I realized while I was writing this that House hired Lucas BEFORE Cuddy got Rachel…*facepalm* So let's say Cuddy just got her.

Chapter Five- Hidden

House stared at the elevators ceiling, processing the day. A patient that's a doctor and thinks doctors are idiots. That must be why she became a doctor, she was tired of the idiocy. Plus, she's sick. How long has she been sick? That could explain why she thinks doctors are idiots, because they kept getting it wrong. Or maybe she knew that she was an idiot, and a doctor, therefore all doctors are idiots. Although that's unlikely, she apparently told someone that it was neurological. She had been right. She was right, and confident about that fact with little evidence. That meant she knew more than they did. Or that she'd already gone through all other options. And she wasn't an idiot... The elevator stopped at the fourth floor, and House stepped out. He made his way to Wilson's office, pushing the door open with his cane.
"I need advice," he announced, and took a seat on the couch. Wilson looked up from his paperwork and House spoke before he could question. "I need to tell someone something, but I'm worried that telling them will cause what I'm telling them not to happen, both getting their hopes up and… crushing their dreams all at once. Should I let them find out on their own, even if it happens because it fails?" he said rather fast.
"Has...it...failed before?" Wilson asked after a moment, trying to wrap his head around what he was just told.
House nodded, "Yes. I think it has multiple times," he tapped his fingers on the handle of his cane.
"Who is it?"
"I was vague for a reason," House glared.
Wilson sighed, "Why would it fail?"
"Worrying about it failing could cause it to fail...then again knowing might get them to be more relaxed...so I'll get her to figure it out on her own. Thanks Wilson," he stood and left to check on his team.
"No problem," he sighed, and returned his attention to his paperwork.
House went to his office, seeing only Kutner and Thirteen sitting at the glass table. "I need you to do something."
"What?" Kutner's eyes light up.
"Not you, Thirteen," he pointed to the young doctor. "Go down to research and ask for Doctor Levin. Ask him about applying for a job-"
"You're firing me?" she interrupted.
"No, I want you to bring me this wealth of information on getting a job in his department. He probably doesn't have any openings; just tell him you want to know for future reference. Leave the lab coat and such."
After a moment, she asked, "Why?"
And thus House answered, "Miss Evalyn-"
"You mean Eve?" Kutner asked.
"You mean Sarah..." Thirteen arched an eyebrow.
"I mean the patient. Her employer, Dr. Levin, thinks her name is Evalyn."
"She's a doctor?" Thirteen shrugged off her lab coat and stood. "How did you know we couldn't get any personal information from her?"
"Because there was none on her file, and I saw her lie to a nurse. I figured she either lied to you, or refused to tell. Or both. Now go apply for a job you have no intention of taking so we can see how much he knows," and how dedicated she is to hiding it he didn't add. Thirteen nodded, and left.
"She's a doctor?" Kutner repeated, not believing it.
"Yep, and she thinks doctors are idiots. How fun. Now, we can talk about the patient's conflicting lifestyle, or figure out what she has. Liver, brain, rash. What do yea got?"
After a minute of silence, Kutner offered, "Liver damage can cause itching. What if she just gave herself the rash from scratching, and then some small infection got in?"
"In that case we need to wait for the tests. We might not HAVE time," he said, frustrated, and left. Kutner just stared at the whiteboard, trying to tie the brain and liver together.

₰ΩΩ₰

Thirteen walked cautiously into research, glancing around. She saw a female doctor and walked over, getting straight to the point. "Any idea where Doctor Levin is?" she offered a friendly smile.
"I think he left for the night, why?"
"Oh, just need to ask him something… you might be able to help though. Do you know who Evalyn is?"
"Oh," the young doctor grew tense. "She's Levin's 'assistant'" she said with a hushed tone. "I don't know exactly what she does, but Levin seems to have a soft spot for her. They usually just talk, she doesn't do much actually work. I mean, she's sweet and all, but I just don't understand why she got the job. I think she's only 15, if that." Thirteen was silent for a moment, thinking it over.
"Do you know if he has any of her personal information on file?"
"I don't think so, but I know where she lives."
She gave her head a slight tilt, "Really?"
"Yeah, I can take you there if you want." Thirteen nodded. "Cool, I'll come get you when I finish here. What department are you in?"
"How did you know…" "Oh, I just figured that if you were a friend or family, you wouldn't be asking personal information. No lab coat just means your shift is over."
"Oh, right…I'll just wait in the lobby." Thirteen turned to leave, thanking her one last time.

About ten minutes later, the young female researcher walked over to Thirteen. "I'm Clare, by the way."
"Remy," Thirteen smiled.
"Nice to meet you. Now, let's get going, I'm not sure how long the hotel stays open," Clare led Thirteen outside and to her car.
"Hotel?" she asked, climbing in.
"Yeah. I drove her there once. Well actually, I drove her to some store that was a few blocks away from it. She doesn't seem to want anyone to know anything about her…so I followed her," Clare shrugged. "Wouldn't you? I mean, for all I knew she was running a meth lab…."
"Yeah, it is a bit suspicious." Thirteen commented as the car pulled out onto the road. After a few minutes of silence, Thirteen turned to Clare, "Why are you doing this? You don't even know who I am, or why I want to know about her personal information."
Clare kept her eyes on the road, "Because honestly, I'm curious." Thirteen looked back out her window, and the rest of the ride was ridden in silence.

₰ΩΩ₰

Cuddy signed the bottom of yet another chart after skimming through it, just as the distinct sound of wood on wood echoed through the halls. She clenched a fist in annoyance as she silently sprinted down the hall and jerked open the door, not even looking at House as she jerked the file from his hands. "What do you want?" she growled, not even opening it. Not that anything in the chart, or the patient's symptoms, would match up to his diagnosis.
"What are you doing up?" he questioned, tilting his head with mock concern, hiding his sincere care for her welfare.
"You didn't think knocking on my door would wake me? Or are you playing ding dong ditch? That usually requires running. Better pick a different way to occupy your time, like telling me what the hell you want." Frustration formed knots in her stomach, and she didn't try to stop it from drenching her tone.
"Not even you can answer the door that fast if you just woke up, no matter how paranoid you are of someone waking up poor, poor kiddo."
She glared daggers. "You knew she was sick and yet you come knocking at three in the morning?" she hissed, eyes returning to the file.
"Four."
She half arched an eyebrow trying to figure out what he meant for a moment before looking up with a questioning expression.
"It's four, not three. How much work do you have anyways?" he looked past her and down the hall, as if expecting piles of paper to be towering throughout her home.
"I would have less by now if I was doing it instead of standing here. I won't repeat this again; What the hell. Do you want."
"Brain biopsy." he said quickly, jerking back the file, wanting her full attention when he declared his medical genius.
"Fine. Now leave before I call the cops." she made an attempt to pull the door closed.
He gave an exaggerated gasp and grabbed the side on the door. "Seriously? Is she that sick?" he pushed his way past Cuddy.
She grabbed his arm, "Wake her up and you'll be doing clinic duty for so damn long you'll go through fresh air withdraw!" she hissed. It didn't matter, he made his way to Rachel's room anyways, leaving his cane leaned against the front door. He limped slowly to the room, Cuddy following with a sigh. No point in arguing with a mad man. She just hoped he'd be quiet, for his sake more than Rachel's.
He limped as silently as possible to her crib, brushing the back of his hand against her forehead. Warm. He noted the determination she seemed to have in keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around herself. She feels cold even though her forehead was burning; fever. He took a step back and looked around the room, running a differential on his mental whiteboard. Bottle's still full; loss of appetite. Other than that, it seemed pretty normal. Toys, clothes, furniture. That was all fine and dandy, except the mound of paper on a side table. He turned back to Cuddy with and fake smile, and limped past her into the living room. Paperwork was scattered among tables and an ottoman.
"On a mission?" he whispered and arched an eyebrow as he turned to see her leaning against the doorframe. When she didn't reply he continued and sat on a paper free couch. "That patient didn't even have neurological symptoms meaning she didn't need a brain biopsy meaning you didn't even read the file. And what's with the overload of paperwork that's depriving you of sleep?"
"Rachel has the flu" So that's why she has no appetite; she's vomiting. Cuddy continued to ramble on for a moment about different meetings she would probably miss when she took tomorrow off and such.
"Cuddy," House said softly. Alarmed at the unusual care in his tone, she looked up at him. "Relax. You know you aren't doing this paperwork so you don't get overwhelmed when you come back. Because you and I both know that you'll still be working when you're at home. You want a distraction, but please…don't distract yourself with stress," he bore his blue eyes into hers, searching her for any rejection, denial, or sorrow, only finding disbelief. After a moment of Cuddy not knowing what to say, just staring back into his vibrant eyes, he stepped towards her and pulled her into a hug. She was too shocked to do anything at first, but hugged back after a moment. She resisted the urge to bury her face in his chest and cry the worry away, instead savoring the moment. Not the hug, but the fact that it was from House; the one man alive that she couldn't get to lower his wall of apathy. She found herself laughing. House looked down at her and let go, somewhat confused.
She complied to the unspoken request to clarify, "You're right. I'm worried over nothing, it's just the flu. I'll be more stressed here, wondering how you've managed to set the hospital on fire, than at work wondering if Rachel's gotten any worse."
House shook his head, "No. You'll be more worried at the hospital; you should stay home, and disconnect your phone lines." And with that, he walked down the hallway, grabbed his cane, and left without a backwards glance. Just as she collapsed into bed for the night, sunlight sliced through the blinds. With a groan, the never stopping Lisa Cuddy pulled a lone pillow over her face. House was trying to manipulate her. He had to be planning smoething tomorrow, which was why he wanted to to same home with her daughter. She hadn't even notice the time dwindling away before House paid his visit, even though he told her. With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and went to check on Rachel. Worry melted away at the faint rise and falls of the infant's chest. She brushed the back of her hand against Rachel's cheek. Fever was going down. She smiled, and went to get ready for work.

₰ΩΩ₰

Chase had finished up the lab work, as promised, but stopped by the patients room before leaving. She wasn't sleeping, but she wore an even, expressionless face. He saw the scene as peaceful. She doesn't seem like much of a handful at three am... he stifled a laugh, wounding if House slept as peacefully. He couldn't help but doubt it. He then left the hospital, drove home, and collapsed in the bed of his apartment. The girl looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where, and if, he'd seen her before. Maybe she just had a generic face that you see everywhere. Maybe he was simply remembering someone with an even personality, and just thought of them as connected because of how tranquil she had appeared. He pushed the thought away, pulled up the covers, and drifted into a dreamless sleep.