Chapter 3: At PPTH

Chantal's POV:

I'm finally there. Where my dad works. I found out he's an oncologist at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. So here I go. I walk in the front doors of the hospital and up to the nurse's station.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me where James Wilson's office is?" I ask one of the nurses. Her name tag reads Brenda.

"Second floor. Right next to Gregory House's office. Both their names are on the doors." She says without even looking up from her paperwork.

"Thank you."

I walk towards the elevator with all my stuff. When I get there, there's a man who looks like he's in his 40's, with the wrinkles on his forehead and his severe 5 o'clock shadow. When he glances down at me, I notice his eyes are the brightest shade of blue I have ever seen, but they look emotionless. I also notice he uses a cane.

House's POV:

I'm waiting for the elevator when I notice a teenager looking at me. It's either my cane or my eyes. Probably both… She looks about the same age as Caralyn, but shorter. I look at her and see that her eyes are a blue-green color, but the shape. There's only one person I know with that shape. Jimmy. We get in the elevator as soon as the doors open.

"Uh... what's your name?" I ask her.

"Chantal Martin," she answers briefly.

"You don't happen to be related to James Wilson?"

"Actually, yeah, he's my dad." I'm stunned by this answer. Jimmy boy wonder has made himself a kid, so many sex partners, he could have easily impregnated one of them. Why didn't he ever mention this before? Well, I didn't tell anyone about Caralyn until she was eight.

Chantal's POV:

As the elevator reaches the fourth floor, I get ready to meet my dad. I see, out of the corner of my eye, that man reach into his pocket and pull out a prescription bottle. He opens it and dry swallows two pills. They must be for his leg.

As soon as the doors open, I'm out of there. I also notice the man who was talking to me get out and walk the same way as me. I'm looking at the names on the doors, when I notice that man go into one that says Dr. Gregory House Department of Diagnostics. I go to the door next to it and find what I'm looking for. My dad's office… I read his door. Dr. James Wilson, Head of Oncology. I look through the small window and conclude that he's alone. Join the club. I gather up all the courage I have and walk in with determination.

Wilson's POV:

I see this girl walk in and come towards my desk. She reminds me of one of my old girlfriends, Nicole.

"Can I help you?" I ask her.

"Umm…" she starts. I notice she's starting to tremble.

"It's ok. Just tell me what you need," I reassure her.

"Ok well, my name's Chantal Martin, my mom abandoned me 8 days ago and before she left, she told me my dad's name was James Wilson. So I did some research in the foster home I was in and found out you lived in New Jersey. So I ran away from there and bought a plane ticket to New York, then took a bus here." she rattled off.

"Okay, so you ran away from your foster home, then took a plane and a bus to get here, right?"

"Yes."

"What's your mom's name?"

"Nicole Martin."

God, I remember Nicole. We were together for 2 months or so. Then she just left me. I didn't know she was pregnant. Maybe THAT'S why she left so unexpected.

"Well, I do remember her, and I did date her, so I guess I'm the father."

Damn, I have no idea how to be a father, doctor to dying cancer kid, yes; father, no. And somehow, I thought that when I do have a child, I would watch him, or her, grow and be there for him or her. But Chantal is probably thirteen, maybe fourteen, based on her height. A little different than what I expected.

"Even I knew that!" Chantal stated, sarcastically.

"Let me go ask my boss if I can leave early and we can bring you home."

"Okay." We leave my office and head down the hall and around the corner towards Cuddy's.

Cuddy's POV:

Wilson is leading a teenager into my office. That's strange. He never told me he had a kid or kids Maybe she's the kid of a patient. They come into my office.

"Cuddy, I need to leave early. Apparently, I have to bring my daughter home," he tells me.

"You have a kid?" I ask.

"Yeah. Her mom, my old girlfriend Nicole, left her eight days ago. She found out that I was her father and came to see me."

"Are you all caught up with your charting?" I ask.

"Of course. I'm not House."

Yeah, you're way better than House will ever be…

"Did your required clinic duty?"

"Again, I'm not House."

Didn't we establish this?

"Then I guess it'll be okay. If I need you, then I'll page you."

"Thanks Cuddy," he says then leaves with the teenager, his daughter… And I don't even know her name.

Chantal's POV:

As my dad leads me towards his car, I see a motorcycle in a handicapped parking space.

"Nice motorcycle…" I absentmindedly say, pointing to the beat-up orange and black motorcycle.

"It's House's. We all tell him he's going to kill himself, but he refuses to drive his car, only in the winter. I'll introduce you to him later."

"I kinda met him already."

"You did? How?"

"He was in the elevator when I walked to your office."

We stop in front of a silver sedan, assuming it was his car.

"What does he do with his cane?"

"There's a clip on the side."

"Nice." I open the trunk and put my duffle bag and pillow in. I close it and open the passenger side door. I put my backpack on the floor and get in, still holding onto my drumsticks. Dad gets in and starts the car. As we drive off, I realize something. I'm going to where I'll be living from now on.

If you think about it, most kids know where they are going to be living for the rest of their adolescent years, with their parents. In a house, or apartment, and occasionally there is movement from point A to point B, for a job or something of that nature.

There's always the idea that there is a divorce or something, and a second home is introduced. But, typically, there's a primary living facility.

For me to be in new town with new people, hell a new biological parent I never knew before, and a new home, it's going to take some adjusting. I'm willing to try, but I'm the same person who can barely sleep in a bed that's not my own.

I'm sure my father is a good man, of course I only knew him for about fifteen minutes. But one thing is for sure, he can't be worse than my mother, who freakin' ABANDONED ME!!

Personally, I've never been in a more awkward situation. I know driving takes some concentration, but most normal people can drive and talk at the same time. I didn't want to bring up something to throw him off guard, which would be weird.

Despite this, I'm still happy I'm going to a place that my caretaker gives a damn.