When my sister and I collaborate on a story for ff . net, we use the penname "Greene Apples." It also tends to be a humorous endeavor. Expect randomness that somehow all makes sense within the grand scheme of things. There is a plot to this story, believe it or not.

Readers, you're lucky: The first two chapters are relatively sane. From there... Proceed at your own diagnostically safe pace.

Also, we don't own "House" or any of its characters; we profess our love for Hugh Laurie and Rob Sean; and we mean no offense to rats, tic-tacs, Charles Dickens, Cameron and her quest for worldpeace, gangstas, and crocodiles. Most of that will make sense soon. Hopefully.

Enjoy!

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Cameron, Allison A.

Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital

Dopathalamine

14 April 2006

"Positivism in a Pill: The Future of Hope"

The discovery of Dopathalamineis both a groundbreaking and encouraging development in medicine. Taken three times a day, Dopathalamine—commonly referred to as the "Happy Pill"—actually increases the level of endorphins and neurotransmitters, particularly dopamine, in the brain. Thus, an increased feeling of happiness permeates one's thought process, lifting a dour or melancholic mood…

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Wilson stopped reading and looked up from the paper in his hands. Cameron was waiting nervously, expectantly, across from him.

"You've developed a Happy Pill?"

Cameron finally smiled. "Yes. I've been putting in some extra hours in the lab over the past few months." She gestured back to the paper. "I send that away for publication by the Board of Health tomorrow. I just wanted your opinion, if you could review it…?"

The oncologist squinted his eyes in slight skepticism. "Why not ask Chase or Foreman?"

Cameron looked away momentarily. "Foreman already stole my last article. This is my one big chance to get the credit for something I did. And Chase…" She shrugged, as if to say she trusted his advice on hair styling more than his medical opinion.

Wilson nodded. He glanced from the eight-page article and then back to the young intern. "And why not House?"

"House…" Cameron's voice lilted, trailing off. "He's been a bit busy today."

"Busy?" Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Cuddy has us all scheduled for clinic duty this morning."

"The interns too?"

She nodded. "House said it wasn't fair that Cuddy forces us into a bonding experience, but I think he finally pushed his luck."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing much, according to him. He just sent memos around to the department heads letting everyone know that her computer's secret access code was PartyPants."

"Oh." Wilson looked almost disappointed. "I thought that e-mail was just for me."

Cameron managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes, then tapped her article in his hands. "If you could review that, though, I'd really appreciate it. I have to go meet everyone in the clinic now."

She'd turned to leave, and was walking briskly down the corridor when she heard Wilson behind her.

"Wait, Cameron." Wilson flipped through some pages, a look of brief consternation on his boyish face. She stopped, waiting for him to catch up. "This gives the medical details of the Happy Pills contents, but it doesn't say anything about tests."

"Tests?"

"You did test these pills, didn't you?"

"Well, I did, on some lab rats and things."

"Cameron, you can't release published papers on a drug that hasn't been tested on humans."

"But there's nothing in here that's not naturally in a person's brain to begin with. All it does is up the level of 'feel-good' chemicals. Dopamine makes a person more receptive to praise and rewards; endorphins reduce pain and promote pleasure, too."

"I know what the chemicals do, Cameron, but to what extent, is what I'm asking."

She paused, taking a breath and looking him over seriously. "When the lab rats took the pill three times a day, their mood improved significantly. They were far more interested in socializing, in their wheels, in eating…"

"Ah-hmm."

"I've done the research. Dr. Wilson, I've been working on this for the past six months."

"But you still have no idea what its effects on people are."

"It just increases some chemicals," Cameron said steadily. "That's all. It's a simple dosage that balances out the irritability of unhappiness."

Wilson sighed. "Happy Pills."

"Happy Pills." Cameron dug through her lab coat and withdrew a vial of her developed medication. "Here. Look."

Cameron dumped a few into his open palm. They were small, circular, and tinted yellow. He lifted one to the light.

"You actually put smiley faces on them?"

"I thought people should be encouraged when they take positive medicine."

"The medicine is encouraging them, then?"

"It's—it's reinforcing their positive decision to feel better."

"Vicodin makes House feel better, and he doesn't need to have a grin pressed onto the pill," Wilson said wryly. "All that matters is the effect. That's what will encourage people to take the medicine or not: If it works."

"I'm sure it does."

"How sure?"

"Sure enough to let you try one."

Wilson baulked. "What?"

"Trust me, they're fine. Honestly." She peered up at him with her pleading, mascara-rimmed eyes. "Please. I need help with this."

Wilson, the perpetual needer of neediness, sighed. Well, there was no denying he could use a happiness boost. After moving out of House's apartment, he was struggling to adjust to life without dishes to gripe over, stoops to pointlessly wait on, and couches to wet. Then there had been the date-that-wasn't-really-a-date with Cuddy. He hadn't won a Poker game since he beat the department a few months back, either.

He glanced down at the pills again. "Three a day, huh?"

"Three a day."

Wilson hesitated for one instant; then, pocketing the extra ones, he popped a pill into his mouth and swallowed.

Cameron smiled ebulliently. "You'll be feeling great in no time."

"How long does it take to start working?"

"About a half-hour."

"And it lasts…?"

"About eight. Three doses go the full twenty-four hours."

Eight hours of happiness sounded good. Wilson checked his watch. He had a full line-up of cancer patients to tend to back in his office, but first he needed to talk to House.

As Wilson and Cameron made their way to the Clinic, the oncologist reviewed her article once more.

"I guess you can add that it has been tested on people now," he said offhandedly.

"And we'll know side-effects, too."

Wilson came to an abrupt halt. "Side-effects? What side-effects?"

Cameron tried to wave a hand dismissively, but it wasn't very convincing. "Nothing. Nothing much, at least."

"'Nothing much.' That means there's a little of something." He put his hands on his hips in his Wilson-esque stance. "What side-effects?"

"Nothing," Cameron insisted. "Just… Early on, the rats exhibited some fear syndromes."

"Fear syndromes."

"Yes. They scampered away from the wheel, they hid when I tried to pick them up, just little things."

Wilson rubbed at his forehead. "Wait, wait. You said the pills increase endorphins."

"Yes."

"Cameron, endorphins are released in positive situations but they also go up dramatically in response to fear. These pills might just kick-start a false panic system in a person's brain."

Cameron shook her head adamantly. "But the dopamine should balance it out. The rats were fine within a few hours. I just had to up their dosage."

"You know, you could've told me this before I took the pill."

"You wouldn't have taken it then."

"I think you're spending too much time around House. He's wearing off on you."

"Dr. Wilson." She touched his sleeve reassuringly. "I wouldn't have given you the pills if I wasn't completely sure its final effect would be positive."

They'd come to the Clinic, Cameron visibly more assured than Wilson, who was now looking more nervous than he did going home to a wife. He handed her article back to her.

"Well… You're not going to ask House to give a speech about your new drug, are you?" he said, managing a smile.

"No."

Suddenly, a door to a patient's exam room flew open. House limped out, obviously irked by something. A wavering, questioning voice within the room was silenced when the door shut with a bang.

"House—" Wilson tried.

The older man stopped, shrugging innocently, his eyes widened in surprise at the oncologist's accusatory tone. "What? She thinks she's dying. I told her that if that was the case, she'd probably improve the world."

"House." Cameron looked appalled.

He shrugged. "There's no cure for stupidity. A runny nose isn't exactly a death wish." He sighed dramatically, surveying the room full of bustling doctors and not-so-sick, hypochondriac patients. "Being forced against my will in this Clinic again, however… This is drastically dangerous to my health."

Wilson and Cameron watched feebly as House ambled into the next room on his list, griping before he'd even examined the patient. Wilson scratched the back of his neck, wondering if he'd ever get a word in to talk to him.

Cameron shook her head, no less shocked by House's bedside manner than she had been when she'd started working at Princeton-Plainsboro. "No. He won't be giving any Happy Pill speeches. But he sure could use a free sample."