Author's Note (Part One): First off, thanks so much for the reviews and all the other goodness. It means a lot! I tried my hand at some medical stuff, but I'm not making a habit of it. I got all my info at Wikipedia and from google, so please excuse any inaccuracies-- I got an English degree in college and took Astronomy for my science, so I'm not pretending to know much. If you're in the medical profession and what I've written makes no sense, please let me know! I'd love for it to be somewhat accurate. Hope you enjoy! Insert obligatory "I don't own this" sentence here.

Chapter 9

Kutner followed Thirteen into their conference room, both exhausted from a night full of tests with nothing really to show for it. Thirteen collapsed in a chair and laid her head on the table, Kutner decided to follow suit, but, looking through the glass door, was distracted by a woman sitting in House's office.

"Hey, who's that?" he asked Thirteen.

She turned her head toward House's office without picking it up off the table; she was too tired to be interested. "I don't know, but she's cute. Maybe House is having one of his hookers meet him here."

"It's 9:23 in the morning--"

"It's House," she said closing her eyes, praying for quiet so she could get some sleep.

"You know he doesn't like for people to be in his office when he's not around--"

"Then get her to move. I don't care just as long as you let me sleep until he gets here," she said irritably.

Kutner inwardly debated whether or not to disturb House's inner-sanctum. The girl was about his age, maybe a little younger, wearing jeans and the kind of flouncy empire-waisted top that Thirteen liked. She sat there, across from House's empty seat lost in her own thoughts, occasionally running a hand through her wavy brown hair. She was really attractive, and it was that more than anything, that made Kutner go in the office to talk to her.

"Can I help you?" he ventured.

She turned and smiled, "I'm waiting for House."

"He doesn't really like people to be in his office if he's--"

"I know," she said it matter-of-factly, but was still smiling at him.

He grinned back nervously, "He won't be here for a while probably."

"He gets here later than 9:30?"

"Usually. He might get here earlier today since we have a patient, but I doubt it."

"I guess some things do change." She smiled at him again.

"Do you want some coffee? We have some in the conference room."

"No, thanks. I'll just wait here."

"But he--"

"Don't worry, I'll move to the Eames chair, that way you can pretend like you didn't see me. I won't get you in trouble."

"Thanks," Kutner replied as she moved from one chair to the other.

"No problem," she said, smiling at him as he left.

"So, who's the girl?" Taub said absently as he focused on the patient's test results. He and Foreman had arrived when Kutner had been quizzing House's visitor. Taub was exhausted, having spent the night running tests with his colleges. Foreman, on the other hand, was well-rested having gone home when House had the previous night.

"Don't know."

"House won't want her in his office," Foreman said simply, examining another set of test results.

"I told her, but she already knew." Kutner plopped down in the nearest chair. Foreman, Taub and Thirteen looked at him, now interested in the woman next door.

"What do you mean?" Thirteen asked while yawning loudly.

"I said, 'He won't want you in here.' She said, 'I know.'"

Foreman's eyebrows furled, "She knows and she chose not to move?"

"She moved to the armchair so I could say I didn't see her sitting in there."

"That's... interesting," Taub said.

"Any change in the patient?" Kutner asked.

"No," Taub said sadly. "If it was pancreatitis, the Demerol and antibiotics would've worked."

The four went over symptoms, trying to solve the case until House strolled through the door, thirty minutes later. When they looked up at him grimly, he knew they must have been wrong.

"Not pancreatitis?" he said making his way to the door to his office.

"How did you know?" Kutner asked, amazed.

"Because the four of you look like I just ran over your dog," House said swinging open the glass door.

Kutner, Taub, Thirteen and Foreman exchanged looks and then listened, waiting House's reaction to his mystery guest.

House walked in, threw his bag on the desk before turning around and noticing Juliana sitting in his favorite chair.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's not polite to enter someone's office without their permission?" he asked turning his back to her and picking up his large tennis ball.

"She did, but then I met someone who told me it was okay as long as you had a good reason."

"Can't imagine what that would be," he said coolly.

"I wanted to talk to you. Privately."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to save," he turned, taking his ball with him, and entered the conference room. Jules sighed, knowing it wouldn't be easy engaging in a civilized conversation with House and followed.

"So, it's not pancreatitis, what is it?" House asked, but the four were too busy staring at their guest to concentrate on his question. "Just ignore her."

"It had to have been pancreatitis, we saw it on the CT," Thirteen said.

"Is the patient still sick?," House asked.

"Yes--" Thirteen started.

"Since the patient didn't get better it must be something else."

"Zollinger-Ellison Syndrome," Jules offered. House shot her a deadly look. "I've been listening to you talk next door for half an hour."

"It could fit," Kutner said, considering her diagnosis.

"Didn't I say to ignore her?" House asked, irritated. "She's not even a doctor."

"I am, technically. I just don't practice," Jules countered.

"You're not licensed to practice. You're not a doctor, you write bad medical fiction." House spat.

"You write books?" Kutner asked, excitedly.

House continued, ignoring Kutner, "Of course, the use of the word 'bad' implies that there is some good medical fiction, which there isn't. I call yours bad because it's worse than the rest. So, I guess I should say, you write horrible medical fiction."

"Amylase and lipase were high, it must have been pancreatitis," Foreman said, ignoring House's temper tantrum.

"Maybe your patient has both," Jules suggested.

"ZES is rare by itself, the odds that the patient has both pancreatitis and ZES are--" Taub began.

"Did you do a secretion stimulation test?" Jules asked.

"No--"

"Then how do you know for sure?" she questioned.

"Taub, Thirteen go do a secretion stimulation test," Foreman ordered.

"Sit down!" House said angrily. "You are not going to do a secretion stimulation test based on the recommendation of someone who is not a doctor."

"No, they're doing it on my recommendation. Taub, Thirteen, go do the test," Foreman said forcefully; the two fellows left quickly. "I'm not going to let the patient die just because you don't want us to listen to... whoever she is."

Jules walked to Foreman and held out a hand. "Juliana Wilson, but you can call me Jules. Most everyone does."

"Not me. I never called you Jules," House said grumpily.

"I know, you called me Doogie," she said shaking Foreman's hand. House couldn't help but smile in remembrance.

Foreman smiled, "Eric Foreman. Any relation to Dr. Wilson in Oncology?"

"He's my brother."

"I can see the resemblance," Kutner said happily, shaking Jules' hand himself. "Lawrence Kutner."

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"Now that you've met her can we go back to ignoring her?" House asked.

"I'm not leaving until we talk. So, we can either go into your office and talk or I can follow you around until I drive you crazy."

"Or I kill you."

"You could try, but something tells me I'd have a leg up."

"You've got five minutes," he said, holding open the door to his office.

"That's more than enough time as long as you shut up and let me talk," she said, passing through the doorway.

"You two go make yourself useful and check on the patient or something," he said entering his office, letting the door shut behind him.

House leaned against the front of his desk while Juliana stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"Talk," he said flatly.

"I..." she took a deep breath, "I need your help."

"Conversation is over. I have no interest in helping you," he said, circling his desk and sitting down.

"It's just a small favor--"

"You can leave now."

"It's for Wil."

"If Wilson wants my help, he can come ask me himself."

"He wouldn't. He doesn't know I'm here talking to you, and I don't want him to know."

His interest was piqued, "You want me to do something for him without his knowledge?"

"Yes."

"What?" he couldn't help his curiosity.

"He's been drinking a lot lately."

"His girlfriend just died, tends to put a damper on things," he replied sarcastically.

"Too much. There have been complaints--"

"I know. Cuddy told me," he interrupted.

"We've talked and he promised to stop drinking."

"If he promised to quit, then there's--"

"I don't know if he will."

"He says he will, he will."

"It's not that easy," Juliana said heavily. House knew from experience that she was right, but this was Wilson. If anybody could quit cold turkey, it was him.

"Maybe it will be for him." The statement came out reassuring, surprising both of them.

"I was hoping you could help me keep an eye on him."

"In case you didn't know, we haven't really been spending a lot of time together lately."

"I know, but it's not like you've stopped paying attention."

"He's my..." House didn't finish. He didn't know whether or not he could still call Wilson his best friend. "I can't spy on him. Sorry."

"I asked Lisa and she agreed, but just the two of us aren't enough," Jules inhaled deeply. "Listen, I know you don't like me and I know you don't want to do anything that might further jeopardize your friendship with my brother. That said, I don't know what to do. I can't ask anyone else to help, there's no telling if they'll report him. You and Lisa... the two of you care about him. Even with all that's going on between the two of you, I know you would never say anything. Please."

House studied her for a moment, knowing she must be desperate if she was asking him for help. "I'll let you know if I see anything."

"Thanks."

He nodded and Juliana quietly left his office. House picked up his Magic Eight Ball and shook it. It is decidedly so. The gods had spoken, Wilson was in trouble.

Author's Note (Part Two): Ok, this was getting too long, so I decided to stop there. Unfortunately, no visits to Wilson's office or Huddy. But on the bright side, I promise it will be in the next chapter!