Title: Cabin Fever

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Right at the end of Babies and Bathwater, Cuddy got a conscience, Vogler took his $100 million and left. What if Cuddy never got to see House in action that last time?

Disclaimer: I don't own House or anything. In fact, I own nothing at all. I am a poor, pitiful person who just enjoys torturing innocent, smart-mouthed doctors.

Author's Notes: I'm not even going to try and attempt to justify the lateness of this chapter. Just trust that this poor thing's been in the works a long time and only extenuating circumstances could keep it unpublished this long. Honour roll coming.

Chapter 3

The phone rang at 7:35 exactly. The time Wilson used to call about work. House hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep the night before, but it did allow himself to pick up the phone before Wilson sent a Search and Rescue squad after him.

"This the house keeper or did I get the resident?"

"You'd have more fun with the house keeper. She's a doll."

"Did you polish off your pills?"

"Who polishes pills? Everyone knows they don't shine. I ate a pill at two and another at six, if you must know. I'm about to have one now. Are you monitoring my intake now or am I being paranoid?" House swallowed a glass of water while he waited Wilson to answer.

"I've always monitored your intake, I've just never said anything about it before.

"You must have been thrilled during the week from hell."

"Not as much as I would have liked to have been," Wilson muttered. He still hadn't told House that he had essentially been the mastermind behind the operation.

"Charming. I'm getting a prescription today, do you want to come and see if the hospital's burned down yet?"

"Are you the one burning it down?"

"Hardly. Are you coming or not?"

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!"

JJJ

Wilson arrived at 7:45. By all appearances, it was just another day at work. Wilson had probably planned it that way, House thought bitterly. He had forgone the tie, but the button-down shirt and pressed pants were certainly familiar.

"I don't respond well to subliminal messages, Wilson. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were going to take me job hunting."

"Not like that, I wouldn't," Wilson replied. He eyed House's ratty Pink Floyd shirt and grey sweatpants with an incredulous air. Only a blind administrator would take House on by sight alone. At that rate, the administrator would probably help to be deaf as well.

"I'm not changing. And I wouldn't work anywhere that didn't respect my band shirts."

"Apparently not," Wilson sighed to himself. He let House by, waiting for him to lock the front door.

The trip to the hospital was uneventful, as it always was. Wilson parked as close as he could to spare house the walk, but he still saw a pill slide down his throat when they reached the doors.

"I'm looking for Doctor Cuddy. Tell her it's urgent," House said to the receptionist.

"Oh, Dr. house, you're back! I was starting to think-"

"Now," House cut in.

"Right away!" The girl blushed violently and ran off to fetch Cuddy. House shook his head and waited at the desk. Wilson sat down to take in the nostalgia of the Clinic. House merely looked ready to strangle the next person to touch him with a germ-ridden, snotty hand. Thankfully, the girl rushed back.

"Dr. Cuddy was adamant that you should wait in here like all the patients you used to abuse on your Clinic duty," she reported sheepishly.

"And she told you to say those words exactly, I'll bet," House grumbled. The girl nodded. House glanced at the Clinic that only now seemed to be full of an ungodly amount of people. Damn Cuddy.

"I'm sorry, Dr. House," she said apologetically. House nodded slowly, his lip curled unpleasantly, before taking a seat beside Wilson.

"Cuddy being mean again and making you wait?" he asked.

"Shut up," House muttered. Wilson suppressed a smile, recalling the Clinic time better spent watching soaps instead of administering flu vaccines. It was really nothing that House didn't deserve, and Wilson deserved a private chuckle about his karma streak.

It took a maddening hour for Cuddy to decide House had suffered enough. She showed up herself with a haughty look on her face. It was a far cry from the night Vogler had fired him.

"Gregory House?" she called. He flicked the mucusy hand off his knee-ignoring the child's whining sniffle-and followed Cuddy into an examination room.

"What seems to be the problem?" Cuddy asked casually. She leaned against the counter. House began to tell her when Cuddy held up a hand. She tossed a little white pill in the air and caught it in her mouth.

"You've been practicing, you scoundrel. What's the Ibuprofen for? That time of the month?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Not really. I need a prescription."

"It just dawned on you?" Cuddy raised an eyebrow. House withdrew the amber container that contained his last Vicodin. He rattled it around the bottom for good measure.

"Is that supposed to make me sympathize?" Cuddy asked lazily.

"No, it's supposed to make you move faster. Must be broken."

"Forgive me, I don't understand Vicodin speak."

"Good to know you never understood me all these years."

"Good to know you freely admit that it was the Vicodin diagnosing all those people over said years," Cuddy retorted.

"Only a little," House leered. "Now, are you going to write me a scrip or not? I'll get Fooreman to do it, but I really don't want to."

"You don't want it rubbed in your face."

"No, I don't want to be treated by traitors."

"I can't imagine why you think they're traitors. They were doing their jobs like you should have."

House reigned in his automatic response. I did do my job! I helped save those kids, while you sat on your perch and did nothing… He couldn't alienate her yet. Cuddy had gotten out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it. She ripped the prescription off and handed it to House.

"You're going to have to start paying for these, you know."

"Why would I do that?" House snorted as he pocketed the slip of paper.

"You're not getting it otherwise. You can't take advantage of your-excuse me-our pharmacy anymore," Cuddy replied. House just glared. Cuddy folded her arms over her chest superiorly.

"The world would be a better place if we weren't all monetarily inclined," House rejoined. "Besides, the hospital's loaded now; I don't know how it could possibly miss one bottle of Vicodin-"

"Easily. Are you leaving now so I can treat an actually curable patient?

"That would make your job too easy."

"Do you want Vogler to escort you out personally? I bet he could find the time for you."

House never wanted to hurt Cuddy before. He'd joked about it with Wilson from time to time, but he's had too much respect for her as a bleeding heart doctor. All thoughts of sympathy for Cuddy and her untenable position between health care and wealth fled from House's mind. He slid off the examination bench.

"I bet he's good in bed. Mattress must be stuffed with twenties. Think of me everytime he wears the little red Speedo, hm?"

Cuddy gasped angrily. House shook out his last pill and limped out of the room.

"How'd it go?" Wilson asked as House reentered the Clinic.

"Better than I thought it would. Let's go."

"You're not stopping at the pharmacy?"

"If I stay here any longer, I'm going to get sick." House eyed a particularly sniffley child. "There's gotta be a Rite Aid around here somewhere."

JJJ

Cuddy took a minute to recover. It hadn't been that she didn't expect House to bit back. She hadn't wanted to be callous. It just…always seemed to happen around him. Her hackles rose and they went at it like a couple of Japanese fighting fish.

I shouldn't have baited him, she thought again. The hospital could spare a couple hundred bottles of Vicodin if she'd been inclined to dole it out like candy. And if she didn't know any better, she would bet that his severance pay would go to some lucky pharmacy's coffers. Wilson's too, if he felt half as bad for House as she knew he did. She felt bad for him. So I tease him with his only tether to reality.

He hadn't always been that way, though. Sure, he was a smart ass, but it was endearing. Kind of. Then the infarction and things became naturally different. He was the same, but it was like looking at a photography negative. He was even less approachable than before (which was saying something) and there was no doubt in Cuddy's mind that the Vicodin had something to do with it. It was almost as though the Vicodin was the only thing keeping him alive, while his job supplied him with the reason and the means to keep taking it. Now that he had no reason of means-

"Dr. Cuddy? There are more people outside." The shy receptionist poked her head in the room again.

"I'll be out shortly, thanks Whitney," Cuddy smiled slightly. She mentally shook herself. She had to return to her work; she would accomplish what she'd accused House of not doing. It had been a dumb lie, even in her ears.

No. Forget house for now. You're down three doctors. No more feeling sorry for house.

No matter how hard she tried to gear her mind up for the task at hand, the unfinished thought chased itself inside her head. Now that House had no reason or means, how long would it take for him to give up altogether?

JJJ

"What kind of Vicodin, sir?" the clerk asked in a bored voice.

"What kind of Vicodin? What kind of a stupid question is that? The kind that works," House frowned.

"Store brand or regular brand?" the clerk clarified.

"What's the difference?" Wilson inquired in place of his friend. House would have belted the kid with his cane.

"Store's cheaper," the kid rolled his eyes. It was fairly obvious.

"Fine. Store's fine," House snapped.

"Dude. Like…take a chill pill."

"Wilson shoved House away from the kid. "Can you finish up within the hour?"

"Depends if we have any store brand left. Vicodin's pretty popular."

"Do it fast, okay?" Wilson pleaded as he led House into the fresh air.

"And you expect me to 'be nice,'" House sneered.

"Civil," Wilson corrected. He sat beside House on a bench, wondering just what would be the best course of action. A bar would get him among people, but that could be a bad thing. Home would give him reason to drink even more than at a bar. That was definitely worse. And judging by House's determined stare, the couldn't wait long on the Vicodin.

"Let's go get a beer," House muttered. "I'm sick of waiting."

Wilson quirked an eyebrow. Well…that was interesting.

JJJ

They grabbed a pair of stools and ordered a couple drinks. House wanted to run back to the pharmacy after five minutes, but Wilson kept him in check. Wilson promised company of the female persuasion; House called them whores and moodily finished his drink.

Meanwhile, Cameron hid behind her martini.

Oh God, what is he doing here? she moaned silently. She'd gone out drinking to escape all things relating to the work force. House definitely qualified as "work" in more ways than one. She liked him on many levels, but the last thing she wanted that night was a headache.

"Come on, House, You've got forty-five minutes until your prescription's done. Can't you pretend to enjoy yourself?" Wilson asked.

"My leg hurts," House answered petulantly.

"I gathered that. You'd rather stay home and drink yourself to death than here-"

"Drinking myself to death?"

"Right," Wilson rolled his eyes.

Cameron sighed, feeling for the poor oncologist. Nobody could talk to House when he was in one of his moods. Cameron knew this all too well. The only thing to snap him out of it was an impossible problem to be solved. Then he'd be exceptionally smug once he solved it and the world would be at rights again.

"Cameron? What are you doing here?" Wilson asked curiously. He slid opposite her at the table, his eyes the epitome of polite confusion.

Cameron blushed. "Nothing special.

"It's a good night to be outside," Wilson acknowledged. "I'm here with House."

"I heard," she smiled slowly. Wilson craned his head to check how far he'd wandered; it was all of about ten feet from the bar. House's back was turned to Cameron's table.

"Guess so. He saw Cuddy today."

"Vicodin," she guessed.

"Yeah. She bit his head off so we're here waiting on a prescription next door."

"He's not taking it well."

"Of course not."

Cameron laughed, "He'd better get a job soon, then."

"Do you think he could teach med students?" Wilson wondered.

"I…doubt it…" Cameron shook her head. "I don't think he's play nice."

"Me neither," he sighed. "Do you know anywhere that needs a diagnostician?"

"He's not going to look for himself?"

"I don't think eh will. And if he tries, I think he'd ruin any chance he had on the interview."

"Good point. I might know a place. I'm applying there tomorrow. You should look into it too."

"Don't worry about me," Wilson said shyly. "Let's worry about House first."

"Yes, let's worry about me. That's always good sport," House replied airily. "I always need worrying about."

"It's not time yet," Wilson warned.

"I figured I'd find out if you were getting any action, you were taking so long," House arched a brow. "Of course, I never thought-"

"Nothing happened, House," Cameron cut in.

"No, certainly not. Just planning the next girl's weekend, right?"

"We're worrying about your well-being!"

"Okay, it went from cute to old really fast. I don't need anybody worrying about me."

"If you won't do it, who will?"

House didn't reply.

Honour Roll: MagickalStar135Okay, not every month and for the record, I'm going to try really hard next time and make sure a new chap gets up faster than this. Lo siento. The Lilac Elf of Lothlorian: House is going to go slowly but surely insane, be sure of that. Linz005: House's next move, and it had pills in it. Terribly unexpected? boredandhomealone: Definitely shooting for a sooner release date of the next chapter. o.O And I can't stop the Wilson/House banter. Much too fun and too enjoyable. Merrie: And it's now three chapters! With more House and Wilson goodness! That's my favorite part, really. Mayorst: More Cameron AND Cuddy, what say you to that? Nayvera: Stalking's always appreciated. So long as that's not you under my bushes right this second; that's a little creepy.