A/N: I broke my ankle. Bad news? It hurt like hell for a couple weeks and got in my way. Good news? It was my right ankle. Jeeves called me 'Grumpy McGimpy' and the crutches make much better props for finding out "How House does stuff" than the Swiffer... (sorry Swiffer peoples...)

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, though it is our personal belief that he abused that privilege when he made the precluding trilogy. David Shore owns House, and while he hasn't truly abused the privilege, I'm going to say he has so maybe someone with authority will take it from him and deliver it to my...uh...(notices Jeeves sending death glare)...I mean...OUR...doorstep. Wheeee.

Chapter 6

'Leia's my sister?' and the Boy Scouts of America.

Cameron was pacing, something she rarely indulged in. Her nerves were frayed to the point of extinction, and for once it had nothing to do with House. No, she thought, That's not quite true. While it's Mr. Dallas' condition that has me stressed, that kiss isn't exactly helping. She paused then, a small smile on her face as she relived the previous night in her mind. That's when she saw Wilson smiling smugly in the door. Oh, shit, she thought.

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House walked into exam room B, still rolling the conundrum of Mr. Cyclist, (Christ, what was his name?) around in his head. The fact that his three brilliant ducklings, all of whom were excellent diagnosticians now, thanks to him, hadn't found it out yet interested him. Besides, he didn't want the patient to die. It'd reflect badly on him if his team were a bunch of screw-ups.

Inside the exam room, he found a brown haired girl with pigtails and braces of about nine years of age and who was presumably her mother in a conservative business suit. He smiled inwardly, making a mental note to compliment her loudly on its modesty should Cuddy come within earshot. The girl was gazing around the room curiously and began to absentmindedly scratch at her wrist.

"Now Darla," House winced at the name, some parents can be so cruel, "Don't scratch! You could cause an infection which could cause gangrene..."

"And it will turn black and fall off," interrupted House, staring condescendingly at the mother, who quickly closed her mouth. "Right." Peering at little 'Darla's' wrist. House could see it was red, blotchy and bumpy. It took about twenty seconds to make a diagnosis. Stupid boring clinic.

"Well, Dana," he said.

"It's Dar-la" interjected the mom.

"Yeah, whatever. Ok, Danish, I assume you don't get out of the city much?"

"Nuh-uh! Last week I went camping with the campfire girls!" she chirped enthusiastically.

"I see," he said, not really paying attention. "You earned your first aid badge yet?"

"Not until next week," her mom answered for her, "I've been helping her study."

"Oh, so it's your fault she can't figure this out. You're the moron who's gonna lose her daughter her badge." He cut off her outraged protests. "Your daughter has poison ivy, I suggest you read your handbook a little more closely...if you can read." Suddenly, the proverbial lightbulb popped into existence over his head. Waving the mom's outraged screams aside, he distractedly muttered, "Just get her some calamine lotion, she'll be fine." He step-thumped his way out of the clinic. Cuddy, catching a glimpse of this, resignedly said, "Where are you going House?"

"To save Han Solo, he's frozen in carbonite you know!" he yelled over his shoulder.

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"Hey Wilson," said Cameron cautiously, wondering why he was here. That smile was kind of creeping her out. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, still grinning at her like a Cheshire cat. "I know House took you to the movies, that's all. I'm surprised he apologized, to tell the truth. Though I don't know how that constitutes an apology, taking you to the very movie he was teasing about."

"Oh," said Cameron, slightly relieved. The last thing she needed was Wilson scaring off House by talking about love or something, which would certainly happen if he found out they'd kissed. He kissed me, I mean she thought, trying very hard not to smile. "Well, while I don't like being made fun of for it, it is true that I love Star Wars, why shouldn't I be grateful for free tickets to see it in a theater? Besides, it was fun."

I'll bet it was thought Wilson. To Cameron he said, "Why do you like it so much anyway? You don't strike me as a big Star Wars fan."

Cameron returned his grin, relaxed and confident he had no idea what happened. "You could say it was serendipity, I guess."

Wilson looked at her in confusion. "Why would I say that?"

Cameron smiled a little to herself. "Well, I was born the day the first movie came out." She chuckled as she watched him do the math. "Yes, I'm twenty eight. I took the fast track in college, one of those six year undergrad plus med school deals. Anyway, my brothers, Alex and Ryan, were five and six at the time. They were very upset that I made them miss the movie. They'd been planning on taking their friends (with mom and dad of course) on opening day. They became the hugest fans. When we were growing up, they were obsessed with the film. They had entire scenes memorized." She grinned again, remembering the movie-oke.

She snapped herself out of the reverie before Wilson could notice anything and continued. "Actually, I refused to watch the movies because of this. No way I was going to do anything my brothers thought was cool. But then I got this boyfriend in high school, Karl Katarn...biggest geek in the universe, but he was such a sweetheart. Anyways, when I told him I'd never seen the movies, he freaked. So one night he had me over and we just watched the entire trilogy in a row. After that, I was hooked. It's kind of hard to be around a fanatic twenty four/seven and not become obsessed too. Y'know that thing that pulls Luke underwater in the garbage compactor?"

"Yeah," said Wilson, wondering vaguely where this was going.

"It's called a Dianoga, and it has, in case you're wondering, seven tentacles." She grinned at the amazed look he gave her. "I used to make fun of Karl for knowing stuff like that, until I discovered that I knew it too."

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He had finally reached his office. Now he just needed to find it. "Damn," he thought, a little flustered. He knew it was in here somewhere, but he had hid it so no one would find it...and now he couldn't find it. Curse his complete competence at everything. If he wasn't so good at hiding things...a-ha! Smiling, he pulled the battered book out from between the three year old paperwork piles, the best hiding place. Man, he was brilliant.

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Cameron ended her little story with a smile, and turned back to the microscope slides she was supposed to have been observing during her little pacing session. Looking up, she noticed Wilson was still there...smiling at her. She sighed. "What is it this time, Wilson?"

"Well, I got so caught up in your fascinating story about the high school boyfriend I forgot the question I'd actually come to ask you."

Cameron rolled her eyes and went back to her microscope. "And what's that?"

"Is House as good a kisser as he says he is?"

She jarred, knocking her eye against the microscope. There would be a lovely shiner there come morning.

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Gingerly, House blew the dust off the cover of the small little book and grinned at the cover as if it were an old friend. In serious, no-nonsense black type, the cover proclaimed. "Official Boy Scout Manual, '72" Infinitely glad there was no one around to see this proof that he'd had a normal childhood and had not always been a misanthropic bastard with a limp, a cane, and an acerbic wit, he thumbed through the pages til he found the section on first aid, marked by his own badge. "Bingo," he said.

A/N: Ok, boys and girls. Before you ask. Yes. Karl Katarn is actually based off of one of our boyfriends. Guess which. Oh, and the names 'Ryan' and 'Alex' are the names of Jeeves and Wooster's boyfriends, respectively. The name Karl Katarn is a Star Wars reference. Guess it and we will make general 'We are not WORTHY' gestures in your direction...and then laugh at you behind your back. Good naturedly, of course.