I have to apologize profusely for not updating sooner. I've been super busy and... small voice I'm lazy. Thank you guys for all your great reviews and for putting up with me. And now, without further adieu...

Chapter Four: Inevitable Blow-Out

After Dr. Foreman brought Sam back to Princeton Plainsboro, he told her their portion of the day would most likely be at its end, and rushed off with something from Aaron Greenwood's fridge. The only thing she could think of to do was find Dr. Cuddy and, after explaining the situation, ask what she should do next.

"I'm sorry about the lack of Shadowing you've done," Cuddy apologized. "Once Dr. House has a case, he keeps his team pretty busy. That's actually the reason I assigned you to them. I thought you'd get a real experience out of it. I guess that plan backfired, huh?"

"I've actually learned a few things," said Sam. "And I have a lot to write about for my observation paper."

"That's great." Cuddy looked up at the clock on the wall. "Well, if you want, you can get something to eat…"

"Actually, if there's anything else available right now, I'd be happy to do it." Sam put a hand to her head. "I've been feeling sort of weird since this morning, and usually I snap out of it when I have something to keep me occupied."

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Cuddy, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam nodded.

Cuddy didn't look altogether convinced, but she checked the schedule on her desk and said, "Well, there's…Nurse Bentz on the third floor who will be doing a few IV's, if that's something you'd be interested in observing."

"Yes. Thank you." Sam grabbed her purse from the floor, rose from her seat, and made her way out of Cuddy's office.

There was a lot of activity on the third floor when Sam approached. She could see nurses scurrying and bringing with them supplies and machines.

Sam attempted to stay out of the way as she advanced toward Room 313, but she saw a familiar face among the chaos.

At almost the same time, House glanced up and saw her. Each wondered what the other was doing there.

Foreman appeared as well, looking semi-alarmed.

"House, he's getting worse." The neurologist announced.

Sam's face fell. She wasn't sure she heard right. Dr. Foreman didn't say 'House'. There was just no way…

But the man standing before her wasn't doing a thing to deny it.

"Dr. …House?" Sam asked, her voice barely audible. "The same Dr. House that hates the world but shares his genius with it? The one everyone at this hospital has warned me about?"

"Guilty as charged." House answered just as softly.

Sam's head pounded as her voice rose. "All the times we ran into each other, you never once told me who you were! You knew all about me, but never bothered to volunteer any information about yourself!"

"You never asked." The doctor saw the girl's sharp intake of breath; his blasé response stung her deeply.

"I get it now." Sam no longer noticed the commotion happening around her, nor did she remember there was a dying man in the room next to her. "I was just one of your 'cases'. Oh, sure, I was interesting for awhile – until you got whatever you needed out of me."

Sam paused, taking an almost shuddering breath. "Was it worth it? Was I as much fun to experiment on as previous idiots who didn't know they were being laughed at behind closed doors?"

The tirade ended, and for the first time in as long as House could remember, he was utterly speechless. It wasn't all true, what she had said. The "cases" that interested him had everything to do with those who were beyond strangely ill or dying. Never had he been so engrossed by the average, healthy person. Not, of course, that this would be the time to tell her that.

Wilson had materialized a few minutes before, but in all the disarray, House only now noticed him. He turned slightly to his friend, whose face held a mixture of sympathy and 'look-what-you've-gotten-yourself-into-now'.

Finally, Sam let a tear fall, and she haphazardly wiped it away. "So you have nothing to say. Figures." A machine in the room made a series of beeping noises. "You'd better save your patient, Dr. House, so you can drop him faster than you did me."

Sam took off down the hall as House watched. Foreman, while empathetic, was done being patient. "House?" he said with urgency in his voice.

"Give him ofloxacin," House replied, then began walking in the direction the girl had gone.

"Where are you going?" asked Wilson, knowing full-well what the answer was.

"I'm going to find her and talk to her," began House. "She couldn't have gone far."

The oncologist raised his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure she could out-run you."

House sighed. "She hasn't been eating the past couple of days; she's worn out."

Off he went. Wilson watched him go, not envying his friend in the least.

Making his way around the hospital, House started to get a little indignant. Why should he care if some silly teenager was mad at him? It's not as if he flat-out lied to her. He didn't owe her anything. She wasn't any different than anyone else who walked through those front doors.

But the other voice – it may have been his conscious if he didn't swear he'd buried the son of a bitch long ago – looked at the situation in a new way entirely: She didn't approach him. If he hadn't gone over to her that day and given her his input, Sam would have went on her merry way and finished her week without incident. Sure, Cuddy probably still would have assigned Sam to the Ducklings, but House most likely would have avoided her. Per usual.

The doctor took a second to think of all the places the girl could have run off to. Since she was still unfamiliar with the whole of the hospital, he doubted she would wander aimlessly, even in her state. Then an unpleasant thought struck him: what if she made her way to the Clinic?

Sucking it up, House started in that direction. Rounding a corner to a back hallway, his foot ran into something. Looking down, House allowed a twinge of panic to course through him.

Sam was face-down on the ground, utterly still. As carefully as he could without also falling, House lowered himself to the floor and checked for a pulse. Weak, but there. He shook her faintly. "Samantha."

No response.

"Samantha!" the doctor's voice rose in desperation.

She was clammy and warm to the touch, but luckily, she was still breathing. Trying again, House finally called, "Sam!"

The girl moaned gently. It was something.

House sighed, relieved. "Thatta girl."

Glancing around as he slowly turned Sam over, House yelled, "Can I get a little help over here!"