Chapter 2 [Christmas Day—House's Apartment

Even as the rest of the world celebrated the holidays, House shut himself in his sanctum and let his fingers croon out brilliant pieces from some of his favorite composers as they moved across the ebony and ivory with equal aplomb.

In the corner cage, Steve McQueen ran in place on his metal wheel. As he had been fed, watered and his chips changed, he was content.

For hours, the maestro continued the symphony. Nothing else mattered to him. He'd already assigned his Clinic hours to the Ducklings. Case loads slowed along with the puzzles at this time of the year. As for the trip, Cuddy insisted on taking care of everything. Even on a vacation, she can't stop bossing me around! He stopped playing and considered his watch. "Any minute now."

On cue, a sharp knock came from the door. "House!"

"Ah! That sounds like a fellow Scrooge!" House cracked as he got up and limped across the room. Opening the door, he found Wilson standing there with two bags of what smelled like Chinese food. "Smells okay. Get my chicken and dumplings?"

"And hello to you too, House," Wilson retorted tersely while entering the room. Still, he expected a greeting like that from his best friend especially given the date. "I'd wish you a Merry Christmas or something to that effect but I don't need the caning right now."

"And they say oncologists aren't smart," House wisecracked while handing his friend a beer. "Survived the Whiners' Anonymous meeting, I see?"

"Yeah too much eggnog. Apparently the stores had a bad batch and folks were getting food poisoning," the oncologist reported.

That news made House cough on his beer although he enjoyed the mental image it was giving him. "Bad eggnog?"

"Yeah. Who would've thought?" Wilson asked before putting his finger up. "On second thought, don't answer that one."

"Serves the whiners right," House emphasized while limping to the window and surveying the scene below. "For once, I wish I'd been there."

"The rest of us were glad you weren't," Wilson muttered, imagining the potential fallout from that doomsday scenario.

"Joy, joy and humbug," House declared flatly. "There are more important things to think about."

"Such as your egg rolls? House, it's okay to care, you know," Wilson pointed out while setting out their food.

"I think you exceed the need for both of us, Jimmy Boy," the diagnostician gibed before biting into an egg roll of his own.

"Heaven forbid you should care, House. I know the majority of the puzzles out there this week are under Christmas trees instead of your nose but even you should care." Wilson bit into a piece of teriyaki beef after saying that. Still he shook his head knowing full well that it was useless to get into with the other man.

"Steve's smart and he's quiet. I like him," House pointed out.

"Steve's a pet, not a patient."

"So?" House shrugged while eating some dumplings. "He knows his place."

Wilson shook his head but again, sensed he wouldn't get anywhere. "You want me to check on your staff?"

"Maybe a couple of times. They know what Daddy expects of them," House stated.

Wilson nodded. "Cuddy's nervous about this trip, you know."

House nodded. Despite himself, he allowed his outer mask to drop ever so slightly. "Yeah I saw it when she got that stupid invite. I told her to stand up to those morons."

"And that's why you're going?" Wilson queried. While he suspected that House and Cuddy cared about each other (and even felt somewhat jealous), he was amazed in what he saw in the other man.

"It's about the ice fishing, Dude! Can't let the Evil Queen kick my ass twice," House replied sharply to cover himself.

Even so, Wilson had the answer he was looking for. He does actually care! Who would've thought? With that, he went back to their feast and considering how to run the hospital for the next two weeks.

Still, he dreaded the thought of House in a room full of reunionized-bs. That made him shudder indeed…….

Chapter 3

[Next Day—Philly airport

House collapsed into one of those eternally uncomfortable chairs at the gate and fidgeted for a few minutes. For the previous week, he'd relived his own nightmares of growing up back in Michigan and dealing with the old man despite what he had told Wilson. Damn it! As if I needed this! For some reason, the old memories burned at him. Consequently, he almost ripped the zipper open to his knapsack and fidgeted for his Vicodin.

"House?" Cuddy wondered while coming back with some coffee for them both. "House, what is it?"

"Room's damn hot!" he snapped while dry swallowing four pills.

She backed up; knowing the only time he took that many pills at once concerned the biggie demons. "People are watching. What can I do to help you?"

"Just give me the damn coffee," he sighed tersely while putting his head down and waving his right hand expectantly. "Gimme!"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just don't have a breakdown on me." She handed him the cup.

"Great," he retorted almost dreamily while sipping on the coffee.

She ran her hand over her forehead, wondering what kind of demons she was stirring up inside of him—and worse, what they were going to do to him. Did I just screw up? He won't back down. The fishing had better be good or this is going to be Hell.