AN: House is not mine. If he was...I won't even go there. It would be good. For me anyway. They belong to David Shore. He does an amazing job. I'm just a fan. This is my first attempt at a fanfic, please read and respond.

Last Chapter: "What did it show?" he asked, clearly still irritated that he had to be there.

"Nothing definitive, but we'll let you know soon." Chase responded. They helped him back to his room. Chase saw that Cameron was crying silently as they left the patient room.

----

House stared at the white board in his office, quite alone. They had nothing to go on. Several symptoms were scribbled on the board, disconnected and disproportionate. It was as though it was taunting him, the white board was showing him a puzzle that could not be put together. Not all of the pieces fit. He stood up, and limped over to it, as though staring at it more closely was going to help his cause. He picked up the eraser, and erased all the symptoms he had written up. The white board glared back at him, empty and answerless, in both puzzles he desired to solve.

The door swung open, and House turned in his chair to face Stacy. He looked at her for a moment, and then turned back around to face the board.

"So I hear you've been chasing seventeen year-olds." Stacy quipped humorously.

"Yeah. More like they've been chasing me." They were referring to the girl, Ali, who had been obsessed with House not long ago. It turned out that she had a spore starting in her brain, which had caused a severe lack of judgment. House couldn't say he wasn't disappointed.

"Was she from one of those Girls gone wild videos?" She continued, smirking at him. He could tell that she was trying to make this normal, make it easy. The atmosphere was tense, though, as the tries and tributes of the past hung heavily in the air. He still faced the white board, resting his chin on his cane.

"How's Mark?" he asked, trying to do the same as she and keep the conversation as low key and comfortable as possible.

"He's fine." Stacy sighed, realizing those words were not at all true. She also didn't seem to feel the need to reiterate, as House seemed to realize this as well. "How are you, Greg?"

"Better than ever," he said sarcastically. He knew it hurt her, that he was being so cold and unconcerned. She was trying hard to make this all work, and for some reason he felt inclined to make it as difficult as possible. He turned to face her finally, and saw her hurt look. He also saw how beautifully tragic she looked, the pleading sadness in her pretty brown eyes, the defeated posture in her beautiful form, the wavering strength in her face…he was instantly feeling guilty for his insensitivity, and yet he saw no other way. He didn't want to be hurt again.

"Greg." She walked over and sat in one of the chairs next to him. Tentatively she placed a hand on his knee, facing him with a sort of determination that was all too familiar to him. "Please, try to make this easy. I know it isn't, but maybe, if we both try, we can get through this."

He didn't exactly know what this was. Getting Mark better? Somehow from the context he wasn't thinking that was what she meant. His sharp blue eyes gazed through her brown ones, and he realized that there were several meanings behind her words. He didn't speak as she rose to leave. He faced the empty white board again, and received no further answers. His eyes narrowed, and he stood and walked out of his office.

----

Cameron and Chase sat on either side of House, with Foreman across the table. They were seated in the hospital cafeteria, enjoying lunch that House had made Chase retrieve and pay for.

"Felty's Syndrome," House stated simply.

"What?" Cameron said, glancing and Foreman in confusion.

"Felty's Syndrome. Give me a pen and I'll spell it for you."

"No way," Foreman stated simply. "There'd be way more pain. Now he's only got some inflammation in a few joints. Not enough to be diagnosed as Felty's Syndrome."

"Rheumatoid arthritis, low white count. Symptomatic of Felty's." House retorted.

"Felty's patients usually present with an enlarged spleen," Chase intervened.

"His spleen is fine. We would've noticed-", Cameron began, but paused when she realized that they had done nothing that would have been indicative of an enlarged spleen.

"Look at his spleen, see if it's grown at all. Hello Lisa." House spoke the last bit with a mock sweetness as Cuddy approached. Cameron looked at him, and then to Cuddy, clearly confused by the use of her first name. "We slept together. Now we get to be on a first name basis. Go."

Cameron, looking startled, made her way to Mark's room. "How's the patient?" Cuddy asked, ignoring his previous comment.

"An ass." House responded, taking a bite of his sandwich. He grimaced and removed a pickle from between the slices of bread. "Remind me to cut Chase's pay in half."

"House, if you can't handle this case, I can refer him to another doctor in the area." He noticed how she made an effort to say 'House' this time. He also noticed how genuinely concerned she sounded.

"If I don't have to see him, then I'm fine. I don't have to deal with his bitchy 'oh your stealing my wife' spews."

"Just don't do anything stupid," she said, knowing her words were completely useless. She sighed and walked away, watching from the corner of her eye as House removed a pill from the bottle he carried and popped it into his mouth. He was back on the cane. He was back on the vicodin. He was back with being in the same 100 miles as Stacy. Yet, he seemed better than he had in the past few weeks. And that worried her. It worried her a great deal.