We, the Merry Ban, have taken matters into our own hands.

Force has been used, for our patience were abused,

Tricks we have played, in order for the writer we have enslaved.

Bound to the chair, how many hours, we do not care

Just as long as Wendum, gets what's coming to him.

I, The Dove, insist the story contains aspects of love

All of you must agree, with the rest of the Ban and me.

The writer takes delight, in mental anguish and sleepless nights.

Now the story must begin, with the idea love will not end.

The writer says a disclaimer we must state, before it is too late.

So with out further ado, we so ensue

These character are not ours, we just play with them for hours.

The Dove (and CBB strapped to a chair forced to write)

'"For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,

Yet, I feel it is my duty to say

Some are Boojums-" The Bellman broke off in alarm

For the Baker had fainted away.'"

For the remainder of the afternoon, House sat in his office stewing. Chase and Foreman had made appearances now and again to ask obligatory questions they could have easily solved themselves if they had put any thought into them. But, House really didn't care about the happenings of his patients; he was more concerned with the sudden shift in the attitude of his wife. For Cameron to remain angry for any extended amount of time was unusual. The fact her anger was repeatedly being directed at him, was worrisome.

Deep in his heart, House knew Cameron was happy about the new baby. He also knew she was extremely unhappy working solely for immunology. There she did not receive the challenges she did in diagnostics, plus they had both quickly discovered the late shifts and grunt work she was performing were ploys by Winslow to show he was in charge, even if temporarily.

House assumed Cameron missed them working together as much as he did. In many marriages, a husband and wife living and working together meant for disastrous circumstance. For House and Cameron, it brought about a greater cohesion. Cameron had accused him of not caring for her or his own reputation, which was, in part, far from the truth. House smiled to himself as he ascended to the next level of his videogame. Cameron was wrong. Of all the ducklings, Cameron had always stood out. It was she who, usually by taking in the human element, was able to discover the diagnosis almost as quickly as could he, himself. In fact it was House's opinion his wife could one day surpass him on a professional level. Although he would be immensely proud of her, if it were possible to be more proud than he already was, he hoped she gained her place in the medical ranks after his demise. As much as he told himself he would not be petty, he knew his ego was delicate and dangerous.

So, thought House, we let our libidos get the better of us. Why not? He found his wife to be an incredibly desirable woman who. normally, was a willing participant in their fores.

Cuddy was just jealous, thought House, jealous on many different levels.

House looked up from his game as the sound of the telephone broke him from his revering. Hoisting himself up from his chair, he crossed the room and snatched the telephone from its receiver.

'What?'

'Dr. House?' came the sound of a young woman's voice on the other end of the line. 'This is Haliegh in the nursery.'

'Yes?' snapped House in frustration when the voice did not continue.

'I… I'm calling for Dr. Cameron. May I speak to her, please?' House sighed. Since the day, two months ago, when Emma, feeling a bit adventurous, had managed to toddle out the nursery doors unnoticed, and journeyed half way down a hospital corridor before discovery of her absence was made, no one in the nursery was willing to speak or deal with him.

'Why?' asked House, his patience waning.

'I called immunology, but no one answered, so I thought Dr. Cameron may be there.'

House held the phone out from his ear and looked at it as if the phone itself was being obtuse, before he spoke again. 'If you called immunology and Cameron wasn't there, it means she is with patients, in the lab, or in the clinic. What is it you want?'

'I'm sorry Dr. House, but Adele says we should only speak with Dr. Cameron. The girl hesitated a moment, uncertain whether she should say her next words or not. 'She says you will overreact.'

'Damn it,' brayed House into the phone, 'just tell me already.'

'Emma fell.'

'And?' demanded House. 'Toddlers fall, that's why it is called toddling.'

'We took her in downstairs to be checked, just to make certain. It wasn't too bad, just a nasty scrape.' Haliegh laughed lightly in his ear, 'I think she thought the sight of blood was cool.'

House rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, swearing profusely under his breath. Knowing the nursery director, Adele, had threatened to expel Emma and never allow her to return to the nursery physicality if House continued to cause problems, House spoke with all the patience he could muster. 'I'll be right there.'

'Uh, Dr. House,' there was a pause from Haleigh on the other end of the line, 'I thought you were forbidden to come up here anymore.'

House did not bother to reply. Slamming down the phone, he reached for his cane, and made for the door to discover what had occurred to his daughter.

'They roused him with muffins—they roused him with ice

They roused him with mustard and cress

They roused him with jam and judicious advice

They set him conundrums to guess.

When at length he sat up and was able to speak,

His sad story he offered to tell;

And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not a shriek!"

And excitedly tingled his bell.'

Wilson stopped with a look of surprise on his face. Normally, when House saw him in the hallway, he would speak or make a snarky remark, not walk by without any form of acknowledgement. Sensing something was wrong, Wilson ran to catch up to his friend.

'Hey, where's the fire?' asked Wilson jogging up to House's side.

'Emma fell,' House gave Wilson a sidelong glance, 'and the nursery can't find Cameron.'

Wilson halted in his steps, reaching out a staying hand on House's arm. 'Stop. Wait a moment.' Stopping reluctantly, House turned to Wilson.

'Yes?' he said in annoyance, giving Wilson an impatient look.

'What do you mean Emma fell?'

House gave Wilson a stare of imbecility. 'I assume that's what one does when they are in the early stages of learning to walk. You know Jimmy, that theory by Newton or some other guy with some fruit.'

'Is she hurt?'

House rolling his eyes, dismissed Wilson, and began again his trek to the nursery. 'I would assume since they are looking for Cameron and mentioned blood.'

Once again, Wilson caught up to House. 'You're not allowed up there, remember.'

House stopped and stooped to look into Wilson's face. 'I know that, but they mentioned blood.'

'You can't afford to piss off Cuddy any more than she is today, and if you go up there Adele is going to call her the moment she sees you.' Wilson added hastily. 'Let me go. I'll see what happened to Emma, and you can go find Cameron.'

Throwing his arms up in the air, House looked at the ceiling in exasperation, before returning his focus on Wilson. 'They mentioned blood.'

Wilson took a deep breath and held it before releasing it slowly, 'What exactly did they say?'

'Emma fell, it looked like a nasty scrape, and they took her to be checked. Okay. Does that make you happy?' snapped House.

Wilson smiled at his friend. He would never have believed House would have taken to fatherhood as serious as he had. 'It doesn't sound too bad, so why don't you let uncle Jimmy go see.' Before House could protest Wilson continued, 'I'll collect Emma and meet you in the cafeteria for milk and cookies. In the meantime, you can go find Cameron and threaten her new boss some more.'

House stood, contemplating Wilson's suggestion. Finally, with reluctance, he gave in. 'Fine. But know this is under extreme protest.'

Again, Wilson smiled at his friend, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. 'See you in the cafeteria in a few.'

Nodding his head and making a face, House turned to proceed down a different corridor to find his wife.

'There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream

Scarcely even a howl or a groan

As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe

In an antediluvian tone.'

Arriving at the Department of Immunology, House discovered it was practically empty with the exception of a med-student House thought was named Quigby, or Quincey, or something of that order, and for Winslow. Ignoring the niceties of politely knocking before entering, House pushed open the door and strolled into the old man's office. Winslow, who had been half dosing while working on patients' files, jumped as House entered

'She's not here,' said Winslow crustily before House had an opportunity to speak.

He kept his focus glued to the files, hoping House would go away if he wished it hard enough.

'I can see that. Want to tell me where she is?' asked House, as he let his eyes wonder around the office, before settling on Winslow's shining bald head.

'Teaching a class at the medical school with Wendum,' mumbled Winslow, knowing by pretending to be intent on his paper work he would annoy House.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, House studied the old man. 'Aren't you the one who's supposed to be teaching a class at the medical school?'

Winslow didn't answer.

Nodding his head, while biting his lower lip, House began to twirl his cane, waiting for the old man to reply. House could feel the tension mounting in the room.

Finally having enough, Winslow dropped his hand on his desk, causing the pen in his hand to make a slapping sound, as he sat back in his chair and looked at House.

'What do you want?' his agitation was apparent.

House stopped twirling his cane and looked nonchalantly at Winslow. 'I was just wondering why Cameron is at the medical school with mister multiple personalities and names? I mean, isn't that the only thing you have left to do, to teach your class?'

Winslow sighed in aggravation, giving House a filthy look. 'Dr. Wendum will be taking over the classes when I depart. I, therefore, asked Dr. Cameron to escort him there so he would know where the class was meeting. And,' continued Winslow, closing the file on his desk, 'if you really have to know, today's lecture was on mycobaterial diseases and immune globulins, both subjects of which, I felt Dr. Cameron was more than capable of handling.'

'With her eyes closed,' murmured House, wondering how much longer it was going to be before the old man cracked. He could see little beads of sweat forming on the bald head.

'Is there anything else Dr. House?' Winslow's impatience was becoming tangible.

"Several actually,' smiled House slowly. 'One, what time is the class over? Two, have you any other trite and pedantic tasks lined up for my wife this evening? And, finally, three, are you as big of an idiot as I think you are?'

Winslow scowled at House in hatred before answering. 'It's a double session, so it will be at least nine this evening before the class is supposed to dismiss. I also believe Dr. Cameron has patients she will need to attend to before she can leave.'

House's eyes narrowed as he leant forward across Winslow's desk, making the old man scoot back his chair. 'I'm getting very tired of you.'

Winslow smiled slightly as his eyes met House's, 'You should have thought of that before you told my wife I was having an affair with one of the nurses. In fact, I believe you went so far as to try to blackmail me by threatening to reveal an imaginary child from the relationship; did you not?' Winslow's smile grew larger. 'Let's face it; as long as I am still here, you are going to suffer. If I have to do it through your wife, then that is exactly what I am going to do, and there is nothing you can do about it.'

If looks could have killed, the look House was giving Winslow would have certainly smitten him on the spot. 'We will see,' replied House quietly. 'That is, if I don't have retina damage from the glare coming off the top of your head.'

Before he could continue, or even begin, his tirade against Winslow, House's beeper sounded. Yanking it from his belt, he looked at it and frowned. Lifting his cane from Winslow's desk, House smiled as the old man flinched, thinking House was about to hit him. 'This isn't over,' he announced as he turned to leave the room. 'Believe me.'

Once the door had closed behind House, Winslow let out a long, slow sigh of relief and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his head.

' "My father and mother were honest, though poor—"

"Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste.

"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark—

We have hardly a minute to waste!"'

House arrived in the cafeteria to find Wilson sitting at a table, surrounded by young women oohing and awing over Emma, who was sitting in Wilson's lap with a large pink Band-Aid attacked to her chin. On a tray in from of Wilson was a child-size cup with a straw and a plate containing French fries.

Upon seeing her father, Emma smiled, looking remarkably like an infant version of Cameron with House's eyes. 'Ies,' exclaimed the child holding up a fry to him as House sat down and transferred her to his own lap.

'That's what they are alright, cholesterol and all.' House gave Wilson a look to show his displeasure. 'Was there nothing else to give her?'

'She wanted fries,' responded Wilson innocently as he smiled at Emma who was holding out a fry for him to eat. Taking it, he bit down on it and made a silly face, causing the child to laugh.

House made a huffing noise as he gently turned his daughter's face to his. 'Can Daddy see your boo-boo?' he asked gently.

Emma looked at him with large eyes. Still holding a chip in each hand, she raised a little hand and pointed a little finger to her face. 'Ouch,' she grinned before trying to press one of the potatoes into House's nose.

'See,' said Wilson, 'she is perfectly fine, and you didn't get thrown out of the nursery again.'

'Did they say how it happened?' asked House as Emma bit into a fry and then held it out for him to bite.

'She was just playing, nothing serious. Isn't that right Emma, just a little accident.'

House made a face of skepticism, before smiling brightly at his daughter, hugging her up to him. 'Are you ready to go home with Daddy?'

Emma's face changed, and House could see tears forming at the edge of her eyes, 'Mommy?' asked the child forgetting entirely about her game with the food.

'Nope, still just you and Daddy,' replied House sweetly, as he kissed one of Emma's cherub cheeks, before standing with the baby held awkwardly in his arms.

Rising with them, Wilson picked up the tray and followed House across the cafeteria.

'Cameron has to work late again,' asked Wilson.

'Yep,' answered House, shifting Emma's weight in his arms. 'and she's with Wendum.'

Poem: The Hunting of the Snark by Lewis Carroll