A/N: Damn David Shore! Huddy sex is soo throwing me off… Anyway, you know the drill, my reader(s?), guess where the title comes from. And about this chapter, I realize it's overdone. Oh, well. And please, take pity on me and REVIEW!

The elevator dinged for the millionth time at 9:30 AM, the doors opening to show a tall man with a cane. Said cane was being pounded on the floor of the elevator by its impatient owner as he waited for the doors to fully open.

Dr. James Wilson had just rounded the corner with one of his employees, when he saw his best friend walk out the elevator. Without breaking the conversation, he caught his eye, and inclined his head while keeping his peripheral vision on him as he dropped the young doctor walking beside him off at the elevators. In the House-Wilson brand of silent communication that had developed over the years, that meant, "let me finish talking to this guy." Wilson half-smiled at his doctor before turning to face his friend.

"Good morning," House said, before Wilson could say anything.

"Yeah, for a change, it is morning," Wilson deadpanned.

"Whatever," he disinterestedly replied as he walked to his office; fervently hoping Wilson wouldn't follow him.

And he did, much to House's chagrin. He could hear Wilson's curiosity; the man was just bursting at the seams trying not to ask the barrage of questions he wanted to.

House sighed, dumping his backpack on his chair and flinging his blazer in the general direction of the desk. He finally turned to face his friend.

"It is way too early for this, Wilson."

"For what? Me following my best friend into his office for some innocent conversation?" House snorted. He had said the word 'innocent', he wasn't even feigning disinterest. This was the prelude to all out interrogation.

"Uh-huh," he said, going to the coffee pot, hoping with every cell in his body that Cameron had stopped by. He needed a hit in preparation.

She hadn't, but such was the desperation that he drank the half-decent coffee that Taub occasionally made in three quick gulps before refilling his mug. He walked back to his office and to his desk, only stopping to pick up the phone.

"Page 2531 to Diagnostics, message should read 'nc'," he barked into the phone. The call served its purpose, distracting Wilson to the point that he stopped and raised his eyebrows at him.

"Taub's coffee sucks that much," he said laughingly, managing to coax a smirk from his friend.

House watched as his best friend, some would say only friend, sit down in the chairs in front of the desk and settled back, hands on his chin.

He groaned when the dreaded, contemplative "hmmm…" escaped Wilson's lips. Wilson sat forward excitedly, and opened his mouth.

"Don't make me beg!" He pleaded. The situation was plead-worthy, in his opinion. The expressions on House's face, the smiling, the laughing, the crying, the hugging… the mushy reunion episode that took place in House's office the previous afternoon had everyone who witnessed it discussing it incessantly.

House smiled briefly, because, heart of hearts, he was a gossip too. And Wilson was Wilson, he deserved to know something.

"Sai… I knew her before I met you," he began, "before the infarction, before Stacy, before that night in New Orleans, although not before Michigan. Back when I was a lowly intern, roaming the halls of Mayo. Which is sad, now that I think about it—I've been practicing medicine as long as Sairah's been alive, and Brian too, and.." he trailed off.

"And?" Wilson prompted.

"And, good God, do I feel old right now." House was about to say something else, Wilson could tell, but he still chuckled anyway. "I'm almost fifty, Wilson." That last statement was infused with such comical sorrow that Wilson couldn't help but laugh.

"My sympathies, or whatever," he chuckled, having just turned forty one himself, blissfully apathetic about the experience of being a half-century old.

"You don't look a day over forty, darling," a female voice doing a fake Trans-Atlantic accent drawled from the doorway. Forgetting Wilson's presence momentarily, House picked up his lacrosse ball and chucked it at the direction of the voice.

"Shut up," he said chuckling, as Cameron smirked from her post at the doorway. Wilson watched this entire exchange slack-jawed, marveling at the easy, amicable nature that their complex relationship had suddenly adopted. Collecting himself, he spoke.

"Yeah, right? With the wrinkles, thinning, graying hair, the charming get-off-my-lawn vibe… hip, cool and trendy, that's what he is," he said, his voice startling Cameron and re-alerting House to his presence. Cameron smiled at him sheepishly in greeting, which he returned with ease.

"Is 'nc' need coffee or need consult," Cameron asked, grinning.

"Not in the mood for coffee?"

"Not in the mood for consult."

House smirked back at her, which she took as reply enough and headed into the conference room to make a new pot.

"You were saying?" Wilson prompted again.

"About me getting old? I'd rather not, thanks. I've got a record to break," he pronounced, brandishing his PSP in Wilson's face. Wilson sighed, knowing that that was the end of whatever information he was going to get that day. Oh well, he thought, perking up on the way out, I can always ask Cuddy.

He resolved to do so after his 10 o'clock when his secretary told him his 11 o'clock was canceled.

Cameron came into House's office and handed him his coffee before walking to his yellow chair and flopping down on it. "God, do I need a break," she moaned, as she toed of her clogs and propped them up on the ottoman.

"You look like crap, Cameron," was the reply, and she quirked one eye open and glared at him. He was right, she mused. She did look like crap. And he did sound sincere.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were actually concerned, Dr. House," she said, crossing her arms in amusement.

"What's the use of lobby art if it looks overworked?" he asked.

She smirked.

He stared.

She stared back.

They stared some more.

He broke the silence with a sigh and an imperious wave of his hand.

"Go on," he said, with an air of resignation. "You're just as bad as Wilson is."

She sat up and frowned.

"I'm not as bad as he is, I'm just curious. I don't pry, House, unlike some people. You don't think Wilson will dash downstairs as soon as he can to interrogate Cuddy?"

"Right," he said, already having thought of the possibility.

"Exactly!"

"So you're not going to ask me?" he said, genuinely interested in the answer. She offered him a gentle snort and a look of fond exasperation.

"If there's anything I've learnt being around you, House, is to never push. You can tell me if you want to, you know that. Whenever." House shifted, uncomfortable with the sudden left turn the conversation had taken. He couldn't believe the next words that came out of his mouth.

"Do you want to meet her?"

From her slack jawed expression, she couldn't either.

Wilson strode through the clinic and right into Cuddy's outer office, pausing only to nod to Michael and wait for his signal that she was available. He burst in without so much as a knock, not that Cuddy minded. She was one of the few people that knew that Wilson was just as curious about House, and just as much a gossip. She also knew that he wasn't just looking for gossip, he just wanted to know what his best friend had going on.

"You gonna tell me or do I have to beg again?" He asked without preamble. She laughed lightly, leaning back in her chair.

"I'm not surprised you did it the first time, unwarranted though it may have been. You're referring to our newest addition, right?"

"Addition?"

"Yeah, did you think she showed up just for no reason? Or do you think it was all just a grand coincidence? She had an interview, didn't I tell you about it?"

"Not for the new department?" he asked. Wilson, being part of the Board, was privy to plans Cuddy was making to join the Neo-Natal department with parts of Obstetrics/Gynecology along with the NICU to make a new department. Gynecology was to be on its own, and the new department was going to be called Obstetrics and Neonatology, or OB/NN. The board had stressed to Dr. Cuddy about the importance of having a department head and capable staff put in place as soon as possible to stop the decline of the NICU.

"Yep. I'm telling you, Wilson, she's something else. She's going to be an attending supervising the entire neo-natal section, and if she keeps it up, she's going to be department head before she's thirty."

"Thirty?"

"Yeah. She's twenty-four. Child prodigy, it looks like. It's amazing, what this girl has done…" Cuddy trailed off. She motioned for Wilson to sit and started recounting the interview.

The previous afternoon

Cuddy had valiantly resisted the temptation to swoop down and ask hundreds of questions until she and her 11:30 walked to her office. The young woman accepted the invitation to sit down on the sofa and set her bag on the floor, crossing her legs.

"So, Dr. Khan, I'm guessing you know Dr. House," she began, wanting to sound as casual as possible. Sairah smirked.

"I do, Dr. Cuddy. But that's a long, long, complicated story that I'm sure that you're going to hear sooner or later," she replied. If this woman was meant to know anything, someone would tell her. Cuddy took the hint, thankfully, and cleared her throat.

"Your credentials are superb, Dr. Khan, I must say. I'm very impressed, to say the least. And the fact that you got Dr. Huntzburger to write you the glowing recommendation he did, in itself is a feat. Now, where and when did you graduate medical school, and why did you choose the specialties you did?"

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy," Sairah smiled. "Dr. Huntzburger turns into this big teddy bear once there are peanut m & m's in the picture," she continued, causing Cuddy to grin at her. "Okay, I graduated from Oxford at 16, which was eight years ago. I actually started out as a surgical resident, and I found this wonderful mentor who introduced me to neonatal surgery, and I fell in love with it. It was because of her that I did a fellowship in high-risk obstetrics, and she was right again. OB is where I belong, I feel."

"Now tell me, Dr. Khan," Cuddy began. "Why should I hire you?" It was not only a formality, but she was genuinely interested in what this young woman had to say. It wasn't as if she was a shoe-in for the job already, the Board was salivating at the thought of the influx of prestige PPTH was going to get, hiring a brilliant child prodigy.

The young woman drew a deep breath.

"Dr. Cuddy, undoubtedly, as you have, I have worked three times as hard, for three times as long, not only to compensate for being a woman in a man's profession, but to fight off the impression that I was a child in an adult's world. All my life, I have worked incessantly for people to take me seriously, for experienced doctors to even entertain the possibility that the third correct diagnosis I had made that week wasn't a fluke. I realize that I'm not experienced, but as I hope you've gathered, I'm smart, I learn fast, and I'm great under pressure. And my highest priority is the health of my patient, Dr. Cuddy, and I will fight tooth and nail for them." She paused before grinning. "I don't know if I have competition, but I would like to think that I could give any middle-aged man a run for his money."

Cuddy leaned back, and grinned broadly at her.

"You're hired."

Sairah used every cell in her body to restrain herself from emitting an unladylike squeal as she laughed and extended her hand to her boss-to-be.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Cuddy," she began, but was cut off by the older woman.

"The Board and I hope that you will be able to bring the standards of the NN half of the department up, Dr. Khan. Experienced or otherwise, we believe you have the expertise."

The younger doctor beamed at her, and continued beaming as she listened to the usual spiel about pagers, and hours, and salaries. Her excitement at working at PPTH had increased ten-fold when she found out Greg ran Diagnostics. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Cuddy looked up at her newest employee.

"I'd give you the grand tour, but I think you have a preference in guides," she said amusedly, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"I do. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course," she said, and Cuddy could tell it took the young doctor all she had not to skip out of her office. She smiled, wishing she could follow her up to House's office just to watch her tell him about the interview, but she wished more she knew what was going on between her and her oldest, crankiest friend. The briefest twinge of jealousy took its place in her heart that morning as she watched House hold her, smiling, before she shook it away. Ridiculous, was what it was. Just borne out of shock at the open display of evidence that House did have a heart, that's all. She shook herself and refilled her coffee cup before tackling the huge stack of paperwork before her.

Still the previous day

Dr. Sairah Khan, obstetrician extraordinaire, was still smiling as she bounded up the stairs she had climbed just that morning. She opened the door to the fourth floor, fiddling with her pager, when she ran smack dab into another doctor heading her way. The blond was a surgeon, from what she could tell, and the stack of papers he was holding cascaded to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" she bent down to help him gather his papers.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "If that's the worst thing that could happen today, then it'll be a great day." He smiled at his papers before looking up at the other woman.

"Uh, hi," she laughed, sticking her hand out.

"Hi," he replied, taking her hand.

"Sairah Khan, OBNN," she said, shaking his hand.

"Chase, Robert Chase, Surgery," he said. "And I totally didn't mean for that to come out in a 'Bond, James Bond' kind of way." Really smooth, mate.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Chase," laughing, she inclined her head at him before excusing herself.

"You too," he said to the empty space.