A/N: Just to clarify... The punch Wilson refers to in this chapter was not mentioned previously here, but happened on the show at the end of episode 8.02 ("Transplant") when Wilson punched House to "get even" with him... But now onto the next chapter - hope you enjoy! :)

"Saw you in the cafeteria yesterday." Wilson sat down opposite his friend's desk waiting for House to put down the journal he had been reading. When the older man just looked at him with a small frown, Wilson completed the question. "Was that Morgan from orthopedics with you? I thought you hated the guy!"

House leaned back slightly at that, visibly relaxing now that he knew where the conversation was going.

"Hate him blocking my office space. – And it wasn't a social thing…"

"Huh," Wilson eyed him skeptically at that. "You were eating, he was eating, there was an exchange of words… Sure looked like a 'social thing'."

When House just started rubbing his forehead without replying anything, Wilson slowly continued: "Which is funny. 'Cause you've been actually blowing me off for days now. – Should I be jealous?"

House rolled his eyes at the sarcastic comment, briefly meeting his friend's questioning gaze before finally admitting with obvious reluctance: "I haven't been feeling great lately."

Wilson immediately nodded. "I know. But I thought it was your knee that was injured, not your stomach." When no response was coming he added somewhat more quietly: "Is this about me punching you?"

House couldn't help but snort at that. "No. – This isn't about anything… Like I said: I just haven't been feeling so great."

Wilson nodded slowly again, pointing a somewhat accusing finger at his friend. "Good. 'Cause you specifically told me to – "

"It's not about the punch, Wilson! Everything's fine. And you hit like a girl, anyway…"

"Okay, so… What about this Morgan guy then?"

House picked up the journal again even though he didn't start reading. "What about him?"

"Do you two, you know," Wilson gestured expansively with one hand, "get along?"

Just a vague nod. "He's okay, I guess."

Wilson imitated a comically shocked expression. "He's… okay? – Wow." He shook his head slightly in apparent disbelief. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that about another human being. Definitely not one of your doctors…"

House rolled his eyes again before returning sarcastically: "Yeah, see? I'm open-minded like that."

"So," Wilson finally summarized with a soft smile, "nothing for me to do really? – Nothing to moralize about? No asses to kick…?"

"Nah, he's got… everything under control I guess."

"Dr Morgan!" Foreman quickly approached the orthopedist intercepting him just before he had reached the elevators.

"Dr Foreman." A somewhat strained smile. Somehow, Morgan had a strong idea of what this would be about…

"Is this actually coming from you?" Foreman held up a memo the orthopedist had issued the day before.

"Sure has my name and seal on it…"

Foreman rolled his eyes at that. "Which doesn't really mean anything when it's about House." Then, directly this time: "Did you actually prescribe different pain medication for him? – Oxycodone…?"

Morgan was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes at the other man's mistrust. "Yes." He forced himself to patience. "I actually suggested – and finally convinced him of – this change in medication."

Foreman was still eyeing him skeptically. "For a partial ACL tear?" Tone incredulous.

"Dr Foreman," Morgan started rubbing his forehead in a universal gesture of frustration. "I assume you're very familiar with Dr House's previous injury concerning that leg. You've been his fellow for – what – 6 years?"

"Give or take," Foreman reluctantly allowed looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"Then I'm sure you're aware of the extent of the muscle and nerve damage he has suffered, as well as his chronic pain situation. And the acute injury concerns not just his ACL, but also part of the quadriceps muscle, which has led to an obvious increase in his pain levels. In order to ensure an effective rehabilitation and prevent any more long-term damage, we need to adjust his medication accordingly. – Just as the note says…" He nodded towards the piece of paper Foreman was still holding between them.

"But oxycodone?" Foreman's tone increased a little in sharpness. "I'm sure you're aware of the difficulties he's been having with the addictive potential of just Vicodin. Do you really think it's wise to now switch him to a drug that's – "

"I think it isn't wise to increase the dosage of the Vicodin to liver-failure proportions. Which would have been the medical alternative. And I also think it isn't wise to bring him into a position where he feels the need to resort to other drastical measures to supplement what you've been prescribing for him with uncontrolled substances! And I find it even less wise to just let him suffer through intolerable amounts of pain for weeks on end, risking an unsuccessful rehabilitation of the knee as well as a sharp decline in his overall condition and health. – So, Dr Foreman, what do you think we should do, wisely?"

Stunned silence for a minute. Then Foreman reluctantly nodded his head. "Okay. I see your point, but I also know House." He started gesturing wildly. "The guy's an addict! There's no way knowing if he's giving you accurate pain ratings… If he's even able to give accurate ratings!"

Morgan's expression hardened slightly at that. "Dr House has lost 10 pounds over the last week. He's barely able to go through his treatment regimen without either puking or fainting. – That sound like a man faking pain to score drugs to you?!"

Foreman just looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He finally replied with a reluctant nod. "Okay. I trust your experience and medical judgment on this." He sounded once again calm, if slightly resigned as well. "But I'm telling you now… I'm gonna be looking for you if he's unwilling – or unable – to go back to the Vicodin at some point."

Morgan calmly held his gaze. "So noted," was all he finally returned, watching the other man retreat somewhat huffily with what looked like a barely suppressed eye-roll.

Exhaling slowly, a small smile finally showed on the ortho's face. House was definitely starting to rub off on him – whatever that meant… Nothing good for his career certainly. Still smiling he finally got on that elevator. Time to remove a few casts…