A/N: Please, bear with me on this chapter, and the next (which will be posted early this evening). They fit, they have a purpose, I haven't crossed over into the realm of the paranormal. Hey, if you can get through detaching eyeballs and exploding privates, this'll be a piece of cake! And tomorrow, we'll be back on track, and it'll all fit, ok?

CHAPTER TEN: A Deal

"What the hell took you so long?" House demands again. Poor choice of words, House, he chides himself, not without amusement.

"Human beings are such tiresome, impatient creatures," House's visitor says as he enters the room and perches on the edge of House's desk. He's well dressed, House notes, and his face is surprisingly pleasant.

"Yeah, I don't like 'em either. Can't live with 'em, can't earn a paycheck without 'em. It's a quandary," says House, his eyes fixed on the visitor's cane. What the hell—I'm asking for help from some idiot who can't even solve his own mobility issues!

The visitor laughs and twirls the cane absently in his fingers. "So you choose not to recognize your status as a member of the human race? Quite… forward thinking of you, I must say." He notices that House is still staring, and waves his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about this," he says, continuing to spin the thing like a baton. "Just for looks, in my case. So elegant, wouldn't you agree?"

"Look, I probably don't have long 'til the Evil Witch returns to make my life a living hell—oops, sorry, slip of the tongue. So could we just get down to business? Here's the deal: I give you my soul, you give me a day without pain. Win/win situation all around." Except that Foreman's right; I'm soulless, so I'm not losing anything except a day of hellacious pain. Wow, there's that 'h' word again; I'm just having a devil of a time with this!

House's guest laughs again, a bit less pleasantly than the first time. "Dr. House, I will tell you what the deal will be. You are certainly free to decline it, if it is not to your liking; however, I do not bargain. I believe the expression is 'take it or leave it'."

Okay, back off, House. This is not some intern you can send flying to the restroom in tears just by lifting a critical eyebrow. Although that is fun. House smiles and apologizes, realizing that the visitor holds a potential day of heaven in his hands. Stop with the bad wordplay, already! he chastises himself. "I'm listening," he says.

"You, Dr. House, are an enigma; therefore, you intrigue me. Surely you can relate to that? You are the lover of puzzles, the hater of people, and yet you are the biggest puzzle of all. You would willingly part with your soul for a mere 24 hours of physical comfort. You are then willing to spend the remainder of your mortal life without all the elements which make up a soul? Emotions? Empathy? Love?"

House listens, his face expressionless. When the visitor realizes that House doesn't intend to answer, he continues more emphatically. "Do you realize that you will no longer be able to feel the satisfaction which your work brings you? You'll have no need for friends. Joy will be a feeling denied to you. You shall be a mere shell of a man, going through the motions of mortal life. Your physical pain will have returned, but you will have no ability to seek or receive comfort from others. Most humans in such a state would prefer, would even seek out, death."

You insufferable fool, House thinks. You've just described my life. You did a damned good job of it ,too. How can I lose what I don't have?

"Sign me up," House states flatly.

His guest looks at him appraisingly, almost admiringly. "All right, doctor. You have your 24 hours. However, I too am bound by a few rules. They are very simple, but I must obey them. Therefore, I am celestially obligated to inform you that should anything transpire during that period which would cause me to believe that you have not made this decision freely, or that you had no right to make this decision, then I must consider our contract breached. Should that occur, all will immediately revert to as it was before. If all goes well, at the end of the 24 hours you will transfer your soul to me, and I shall return your pain to you. Is that clear?"

"Yeah. Now where's my prize?"

"You will be able to walk, without pain, as of now." The visitor laughs. "I am curious, though, why did you not ask for your leg to be healed for the 24 hours; the price is the same. You have only one soul, and you traded it for the removal of pain only; you allowed the disability to remain. Odd, no?" He reaches across the desk, hands House his cane. Then, with a final twirl of his own cane, he's gone.

House feels good. Really good. For the first time in six years nothing hurts at all. It's unnerving, and he continues to lie there, trying to adjust to the feeling. What are you doing, you fool, you're on the clock here! He decides to stand, glad that Cuddy had the foresight to disconnect him from the drip. Cuddy! I gotta get outta here. I'm not ready to explain this to anyone, and if I were my first choice would not be Cuddy. Damn the woman, somehow she always knows to ask precisely the questions that make me wanna beg for my Miranda Rights. How does she do that, anyway? For the briefest of moments, a smile that could almost be called 'affectionate' flashes across his features.

House reaches for a piece of paper and a pen. Wilson, he scribbles, I did something you'd call stupid, but it's working for me, so you'll just have to deal with it. I'm fine—I'm better than fine. What's that sound? Ahh… I can hear you worrying, Jimmy. So just stop that, and be happy for me. He signs it with a scrawled H and he's ready to go exploring.

He takes a few tentative steps and feels like the proud parent of a newly ambulatory toddler when his right leg behaves itself, the nerve endings remaining wonderfully quiescent. He doesn't really mind the cane, he realizes. It's been part of him for so long that it's nothing more than an extension of his leg. He bravely wanders out into the hall; it's 4:30 in the morning and the offices are deserted. He walks the length of the hall, doing his shiny new version of a stride, and he's having difficulty finding words to describe the unreal feeling of a pain-free leg, a body that finally belongs to him again.