"Why is he back in here?"

That was from Cuddy as she had entered House's office with a file in hand.

House leaned forward from his TV set and rested his hands on the desk. He had just started another show after his team had left. "I got a sick kid. I'm treating him."

"No you're not; you cancelled your treatment for," she flipped to another page from the file, "ethylene glycol poisoning."

"Because he didn't need it."

"But he tested positive for it."

House searched her eyes. "Was it Cameron or Foreman that ratted me out?"

"No one," she flipped back to the beginning of the file, "All I had to do was look up the admittance forms, which I apparently signed in your handwriting; I wonder how that happened."

"Does that sound like something I'd do just to circumvent you?" House asked, "I thought I was just saving you time for more important things, like hospital administrator duties, shopping for new clothes." He indicated his cane at her new bright pink top and a new pair of slacks to go with it. "Can he see anything after you blind him with those colors?"

Cuddy's exasperation deepened at his attempt to change the subject. "This isn't some game, House, that kid is a major liability to us. He fakes seizures to get in; we look bad."

House grunted as he turned back to his TV. "Don't say that too loud; every hospital's gonna want one."

Cuddy sighed in exasperation, "His grandmother is furious. She wants him out of here. The police are waiting on updates on his condition." House made no move to acknowledge that he'd even heard her. She watched with increasing irritation as she realized that she'd lost to the television.

Moments later she rectified that by yanking the extension cord out of the wall, and heard a half angry, "That was the best part!"

She draped the cord plug over the television set. "You have twenty four hours. If you can't find what's wrong with him, he's going back, and you're going to be taking coats at the annual endocrinology dinner next month." She turned to go. Then, a thought occurred to her and she turned back, "And did you get into my online calendar Tuesday and follow me around town?"

House frowned lightly. "That'd be a terrible invasion of privacy."

"And what sick perverted pleasure did you get from following me to the grocery store?"

House shrugged. "With as much garlic at you bought, he's not coming to your place."

With mounting frustration she almost shouted: "There is no boyfriend, House! Do you understand that? When are you going to grow up?"

"When are you going to introduce him to the gang here?" He indicated the hospital and smirked. "Come on, we'd be just like brothers."

Cuddy's expression never changed. But in the span of a heartbeat her face reddened. "Know this: I changed plans for the rest of this week and changed the password. You don't do that again." She turned around and walked out.

House waited a few moments before allowing himself to react. He smiled. His hand found the computer mouse and waved it out of screensaver mode. Then, in one clean motion, he exited out of Cuddy's electronic calendar.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There he was. Jason first saw him out of the corner of his eye weaving in and out of sight between the open blinds. His bald head shined in under the florescent lighting. Broad shoulders stood out - augmented by the think leather jacket. Massive fists protruded from his sleeves. Those black soulless eyes had not seen him yet. Why was he here?

"Dude," said Marshall as he pulled his attention off the TV and saw it too. He slipped from his bedside chair, "that's the guy, isn't he? What's he doing here?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't know," he said warily.

The other boy opened the glass door and peered out, "Looks like he's looking for someone."

"You again?" Jason asked as he turned the sound down on the TV.

Marshall sighed as he readjusted his jersey. "He was never after me, dude." He paused for a moment, "He's everywhere you go, right? Is he after you?"

"Why?"

"I don't know." He opened the door and looked out again. "He went around the corner."

"Good riddance."

"You know," Marshall said as he turned up the television sound, "If he can find where you live, and where you're staying at juvie, he's gonna find you here. Did your mom owe him money?"

"I don't know. She might; she owed everybody money," his voice softened, "I don't want to talk about that."

"He might be a hit man, or a stalker."

"That is not cool. Nobody's gonna believe that."

"Not unless they catch him." Marshall turned off the television and stood. He tossed the remote on the bed, "Come on."

"What?"

"He's going to get away if we wait any longer."

"I'm not getting in trouble again."

Marshall held open the glass door, "If we're right, we help them catch him, then you won't be in trouble. Now come on."

Jason hesitated a moment, then wearily got up on unsteady legs.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm dizzy. I still don't feel so good." He hesitated again, then padded barefoot to the open glass door. They both slipped to the corner and peered around the edge. The man was nowhere to be seen. "This is stupid," he mumbled.

"We'll see," Marshall urged.

People passed on either side as they rounded the corner and continued walking down to yet another hallway. Jason stopped and held his head. His vertigo was clear. "He's gone. I'm going back."

"No, wait," turned Marshall, "one more hall!"

Jason shook his head. "No, I'm done." He sighed and something just felt wrong. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Marshall trotted back to Jason's side, "Wouldn't it be awesome if he were a stalker?"

"Shut up." Jason frowned again and turned the final corner…

… and watched his stalker emerge from his room…