Our marching show is so cool! It's a mix of classical Sibelius and Coldplay. That's why I haven't been updating as often, by the way. Band camp.

House wanted to do exactly what Cuddy had told him (for once), but he needed to find Jacob. With nothing else to do for the next hour or so while he waited on test results, they could go to Jacob's old residence and the foster building to pick up his stuff.

He stuck his head into the lab and whistled. "Here boy," he mocked slightly, ignoring the looks his team were giving him. "We're off to fetch your stuff."

Jacob scurried out after the limping doctor, leaving the room behind. "We aren't taking the bike again, are we?"

House ignored the heads that were turning at his casual conversation with the boy. "Wilson's driving us. You expect me to drag all your stuff around on a bike? And I already told you we were catching a ride with him."

Jacob shot him a look, ignoring the stab. "Does he know he's driving us?"

"He's about to."

With those words, House stuck his head into Wilson's office. "Need a ride," he demanded shortly, then started to leave. He rethought it, and stuck his head back inside. "Now," he added.

Jacob followed him as he limped to the elevator and down to the parking garage. "How do you know he's coming? He could just be sitting in his office ignoring you."

House smirked at him. "Oh, he'll come. He can't resist the pull of needy."

Jacob waited with him, bemused, until Wilson showed up less than two minutes later. "House, you really should try to give me advance notice," he muttered as he unlocked the car. The three of them piled in, House sitting in the passenger seat and Jacob taking the seat behind Wilson.

"Where's the fun in that?" House questioned. "Follow the kid's directions, we're going to his place to get all his toys." Though his tone was light, his face was pulled tight at the corners as he rubbed his leg. It felt good to sit down, but now his leg was feeling restless and prone to spasm. He rubbed it in the somewhat vain hope that nothing would happen.

Wilson gave him a sideways glance that Jacob caught from the backseat of the car. The boy watched as Wilson's eyes grew concerned.

"Bad day?" he ventured eventually.

House rolled his eyes and turned on the radio. "No, just fine actually. Can we get going? If Cuddy finds out I left again she might actually kill me."

Wilson sighed shortly and pulled out. Jacob could still see his shoulders tense with worry. It amazed him that Wilson could pick up on such little clues, could care so much. House was lucky, in Jacob's opinion, to have a friend like that. And dumb for not seeing what Jacob was seeing; Wilson loved House. There was no doubt in his mind.

House had apparently picked up on it too, because a few minutes into the drive he snapped. "I can hear you worrying, Wilson."

Wilson shrugged. "Obviously your leg is hurting you, and you won't talk to me about it. Yeah, I worry."

House snorted. "I'm fine. Cut it out."

Jacob suddenly piped up from the back. "No you aren't. Stop bullshitting him."

It was a miracle that Wilson didn't careen off the road, seeing how shocked he was at the boy's words. House's face was blank; surprised.

Jacob suddenly felt like he'd gone too far, and was about to apologize, when House let out a guffaw. Wilson was suddenly laughing as well. Jacob looked back and forth between the two of them like they were insane.

"God, are you sure he isn't yours, House?" Wilson asked finally, trying to contain his latest very unmanly giggle. "He sounds just like you…"

House grinned at Jacob in the rearview mirror appreciatively. "Yeah, well. I'm told I influence those around me."

Jacob blinked. What he'd said had just kind of popped out. It would have been something he'd have been knocked across the room for just a week ago, but now, his new found guardians were laughing and joking. The thought suddenly, unexpectedly made him want to cry, but he contained himself.

Wilson eventually sobered up, as did House. He rubbed his leg ruefully. "Yeah, okay, fine. It's hurting a bit more than usual today."

"How much vicodin have you taken?"

House shot him a look. When Wilson didn't seem to be on the offensive, he calmed down a bit and answered honestly. "Probably too much. Not having much effect. It'll be better tomorrow."

Wilson appreciated the upfront answer. Jacob watched as he reached over and squeezed House's shoulder. "Okay. We'll deal with it at home too."

House nodded silently, looking out the window. The musical stylings of Pink Floyd filled the quiet of the car.

They pulled up in front of Jacob's house a short while later. Jacob sat in the car, staring out at his previous home that still held so many horrible memories for him.

It wasn't exactly a quality residence. It was far enough outside of Princeton to actually have a yard, but it was overgrown and filled with junk. Several of the windows were broken and boarded up, and the door looked battered, as if someone had tried to break in and then had decided it wasn't worth it.

Wilson got out of the car first, hands in his pockets to protect them against the cold. House stayed behind for a moment, looking back in the backseat.

He took in Jacob's pale face with a patient look. "Come on," he demanded, but surprisingly gently. "It's getting cold."

Jacob shook himself. He piled out of the car at the same speed as House, which was something, considering the state of House's leg. The two of them moved up to Jacob's front door at the same slow speed- House because of his sore thigh and Jacob because of his reluctance.

"Just gather what you want and then we'll go to the agency to get all of that, then we'll go to the flat."

Jacob nodded, lightly leaping over a pile of beer bottle glass that was sparkling amber in the weak sunlight. House crunched over it indifferently. Nothing short of a bullet was going to make him move his leg any more than necessary today.

Jacob had a key, and he stuck it in and twisted the lock open quickly. House could see the scratches all over the deadbolt; who ever normally used this was probably plastered a lot. The marks were from him struggling to get the key in the hole while drunk.

The inside of the house was even less glamorous than the outside. House looked around with a blank expression on his face at the dirty dishes, ratty sofa, and bottles strewn everywhere. The house was filthy.

Jacob was blushing furiously. He was embarrassed, to say the least, to have two accomplished (and rich, by his standards) doctors in his mess of a home.

"Well," Wilson said eventually. "It's nearly as bad as your apartment was, House."

House rolled his eyes, but Jacob relaxed. "I'll be right back."

He ran off to his room. House found a seat on one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing his leg methodically. "What a shit hole," he mused after a minute with his usual grace.

Wilson was still looking around. "I can't imagine raising a child like this."

He went to the fridge and opened it up. "Nothing but beer. And… lasagna. I think."

"You think?"

Wilson leaned back a bit. "Looks pretty moldy to me."

They sat in the kitchen for a good long minute, staring at the chaos around them.

"Was this what your house was like?" Wilson asked after a while, quietly.

House laughed, but there was an edge to it. "No, never. My dad was military, remember? He was all about order and rules. He was methodical. Not like this guy- he didn't fly into drunken rages. He was cold about it."

Wilson swallowed. He reached out and placed a hand on House's shoulder, relieved when he didn't push it off immediately. "Do you want to talk about it?"

House didn't move, his eyes burning a hole in the floor. "Not now."

Wilson felt a surge of hope. It hadn't been a flat out no, which meant House might decided to talk later. It was slim, but it was something.

"Okay."

House stood up suddenly, and Wilson's hand fell off limply. "What's taking him so long? I swear…"

Wilson knew he was avoiding the subject, but he didn't really blame him.

He limped down the hall, going towards the room with the light on. "Jacob, what are you…"

His words died in his throat as he looked at the kid standing in front of him. Jacob was staring at his stuff, arms at his sides. He looked lost. There was a duffel bag half full on his bed, but he seemed to have abandoned it half way through.

House bit his lip. "Hey."

Jacob didn't react. "Hey."

"You want some help?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice cracking. He angrily wiped a tear out of his eye. House pretended not to notice.

The room was sparsely decorated, with just a few posters that looked like they'd been ripped off the wall more than once. There was an old radio and a dresser, and a twin bed. The ceiling fan appeared to be broken. House noticed a deadbolt on the door that Jacob appeared to have installed himself.

"Sometimes that's all I could do, was lock myself in here," he explained briefly at House's questioning glance.

Wilson stayed in the hall- it was a small room- while the two of them packed Jacob's bags. He didn't have much to take.

House noticed a small, framed photo on the boy's bedside. It looked to be a younger him, with presumably his mother.

Jacob picked it up at House's glance. "My mom," he said briefly, carefully placing it in the top of one of the full bags.

House nodded. "What happened?"

Jacob looked saddened. "She had breast cancer. When she died, well, that was kind of when it started. The drinking- well, he was already drinking, but not as much. But it got out of control when she left us. The more he drank, the more violent he got."

House stood there silently, taking it in. Jacob looked grateful that he hadn't jumped in with a comment.

After all his clothes were put in the bags, he opened the small closet. House watched in bemusement as the boy dug through a pile of junk until he got to the back of the closet. His eyes widened as Jacob pulled out a guitar case.

"This… this, I had to keep hidden. He would have been livid if he'd known I bought this. My friend sold it to me a few years ago, real cheap because he got a better one."

House fought the urge to open the case and inspect it. "You play?"

Jacob gave him a half smile. "Sort of. I could only practice when he was gone, so…"

House was even more sure that this kid was worth keeping around. "I can teach you, if you want."

Wilson's eyes widened at House's earnest tone. Jacob smiled. "You play?"

House scoffed good naturedly. "Do I play? Hell yes, I play. Wilson, do I play or do I play?"

Wilson grinned. "You play."

"Damn straight."

Jacob laughed. "Good."

He picked up a duffel bag and his guitar case, heading to the car. House followed him, and Wilson grabbed the remaining bags and trailed behind. House was already in the car when he got there, fiddling with the radio.

"House, stop stealing my keys!"

The doctor grinned at him from the inside of the car, revving the gas with his cane. "Let's go, grandma!"

Jacob closed the trunk, giving his home one last glance before getting in the car. He wouldn't miss it, that was for sure. His world was so much bigger now.

Now that school is starting, updates will be more staggered. Please don't murder me in my sleep. I'd really appreciate it.