Author's Note: And now for chapter three. Well, this is some of my late night work. I wrote this at about one in morning. I personally like it, because I love casual scenes between two friends, but I also like it because we get to see a different side of House that I like to think he has. Anyway, for reviews, I would like to thank FriendsHolic (that was quick, and beautiful. I love it), Lizzy Sidle (that comparison of yours deserves an award or something), lemonjelly (and my review was good? Well, I'd like to thank you for yours)

Disclaimer: Et al first chapter. Maybe I'll send Hugh Laurie a "sarcastic whip" for Christmas. That would really add to the already excellent quality of the show, or would it? Now, all I need is an address.

Spoilers: Et al first chapter. There is a slightly reference to "Babies & Bathwater". I love the episode.

Note: Well, the last chapter went over nicely. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I like to think that each chapter is better than the next. And, there is more dialogue in this chapter. I'm not a huge fan of it, but, I know some of you guys like it.


Chapter Three: One Squared

"How far along is she?"

"I don't know. Why would she tell me that?"

"Because you're the father of the child; I thought that was obvious. You know, when you're not being obnoxious, she actually likes you."

"No, she hates me. Why else would she give me clinic duty?"

"It's part of your job, Greg. And stop whining. You sound too much like a baby."

"You and that irony of yours."

House and Wilson lay on the floor of the office, gazing at the framed band posters leaning at uneven angles against the wall. The sun forced its way through the blinds, abysses of light falling squarely on the carpet, and music played gently in the background, easing the subconscious tension that seemed to have arisen from nowhere in particular.

Wilson looked at him inquiringly before stating, "So, would you like me to do the ultrasound, or you?"

"Can't she do it herself? She is a doctor. Or maybe I'll have Chase do it. She's got a thing for him."

"Fine. I'll do it. It's not like you care anyway."

House looked over at him, his blue eyes streaked with intensity in the glow of the sun, and he tapped his cane tip softly on the ground, the calming thump never beating as wildly as his heart.

"No, I will. She'll want me there anyway, if even she loathes me."

"She does not loathe you! What do you not get? The part about you not being obnoxious and her liking you, or the part where you're a complete jerk so she can't like you?"

"I didn't do nothing. I's just slow in the head, teacher."

"You won't even take this seriously. It's a miracle that she's put up with you for this long."

"You'd think the guy who risked his job to save my butt would have a little more respect for me, but I guess not."

"No, actually, she saved your butt. The least you can do is help her through this. I'm not saying you have to get close. Just get her through the pregnancy, and then figure it out from there."

He continued to stare at Wilson, but this time it was distantly, as though he was trying to stare beyond the opaque wall of the present and into the future. House would not confide in anybody, not even himself, but, secretly, he did want to be close to the child. But, unfortunately, in his present mental status, he felt too fragile to handle the news.

He needed more protection from the outside world, for his skin was thin and translucent under the light of vulnerability.

"House, why don't you get it over with? Then you'll both be happy."

His watch of Wilson was broken as these words filled his ears, shattering the wall of untainted silence that had filled the void between them, but, even so, he looked towards the ceiling, his determination to be in a different place over-powering his friend's advice. He had become that leaf on the sidewalk.

He would float along aimlessly, alone, a wanderer, searching the world for what he knew he could never find: solitude. Even on his multi-colored exterior, one realized that he would die without the support of tree, and that, in death, he would lose his beauty, his tenure on Earth and in life, his wit, everything. His remnants would consist of only an outline of what he was like in life, and, slowly, leisurely, in immense sadistic glee, his dream of solitude would fade away, inhabiting nightmares. It would build a wall around itself, such as its owner did, and it too would die.

Sighing, he stood, lightly placing his forehead between his middle in index finger before proceeding to leave the room.

"Hey, House?"

He turned and looked at his friend, and a feeling of estrangement cleansed him like wave. Wilson, at this point, was neither friend nor foe; he was guidance. Now, instead of being clad in silver armor as protection, he stood behind him, painted with gold, watching House slaughter his fears just as he himself had done long ago.

"Take it easy on her. Try to be civil, even if it's just for a little while."

And, with that, House left the room, the quiet click of his cane like the sound of one of his qualms hitting the ground.


House opened the door, greeted by her indiscernible face.

"Hello again."

"Oh, cut the crap, House. Let's get this over with. I don't need the whole hospital knowing that this is your child."

"Aw, fetuses have feelings too, Cuddy."

"Actually, it's not longer a fetus; I'm three months along, if you must know."

"Are these mood swings a result of the pregnancy, or are you always this mean to me?"

She glared at him, a burning anger so intense that he could feel embers spark from under his skin.

Wordlessly, he rubbed the cool gel on her abdomen, and, turning the machine on, he watched her face. But, she had learned how to build a prison around her feelings, forever entrapping them until the day of her demise.

No longer did rank exist in that room, for they both knew the blame was to be shared equally amongst those who had committed the actions. But one could not help but accuse the other for what had occurred ever so unexpectedly. But, internally, they were of equal position, for hierarchy only existed in the external world.

On that glorious day long ago, they believed their bodies had become one, and, therefore, if and when they were squared, the end result would only be one. One individual. One moment. One reason. One mistake. But, it was not meant to be. Rather, their bodies had not become a solitary individual, and, therefore, they were combined. One lonely man and one lonely woman equaled three. Three hours. Three months. Three lifetimes, and all of it centered around was now shown upon the screen at which he stared.

"It's beautiful."

He said that many times before, but not in such a way that his voice had quieted in a serene manner; not in such a way that innocence was laced in between each word. For once, he felt truly happy. Before, the smiles were false, only formed at the corners of his mouth to fool those who gazed no where beyond the wall of the skin. But, now, his smile was green, like an infant, and it was not there to deceive the shallow minds.

And developed smiles donned on inexperienced lips, a feeling of arousal rising from the hips.

"And the day I see you smile is the day clinic duty becomes a distant memory."

He looked over at her, understanding present in her eyes. Had all the years he had been trying to be inscrutable been a meaningless hoax that had failed right from the start? House might have been dubious of his true feelings, but not so dubious as to state his defeat to them. He turned off the machine, the image whisking itself away before it was engulfed by a wave of black.

And he walked out of the room, leaving Cuddy to stare in awe at his retreating figure.

He was only there to drift and die. He would drift farther from his emotions, quarantining them in cruel and mysterious ways, and he would let them die, just as he would, upon the grave that had been set for all of them. But, before his passing, he would fondle the components of his life carefully in his fingers, as though absorbing the sole knowledge of each one. The human body was his means for living, and he would treat it as he would with anything he respected.

To touch legs, lips, and lace, delving deeper into the thoughts of the weeper as one floats the portal of space.


Author's Note: And tin man House has feelings! Gasp! No, but really, I like showing the more "sensitive" side of men in stories like these. Basically the theme of this story is to not let indifference take precedence over emotions. So there is a point to me writing this other than just writing a fan fiction. Okay, so, please read and review as you wish, and constructive criticism is always welcomed into open arms. Thanks!