Part Two: Nurse Nimrod

For once, House was actually looking forward to clinic duty; at least his patients wouldn't know it was his birthday. A couple of hours without hearing those two words – that was all he needed. A couple of hours to replenish his diminished store of sarcasm and wit – then perhaps he could forget about it and kid himself into thinking it was just a normal Wednesday at PPTH.

As he entered the clinic, his plan was to simply grab and run – perhaps he'd rethink the running part later (although, with a cane as a weapon, who needs to run?).

A list of profanities flew through his mind as he saw who was on the desk – Nurse Brehnen.

Most people in the hospital had heard of House, but most had never met him. They didn't know him, didn't get him, but Nurse Brehnen was on a planet of her own. She'd try absolutely anything to make conversation with him and he'd always do one of two things; humour her or insult her and walk away. Her response was never dependent on which option House chose; he could scream every hurtful thing he had in his head at her and she'd just smile sweetly, chuckle and say 'bye Dr House.' Idiot.

What made it worse; House knew that Nurse Brehnen and Dr Cameron were on speaking terms and every morning they'd find time to gossip and over a coffee. Fantastic. He braced himself for the inevitable as he strode towards the desk.

Nurse Brehnen's eyes widened considerably when she spied him.

"Dr House –"

"Don't say it!" he ordered, trying to hurry past her as fast as his cane would swing.

"Dr Cameron told me." She ran frantically from behind the desk as House snatched a file from the tray and tried to make a hasty exit into exam room two. "Happy Birthday Dr House!" she screeched across the clinic.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head back towards the now shrinking nurse, with eyes like wild fire. For the first time, it seemed she had got the hint as she back-tracked, hiding herself behind the desk once again. House couldn't help feeling a sense of achievement at finally succeeding in getting through to her. This sense of achievement, however, was quickly replaced by dread at the realisation that the entire clinic, patients and all, now knew it was his birthday. This is gonna be a long couple of hours.

*

The roof. For so many, the idea of being stranded on a roof – no boundaries, no safety – would be distressing, but for House, the roof provided an escape, a sanctuary, you might even call it a comfort (something normal people got from a warm sofa and a light-hearted TV show). This place was his very own Narnia – sans the mythical creatures and giant, talking lions (depending on how many Vicodin happened to be flowing through his system at the time).

After two and a half hours of possibly the most excruciating stint of clinic duty he'd ever had to endure, this was the only place he wanted to be. As he pushed open the door to the roof, he paused, taking in the glowing amber sky, pink at the edges. A beautiful evening, House thought, shame the day was like chewing sand.

He limped to the ledge, resting his cane against the wall, and simply stood there, absorbing the sounds of passing cars, loud horns, the wind in the trees, anything that drifted through the air. For once, he was thankful for the lack of silence; now he could lose himself in background noise, grateful that his brain was focused on something other than this day and all the demons it held.

*

"You paged me?" Wilson said, swinging his head around Cuddy's office door.

At first he thought she hadn't heard him; her eyes never once strayed from the papers in front of her and her hand kept scribbling.

Ah. She's busy…maybe I should come back later…no, wait…she paged me – must've been for a reason.

Wilson always hated being interrupted in the middle of paperwork, but with a friend like House, it was something he had to get used to. Surely Cuddy must be used to this by now. Sighing to himself, he stepped into her office, quietly shutting the door behind him.

*click*

"Oh, Wilson. Sorry, I didn't even see you."

"Er, you paged me?"

Cuddy got up from her desk and walked around it, standing in front of Wilson. "It's about House."

"As if it would be anything else," Wilson joked, "what has he done now?"

"…Nothing actually. I've barely seen him all day," Cuddy said, a slight not of concern creeping into her voice, "I saw him, briefly, a couple of hours ago…I think he was on his way down to the clinic. He looked…agitated." Wilson looked as though he was about to say something, so Cuddy quickly cut him off, "More so than usual. I know he hates the clinic, but it wasn't the usual I'm miserable because evil Cuddy is making me do my job kind of agitated. He seemed sort of…tense…or…edgy for want of a better word."

"I saw him this morning. That was it. I assumed he was busy with a case…" He stopped. His look was one of contemplation.

Cuddy looked at Wilson like she was pleading with him to come up with an answer, a reason for House's look of agitation. She searched for reassurance in his eyes, but found none.

"I mean, I didn't even get a chance to tease him about his birthday," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

Wilson bit his lip. He knew that House hated his birthday, but he'd never really got a straight answer as to why. Maybe it's nothing to do with his birthday, Wilson pondered, but he knew he was only making excuses. He could sense an awkward conversation between himself and House needed to be had…and House wouldn't like it one bit.

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(A/N: I forgot to say, the sequel to Guilt Is A Bizarre Thing - House's talking cane fic - will be up shortly, I'm just having a few problems working out where I want it to go XD) ...that's if any of you read it anyway haha.