It's been a while! But this chaper is serious stuffs so it took a while. Of course it's funny too! Yay! So, enjoy. And please review!!

My disclaimer remains... but one day...

Chapter 6: Common Denominator

"Red or white?" I called from the kitchen of my apartment. Things are still in a bit of disarray, but like all good friends, you can count on me to have the wine out and ready at all times. I promise, first thing unpacked when I arrived. I mean, what else would you unpack first? You arrive in a strange city to try to replicate your life in an apartment you've never been in before. The first thing you do is not going to be organizing your medicine cabinet or deciding which drawer is going to be the junk drawer. The first thing you're going to do when you arrive is have a drink!

My apartment is a bit petite, but just perfect for all one of me. The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all basically one, although there's a bar separating the room. Opposite from the entrance to my apartment, there lies a photograph of a tiny house in Sterling Heights, Michigan, right next to a white door leading to my bedroom. The entire thing is painted strong colors. A sort of dusty green in the kitchen, a deep red throughout the living room. My bedroom is a striking blue, and my bath, a blaring white. Furniture is strewn about; I haven't yet decided where exactly I want the couch, chairs, tables, and television. Yesterday it was there and today it is here. I think if I exhaust every possibility, I'll decide what I like best eventually. Books, artwork, photographs, papers, and so on are piled in and out of boxes throughout the place. My apartment seems to reflect what my brain would look like. It is an organized chaos, and will probably not be completely set up for several months. But nonetheless, it's mine.

"Either is fine. Well, no, red," Lisa called from the couch, which was placed strategically in the very center of the room, a coffee table right in front of it, and a few feet in front of that, the TV.

"Wise choice. As your friendly neighborhood cardiologist, I would recommend one glass of red wine a day. Doctors should write prescriptions for it more often."

"I'm glad you approve, doc," she rolled her eyes as I poured a glass before her. I've been telling her that hospitals should do IV drips of red wine for heart attack patients for years. The family might look at you like you're insane when you tell them a delicious Shiraz is great-grandpa's new treatment, but hey, if it works, it works.

My cell phone began to buzz and dingle and pulling it out of my pocket, I recognized the number as my one and only partner in crime.

"Are you with the patient?" James asked.

"Yes, she's in the ICU," I replied with my best spy-like inconspicuousness.

"Found anything out about family member's deaths yet?"

"No, she's still unconscious, so I haven't been able to talk to her about medical history yet."

"Okay, tell me when you find out more," he was clearly with House since he was being spy-like as well. Lisa was looking at me with growing interest. If anyone was talking about her baby, then by god, she had to know.

"Have you checked out the other patient that I referred to you?"

"Yes, he's been transferred to the cancer ward. A mass in his heart. We're operating tonight. I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Thank you, James."

"Au revoir."

"Talk to you later."

"Wilson?" Lisa questioned eagerly as I snapped my phone shut. I nodded, and just as she was about to open her mouth to ask one of her worried questions about the poor little hospital…

"Don't even ask. Your baby will be fine without you or me or James for one evening," I scolded. She sighed resignedly. "You, my friend, should find a hobby. Crossword puzzles, drugs, I don't really care," I sipped on my wine in between sentences, "Well, maybe not crossword puzzles and drugs at the same 

time. But you need to think about something other than Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital every once in a while."

"Clair, I do have a life outside of the hospital," she replied firmly.

"All right," I smiled at her knowingly, "okay. Whatever you say." She paused, and finally gave in.

"So maybe I spend a lot of time there," she indignantly responded, "but I didn't go to medical school so that I could do crosswords while on acid."

"Speaking of school," I mused with a voice that said I had just now thought of this, "You knew House at Michigan, right?"

"Yes," she said uneasily.

"Did he stalk you back then too?"

"Clair, you just don't give up, do you?"

"I really want to know! Were you two… friends?" I saw the internal battle in her eyes. Of course, Lisa is good at keeping secrets, but never from me. After an eternity of conflict, she sighed.

"I mean, he knew who I was. And obviously I knew who he was, because everyone knew who he was."

I smiled internally. Cataloguing every word, every expression. A perfect spy. An intense study of an important case. The Mystery of Huddy. There was no doubt I would figure this out. No doubt at all. "So you were friends?"



"No," she said with finality, for which she deserved a severe glare, "Okay, kind of," she spat, "I talked to him at a party once or twice. We bumped into each other every once in a while."

"I can understand why he stalks you," now I was just flat out egging her on. But no matter the cost, this was an important mission. And if I egged her on enough, she would spill it all, I knew. "I mean, there are so many common denominators between you. He is an ass; you have an ass. He doesn't care about anyone; you care about everyone. He won't commit to anything or anyone; you need commitment so much that you would marry a stranger if he asked you."

"Okay, that's not true," she defended.

"Well not a stranger maybe. But you can't tell me that if any one of your past boyfriends had asked you to marry them, no matter how brief the relationship, that you would have said no," I challenged, knowing it was true. This was mean, I knew, this brutal honesty. But it was honest. Lisa craves closeness and commitment more than anything.

"I did say no once!" she said with defiance, doing anything to prove me wrong. And yet surprising me, because HOLD UP! Someone asked her to marry him? And then she said no? As I sat in shock, she also seemed shocked that she had admitted this.

"Wait, someone has proposed to you before?" I almost yelled, half from surprise, half angry because she had never told me, "Who?" I demanded. She flinched from my yelling, and after my last question she blushed without responding. As she gazed at the floor, I realized. There had to be only one reason why she would be so embarrassed by who it was. None of her boyfriends had been guys I'd even met before. Unless… Oh. My. God. Oh! My! God! I spoke again in a surprised whisper, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he was an ass," it was Lisa's turn to get angry, "I hated him!"

"But you loved him."



"I hated that," biting her lips as the words left them. At this point, I could no longer be a spy. I was no longer a detective on a case, I was a friend. I was Lisa's friend, and the poor woman. The pain that etched her face broke me into bits.

"Oh Lisa," I wrapped my arms around her and she leaned her head against her shoulder, "what the hell happened?"