From class to class, they hound me,

Through walls of glass, they have found me.

No matter where I go, they seem to know

Where I can be found, throughout the college grounds

New chapters they beg and while clinging to my leg

In my cave they stray, but I must send them away

Disgruntled they shuffle, their cries I must muffle

Yet their numbers grow, more I'm afraid must know

Of the tale I compose, while unable to capture repose

Swear say they, with looks of dismay

Me they hate, but I don't take their bait.

The tale they want told, so their threats are bold.

So now I continue, with my lyric venue

These characters are not mine, in any shape form or kind

They are just used as the muse of an unstable mind.

The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.

"If only you'd spoken before!

It's excessively awkward to mention it now,

With the Snark, so to speak, at the door"

The more he thought, the angrier he became. The effects of alcohol and Vicodin hung in his mind and combined themselves with sexual euphoria and rage driven adrenaline. 'I was attacked.' He knew he was not thinking clearly. He knew his reactions were sluggish and thwarted. 'It was Wendum.' He even knew he was acting with a cave man's mentality, 'I was attacked,' but he didn't care. The image of his young wife turning away, unable to meet his eyes hung before him, 'I was attacked' and her desperate need for reassurance in the form of raw, brutal sex confused him, 'please, Greg, PLEASE!'

It was beginning to snow, and House's body ached and throbbed in pain. 'I was attacked.' His mind whirled as unknown feelings and sensations tugged at his heart, 'Greg, please,' bringing with them images he was not certain he wanted to examine. 'It was Wendum.' Twisting his wrist, House clicked a gear, raising the speed of the motorcycle. 'Faster Greg, faster.' Why had her need for him been so desperate? 'Harder!' Why had she waited so long to tell him? Faster! What had that bastard Wendum done to make her react as she had? 'Greg, PLEASE!'

The icy snow stung as the wind numbed his hands and body, making it difficult to move. 'I was attacked.' Even without the numbing wetness,his shirt had clung to his back; held in place with the blood drawn from Cameron's desperation. 'Greg,' He had forgotten to put on his jacket. 'I was attacked.' He had just grabbed the helmet, slipped it on, and left; not certain where he was going.

House only knew one thing. 'It was Wendum.' He had to find Wendum. There was honor at stake, 'Harder!' There was a wife, 'Faster!' a daughter, 'Harder!' a new baby 'Faster!' , and most importantly, 'Harder!' there was a life. His life. 'please, Greg, PLEASE!' A life he thought he would never have the opportunity to have. 'I was attacked.' A life he found he desperately wanted. 'Greg' A life he was willing to fight for. 'It was Wendum.' House opened the bike to full throttle, trying to outrun the images colliding in his mind.

"You may charge me with murder – or want of sense—

(We are all of us weak at times):

But the slightest approach to a false pretense

Was never among my crimes!"

Wendum was confused. Never in his life had he acted in such a manner and the question of why he had tonight hung in the air around him. For it, Wendum did not have an answer, he just kept thinking of Cameron. The way she tilted her head and the sparkle in her eyes lingered in his in imagination, conjuring countless of scenarios. He had acted too soon, he knew that now. He should have waited and have given her more time, after all had she not been openly flirting with him in the restaurant?

For some time after Cameron had driven away Wendum had walked, uncertain where to go or what to do. When snow began to blow, swirling around him, he was barely aware of it. He did not feel the cold. It was held at bay by an overwhelming sense of self-loathing which was threatening to creep into his psyche. She was interested he kept telling himself. He had just acted too soon. Taking a deep breath, Wendum let it out slowly, watching it mist in the night air. He needed a plan. After all, there was soon to be the manic husband to deal with.

Looking up, Wendum discovered he had trudged passed the small apartment the hospital had provided for him into a section which was obviously the students' domain. Loud burst of laugher and the sounds of conversation could be heard from the bars and eateries laid out before him. Hunching himself in his coat, he wondered to the closest bar. He needed a drink. Entering, sound assaulted his ears and his eyes began to burn from the haze of smoke. The smell of stale beer was repugnant to his nostrils, but he did not leave. Crossing to the bar, Wendum found an open stool and ordered a drink. He knew House would find him eventually; it was only a matter of time. At least here, he had some time to think and consider his best course of action. No one was going to find him tonight.

Wendum was on his fourth drink when out of some dark reaches of his mind, something he had once read fluttered into his thoughts. 'Upon the ground they lay, the bones and skulls of men, whose life had gone astray.' Why he had thought of it Wendum didn't know, but somehow, he thought it was vaguely appropriate. The only question was, whose life was going to go astray, his or House's? Glancing along the stools at the bar, Wendum let his eyes settle on young woman with auburn hair who was in deep conversation with young Asian woman. Rising from the stool, he made his way over to them and cleared his throat politely.

'Excuse me?'

The two women looked up from their conversation and Wendum smiled sweetly. 'I apologize for interrupting, but aren't you Heidi Marcus?'

The auburn haired lady looked at Wendum with wary suspicion. 'Maybe, why do you ask?'

'I was in attendance of the lecture today and noticed you. Igs are complicated, but I thought you gave excellent answers.'

'Thank you,' smiled Heidi, giving her friend a side-long glance of amusement before turning back to Wendum. 'And you are?'

'Dr. Albert Culum Wendum, your new lecturer.' Wendum held out his hand to Heidi, who shook it with a smirk on her face, before he turned to her friend and raised an eyebrow in query of introduction.

'Melissa Chin,' grinned the girl taking Wendum's hand.

'Absolutely lovely,' mumbled Wendum letting his eyes scan over the two girls. Tilting his head to one side, he gave them a considered look before stating. 'I would be honored if would allow me to purchase you a drink?'

'Sure,' giggled Melissa nudging Heidi to scoot down a seat to allow Wendum to sit between them.

'Tis a pitiful tale," said the Bellman, whose face

Had grown longer at every word:

"But, now that you've stated the whole of your case,

More debate would be simply absurd."

Cameron knew there was no way she could have stopped House. In many ways, she had not wanted to, even though she knew she should have. She had grabbed the telephone, and had quickly begun to dial, but then, as the phone had started to ring on the other end, she replaced the receiver.

Cameron needed to act, she knew that, but she also needed a moment to think. House could do some amazingly asinine things when he put his mind to it, she knew that better than anyone, but she also knew it took creativity to stop him. Indecision hung around her, try as she may, Cameron could not collect her thoughts. Clumsily, she grabbed clothing from the bureau, slipping them on as she considered grabbing Emma and rushing to the hospital. Certainly that would be the first place her husband would go?

When her own phone began to ring, misguided relieve washed over Cameron. Greg came to his senses she told herself, but knew it was extremely unlikely. Glancing at the Caller ID, Cameron cursed, she had forgotten Caller ID. Now as the phone rang she knew who it was, she knew what they wanted, but she still did not know what to say. Picking up the receiver, Cameron was about to speak when a sudden pain swept through her body. Dropping the phone, Cameron ran to the bathroom, gagging.

"To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;

To pursue it with forks and hope;

To threaten its life with a rail-way-share;

To charm it with smiles and soap!"

House did not see the ice so lost was he in thought. Only when he felt the rear wheel of the motorcycle begin to move outside of his control did he know he was in trouble. Ironically, as the bike slide sideways and the rough payment met with his leg, back, and side, did House realize he was about to crash into the side of the hospital. Letting go, he felt himself tumble as the bike continued on its path. There was a resounding clang as it hit the flagpole, reversing its spin, and slamming into the shrubby along the walkway. Lying on his back, House stared up at the snow swept sky. He knew he was bleeding, but other than some massive bruising, he didn't think anything was broken. As people approached, House tried to sit up, but sudden pain swept through his body. Falling back on the icy ground, he thought of Cameron as darkness enclosed him.

Author's note

Sorry this took so long, and I know it is a bit odd, but I needed a transition to the next part of the story. As usual, I am curious to see what you think. I also would like to say thank you for EternalConfusion and others who sent me well wishes during my bout with extreme illness and gave me some interesting feed back on my questions. Thank you again, as always, it is appreciated. CBB

By the way, I almost forgot...yes, the diddies at the beginning are just for fun and Lewis Caroll wrote Hunting of the Snark, which I also have no right to use, but do.