Author's Note (Part One): Hi, guys! Sorry it took sooo long for me to get this up. I had a major computer malfunction (my external hard-drive with all my everything, including the original version of this story, was inaccessible), so I had to rewrite this whole chapter. If you have, thanks for following me! Regardless, thanks for reading! Had to put some medical stuff in this one (all researched on Wikipedia and random websites), so if it's totally off, please forgive me. Characters and places and pretty much everything you love have nothing to do with me-- it's all Dave's. But I do hope you like what I've done with them.

What Would I Do?

What would I do without you to see me through?

What would I do?

She couldn't remember most of what she said. She and Wilson had barged into the conference room, panting (though they covered it well), to the complete surprise and dismay of Dr. Thewlis. He complained about their tardiness, though they were late only by two minutes, before launching into a dramatic speech about ethics, morality, professionalism and basic human decency. It was pompous, ridiculous and long-winded, though not completely without merit.

Cuddy and Wilson spent the better part of his diatribe exchanging looks that ranged from worried to incensed to confused. Most members of the board were aware that Thewlis had an axe to grind with House-- he had made it no secret that he lusted after Thewlis' wife and daughter, thought Thewlis was a mediocre doctor and, worst of all, he had informed the entire hospital about Thewlis' erectile dysfunction after finding a prescription for Viagra in the pharmacy with his name on it. Thewlis did himself no favors by focusing much of his speech on the personal slights he had experienced rather than House's professional problems.

True, the board was wary to say the least that two doctors had been arrested and the charges had not been dropped, but Cuddy was able to smooth things over. She told the usual line of how results mattered in these circumstances more than the lack of adherence to protocol and House's offensive actions.

"He is the best, not only at this hospital, but in his field. If something were wrong with me, if I suffered from some mysterious illness that no doctor could diagnose, I would go to House. I would trust him to save my life. And if you would go to him, if you would ask him to help heal you, knowing what you do about his attitude and the way he practices, then you know I cannot fire him. He is too much of an asset to this hospital to strip him of his tenure and toss him out the front door." Wilson beamed at her, obviously he had approved of her words. Evidently, most of the board agreed-- three out of ten voted to force Cuddy's hand.

It was a victory, but only a small one. In less than 24 hours she would be having lunch with the president of the university and House had yet to diagnose Mr. Shauer. If the team hadn't solved the puzzle by noon, then she would be forced to go to her meeting without any good news. The president was already watchful of her relationship with House, if it appeared that she was glossing over his infractions with only slap on the wrist and without any resolution to the mess he had gotten the hospital into it did not bode well for the security of her job.

Unfortunately, she could not concentrate on the potentially disastrous outcome the arrests could have on her hospital and her career; she had no interest in anticipating questions she might receive and formulating clever responses. On the contrary, as she sat at her desk all she could think about was House and chemistry and if... if... if... if... if...

"Kutner and I should really be going. We're late for our meeting with Dr. Cuddy," Taub said, checking his watch.

"This is more important. This will keep you out of jail. Besides, she's busy," House said testily, dismissing Taub. "Now, what else could be causing these symptoms?"

"There isn't anything else. We tested for everything," Thirteen replied, unaffected by her boss' terrible mood.

"There has to be something else. You know how I know? He's not cured yet."

"What do you suggest?" Foreman asked him, eyebrows raised inviting an answer.

"Someone having an epiphany and soon before these two lumps," he pointed his cane at Kutner and Taub, "are sent up the river and the rest of are fired."

"As much as I would love for one of us to become psychic, I think it's more likely..." Taub didn't finish his thought as he was distracted by the entrance of Wilson and House's personal PI, who no one but House was excited to see.

"What's he doing here?" Kutner frowned, nodding to the detective.

"I asked him to come. I needed someone around here who could do their job," House retorted before turning his attention to Wilson. "Did they can me?"

"Cuddy did some dancing; you're safe for the moment. I take it you haven't solved the mystery yet since I ran into Douglas in the hall."

"Call me Lucas," the PI told Wilson.

"I thought Cuddy said no to the whole private investigator thing," Wilson said, a look of warning in his eyes.

"She did." Thirteen replied.

"And, if I remember correctly, when she made that ruling she was referring to this investigator specifically," Foreman added.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to hire someone else to break into the patient's home? If he finds out I don't think it will cause him extend any good will toward Kutner and I," Taub complained.

"It'd make things worse for us especially if we can't diagnose him," Kutner agreed. "Plus, Cuddy said no, so it's not like the hospital will pay for his services."

"Yes, Cuddy said no, but that was before half of my team was arrested for breaking and entering. Now that you have all been banned from infield research, I had to find someone to get the job done. And rather than firing the three of you and hiring competent doctors, I decided to pay Lucas to sniff around. Now if you're done questioning my decisions, maybe you two jailbirds can go check on the patient and suck up to him."

"I'm going to clear this with Cuddy," Foreman said following Kutner and Taub as they left the conference room.

"Fine, go tell mommy. She knows where to find me when she gets ready to give me my spanking," House called after him. Foreman shook his head and continued down the hall.

House turned his attention to Douglas, "What did you find?"

The PI tossed his duffel bag on the conference room table and unzipped it. "I got that mold sample you wanted," he said, pulling out a plastic bag with a couple of swabs in it.

"Take the swabs and identify the fungus," House said, addressing Thirteen, eyes still on the plastic bag.

"Are you asking me?" she said, furling her eyebrows.

"No, I'm asking the other bi-sexual, Huntington's-ridden doctor in the room."

She exhaled sharply and snatched the bag from Lucas before leaving the room in a worse mood than when she entered.

"Please tell me you found something else because we already tested for aspergillus and found nothing."

"Then why did you send Thirteen to test the swabs?" Wilson asked curiously.

"Because I was tired of looking at her."

"Yes, I can understand that. She's so ugly," Wilson replied sarcastically.

"She's okay, but she's no Dr. Cuddy," Douglas said, pulling out a few more plastic bags from his duffel. House and Wilson both narrowed their eyes at the investigator; Wilson quickly turned his head to study House and saw the irritation on his face before his friend had a chance to cover it up.

"She is hot," Wilson said, smiling at House, who rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Hot and evil," House replied, Douglas laughed. "What else did you bring me?"

"Not much. Just a moldy bag of bread and a couple old bottles of cleaner that were kept in the cabinet above his sink."

House groaned, "There was nothing else out of the ordinary?"

"Guy seems pretty normal, even his porn in mild-mannered. Most interesting thing about him was that he really likes beer."

"Who doesn't?" House replied.

"He had more beer than he had food. All different kinds from all over the world. He even made his own beer."

"He made his own beer?" Wilson asked unnecessarily.

"Yeah, he had one of those expensive beer-making machines so he can make his own brew. Talk about obsessive."

"Did you see any ingredients stored around the equipment?" House questioned, lost in thought.

"There was some stuff, but I don't know what it was."

"Describe it."

"Green things in jars and then bags of something that looked like dark brown wheat grain."

"Hops and barley malt," House muttered, shaking his head, inwardly reprimanding himself for not thinking of it sooner. "It explains the rash, red eyes, fever, vomiting, bleeding skin and fever dreams."

"What does?" Wilson asked expectantly.

"He's got epoxitrichothecene poisoning."

"Oh, that," Douglas replied sarcastically.

"Epoxitrichothecene is a nasty variation of trichothecene which is found in a toxic fungus that widely effects barley called fusarium graminearum. We don't have to worry about it because we drink factory-produced beer which makes sure to buy from growers that test for those types of fungi. Some rinky-dink farmer who sells his product on the internet to unsuspecting, moronic home-brewers wouldn't."

"So, you've figured out what the guy has, now you can cure him," Douglas said, sounding pleased.

"It's not that simple," House said glumly. "There's no treatment. Epoxitrichothecene can only be treated by choline, which is poisonous to humans in high doses, and UV light, which won't help since we can't cut him open, expose every inch of him to light and sew him back up."

"So, the guy's dead no matter what?" Douglas asked.

"There's a chance that the symptoms could subside without leaving any permanent damage. It's more likely that he'll die or survive with major brain damage."

"Think he'll still drop the charges if you diagnose him but can't cure him?" Wilson asked.

"That's why I need you to come with me. You're the only person I know who can give someone a death sentence and make them happy about it."

"You can make people happy about dying?" Lucas questioned.

"No, of course not. No one's happy when they're given a fatal prognosis."

"He's had people thank him before. Several times," House interjected.

"People have thanked you?" Douglas asked.

"It doesn't happen often."

"Seriously?" Douglas replied with disbelief.

"House, if we're doing this, let's go. I have a patient coming in for an appointment in thirty minutes," Wilson said, stepping toward the door. "Douglas, it's been... I'll see you later."

"See ya," Douglas replied as Wilson exited.

"Lucas, you want to stick around? We can go for a beer and a sub later," House said to the PI as he was leaving.

"Yeah, fine. I got nothing else to do." With that Lucas sat down and propped his feet up on the conference table while House limped out of the door, following Wilson.

Cuddy bided her time throughout the rest of the day, half-concentrated on signing papers, replying to e-mails and returning calls to worried donors. She was relieved when Taub interrupted her impromptu meeting with Foreman to let them both know that House had diagnosed Mr. Shauer and he wouldn't be pressing charges. Foreman left to find the hospital lawyer to inform him of the good news and retrieve the legal documents the patient would need to sign.

Aware that now that his medical jigsaw puzzle was solved House would leave as soon as possible, she closed the file she was discussing with Foreman and headed off to House's office, anxious to finish their conversation.

She took a deep breath, nervously knocked on the door to his office and opened it before receiving a response as usual. She was surprised to find that House wasn't alone in the dark room, but in the company of Douglas. Cuddy frowned, disappointed that she wouldn't be able to talk with House privately and not exactly delighted by the PI's presence.

House, however, was relieved Douglas was there. While waiting for test results he had time to think and had decided that his earlier decision to tell Cuddy he cared for her was most certainly the wrong one. He needed to take a week or two to sort out her feelings before he said anything. Better to be safe than miserable, wallowing around your house with an empty bottle of scotch and Vicodin completely alone.

"I heard that Mr. Shauer is letting Kutner and Taub off the hook. Good job," she said.

"No problem. Thanks for saving my ass," he replied genuinely.

"No problem," she smiled.

"But, in all honesty, I couldn't have done it without Lucas. He broke into the patient's apartment and got the information we needed."

"Oh, well... thanks for your help," she told Douglas reluctantly.

"No problem at all. Anything I can do to help you and the hospital," he beamed.

"Since my staff are no longer allowed to break the law, I was wondering if you would lift the PI ban and let me hire Lucas."

"I promise I'll give you a good rate. I'll be practically free," Douglas smiled.

"I suppose Mr. Douglas--"

"Lucas," the PI interjected excitedly.

"Lucas can work for at a reduced rate temporarily. Just until the board members and donors forget Taub and Kutner were arrested. When they move on, Lucas leaves and you find a way to have your team check patients' homes without committing felonies."

"Aww, but felonies are so much fun! But I guess we can hold off on the fun for the time being," he smiled.

"I'd appreciate it," she said, returning the smile. They stared at each other for a moment, each trying to silently decipher what the other was thinking before Douglas interrupted the ritual.

"Dr. Cuddy, Greg and I were going to get dinner. Can I convince you to join us?" the PI asked expectantly.

"I appreciate the invitation, but after spending most of the day on the phone explaining the Kutner-Taub situation, I have a lot of work I have to catch up on. Maybe next time."

"Come on, Partypants. No reason you can't join us for a sandwich and a beer. After you can always come back here and fall asleep at your desk if you feel like it," House said.

"I guess I am a little hungry," she replied.

"Great! I'm so glad you can join us," the PI said enthusiastically.

"Let me go and get my purse and I'll meet you in the lobby," Cuddy said.

"Great! Can't wait!" Douglas called after her as she left the office.

When the door finally closed behind her House shook his head. "Is there a big puddle of drool on my carpet? Because if there is, you're paying for Stanley Steamer."

"I can't help it, I get nervous around her."

"If you want her you've got to work on your technique, which is pretty much non-existent right now. Come on," House said, grabbing his cane and tossing his keys to Douglas. "You're gonna have to drive because tonight I plan on getting wasted. I hate losing patients."

"He's not dead yet."

"He will be soon enough." They both made their way to the door and out of House's office.

"So, is there anything going on between you and Dr. Cuddy? You two kinda have a thing."

"No," he replied after a minute. As he was saying he wanted to kick himself, to take it back, but he couldn't stop himself from continuing. "We're just... There's nothing going on. If you want her, she's yours for the taking."

The PI grinned like an idiot, "Cool."

Author's Note (Part Two): So there's the first chapter, hope you weren't! Now that the bit of exposition is done, next time we can get to the fun stuff-- namely, the House/Cuddy/Lucas dinner. A little bit of jealous! House trying not to be jealous. Oh, and enjoy the premiere everybody!