Chapter 1
A Force to be Reckoned With

Dr. James Wilson strolled down the hall toward his office, unfinished paperwork calling his name. He let go a sigh and checked his watch: 10:30. It seemed to him as if it should have been much later than that. He sighed again; thank God for coffee. He passed by the office of the head of diagnostics and halted. Pausing only long enough to roll his eyes, he turned around and crept back to the doorway. Inside sat Dr. Gregory House, reclined in his rolling chair, tossing a tennis ball in the air with practiced motion. Wilson gawked at him. "Don't you have a case?" he asked.

House glanced at his one and only friend then refocused on the tennis ball. "I might have a case."

"Might…" Wilson mused. He stepped closer into the office, approaching with slow, deliberate steps, eyeing the blue folder that sat plainly in sight on the desk. "So, someone might be dying and you're tossing your tennis ball in the air?"

"I don't think he's dying," House replied.

Wilson glanced over into the deserted room. "Where's your team?"

"I told them to hook me up, but I think they went to look at the patient."

"Which is what you're supposed to be doing," Wilson concluded.

"Should be, but it seems kind of pointless when he's not dying."

"Oh, good. So, it's ok to play when you don't think he's dying as compared to when you do?" he inquired.

House lobbed the ball rather awkwardly and spun around in the chair for a miraculous save. He faced Wilson and said, "That would be the basic idea."

Wilson shook his head. "Sometimes I just don't understand you!"

House set the tennis ball on the desk. "He's a nutcase with a mom that thinks he's the most perfect child in the world who has a condition unknown to man. The fact is he's a nutcase."

Wilson's mouth curled ever so slightly. "Yeah…he's spent most of his life dealing with doctors and they all think he's sick; the only difference between them and you is you like to avoid people at all costs. You would do anything to get rid of this kid."

House nodded. "Yeah."

Wilson glared for a moment. "I know this is going against absolutely everything you believe in, but will you just humor the mother, humor me, and look at the kid?"

The diagnostician lowered his head and scanned space for a moment. "Why is it always the patients I have to look at?" he asked as rose and grabbed his cane, ignoring the file. He limped from around his desk and headed toward the door, glancing at Wilson on the way out. "Why can't it ever be Cuddy's ass?"

Wilson paused and turned to follow, joining House on his expedition. "Because, so far as we know, nothing is wrong with Cuddy's ass. This patient on the other hand…"

"He's a nutcase!" House chimed in.

"Yes, we all know you think he's a nutcase. The fact is he's still a patient, and it's your job to treat him," Wilson rebuked.

They paused outside of a private room, the shutters drawn shut against the clear glass windows. "Yes, it's my job to treat him. Why should I treat him any differently than any other patient I treat?" At this remark, House paused, his eyes off in space for a moment before refocusing on Wilson. He tilted his head to the side. "You know something."

Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes, suddenly appearing guilty. "I don't…"

"Yes you do. What is it that you know?"

Wilson sighed again. "He's not…normal."

House blinked, eyebrows raised. He lifted his head slightly and brought it down on commenting, "Yeah, he's a nutcase."

"Ok, that might be for all we know, but he's still a force to be reckoned with," Wilson added quietly.

Silence followed for a moment before House finished, "Well, so am I." He slid the door open and vanished inside, Wilson trailing behind.

Inside, the room was in complete chaos. Drs Chase, Cameron, and Foreman stood unmoving, glancing over at their entrance. The equipment was backed against the far walls as if shoved and the blankets on the bed were strewn across the room. Mrs. Gray stood pleading in the corner, but it wasn't to the doctors that she was pleading; it was to her son.

Chase licked his lips and took charge of relaying the details. "As soon as we tried have him change clothes he went ballistic."

House just stood, looking at the destruction in the room, the sobbing mother, then finally the crumpled mass in the corner dressed in black with blonde-white hair. "How did he do this?"

The three doctors glanced at each other. Foreman took the torch. "We don't know. He never touched any of this stuff."

"What do you mean he never-"

"He never touched it!" Foreman shouted back.

House glanced at Wilson who only lowered his face. "You mean to tell me he used telekinesis to trash this room?"

"That or he's a wizard," Chase replied.

Mrs. Gray gave up with her son and turned to the doctors. "Please! Please don't give up on him! Please!"

Cameron moved in. "Mrs. Gray, we'll do what we can…"

"Well if you can't even get him to change his damn clothes, how are we supposed to do anything? I told you; he's a nutcase," House said, taking a few steps forward.

Aiden Gray's head snapped up, icy eyes locked on the man. With one thought, he tore the cane from his grip and thrust his back against the wall, holding him there with the cane against his throat. The others in the room gasped. Mrs. Gray sobbed more pleas. Aiden rose and approached the pinioned diagnostician. "You think you can tame me?" the young man asked in a savage voice. "You think you can fix me?!" He stopped, eyes locked. "Do you?!"

House glanced at Aiden in his entirety. Now that he was standing, he was a little more intimidating. "I think you're a nutcase." Wilson shut his eyes at his comment. "But that doesn't mean I can't fix you." Aiden stared a moment longer then released him from the wall. He took two steps back and started to turn when he jerked and crouched, hands clutching his head. He screamed like a demon cast back to hell. He fell to the floor and continued to scream. Chase and Cameron moved in. Foreman grabbed a syringe from a drawer, shouting to the others. And Mrs. Gray watched on in horror as the equipment started working on it's own, running through numbers like wildfire. House looked at the heart monitor, connected to nothing, as it sped well into numbers beyond human life and exploded.