urban cool? Remember, I am the man."

Wilson, while feeling somewhat bemused at his misanthropic colleague's declaration of social pre-eminence didn't let it show; experience having proven that reacting to House's sallies was, in essence, giving the man an open invitation to trash your psyche in the worst possible way, even if, he was only having [exceptionally twisted] fun. Those, like Wilson and Cuddy, who figured out that House's abuse was simply a warped manifestation of his sense of humour, survived and plotted their own forms of revenge: Wilson, by giving a damn - which House hated - and Cuddy, with her constant exhortations towards professionalism, paperwork and, where vengeance was especially necessary, clinic duty…

…Speaking of which…

"What do you want, Wilson? I'm on my way to the clinic."

"Voluntarily?" Wilson's tone bespoke disbelief, "What's Cuddy holding over you this time?"

"Cuddy?" House looked momentarily puzzled. "Oh, you're being funny. Sorry, it was too feeble to clearly identify as humour. No, to answer your question, Cuddy has nothing to do with this; I'm taking the children to the clinic; thought I'd work on their diagnostic skills…amongst other things," this last point was said in tones that promised something ominous.

"And where, pray, are your devoted apostles?

"Well they'd better be in the clinic or, if not, then they'd better be heading for the border."

Wilson looked amused. "I thought you had the border staked out?"

"That's only to stop any competent doctors escaping; the Canadian's can have this lot."

"I thought you liked them."

House smirked, "That's not the point; while they're all adequate doctors, they're as, if not more, damaged than I am."

"Is that even possible?"

"You wouldn't think so would you? But let's examine the evidence. Chase has the loyalty and decision-making skills of an opportunistic weasel, Cameron thinks she's in love with me and Foreman has a chip the size of a giant sequoia sitting on his shoulder."

Wilson shrugged, "I'm not sure I'd call Chase damaged."

"What would you call him?"

"Australian."

House nodded in understanding, "I see your point; Cameron, however's a whole different level of broken."

"How'd you mean?" Wilson inquired, although, frankly, he wasn't surprised at the level of disquiet House was expressing with regards to the extremely attractive – and very young - immunologist. His friend had a hard enough job admitting to something as simple as friendship let alone dealing with someone who admitted to feeling something deeper. The oncologist was well aware that his friend's brusque nature hid the - extremely clichéd - generous heart of the cynic; but House's ability to care, such as it was, was, in Wilson's experience, an amorphous thing, and as such he knew that House found the thought that he might have to care in an exclusive capacity positively alarming.

"Let's face it, she's seriously deluded; hell, my own mother doesn't like me."

"Maybe she's completely overwhelmed by your manifest brilliance, sparkling personality and kind, generous spirit?"

"I thought I told you to stop trying to be funny?"

"How about 'there's no accounting for taste' or 'opposites attract'?"

"Wilson? Do you really want me to bludgeon you with my cane? I will if you force me to."

"Then you'd have no one to complain to."

"True; but the all-pervasive silence would be wonderful. Then again" House mused, you'd probably come back and haunt me. Just what I need, a cheerful ghost; it'd be like being haunted by Tiny Tim."

"Awww Gawd Bless us one and all."

"If you're not careful, Wilson, I'll make sure you're Foreman's next patient."

"You consider that a threat? Now, if it were you as his next patient you might have something to worry about, but me? I'm golden."

"So you agree that Foreman's got it in for me?"

"Well, they do say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but Foreman's too professional a doctor to do something like, for example, maliciously attaching your bladder to your throat. So no, to answer your question, I don't think he's got it in for you, not per se, anyway," Wilson grinned gleefully as a thought struck him, "Anyway, the two of you are so alike that he's probably in denial."

"That's a crude and base accusation, Wilson."

"But true, nevertheless."

"And where is your evidence?"

"Let's see. You're both excellent doctors. Unsentimental… "

"…That's not true, I saw Foreman smile at a child…"

"…Don't suffer fools gladly…"

"…I put up with Chase…"

"Chase is an idiot, not a fool."

"Alright then, I put up with you…"

"True, but since I'm your friend that says more about you than me…"

House winced, "Touché. Alright then," he conceded, "We may, and I use that term advisedly, share some few traits, but that doesn't explain the chip on his shoulder."

"You're kidding? Please tell me you're kidding, House? You spend ninety percent of your conversations with the man alluding to his missed opportunities as a career criminal and then you send him out to break into people's."

"Why should he take me seriously, no one else takes me seriously, hell, I don't take me seriously."

"Strangely enough, as reprehensible as you are on occasion, you are a damn fine doctor and Foreman, however much he might not want to, respects that ability. That being said, you treat him as little better than a pet larcenist, that isn't what you'd call conducive to a positive relationship."

"So it's not a racism thing then?"

Wilson laughed. "No. You're too consistently nasty to everyone else, irrespective of race, gender or creed, for him, or anyone for that matter, to mistake your behaviour as racially motivated."

House shrugged, "It's a talent."

Wilson rolled his eyes; House was, to all intents and purposes, a lost cause – at least in terms of his behaviour. "So, the clinic?"

"What about it?"

"You're heading down there, remember?"

"I must have repressed the…" House looked thoughtful "…I'm not sure you could call it a memory, how about I subsumed the incipient horror of it all."

Wilson smirked in return "Spare me the melodrama: we need the wood for another crucifixion…"

"Please, tell me the board's finally getting rid of Vogler?"

"As much as it might please you and Cuddy – although she'd never admit it - no. Come to think of it, as much as she loathes the man, I believe she tolerates his presence solely for the entertainment value it generates in driving you crazy."

"Cuddy has always been as warm and inviting as a bowl of angry thistles."

"It's just as well she likes you then, isn't it?"

"It all to do with my manifest brilliance, sparkling personality and kind, generous spirit; remember, you were telling me about it earlier."

"…And you're worried about the mental state of your staff? You'd medal in the delusional Olympics. Anyway, clinic? I'm sure your staff are wondering where you are; they might even send out a search party."

House regarded his friend through narrowed eyes and beetled brow, "…And you're worried about my becoming delusional. I'm fairly certain that the children miss me about as much as the ancient Egyptians would have been devastated if God had decided that he was just kidding about the whole seven plagues thing and that he was really sending them cake."

"Qu'ils sont mangent ils brioche?"

"Don't make me guillotine you, Wilson."

Wilson, who wasn't particularly concerned by the threat, was far more worried that the irascible, and wholly unpredictable, man had acquired a guillotine. "Please tell me you're not using that on people."

House smiled beatifically, "Did you never wonder what happened to failed fellowship applicants?" Before Wilson could respond, House sighed melodramatically, "You always think the worst of me; I have a miniature guillotine I purchased in kitset form, I use it to chop tomatoes and garlic…"

Wilson mimed wiping his brow in relief

"…Of course," House continued, "I have taken to drawing pictures of Chase onto the tomatoes…"

"And what, vegetable, pray, would I warrant?"

House smirked, "I'll tell you on the way to the clinic, I need something to distract me from the horror I am about to experience."