A/N: House and inmates go to a circus! 'Come children, this way to the carnival! No bad boy Greg, don't snark off to the little girl! No, stay, bad Greg, bad!'

Katja

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Flashback –

"Hey, House, how're you feeling today?"

"How do you think? I'm stuck in this dreary, boring place with nothing to do. I feel like shit,"

"Yeah, I suppose,"

"Wilson?" There is a burning in that one questioning word.

"Yeah House?"

"The sex with Cuddy, the time that I told you about,"

"What about it House?"

"That was a hallucination. Tell her,"

"Kay, anything else,"

"Yeah, it was great, better than the first time,"

"Yeah, ha, ha House, what a laugh,"

"So what did he want to tell me," She's asking him over the phone. Wilson sighs heavily.

"What he yelled out to the lobby, about you and him, he really thought that it had happened. He hallucinated everything. He just wanted you to know that he was sorry. And I want you to know that I egged him on,"

"So," Cuddy begins in a very authoritarian tone, "What you're really saying is that he told you that hallucinated sex was the best he ever had and you're sorry that you encouraged him,"

There is a smirk in her voice.

"Yeah, let's go with that,"

Cuddy chuckles over the phone. "See you later Wilson,"

"Bye,"

And she hangs up the phone. "Job well done Wilson, you really can't lie can you?" he says to himself and hangs up too.

Present Day –

The carnival. House had been to one once before. This time he was incarcerated. Wonderful. He was a month into his time at the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital and by now he was beginning to become more himself, the general all around jerk off. He was sarcastic, annoying, pissy and disrespectful. Finally some normality had returned to his usual nature.

Unfortunately for the doctors, these demeaning traits were all deflected onto them, and other inmates. One thing was certain about patient 81521195 (if you number the alphabet, his patient number spells House) – he was quite a character, if not a shady one. They had every right to worry that he would be giving them hell on this outing.

And House had every intention of proving himself to be just as troublesome as one might expect.

The carnival de Italiana was a testament to the amazing food and fun of the traditions Carnival, or rather here called Mardi Gra. It was a traveling Circus Carnival and so took place no where near the appropriate time. But the head staff members of Mayfield felt that an day out would be a good chance for the inmates, who had been cooped up for so long, to get fresh air and socialize with relatively sane peers.

They should have put House on a leash. Today, was the day that the break out was to occur. Break out of there custody, that is. He was going to a naughty boy, and then he was going to pretend to be behaving better so that the focus would slide off of him and onto others. And then…When the best opportunity provided itself he was going to make his move.

House looked around at the loud, crowded, brawling circus and carnival for some inspiration, or an opening, which ever he spotted first. It was then that he noticed it. The scooter booth. The motorized scooter booth. They had been allotted a certain amount of their own money to spend on the trip, so paying for it shouldn't have been to much a problem. They had also been split into groups, each with a chaperone. They weren't supposed to wander.

The moment the head count was finished and his chaperone's head was turned House shed his dark jacket in favor of the white t-shirt, walked over to the nearest kiosk selling hats, bought a nice grey bowler and began walking nonchalantly back towards the scooter booth.

His plan was ingenious. So simple, yet ingenious. It didn't matter if he was eventually dragged back to Mayfield (although that would be a plus) the fact that he could escape their grasp made a point, and House was all about making a point.. He might just make this. It might just work. Awe, who was he kidding? He, Greg House, Psych patient was free.

And what better song to pop into his head at that moment than None of Us Are Free by Solomon Burke. Oh well, he thought as he began to hum it swingishly, it is a good song. And then House's mind set to more important matters. The one thing that he and Amber hadn't yet decided was where to go. He knew that no matter where he went they'd probably find him.

But he wanted to go to work. He needed a puzzle, or some coma guy to share a room with and eat his sub sandwich with and watch his favorite soap with. And by the time his little motor scooter got to PPTH, Prescription Passion would just be starting it's 24 hour, 2 in the afternoon to 2 in the afternoon the next day special Brock Didn't Die Last Year Marathon! He wouldn't miss it for the world.

House had to stop once for gasoline. He was about halfways there, tank and distance, when the cop car drove into the parking lot. It might be after him. House turned away as his tank filled up.

This was fun, pretending that he was a wanted man. It probably went back to his last discussion with Amber about the random 1930's gangster knowledge. It was slightly annoying, but it added interest to his little adventure.

His motor scooter took him the rest of the way and as he pulled into his handicap parking space House was comforted to notice that it still had his name on it and not some other random lame doctors' name. He got off and hobbled to the back janitor's entrance, jimmied the lock with a stolen paper clip, and enter the building.

House was home. More importantly he was free.

Now, what would be an amazing feat would be to get back to the carnival before they notice you're missing.

"Yeah, like that's possible, CB,"

But you have to admit that it sounds tempting…

"No shit…but still highly impossible. Now let's go find your boyfriend before it's too late. And let's not get sabotaged before we reach the goal – Wilson's Office."

And with that House and Amber were off. House grabbed a lab coat and took off like a flash, using all the janitorial elevators. House knew that which none other in PPTH did – how to get around the premises without being spotted. The janitors were lazy asses, and as far as House knew, he was the only one who had noticed.

And in less than the two minutes that it took for him to get into the building he was standing in front of Jimmy's office. He carefully observed that Wilson was with a patient and his fellow had just turned to corner, and his office was empty. House would approach in the classic House way. The balcony.

He noticed that his desk had not changed, except for its document tidiness. He opened his balcony door, vaulted over the separator and stood before the entrance to Wilson' office. Wilson's balcony office door flew open. The patient and Wilson turned towards him, in stupefy.

"Pardon me a minute," Wilson said politely aside to his patient. He turned to House, saying nothing.

"Tada!!!!" He cried sarcastically, his arms spread eagle, and he made a dramatic bow, somewhat like a circus performer might. " I made it!!! Haha, you owe me $150 dollars! I made it all the way to your office!!! Pay up, Jimmy-boy, I'm collecting taxes today,"

Wilson shook his head. "House, you're gonna be in trouble," Wilson had to be grown up about things. And yet… "How did you do it?" Wilson's patient had an annoyed look on her face so House obligingly continued his story.

"They took us to a carnival, so I changed my appearance slightly, bought this nice hat and headed back to a nice little motor scooter rental store that I had seen at the entrance. It was easier than taking candy from a baby, and, trust me, I've done that before,"

Wilson sighed heavily. "Alright House, you win, I pay up. One hundred and fifty dollars. All yours," Wilson smirked in response to the satisfied look that House's features had acquired. House had accomplished many things, and this feat, added amongst the others came to Wilson as no surprise.

"And now, I have to call Mayfield and tell them that I know the whereabouts of their missing psych patient, and then, I get to drive you there. How fun for me,"

At the mention of the words psych patient, the cancer patient gasped slightly looking at House in fear and awe. Way to give him a bigger head, lady, thought Wilson as he turned to her, assuring her that House was physically harmless, and that the most damage he could do to her was with his mouth. House was mostly a danger to himself, and as long as he wasn't treating you in his current condition, she could have feared him less.

She relaxed slightly, and Wilson rescheduled her appointment with him for a later date. As soon as she left, Wilson grabbed his coat and was about to leave through his main office door.

"Wait," House stopped his progress. "Walk out, and see if my ducklings are in the office, if they aren't then come back in like you've forgotten something. I'll lead you out,"

Wilson left and then, upon returning informed House of his teams absence. And House led Wilson out the way he had gotten in. "I can't believe you House," Wilson shook his head as they walked towards House's parking spot, the motor scooter sitting squarely in the center. "And I suppose I have to return that to the Circus then too?"

Wilson needn't have asked the question. They were driving down I-50 when Wilson decided to call Mayfield. House sat shotgun, twiddling his thumbs to the beat of the Rolling Stones, You Can't Always Get What You Want. It was ironic. He was NOT getting what he wanted by going back to Mayfield. But it was what he needed, House supposed.

"HI, Mayfield Psychiatric? Yes, This Doctor James Wilson, and I have one of your patients here with me, he um-"

"HE DITCHED YOU PEOPLE AT THE CARNIVAL, THAT'S $150 TO ME!" House yelled from his seat in a triumphant authoritarian tone.

"Yes, that was him. No, he's quite stable, just really proud of himself at the moment, that's all. He has a big head. I mean what kind of person comes up with 'Huge Ego, Sorry' as an anagram for their name? What? Never mind. Yes, I'm bringing him in right now. We'll be there in 15 minutes. How? He rented a motor scooter. What can I say? He's not one of the most brilliant diagnosticians in the world for nothing. Yes. Goodbye,"

Wilson sighed, looking over at his best friend. House was grinning, snickering. He was hugely egotistical at the moment. "You've really done it this time, House," House didn't reply. He just continued to smile and tap his cane along with the beat.