Chapter 12

House entered the clinic and grabbed a chart. He didn't really want to be here, but for some reason this morning his Ipod and Gameboy just weren't holding his attention. What better way to kill a couple of hours than to look at tonsils? Besides, it would keep Cuddy off his back for a day anyway.

House entered an exam room to see a young woman, stroking the hair of a boy about 3 years old, he assumed her son.

"Mrs. Clark?" House asked. "And I presume this is Jared."

At hearing his name, the boy peeked open an eye and looked up at House. He closed his eyes again quickly, and covered his face.

"Okay, so we've got foot, ankle or leg pain. Did you want me to guess?" House asked the mother.

"No, I'm not sure which it is. He didn't want to come to see a doctor, so he won't tell me exactly where it hurts," the mother replied. She started to say something else, but House cut her off.

"Then how do you know it hurts?" House asked. "Are you psychic?"

"No, I know it hurts because he won't walk, stand up straight or put any weight on it. He's been lying down all morning. He never lies down. I'm not even certain he lies down in his sleep," the mother looked a little weary herself.

"Funny. I like it." House answered. "Okay, when did this start?"

"This morning, around 5am. He had just finished his first breakfast, when …"

"His first breakfast?" House interrupted. "You fee him breakfast more than once?"

"Well, if you got up a 4am every day, you'd want breakfast twice too."

"Probably right, good thing I never get up before 10." House replied. He'd been watching the little boy during the conversation. He obviously didn't like the doctor's office, he'd been hiding his face and trying to curl into a ball as soon as House entered the room. House caught him peeking a look between his fingers and made a face at him. The boy giggled a little, and then quickly covered his face again.

"Anyway," his mother continued, "I was trying to clean up his mess when he climbed up on top of the microwave cart and jumped off."

"Okay, let's take a look, shall we?" House wheeled his chair a little closer to the boy. "Jared, which let hurts?"

Jared pointed at his left leg, but refused to speak. He moved his arm away from his face only long enough to point to which leg. House reached over and lifted him up to a standing position, but held on to support him.

"Okay, I want you to try to stand up so you can tell me exactly where it hurts." House told him.

Jared put some weight on his leg, promptly crumpled up and began to whimper. He turned and looked at his mother, then squeezed his eyes shut very tight and said, "Foot."

"He speaks," House joked. He looked at Jared. "Thought maybe the cat got your tongue."

"We don't have a cat," Jared said very seriously. House chuckled. He helped Jared back down onto the exam table, and started checking out his foot. He suspected he might actually have broken a bone, which isn't easy to do at that age. Judging from the mother's comments about him not even being still when he slept, he had a feeling this guy could have managed it.

"I'm going to send him off to have an X-ray of that foot. He could have a fracture." House turned to the boy. "I gotta know. Why'd you jump off the microwave cart?"

"I wanted to fly like Buzz Lightyear, but my wings wouldn't come out." Jared answered.

"Well, that's because little boys wings don't grow in until they turn 12 or so," House said seriously, then winked at the boy's mother. "The clinic will call me when they have the X-ray results, and we'll take it from there." House left his instructions with the nurse and moved on to his next patient.

Just as House was finishing up with the last patient he intended to see that day, a radiology tech handed him the results of the little boy's X-ray. Sure enough, he'd broken a bone in his foot.

House entered the exam room and was quickly hushed by the boy's mother. He'd actually fallen asleep.

"God, don't wake him," she said. "This may be the first time he's napped during the day since he was about 10 months old."

"Sorry to disappoint you," House said, "but he'll have to go up to orthopedics for his cast."

"He broke his foot?" the mother asked. "How long will he have to keep the cast on for?"

"I'd guess about six weeks," House answered, the mother groaned. "Look on the bright side, it's six weeks he won't be climbing the microwave cart."

"Don't bet on it," the mother mumbled as House left the room. He snickered to himself, thanking the powers that be that it wasn't him.

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Chapter 13

House walked into the front doors of the hospital early the next morning. He suspected Cameron wouldn't be in a sharing mood, good news or bad, but that wasn't going to stop him from finding out her results.

Cuddy looked up from the reception desk, and pretended to swoon.

"My God, House, you're here before 9am two days in row! Did hell freeze over and I didn't get the memo?" she quipped.

"Good one. How long did it take you to think that one up?" House shot at her.

"I've been holding onto it for oh, three years or so. It took that long for the opportunity to use it." Cuddy retorted. House was making his way toward the elevator, and Cuddy hesitated whether she should follow him or not. She was still considering asking him about becoming a sperm donor; she couldn't seem to talk herself out of it. She was about to call him back when she noticed him reach into his pocket for his Vicodin.

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House lingered down the hall from Wilson's office. He hadn't seen Cameron yet, and didn't want to. He wasn't looking forward to a repeat of the scene in the lab. He still wasn't sure why he'd hugged her; it was so unlike him. She just looked so scared and vulnerable; he couldn't help himself. He'd told himself he was just being nice, figuring maybe he could score a little sympathy action, but he hadn't quite convinced himself yet. If that's all it was, why was he here again, at this ungodly hour, trying to find out about her results?

"Stalking me again?" Cameron asked from behind him.

House jumped guiltily. Caught, he thought. Now what? He turned and looked at her, but couldn't get an idea either way. Had she already seen Wilson?

"I haven't been in yet. I know that's why you're here. You could have just asked, I would have told you." Cameron said quietly. She was trying to be careful around him. After he'd held her in the lab, she was finding herself remembering how strong he felt, and how safe it was in his arms. The last thing she wanted was for him to know that.

House opened his mouth to let out one of his usual snipes, but then closed it again. He shook his head instead.

"Wasn't sure you'd be in a sharing mood," he answered.

"I'm supposed to meet Wilson now." Cameron stepped past him, and then turned back. "You coming?"

House followed Cameron the rest of the way down the hall to Wilson's office, and waited behind her while she knocked. Wilson called for her to come in. House stood in the doorway, keeping to himself a bit.

"Allison?" Wilson asked. He wasn't sure she really wanted House there, and he had no problem asking him to leave, even if she wouldn't.

"It's fine. He'll find out anyway. Might as well get it all over with at once." Cameron was bracing herself for bad news. She'd had an awful night, certain the tests would reveal she had cancer.

"House, come in and shut the door." Wilson instructed. House paused; shutting the door seemed like a bad sign. House closed the door, hesitated, and then sat down next to Cameron. She was very pale; she actually looked like she might faint. House reached over and took her hand in his. She glanced at him, surprised, but gave him a grateful smile.

"Well, I'm happy to report that you don't have cancer." Wilson said. Cameron let out a huge sigh of relief. "It's a fibroadenoma. You have nothing to worry about."

House squeezed Cameron's hand quickly before standing up. He turned his back while Wilson went into more detail with Cameron. He didn't want them to see the relief that he knew would be plain on his face. He hadn't allowed himself to think about what it would mean if the tests had shown some other result. As he heard Wilson and Cameron's conversation winding down, he turned back to face them.

Cameron stood, all the fear and worry House had seen earlier erased from her face. She looked at House expectantly.

"Seeing as you're fine, why don't you run down to the clinic like a good little duckling and cover my hours." House said. He knew it was callous, but he felt a strong need to put up a good front.

Cameron just stared, a hurt expression slowly coming over her face. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She took a deep breath and walked past him out the door, closing it behind her.

Once she was out in the hall, she covered her face with her hands. What an impossible man, she thought. One minute he's holding my hand, and the next he's ordering me to cover his clinic duty, probably so he can go play video games. Cameron shook her head, angry with herself for letting him get to her again. Screw him, she thought, let Cuddy track him down for clinic duty. She wasn't going to cover for him today.

In Wilson's office, House was looking at the floor. He wasn't proud of himself for what he'd just done, but he really felt it was for the best.

"Wow, House. You managed to act like a decent human being for a total of about five minutes in the last two days. I hope you didn't hurt yourself." Wilson's voiced dripped with sarcasm. Even he was surprised how quickly House had returned to his usual self.

"Oh give it up, she's fine." House said. He didn't look at Wilson, though.

"You're such an idiot." Wilson said. "Why do you keep doing this to her? Are you just playing some sick little game? If so, it's really not funny. You care about her; I know you do. Nobody's asking you to marry her for crying out loud, but would it really kill you to admit you like her?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," House replied. He didn't want to get into this with Wilson. They knew each other too well, and this was something House knew he wouldn't be able to hide from his friend.

"Everybody lies, House, remember? Even the great Gregory House. You think because you refuse to answer the question, you're not lying. What about the lies you're telling yourself?" Wilson pushed, harder than he would normally, but he had his reasons.

House didn't respond, he simply turned and walked out the door, reaching for his Vicodin.

Minutes later, Cuddy poked her head into Wilson's office.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked. "I need to talk to you about something."