A/N: As promised, a much longer chapter this time. I'm only posting this one now to curry favor with you all, because I don't actually have the next chapter written yet and there may be a slight delay. It's going to involve an actual case, and therefore demands research. Blech.

Disclaimer: David Shore created House & the universe he inhabits. I'm just visiting.

Chapter 6

Forty

Wilson squinted against the mid –morning sun as he slid into the chair beside House. He'd been directed to the patio outside the cafeteria by a less than amused Nurse Brenda. Now, angling his seat to rest under the umbrella's shade, Wilson could clearly see the source of Nurse Brenda's annoyance.

He stared for a moment, trying to decide on the best tactical approach to stop House's insanity. Wilson watched the scene before him for a full two minutes, and nothing came to mind. He turned instead to look at his friend.

House was lounging in his chair, his feet propped up on the table, sunglasses perched on his face and a lollipop in his mouth. An amused and smug little smirk played on his lips. Wilson couldn't help but smirk a bit in response, but quickly turned his head so House wouldn't see his amusement. He needn't have worried. House was transfixed.

"Calisthenics?" Wilson asked casually.

House finally tore his gaze away from his group of fellows, spaced out on the grass in front of the patio in rows while Duncan and Emery, formerly know as 5 and 26, led the rest in a series of exercises. House checked his watch.

"Ten minutes of yoga left," House answered, and returned his gaze to the group in front of him.

"I thought you hated all that 'eastern, new age crap'," Wilson commented, providing air quotes to emphasize House's words.

"I do," House agreed, tilting his head to the side. "But you gotta admire the view."

Wilson's head whipped back to the group and he stared for a minute before blushing and turning away.

"That's why you've got them out here? So you can ogle them?" Wilson hissed at House, not at all sure why he was surprised.

"Duh," House replied, tilting his head further for a better look at 13 and 2. Wilson huffed exasperatedly, but it wasn't long before he too was watching 13 and 2 stretch and twist.

"House!" Cuddy barked and House and Wilson both cringed. The staccato rhythm of her heels sounded like the last few seconds ticking off the clock before the firing squad was given the order to shoot. "I know what you're up to out here, and it's going to stop now."

House was about to protest when Duncan and Emery both removed their beepers from their belts. The ten minutes was up, and per House's earlier instructions they were to begin their calisthenics.

"One of my fellows inquired as to whether there was a gym available to employees. The only exercise equipment in the hospital is in the physical therapy area, and I'm …less than welcome there. Something about turning the whirlpool into a Jell-oey mass of goo." At this Cuddy hitched a breath to demand why she'd never heard about that particular stunt, but House continued unheeded. "Anyway, I very kindly offered to supervise a brief but effective aerobic workout for them each morning."

"Do you seriously expect me to buy that?" Cuddy asked dryly.

"We-e-ll," House drew out the word, suddenly distracted. Wilson turned to follow his gaze and immediately realized why.

House, ever lecherous and unashamed, had instructed Duncan and Emery to lead the group from the far end of the grass, giving House the best view of everyone's backside during the yoga portion of their 'class'. Now that they'd moved on to the calisthenics, Duncan and Emery had moved to the near side, forcing the group to about face. 13 and 2, now performing jumping jacks per Duncan and Emery's lead, were bouncing in a rather … provocative fashion.

Cuddy stared in open-mouthed horror, not even able to berate him. The rude innuendos and constant double-entendres were one thing; even the blatantly sexual comments were tolerable. But this was just … creepy.

House narrowed his eyes and drowned out Cuddy's voice, shrill and yippy though it was, to watch 8 in the back row. He'd stopped his jumping jacks and was hunched over his knees, swaying slightly. House watched with mild interest as 8 finally pitched forward and lay on the ground.

Suddenly 40 stopped jumping as well and turned around. Spotting 8 on the ground, he pushed his way through the group, dodging arms and legs, to assist. Cuddy and Wilson, having now seen 8's condition, moved to help as well but House held them back with his cane. He pulled the lollipop from his mouth and frowned.

"There are more than a dozen doctors there already," he said. "If they manage to kill him, they're all fired and I'm starting over."

With that, he stood from his seat and slowly limped toward the group, carefully listening to the frantic differential they were trying to perform.

"..heart attack ..."

"…too young … heat exhaustion …"

"…sudden drop in blood pressure …"

"Are you all idiots?"

House stopped short when he heard that sentence, drawn to the speaker like a moth to a flame.

40 pushed back several of the other fellows who had crowded around 8 in an attempt to help. He reached into 8's pocket and withdrew an inhaler; then leaned forward and triggered it into 8's mouth. A few seconds later, 8's ragged breathing began to regulate itself.

"He didn't faint; he was having an asthma attack. Didn't any of you notice his medic alert bracelet?" 40 asked the group around him. The rest of the fellows looked sheepish.

House nudged a few of the fellows kneeling on the ground and ordered them to help 8 inside. As three of the fellows helped 8 to his feet and into the hospital, followed closely by Cuddy, House nodded at 40.

"You noticed he was down before anyone else … even though he was behind you." Although he hadn't asked a question, 40 understood that he was looking for an explanation.

"His claps were off," 40 said. House frowned. "His claps … on the jumping jacks. He was about a half beat behind the rest of us. He was clapping by himself in the middle, then he stopped. I didn't figure he'd caught up."

House smirked, impressed. Being the only one who'd noticed the medic alert bracelet and recognized the asthma attack would have been enough.

"Looks like we're down to two spots," House told the rest of the group. He held out his hand and 40 placed his number in it. "You can all hate Dr. …"

"Mitchell."

"Dr. Mitchell on your own time. Class dismissed."

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