Summary, disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.

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Adjustment

February 2000

House took a deep breath, cursed Cuddy for hiring him back, and opened the door to Exam Room 1.

A large, uncouth woman in her forties and a sniffling young girl in a stained pink sweatshirt stared at him as he negotiated the door, the chart, and his cane.

"Hello. I'm Dr. House. And you are—" House scanned the chart. "Mrs. Rijnhart?"

"You don't look like a doctor," the woman said skeptically.

Of course, House thought, no white coat. That had been one of his stipulations for taking Cuddy's offer. The girl was staring at him in abject terror.

"And I ain't Mrs. Rijnhart," the woman continued. "I baby-sit Caitlin for Susie while she works sometimes." She paused just long enough to put her hands on her hips in self-righteous indignation. "You sure don't look like no doctor. I heard about these schemes where perverts—"

"How long has Caitlin been coughing?" House interrupted.

She stared hard at him, unimpressed by his attitude. "Couple days."

"Any fever?" he asked as he stepped toward the cowering child on the exam table and donned his stethoscope.

"No!" the girl shrieked before the woman could answer. She began pummeling House with her small hands while he tried to listen to her chest.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, trying to maneuver the stethoscope into position, "I won't hurt you." He glanced up at the woman. "Any fever?" he asked again.

The girl shrieked even louder and started slapping his face. The woman's face was glowing red with rage and she looked ready to spit fire at him.

"Could you hold her arms?" House asked calmly, not making any attempt to duck. The way he was balanced, if he moved, he'd fall.

"While you touch her?" the woman snapped, but made no attempt to intervene. "She don't like you."

"I gathered that," House said dryly, moving the stethoscope and doing his best to listen while the girl screamed and hit him.

"Look here, stop that!" the woman yelled at him, pulling the girl away. "She don't like it."

House grabbed the table to steady himself as he put the stethoscope away and got his balance back. He retreated to a stool a few feet from the pair.

"Any fever?" he asked again, trying to keep the emotions swirling in his chest out of his voice as he glanced over the chart. "I don't see anything here."

The woman narrowed her eyes at him as she calmed the sniveling girl. She shook her head once.

"All right," House said with a forced smile. "She has a cold." He began writing his diagnosis on the chart. "Make sure she drinks plenty of clear liquids—"

"I know that," the woman interrupted with a sneer. She seemed to expect more.

House stopped writing and looked up at her, forcing another smile.

"Her lungs are clear and she doesn't have a fever, so no infection," he said. He held up the chart. "I've got coughing and sneezing here. Vitals are normal. Any other symptoms you neglected to mention?"

House noticed the little girl was staring wide-eyed at his cane now. Ask, he thought furiously, go ahead and ask.

"I want another doctor to look at her," the woman said.

"All right," House said. "You might have to wait a few minutes."

He finished writing his diagnostic note, adding a vitriolic sentence about the nature of the patient's guardian, got to his feet as quickly as he possibly could and left.

Cuddy was at the reception desk as he stormed toward it. The chart landed with a clatter on the desk.

"I'm not doing this," he growled sweeping past her.

"House?" she called after him, exchanging a confused look with the receptionist.

He didn't answer or look back.