Title: Doppelganger

Summary: Something unknown is plaguing House and things are getting out of control, driving the pessimistic doctor to the edge of his sanity. Can he be brought back in time to save his latest patient? Can he even save himself?

Time Frame: After Vogler, before the Duckling Elimination Game. The time of year is probably completely incorrect, but I don't care. My fanfic, my mess.

Pairings: One-sided Cameron/House relationship (Cameron cares, House doesn't).

Author's Message: It's true that Vicodin and alcohol don't mix well. Alcohol can make the side effects of Vicodin worse, resulting in unconsciousness or death. So House is a bad boy for drinking... well, feh. His funeral. Beware of teh swear!

Disclaimer: I own not, I profit not, so please sue me not. I'm fourteen; I can't afford it. However, any characters that you haven't seen before (Nikki, Alex, etc.) are my own creation and belong to me. Hands off please.

"So what are you going here?" Nikki asks as Wilson sits on the end of her bed. "Do you guys think that I've got cancer or something?"

"Well," Wilson says, "it is a possibility that you might have a brain tumor."

House calls from outside, "I never told you that!"

"I was looking for you for half an hour!" Wilson replies. "I checked your department office and saw the whiteboard!"

"Okay then!"

Nikki giggles. Wilson looks at her in disbelief.

"You're amused by House?" he asks. "You don't hate him at first sight?"

"He pisses my dad off, and he makes me laugh," Nikki says thoughtfully. "He's my hero. Are you his friend?"

Wilson nods.

"Much as I want to get to know you," Nikki says, "I think that you should go though before my-"

"What the hell!"

"-dad gets here," she finishes, wincing slightly at the noise.

Alex Wilson is standing in the doorway, a rucksack full of Nikki's things in one hand and a horrified, furious expression on his face. Wilson looks equally horrified. House, who is still standing outside, looks on with interest, wondering if he should intervene. Alex takes a few steps into the room and the door swings shut behind him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks with scarcely veiled venom.

Wilson doesn't reply. Nikki begins to look worried.

"Dad, it's okay," she says. "I don't mind."

Alex glances briefly at her before turning his gaze back to his brother.

"You don't know what he did," he says. "What's he's responsible for."

"No I don't," Nikki returns somewhat coldly. "You never told me. You just cut Uncle Jimmy out of my life for no reason. Why?"

"Don't ask!" Alex snaps. "I'm not willing to tell you!"

"I'm not a little kid any more!" Nikki snap back. "You don't need to protect me!"

"If I didn't need to protect you, you wouldn't be here!"

Wilson stands up, deciding to leave before he gets dragged into the argument. However, Alex puts out an arm and blocks his path.

"Not yet," he says, cold as ice. "You tell her what you did. Then she'll understand."

House is definitely interested now. It's like one of his crappy soap operas, playing out before his eyes. Definitely a focus for interest. Wilson sighs and turns around to face Nikki, awkwardly conscious of the fact that his best friend is listening intensely to the family drama unfolding before him. The bastard is going to have fuel for a month. Nikki is looking intensely at him, curiosity burning in her eyes. Wilson begins.

"Well," he says. "Twelve years ago, on your mom's birthday, I took her out for a drink because," he pauses, unsure of how to refer to his brother, then continues, "your dad was away on business. We both drank more than we probably should have done and on the way home... we were in a crash. I broke my arm and your mom... your mom died."

Nikki raises an eyebrow, saying "So what?" without words. Alex glares at Wilson again, then looks at his daughter.

"He was driving," he snarls.

"The truck driver was drunker than I was!" Wilson snaps back in an uncharacteristic display of anger. "He could have stopped in time if he had been sober!"

"And you wouldn't have driven out in front of him if you'd been sober!" Alex yells.

"Cut it out!" Nikki shouts. "I've got a fucking headache and it's late. Can't we argue about this tomorrow?"

Suddenly, Alex's wrath vanishes and he is all love and concern. He walks quickly over to her bed and sits down next to her, leaving the back next to it, then pressed a hand to her forehead. Nikki swatted it away, smiling slightly at the futile but well-meant gesture.

"Dad, give it a rest," she laughs. "We know I'm sick or I wouldn't be here."

Wilson watches, surprised that she isn't showing more grief and anger. He's also surprised that his brother's mood can change so quickly from fury and hatred to fatherly affection. The answer is that it can't. Alex fixes a deadly stare on him.

"Get. Out," he says. "I don't want you seeing Nikki again. Stay away from her or, so help me, I will sue your ass."

Wilson knows that he must obey. He gives Nikki a small wave, which she returns from behind Alex's back, then walks out of the door. Unsurprisingly, House is still standing outside there. Wilson gives him an exasperated look.

"I suppose you were enjoying that?" he asks.

"Are you kidding? It was better than a soap opera! What did you want me for anyway?"

"I was going to ask you over for a drink, but I think I've changed my mind."

House shrugs; it's all the same to him. He can either take risks with alcohol and Vicodin at Wilson's or take risks with alcohol and Vicodin at home. The former is probably safer than the latter, but he doesn't really care.

"I can't make it tonight anyway. My hooker can't reschedule," he quips.

Wilson rolls his eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, the two friends parted and made their separate ways home (Wilson to a house and wife, House to just a house) while a man sat at the bedside of his sick daughter late into the night.

Slightly cliche, but what can I do? Bleh... I'll do reviewer responses tomorrow. It's almost 9pm and I'm tired... and I have to get up at 7:10am tomorrow. So... yeah.