A/N: Okay, we've made you wait long enough :) This will be part one in a trilogy, cuz we love our trilogies, don't we? Anyway, this is very AU, taking place in the present because it's fiction and because we can. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Amber Wilson looked out the window as she spotted Greg House's motorcycle pull into the driveway.

"House is home early," she said to her husband as she stood at the sink rinsing off dishes.

"Seriously?" James Wilson groaned as he handed a clean dish to his wife. He looked up from the sink to see House limping into his basement apartment. Once inside, he slammed the door behind him and they could hear the loud bang all the way into the kitchen.

"If he got himself fired again, I don't know…" he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was something he always did when he was stressed or frustrated. Which, lately, seemed to happen more often.

House came to live with them when he was fired from a job at a lab doing research. Since then, he'd bounced around so many hospitals and clinics that nobody would touch him. There was only one place left but he knew House would never go for it.

"I can call Allison at Princeton Plainsboro," Amber suggested. "They can always use more hands in the ER."

"House is not going to want to work in an ER, and definitely not at PPTH."

"Yeah, well… beggars can't be choosers. And besides, you said he wouldn't work there so long as Lisa Cuddy was the Dean and she's been gone for a few years now. So he has no excuse. Seriously, Jimmy, if he doesn't do something, you won't have to worry about kicking his ass out. I'll do it. Gladly. He's already two months behind on his rent."

"At least he sold his car to settle most of what he owed us in back rent."

"Yeah and yet he's still behind. He spends his money on blues records, take-out and booze. Enough's enough. If you don't go down there and talk to him, I will, and it won't be pretty," Amber told him as she dried her hands on a dishtowel.

Honestly, Amber was more than happy to read House the riot act. He loved to debate and spar with her on different issues that Wilson would never discuss. It was common knowledge that Amber was a female version of House, which is why she and James got along so well, yet she couldn't deny the sexual undercurrent that existed between her and House. They'd never act on it, of course. She'd never do that to James. However, sometimes, late at night, when James was on call at the hospital, she'd close her eyes and imagine her hands were House's hands, and…

"Earth to Amber," Wilson said as he flashed his hand in front of her eyes.

"Huh?" she blinked.

"I'll go talk to him. You call your friend," he told her.

Wilson rinsed and dried his hands before heading down to the basement. When he opened the door, a noxious odor hit him and he gagged slightly. Their cleaner, Rachel, refused to even enter the basement. She said there wasn't enough money in the world to clean what she called "The Pit." Clearing his throat, Wilson went down the ramp and looked around for his best friend. He finally found him in the kitchen nook pouring himself a large glass of Maker's Mark. Looking over his shoulder, he nodded at Wilson.

"Want some?" he asked gesturing with the bottle.

"You got fired again." It wasn't a question.

House put the bottle down and lifted his glass in salute to Wilson. "You always were a smart one. Until you married Cutthroat Bitch."

Wilson closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. He gave up asking House to treat Amber with even a modicum of respect. They liked to bicker and argue. Wilson just ignored the sexual undercurrent to it all because he trusted both of them.

"My wife is calling a friend of hers. He name is Allison Cameron and she heads up the ER at Princeton Plainsboro-"

"No," House said as he limped past to the couch against the stairway wall.

Wilson followed him and stood over him once House sat down. "Yes. You will go and interview for the position and if she offers you the job, you'll take it. Otherwise, you have to move out and we're done."

House burped loudly. "Gee, Jimmy, are you breaking up with me?"

Wilson moved several boxes of old take out from the couch and sat down. "You have to work so you can pay rent to stay here. We don't charge that much, House. I've been more than fair and you know it."

House drained his glass and dropped it on the carpet beneath his feet. "You won't kick me out."

"Yes, I will," Wilson said as he stood up and put his hands on his hips. "I'll get the information about the interview from Amber and email it to you." He looked around the filthy basement apartment. "You're sixty years old, House. Most people your age would be getting ready to retire and you live like a frat boy. I can't take care of you forever. Grow the hell up, for God's sake."

Once he was gone, House turned on the television. He heard Wilson and CB moving around upstairs. Rubbing his hand over his face, he knew Wilson meant what he said. House sighed, got up and went over to his computer. He updated his resume and looked at the email. He had an appointment to see Allison Cameron at nine the following morning. He grimaced at the thought of working for some grey haired old woman in an ER.

XXX

The next morning, House sat in Allison Cameron's small office as she read over his resume. He couldn't stop staring at her. She wasn't old and she didn't have even one grey hair on her head. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and she had gleaming blonde hair pulled back from her face with a wide headband. She wore pink scrubs beneath a white lab coat. He knew from seeing her when she greeted him that her body was as close to perfect as any he'd seen.

Finally she looked up and smiled. "You move around a lot."

"If by that, you mean I get fired a lot. Yeah. That a problem?" he asked with lowered brows. The last thing he wanted was for her to know how she affected him.

"I'll have to talk to the Dean," she told him. "But so long as you're willing to do the work, I'm willing to hire you."

"Do I wait here or go home?" he asked with a smirk.

"Wait here."

Once she left, he slumped in his chair. He'd never get the job and Wilson would bounce him. Maybe he should just set up an online clinic. He'd tried it before but lost interest very quickly. Most of the people who used it were idiots with simple colds who refused to pay.

House got up and began to poke around Cameron's office. Her framed diplomas sat on the filing cabinets in the corner. The desk was neat with a tray for papers and a small MacBook. There was also a desk lamp but no framed photos of loved ones. There was also no phone. Then he remembered Wilson telling him that everything was computerized and each employee had a cell phone issued to them by the hospital. The last hospital he worked at was beginning the move to digitizing everything but he didn't last long enough to see it all in use.

Finally, he sat back down and pulled out his phone. When Cameron returned nearly an hour later, he was deeply involved in a game. She leaned against the desk in front of him and he glanced up at her. Her arms were folded and she looked grim. She held a folder in her right hand. House guessed it was his resume. He just hoped they hadn't shredded it.

He shut down the game, pocketed his phone and grabbed his cane. He began to stand when she held up her hand.

"The job is yours but you'll be on probation for ninety days," she told him as he sank back down in the chair and began to tap his cane on the floor. "Normally doctors don't work in our free clinic but you'll have to put in two hours a week there. You will work with me only so you'll be on my schedule. If you are late, disrespectful to anyone, refuse to treat a patient, or ignore any of my orders, you'll be fired."

House tilted his head. "So I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Oh no, you're starting tonight," she said without batting an eye. "So go home and get a nap. I want to see you back here, bright-eyed and bushy tailed at ten-thirty tonight."