Chapter 13
Armistice

Armed with sketchbook, file, and cane, House gave a brief sigh, and entered Aiden's room. A stain of black amid the white, the young man sat on his bed with his knees drawn up, face buried in his folded arms. House stared at his still form, wondering what could possibly be reeling inside his mind. The door shut confidently behind him, and they were alone.

As the noise dissolved into nonexistence, an uncomfortable pall fell over them. House didn't move; he was sure the kid would address him when he was ready. But the longer the inevitable was delayed the more tense he became internally. Finally, a low vibration entered at the edge of sound. The noise itself was indiscernible. As it grew in intensity, the young man on the bed visibly shook with it: laughter.

At last, as it died away once more, Aiden Gray raised his head, his face contorted into a malicious smile. "So," he said at length, his voice hushed but steel-edged nonetheless. "You've come back to me."

House did not move. Instead, he replied, "Yes."

Aiden's eyes wandered to the sketchbook in his hands. "You've brought my sketchbook, I see. Have you finally come to sort it out with me, or did you give up like they did?"

Even as the sly smile bore into him, House was not fooled. He knew precisely that Aiden meant his team and not the other doctors that had ever dealt with him. "I have the answer," he replied after a time. "But first I want to ask why. Why did you seek me out personally to solve this?" As he spoke, he opened the sketchbook to "The Dark Priest" and waved it about.

"You already know the answer to that question," Aiden answered. His serious eyes prospected the man before him. "You know the answer just as you know why you had to come here solo and confront me. This is our war, Dr. House, and I never fight against anything less than a formidable opponent."

"So, because I'm your enemy, you sent it to me?"

Aiden gazed skyward, unblinking. "Not exactly. It's because you are worthy enough to be my enemy that I sent it to you. None of the others can possibly understand me, so what's the point in sending it to them? From our first meeting I knew you would be the one to either save or break me."

House contemplated his words. "So, you're afraid of me?"

As fierce as a gale, the sketchbook and file tore away from House's grasp, spewing across the floor. The diagnostician stared after them as Aiden's voice explained, "You're the one who's afraid."

House looked back at his patient. The young man's body hadn't moved, and even his eyes still kept watch on the ceiling. "Then why do you withhold trust from people?"

Aiden's chest swelled and fell as he released a defeated sigh. In the span of a second, his eyebrows raised, and he attained a solemn expression. "They're afraid of me. They always have been, and that isn't likely to change. I cannot change what I am…who I am…but I can't place my faith in people who tremble at the sight of me…in people who are too afraid to have an opinion different than mine. It's like…they forget they're human when they stand before me…why should I trust them?" He fell silent.

"I might be afraid of you, but that's not going to stop me from doing my job. I've figured out what's wrong with you, and you can either accept it or deny it, frankly I don't care." By this point, Aiden's eyes had refocused on the doctor. "You have multiple brain aneurysms surrounding the swollen telekinetic area in your brain, and if we don't do something about them, they will rupture, and you will die. I don't need to tell you when this will happen; you already know."

Aiden cast one minute glance at his watch. "And by the overly confident aura surrounding you I can venture that you know what sparked all of this?"

Almost imperceptibly, House nodded. "When you were very young, your father shook you…what the medical world has so lovingly deemed it nowadays: Shaken Baby Syndrome. The truth of the matter is it's very likely that such a trauma caused weakening of the vessels in your brain which in turn caused a mild brain aneurysm. When that one ruptured, it caused your brain to develop telekinetic powers. Over time, the vessels must have strengthened. But now more of these aneurysms are showing up. All of your symptoms can be explained by ruptured aneurysms or by increased pressure caused by aneurysms that haven't yet gone bad. Yay for you…And--best of all--all of these aneurysms are focused around the telekinetic area of your brain."

"Hmm," Aiden answered. "So tell me: do you think I'm going to trust you just because you're proving yourself to be different than the others? Do you think that--just because you have your theory--that I'm going to embrace it whole-heartedly?"

House tapped his cane on the floor. "No."

Aiden tilted his head slightly and leaned forward. "Then what do you have that makes you so special? What proof do you have that should completely alter my opinion?"

Silently, House pointed to the drawing of the priest on the floor and the disemboweled file on the ground. The picture of Ted Gray and Aiden's drawing lay mere feet apart. As Aiden's gaze fell upon them both, he shifted his legs down so he could lean in closer. House read his expressions carefully. "Amazing how alike they are, isn't it?"

Aiden stared at the images. "But…that's…"

"Your father," House finalized.

After another moment of staring, Aiden fell back against the wall, completely absorbed in his own world.

House could almost see the mental gears whirring in the boy's eyes. "I know it's hard, but I need you to listen to me.

"There's a procedure called surgical clipping. Basically, we go in and neutralize the aneurysms before they rupture. Normally, this procedure is risky, but in your circumstances…it's important for you to know that, because of where the aneurysms are located, the risk factors are considerably higher."

Here, Aiden broke from his reverie. "You know I don't care about that, which means there's something else that you haven't yet shared…something more vital to my decision."

House took in the young man before him again. Despite his abilities, he was still human, and the cold solemnity in his eyes just amplified that. "There is a chance--a high chance--that this procedure will cause permanent loss of your telekinetic powers."

For a moment, House wasn't sure if Aiden had even heard him for he did not move a muscle. Then thought struck him that the young man could be searching for some major calamity to raise in retaliation of the news. He gripped his cane even tighter, but no blast came. There was no chaos, only the quite room sitting around them.

"So," Aiden said after a few moments. His voice spoke so soft and solemn it would have broken his mother's heart. "This is when Silence dies." His gaze fell down to his hands, and he glanced them over as an artist with an appreciative eye. "It's strange…I always thought it would be more chaotic, yet now that I'm here…" Slowly, a tired smile curled the corners of his lips. "Now that I'm here it's almost peaceful."

House stared at him. "That's it? After all of this, you just accept it?"

Aiden raised his exhausted eyes. "You gave me proof that I could trust you: you solved my puzzle."

"So what? What the hell did that prove?! That I could look at a drawing and a picture and put one and one together to make two?"

"It's not what the pictures proved that mattered, Dr. House. It's what they represented that did."

For a moment, the doctor stared at the young man. "What? That your drawing was of your father?"

Aiden nodded.

House shook his head. "I don't get it!"

Aiden closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall. "You never will, House. You may win the battle, but that doesn't mean you win the war."

"I thought the war was over."

Icy blue gaze resurfacing from behind pale eyelids, Aiden glared at House patiently. "I give you permission to do the procedure, but that means only that you've won the battle."

"You still want to fight even after I've fixed you? Because, then there won't be any point. You'll be out of here, and I won't care anymore."

A satisfied, almost playful smile graced Aiden's features. "And yet you're the one who cares whether the war is truly over or not."

Dropping his head, House remained silent. Then, he said, "I'll schedule the surgery." Turning, he headed for the door.

Aiden chuckled. "I have to hand it to you. You turned out to be a better opponent than I originally anticipated." House turned to see Aiden looking back at him with an expression of approval, one hand extended for a shake. "Shall we call this an armistice?"

Considering the proffered hand, House limped forward and took firm hold, giving a brief shake. Their eyes met again, but only exchanges of acceptance were made. Deliberately leaving the sketchbook and file behind, House left Aiden's room with sense of victory, all thoughts of fear long since banished from thought.