AN:It's probably blatantly obvious that I'm struggling for ideas - thus creating pointless blather until I figure out some type of plot for House and Cameron. Seriously, if you have any ideas, don't hesitate to let them be known. Sorry for the long delay with updating…I just had midterms and my dissection labs in biology (um, ew?) and I haven't had much time for writing. Three weeks till finals and I'll have the whole summer to finish this thing and loaf around to my heart's content! That is if I still have a working heart after thinking I saw Hugh Laurie riding around in West Hollywood (seriously, talk about having a coronary… I don't even know if that was him either)…whoever it was cut us off in traffic (I seem to have the curse of being cut off on the street by famous people…it's not even cool, it's ANNOYING). See, this is what happens when I have an audience to ramble on in front of. Ahem. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as are all reviews. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Little Miss Smartass

I wonder sometimes, if House ever thought about what he might be getting himself into, should he decide to procreate.

I was at my desk, enjoying the day free from meetings, trying to catch up with my charts when the door burst open and a large cane smacked itself down on my desk. He needed a favor - again. I usually don't mind doing them if that means he'll keep himself out of trouble, but I had no idea what could be the problem...things had been eerily quiet on the "Greg House vs. the world" front lately.

Then he told me Allie had run off from school, and that he needed me to go find her. I should have known.

Things had finally been settling down since my goddaughter had walked back into our lives about six weeks ago.

When I mean settle down, I REALLY mean settle down. Allison was on cloud nine - you wouldn't look at her and realize it was a little over a month since she'd tried to kill herself. She'd thrown herself into the task of concentrating on work AND trying to be super mommy to a little girl who well…wasn't exactly a little girl anymore - completely refusing to see the trouble that was slowly brewing. House had remained pretty much the same old reliable bastard through the whole ordeal. Sure, he might have displayed emotion when they found Allie - causing nurses and his own staff to double take and wonder when exactly, that the mother-ship had come down to give him the lobotomy we'd all be hoping for...but he was still House. In fact he seemed to be trying to cover up everything with MORE snark, much to the disarray of everyone around him. I suppose that the delight we all experienced when we realized Allie was safe, was happiness in such a great magnitude as to cover up what Allie herself was going through.

I didn't think it was my place to say anything about sending her back to school. Like her father, she seemed to have a great knack for pretending things were just fine - when in fact her world was caving in. I was there the night Allison asked her if she was ready to go back to school and witnessed a very emotional act that Nicole Kidman couldn't have pulled off better. She smiled and asked her mother if it was true - could she really go back this soon? I almost bought it till I was getting ready to leave their house after dinner that night. I was grabbing my coat that I'd left in the kitchen when I spotted movement out in the backyard. I knew House and Allison had already gone upstairs, and I figured Allie had followed suit. I let myself out into the backyard and found my goddaughter, sitting off by herself in the gazebo that stood directly behind the pool.

I approached slowly and softly asked her if everything was alright.

I received a sad look, and watched as she wiped tears off her face and said "I'm fine, Uncle Jimmy."

I told her that it didn't look like she was fine, and sat down next to her.

It took about two seconds for Allie to grab her crutches and stand up, telling me she was "FINE...why does everybody keep asking me that?" She stopped briefly, like she wanted to add something, but just turned and left - telling me goodbye.

It was then that I knew that House and Allison had another problem on their hands - one that I wasn't sure they had recognized yet.

I drove a couple of blocks around the school and wasn't able to find her.

It was then that I noticed a small deserted park. I pulled my car into the parking lot and immediately spied a pair of crutches thrown on the pavement, as well as a book bag and a jacket - but most importantly, my goddaughter, sitting in a swing, rocking herself back and forth.

I sat down in the swing next to her and waited for her to acknowledge my presence. Usually, the look on a person's face will give away what they are feeling. The look on her face though, was something I'd just like to forget - anger, sadness, resentment, fear…it clearly showed through her eyes in the brief moment she looked at me, before continuing to swing back and forth. I took it upon myself to ask her why she had run off, her school had called and her dad was pretty upset.

"So upset that he couldn't bring it upon himself to come and find me? Yeah, I'd mark that high up on the I give a shit factor," was the answer shot back at me in a somewhat sarcastic fashion. Like father like daughter.

I told her that of all people, she should know that her father has problems when it comes to communication.

Again - no answer.

I found myself telling her that I know she was having a hard time, but she'd just gone back to school and she's got to give it a couple of weeks before things start to go back to normal. That her parents want nothing more than for her to go back to being happy. For her to move on from her past and look forward to creating a happy future.

"What makes you think I'm not happy?" she replied.

"Don't peg me as a complete idiot Allie," I started to tell her, "Don't expect me to believe for one second that a person who's gone through what you've gone through can be in the least bit ready to put aside what happened. I witnessed firsthand what happened to you out there on the road that day, I - "

She cut me off mid sentence, stood up and prepared to walk away. I got up from the swing and grabbed her by the shoulder and told her flat out that she can't keep running. She just looked at me and in the most annoyed, yet heartbreaking fashion I've ever heard, told me that she had no idea what she was running from - she didn't even know what in the hell she was feeling anymore...that she was just blank, an unwritten person and that she hated herself for it. Before I could even give a response, she grabbed her crutches and limped off to the car, opened the door of my car and sat down in the passenger seat.

I sighed and got into the driver's seat.

"You know you can talk to any of us about this," I told her, "we're all pretty good listeners...well maybe not your dad, but even HE has his moments."

She looked at me and just continued to stare out the window - again, silent. She reached for her bottle of Vicodin in her backpack and popped two into her mouth, giving me a small glance to see if I'd noticed her doing so. I grabbed the bottle away a moment later and put it into my shirt pocket. I told her there's no way in hell I'm letting her become a mini version of her father...especially at the age of fourteen. She just glared at me for a second, and then for the first time in awhile dropped the glare - and gave a real smile.

The car ride back, she finally opened up and told me exactly what had happened to her at school. She also made it known that no amount of persuasion would work in getting her back into that place. She wasn't going to be surrounded by "materialistic idiots, cheerleaders, jocks and snobs" all day long. I told her she needed to tell her parents that, and again...silence. I asked her if she was afraid that she'd disappoint them and she just gave me the infamous House glare - not knowing that after 30 years of friendship with Greg...I was completely immune to it. I figured I had hit a nerve and told her that her mom and dad were going to probably make her go back for at least a little while, so why not try and just stick it out?

All I received was another murderous glare and the simple reply of "NOPE!"

She barged into the conference room right in the middle of a differential diagnosis session.

"The prodigal daughter returns!" was House's greeting as Allison, Foreman and Chase got up to give her a hug.

He asked her how her day had gone and she looked at me, turned straight at him and told him she wasn't going back to that "place" ever again - save the tuition money for vicodin and scotch...she was too smart for high school anyway. She limped off into his office and flopped down on House's chair, yelling "By all means...don't mind me, continue!"

"We're going to talk about this later," came House's reply. He looked like he was going to regret his statement at any minute.

"WHATEVER," was the replyand with that we all sat back down to continue with the differential, somewhat amused and somewhat worried at her behavior. You could see Allison's face fall as soon as Allie had spoken - I was worried that her "rebellious" behavior would weaken Allison's already fragile emotional state. Something clearly needed to be done before everything escaladed out of all our control.

I stuck around for a few moments to listen in on the progress of their latest patient. House was rattling on about the latest symptoms and picking on Chase for coming up with the "lamest excuse for a diagnosis he's ever heard of" when a shout came from his office.

"It's obviously episodic ataxia - what else causes frequent loss of muscle control and coordination for an hour then goes away a moment later...yet occurs on an almost daily basis? Hello, I thought medical school was a requirement, not an option?"

House walked over to his office and just stared at Allie as everything in the conference room went silent.

We all stared at each other as little miss smartass loudly proclaimed, "I told you I was too smart for high school!"

I took it upon myself at that moment to go back to my office, not knowing whether to be amazed that a fourteen year old had pinpointed what could very well be a rare occurrence of the neurological disorder that only ten thousand members of the United States had been documented having - or laugh my ass off at the look on House's face.

The last thing I'm pretty sure I heard while leaving, was House demanding Foreman pay up his part of the bet - he knew he would somebody sooner or later that was under the age of eighteen and a million times smarter than Chase.