Chapter 6
It DID Matter

House was never on time to work, nor was he early. So when Dr. Cameron walked into the adjoined office space she was surprised to find him sitting at his desk, a coffee cup sitting vacantly nearby. He was staring off as usual, which seemed odd to her at this hour. Timidly, she walked through the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was researching. Then, when that proved uneventful, I decided to sit and contemplate the meaning of life," he replied. She knew he wasn't trying really hard to make this joke because he said it all in the same tired tone. "I'm thinking about Aiden."

"You actually remember a patient's name?" Cameron asked, stunned though her voice didn't portray it.

"If they're interesting enough I'll remember," House answered. "Or if I can't figure them out…"

As the thought died away, Cameron reached for his coffee cup. "I'll get you some more."

"Thanks."

She disappeared into the other room and fiddled with the coffee pot. "So, what exactly were you researching?"

"I was doing some brush up on DID."

"You think he has multiple personalities now?" She walked back into his office with fresh, steaming coffee, and handed him the cup.

He took it from her and stared at it for a moment, holding the warmth in his hands. It was hot; that was obvious. But it made a part of him happy inside. "I think it's a possibility at this point. After all, he has his moments of relative peace, and then you turn around, and he wants to rip your heart out."

"And the pain?" Cameron asked.

"Can be a symptom that one of his personalities suffers, and-"

"And he, the real Aiden, just happens to catch it once and a while?"

As she said it, he dropped his head. "It's possible. If they all share one body, then why can't they all feel the pain."

"Stop talking about him like he's three different people."

"Why? As far as we know it hasn't been ruled out-"

"As far as we know it hasn't been proved that he does have DID." She paused, then she cocked her head to the side. "Why are you here?"

"Don't I work here? Sometimes I forget…"

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant. You always sleep in till at least-"

"Do not attempt to play my game with me. There's a reason why it's mine in the first place." He sighed. "Listen: you want to talk about me and my habits, go talk to Wilson. I'm sure he'd love to indulge." He rose from his chair with his coffee cup in hand.

"Where are you going?"

"To pee."

"With your coffee?"

He stopped and glared at her. "Why are you so wound up about this? What does it matter where I'm going?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "What does it matter if I want to know?"

"What if I'm going to go tp Cuddy's house? Are you sure you and your morals want to get involved with that kind of chaos?"

A smile crossed her face, whether because she found the aspect of House tping Cuddy's home amusing or she knew she would win this argument was up in the air. "If you were going to tp Cuddy's house, you wouldn't bother bringing the coffee, and you'd head immediately over to Wilson's office."

"Well this just shows you!" House retorted like a schoolboy. He sipped the coffee and headed out the door, directly toward Wilson's office. He stepped inside without knocking, casting one last glance back---complete with a childish face---at Cameron, who had moved to the hallway to watch.

Wilson looked up at House's unexpected arrival without even the slightest hint of confusion staining his face. "I assume you're playing hide-and-seek with someone?"

"No," House replied, heading for the couch. "I told Cameron I was going to go tp Cuddy's house."

Wilson paused. "So, to prove your point, you hid in my office."

House gave a brief nod. "To simulate that we evil geniuses were formulating an evil plan."

"What other kind of plan would evil geniuses devise?" He finished a bit of paperwork and tossed it aside. "Of course, devising evil plans completely disrupts me asking you what you're really doing here."

"I'm taking refuge."

"From evil Cameron?"

"She's not evil, just annoying."

"What did you do this time?" Wilson asked, sorting through random files.

"I came up with a theory," House responded, gaze not leaving the floor.

As nothing was said, Wilson ventured, "And?"

"DID," House replied.

"What did he do to you last night?"

House stared at him for a moment, then glanced "nervously" behind him. "Where did that accusing question come from? You know, I think it came from under this couch." He rose and limped for the door. "I'm going to escape before the couch monster snags me."

"You're an evil genius; you fear no couch. Now spill it."

He paused. "I did my usual interrogation, and he got angry."

"Naturally," Wilson replied. All of his patients did. It was nothing new.

"But it wasn't the type of angry that normal people assume. He seemed almost…demonic."

"And he wasn't before?" Wilson asked.

"No…before he was silent and distant. Then, all of a sudden, he's one of the damned released from hell. Huh." House halted in thought, then exited through the door without another word.

"See you later," Wilson mumbled after him. He was sure now of the fact that he would never understand the man he called his friend, but maybe that was for the benefit of everyone. Without giving it another thought, he cast the mysteries aside and returned to filling out his paperwork.