A/N: I would like to thank Shadowb3e for suggesting that Cuddy hire a new doctor to follow Wilson around and try to get him to cheat, this story arc really helped push the story as a whole forward.

7.6—"In Which We Meet Dr. Ramirez"

House opened Cuddy's office door and stuck his head in. "You threatened three week's worth of double clinic hours unless I came to see you?"

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, come in, Dr. House."

He didn't want to come in. That was why he'd remained in the little entrance way between the hospital-esque glass clinic doors and the fancy French doors leading to Cuddy's office. And she never called him 'Dr. House.' It meant she was trying to be polite and professional after what happened. She probably meant it respectfully. It was not received that way.

House stepped inside cautiously and suspiciously. He closed the door behind him but didn't go any further into the office. He wanted to leave one of his hands on the door handle to make his getaway that much quicker, but he forced himself to keep his hand at his side.

"What do you want, Cuddy?" He wasn't going to play the addressing by proper titles game.

She stood up and smoothed her skirt, then stepped around her desk to be closer to him. His hand tightened on the handle of his cane.

"What I did was wrong," she explained. "I shouldn't have made the assumption you'd rather have me than Wilson just because that was what I wanted. I shouldn't have kissed you like that. And when you asked me to set Wilson straight about what happened, I should have agreed. Because you were right." She looked down at the ground and sighed, but House didn't move and his suspicious expression didn't change. Cuddy looked up to catch his eye again. "It was my fault. I tried to interfere in your relationship because I wanted you for myself. I'm not proud of it and I'm sorry." She started to approach him and he tensed but didn't break eye contact. "I understand if you don't want to be my friend right now, but you should know, whatever happens..."

She was only wearing two-inch heels today, making the difference between them in height even greater than usual. She wasn't close enough to touch, but if she took another step forward she would be. Her silvery eyes were latched onto his. He wanted to look away but couldn't. His knuckles were white on his cane. He wished he were anywhere else other than here. Even thirty feet over in the clinic would be preferable.

"...whatever happens," she continued, looking up at him, "I care for you. And I'm here for you."

Her hand grazed his arm, and he flinched, glaring at her. She took a step back nervously.

"Is that it?" he asked. "Can I go now?"

She looked at the floor again and nodded. House turned on his heel and left.

[]

When Wilson entered the office, he wasn't nearly as suspicious as House had been, but he still made his way to the chair in front of her desk cautiously. She smiled at him. "Good afternoon, Dr. Wilson."

"Afternoon, Dr. Cuddy." His voice wasn't quite pleasant, but it wasn't icy. Entirely professional. Nothing more, nothing less. Cuddy was determined to keep it that way as well.

"I asked you in because I'd like to speak with you about a new program I'm thinking of implementing. I've discussed it with the board and we've decided to start with a trial before proceeding with the program in its entirety. We've chosen the oncology department for the trial."

Of course, Wilson thought. She was trying to win his forgiveness by complimenting his work ethic. We want to try a new program, and who can we trust with a successful trial run? Of course, Doctor James Wilson. Everyone loves him, and he's bound to make the program a success. A favor disguised as a compliment. Cunning.

"All right," Wilson said, not that he had any choice. "What's the program?"

"It's a shadowing program," Cuddy answered, smiling. "A group of highly qualified graduates from the medical school shadow doctors from the departments of the hospital. They learn the ins and outs of how the department works from an administrative point of view as well as a medical point of view. They learn even more about their chosen specialty than they would from an ordinary internship. But since we've never done this program before, we thought we'd start with just one department and just one graduate rather than a whole group."

"So..." Wilson said, eyeing her, "basically I'm going to have a kid who's had an 'M.D.' next to his name all of five minutes follow me around so he can become a head of oncology at thirty instead of forty?"

She smiled. "Basically."

Wilson sighed. It really wasn't a bad idea. The kid would obviously be smart—competition for a space like this would be brutal. He wished he'd gotten into something like that fresh out of medical school. And he supposed he really wouldn't mind mentoring someone. If he weren't still angry with Cuddy he'd probably be reasonably enthusiastic about the idea.

"All right," Wilson said. "Have you chosen the applicant yet?"

"I've narrowed it down to two," Cuddy replied. "They're having their final interviews this afternoon. I'll introduce you to your shadow tomorrow morning."

"All right," Wilson repeated, sighing. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Have a good day, Dr. Wilson," she said politely as he left.

[]

There was a knock on his door, and Wilson stood up to answer it. The door was unlocked—he almost never locked it when he was working, but it seemed more professional for him to escort Cuddy and her newest hire into his office.

"Good morning," Wilson said, smiling cheerfully at both Cuddy and the new young doctor, even though the cheerfulness toward his boss was false.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson," Cuddy replied, smiling back. "This is Dr. Monica Ramirez. She's going to be your shadow for the two month trial period. Dr. Ramirez, this is Dr. James Wilson."

"Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Wilson," the girl smiled. Logically, the youngest she could be was twenty-six unless she'd been a child prodigy, but she still seemed hardly more than a girl. It struck Wilson just how old he was getting.

"Likewise," Wilson replied, looking her up and down. She wasn't tall, probably five-five or so, and her heels gave her an extra couple of inches, but she was...well...breathtaking. Her long caramel legs were shapely; they disappeared into fitted black skirt several inches above the knee. She wore a thin pink sweater that hugged her body, contrasting her small waist with her curvy hips. The V-neck of her sweater didn't show as much cleavage as Cuddy's did, but Wilson could tell her breasts were bigger than Cuddy's. He automatically judged them at a C, maybe even a D, and almost definitely real. Around her shoulders bounced her jet-black hair, midway between curly and wavy. She had a long, swanlike neck around which she wore a gold cross, and her face...she could have graced the cover of a magazine if she'd wanted to, no photoshopping required. Her brown eyes, darker than Wilson's but not quite black, sparkled. Her dark eyebrows were perfectly manicured but substantial enough to look natural and her nose was petite and straight. Her lips were full and painted a dark shade of red, the gloss gave them a touch of shine but was not overdone. Her bright teeth smiled at Wilson, and so did her eyes. This woman was beautiful.

"Well," Cuddy said, smiling between them, "I'll leave you to show her around, Dr. Wilson. Dr. Ramirez, good luck." She closed the door behind her.

"You can...call me James," Wilson said, deliberately looking away from her and around the office, a bit unsure what should happen next.

"And you can call me Monica," she replied, her eyes still sparkling when Wilson looked at her again.

He gave her his charming smile—it was a habit, he smiled at all women this way—and she returned it. Breathtaking.

"All right," Wilson said. "Well, I don't have any patient meetings until this afternoon, so I guess I've got some time to show you around the hospital."

"Sounds great," Monica replied.

They left his office and went into the hallway. The first thing on Wilson's mind was obviously to introduce this girl to House—the last thing he needed was his lover not knowing he had a beautiful girl following him around all day—but both the conference room and House's office were empty. The team could be anywhere; Wilson wasn't sure if they had a case or not, but he remembered that House had an appointment with Dr. Nolan today.

"This is the diagnostic department," was all he said to Monica as they walked past the glass doors to the rest of the floor.

[]

"Good to see you again, Greg," Nolan greeted when he walked in.

House didn't answer. He sat down in a chair and didn't look at Nolan. When he spoke with his therapist, it wasn't the way he normally spoke to others. He was more open, more honest. The sarcasm was still there, but there was less of it. This way of talking was outside his normal level of comfort, and he needed a few minutes to adjust, remind himself that this worked better when he told Nolan the truth. According to Nolan, anyway. Last time House had left because he'd decided this wasn't working at all. He still wasn't too pleased with the psychologist, but he was willing to give him another chance. Wilson had asked him to.

"I'm still not happy with you," House decided to open with.

"That's understandable," Nolan agreed. "Last time you were here, you were feeling frustration because you'd done everything right but nothing was going right for you. I understand your frustration, Greg. It's normal."

"It got worse," House said, still not looking at him. "The next week I had a patient. A crane had collapsed. I had to amputate her leg on site to get her out. We were on our way to the hospital and she got...a fat embolism. She died in the ambulance." House sighed, rubbing his leg. "Nothing we could do. Nothing we could have done differently. We made the right call. We did everything right, and a woman died."

"That must have also been frustrating for you."

"Isn't there a stronger adjective you can find?" House snapped, looking at him for the first time since he'd entered. "I don't think 'frustrating' quite covers it."

"Exasperating, annoying, irritating, disappointing, discouraging, disheartening, infuriating–"

"–Yeah, that's it," House said, looking away again.

"You were infuriated?" Nolan confirmed.

House nodded.

"Who or what were you infuriated with? Yourself? God? The patient?"

"You know I don't believe in God," House said. "And the patient didn't do anything wrong."

"Neither did you," Nolan reminded, as if House needed reminding.

"I know," House said. "That's why I was feeling that way. I wasn't feeling it...towards anyone. I lashed out at Foreman, but that's just because he happened to be standing there."

"What happened after that?"

Of course it was going to come to this. Once Wilson found out House wasn't seeing Nolan anymore, he'd probably want him to go back regardless, but the Vicodin thing was pretty big. He had to tell him.

"You know that people who keep a plan in the back of their mind to commit suicide are less likely to go through with it than people who don't have an escape route planned?"

"Greg, did you attempt suicide?" Nolan asked, leaning forward and looking worried.

House rolled his eyes. "It's a metaphor."

Nolan leaned back again. "Care to explain it?"

"In my old apartment, there's a hole in the wall of the bathroom. It's behind the mirror. I...keep a couple bottles of Vicodin in there. Never got rid of them. Part of...the reason I never got rid of the apartment. I never planned on taking them...it was just nice to know they were there...if I needed them. I guess you could say it was my escape route. Technically I guess there were enough to kill me if that's what I wanted." House sighed.

Nolan wanted to interrupt, ask if he took any, but he knew that House wasn't done talking and it was wiser to let him continue at his own pace.

"I got home, picked up the mirror, and threw it into the tub where it shattered. I grabbed the bottle and poured out two. Sat down on the floor next to my tub." He looked at Nolan. "I didn't take them. I...I wanted to. But I knew it wouldn't solve anything. I went over to Wilson's instead."

Nolan was smiling. "That's a big deal, Greg. I'm very proud of you. It couldn't have been easy to put the pills down."

"It wasn't." House was staring at the floor. He didn't want anyone to tell him they were proud of him. He'd still picked up the bottle in the first place. He still hadn't got rid of the pills; they were still sitting on the floor of his bathroom. He hadn't been back there since that night. After Wilson kissed him and took off, he'd slept in his old bedroom, half not trusting himself to go back and half hoping he could force things back to the way they were before Sam by acting like they were.

But the point of the pills wasn't for him to actually take them. It was for them to be there in case he'd needed to take them. They were supposed to remain in that hole in the wall forevermore, serving their purpose without ever being touched. In House's mind, he had failed. He told this to Nolan, who smiled and shook his head.

"You failed because you didn't go back to drugs after being off them for a year?"

"I failed because I thought I needed them."

"No," Nolan contradicted. "No, it wasn't the drugs you needed. It was the control."

House looked at him. "This isn't an eating disorder."

"Doesn't matter," Nolan said, shaking his head. "Some of the things you said to me, you were right about. Not all of them, but some. You did do everything you were supposed to do and it still wasn't helping you. Then you go to your job and do everything you're supposed to do and a woman still died. Nothing you did had any affect on the world around you and that was, to use your word, infuriating. You couldn't control Wilson's feelings for Sam or Cuddy's feelings for Lucas, and you couldn't control what went on inside that woman's body that caused her to die. But you could control what you put inside your body. Or what you didn't." Nolan smiled at House. "That's why you didn't take it. For once, you had a choice to make and you could control the outcome. You could take the drugs and end up back in here or dead. Or you could put them down and decide that this last year wasn't a waste after all. It wasn't the drugs you wanted, House. It was the control they gave you over your life."

House sat in his chair for a minute, rubbing his leg and thinking that over. Eventually he shrugged. "I guess."

"There is one other thing, though," Nolan said, leaning forward in his chair again. House looked at him. "When you were telling me this, you said, 'my old apartment.' Did you get a new place?"

He really didn't mean to smile, and he reverted his expression back to usual quickly, but Nolan still caught it.

"Greg," Nolan prompted. "You smiled. You don't usually smile in here. Something about my question must have prompted a positive thought. I'd like you to share it."

"I'm living with Wilson again," House said, his mouth twitching from trying not to smile at the idea.

"Really?" Nolan asked, relaxing in his chair. "How does Sam feel about this?"

At this House did smirk. "She wasn't too thrilled. But she didn't find out until a week ago. She and Wilson broke up the same night that I...you know...almost slipped."

"Did they get into a fight when you came over?"

"No," House said, indignant that Nolan automatically assumed he'd been the one to cause the breakup. "She'd left right before I got there. It actually wasn't my fault." His mouth twitched. "Well, not directly."

Nolan could tell there was something House wasn't telling him. It didn't seem to be causing House any distress, but he still wanted to know.

"Greg, what do you mean, 'not directly'?"

"It was Wilson's fault, not mine," House explained. "He was rushing Sam into a relationship...because of me. He was using her as a distraction...from me. They broke up because it wasn't a real relationship to begin with. I didn't do anything."

"I see," Nolan said, though he still felt he was missing something. "So Sam moved out and Wilson asked you to move back in?"

House thought back. "Technically, I don't think he ever asked. I moved myself back in."

"The two of you never discussed it?"

"It was kind of an unspoken agreement." House was enjoying himself. Nolan still had no idea they were romantically involved, and as proud as he was of this information, he wasn't going to volunteer it until one of Nolan's questions required it.

Nolan was studying him. House was acting superior. He knew something Nolan didn't, something relevant, and he was having fun not letting Nolan in on the secret.

"House, what aren't you telling me?" Nolan asked.

"There's a lot I'm not telling you," House shrugged. "Two plus two equals four, don't think we've had a conversation about that yet, Chase and Thirteen are dating, we've got a pool going on how long that will last–"

"–House," Nolan interrupted, looking at him.

House shrugged. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"How's Cuddy?" Nolan asked, suspecting she might have something to do with House's slight air of cheerfulness. He didn't expect the man's expression to turn sour.

"Kind of a mess, I think. I don't care, really. She and Lucas broke up. That's probably why."

Cuddy and Lucas breaking up was a good thing for House, it would explain his good mood, but why did he seem less than pleased by the whole thing?

"Do you know why they broke up?" Nolan asked.

"So that when she threw herself at me, she wouldn't be cheating on him."

"She...threw herself at you?"

"Yeah. She saw one of the other kids pick up the toy from the sandbox and suddenly she wanted it."

Nolan smiled. "Of course. No wonder. But you don't seem too thrilled by it. You love Cuddy. You're not a toy, if one kid grabs you, you can still decide to play with the other one."

"I don't want to play with her. She only wants me because someone else has me. Do you have any idea how degrading that is? Besides, maybe I'd rather have the other kid play with me."

"Someone you like more than Cuddy?" Nolan seemed surprised. "She must be pretty special. Why don't you tell me about her?"

House smirked. "Well, she's about six two, brunet with brown eyes, an excellent cook. She's a doctor but she refuses to have sex at the hospital. She makes it up to me when we get home, though," House added, smirking.

"I see," Nolan said, not amused. "What's her name?"

Yeah, all right, there wasn't a way out of this without outright lying. House smirked at his therapist. "James. James Evan Wilson."

[]

House burst into Wilson's office. Wilson was too used to it by now to even look up, let alone flinch.

"I'm all better now," he announced. "Nolan fixed me. I don't need to go back there."

"He didn't say that," Wilson said, not looking up.

House wasn't listening; he'd noticed Monica sitting on Wilson's couch. She was wearing a lab coat now. Her legs were crossed and she was writing something on a legal pad. She'd looked up when House walked in but when he'd ignored her she'd turned back to her notes.

"New squeeze?" he asked, nodding at her.

"House!"

She was unfazed, though. She smiled and stood up, extending a hand. "You must be Dr. House. I'm Dr. Monica Ramirez. Dr. Cuddy hired me to shadow Dr. Wilson as a trial for the hospital's new shadowing program."

He took her hand and looked her body over without bothering to hide what he was doing. Then he glanced at Wilson. "How come I don't get one?" he asked indignantly.

Wilson chuckled. "You have three. And Foreman." He put some papers down neatly and stood up. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"If you're ready to pay for it."

"It's a date," Wilson said, smiling, causing House to groan and roll his eyes.

"Wilson, you're embarrassing me in front of the pretty girl."

Wilson laughed. "House, you don't have the capacity to be embarrassed." He turned to Monica. "Excuse us, Monica. We should be back in about a half-hour, and then you can take your lunch break."

"Have a good lunch, James," she said, smiling and putting her hand on his arm for a moment while House watched. Then she looked at him. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. House."

Wilson smiled sheepishly and House gave an amused smirk as they exited the office.

"Please tell me she does threesomes," House implored once the door was closed.

"House, come on. She's like...a fetus. She's barely out of med school."

"And she wants you."

"You have something in common," Wilson smirked.

"She really calls you James?"

"Most people I work with call me James. That option is available to you too, Greg."

"So hiring Miss October to follow you around all day was Cuddy's idea?"

"I highly doubt Cuddy hired her because of the way she looks," Wilson said. "She did my rounds with me this morning; she's very sharp. She knows more about cancer then I did when I was her age. And she's very friendly."

"I could tell."

Wilson gave House a suspicious smile as the elevator doors opened.

"What?"

"You're not upset. You're not suspicious. You didn't interrogate her. You have't interrogated me about her. Either your session with Nolan went well enough to put you in an especially good mood...or you're actually starting to trust me."

House looked around. The elevator was empty. Then he shrugged. "You introduced me to her. When you're sleeping with someone, or trying to...you hide it. You get rid of her when you see me coming. You keep it from me. There was never any reason to, we weren't dating, but you always hid it. Now that we are dating, you'd hide it even more cause the consequences are worse for me finding out. You didn't. You let me meet her. Oh, wipe that smug smile off your face. What, you're not sleeping with her, are you?"

"Oh, of course not," Wilson said, rolling his eyes. "I've known her all of six hours."

"And you're not engaged yet?" House asked incredulously. Wilson smacked the back of his neck.

The elevator doors opened and House and Wilson pulled apart. House looked self-satisfied. Wilson looked guilty.

[]

Monica followed Wilson into the diagnostic room. The skirt she wore today was also black, but shorter and more flowing than the one from yesterday. She still wore a sweater, a similar style to the day before, but a teal color instead of pink.

"You needed a consult?" Wilson asked, but none of the fellows were looking at him.

"Hi," Monica said, smiling at them. "I'm Dr. Ramirez. You can call me Monica. I'm shadowing Dr. Wilson as part of a new hospital program. He said the diagnostic department wanted a consult?"

Four open mouths closed. Foreman put some scans up on the wall for the oncologist and the oncologist-in-training to look at, but no one else was looking at the scans. Wilson, seemingly oblivious to the attention his shadow was receiving, looked closely before determining it wasn't cancer, and the two of them left the room.

Chase, Taub, Thirteen, and Foreman stared at each other.

"All right," Thirteen said. "I'm gonna be the one to say it. She is hot."

The men nodded in agreement.

"Right," Taub said. "Well, I should go tell the patient it's not cancer."

"It means we're gonna have to do another differential," Foreman sighed. "I'll go get House."

Thirteen watched the two older men leave, and then leaned over and kissed Chase on the mouth. For a moment he looked surprised, but then he closed his eyes and kissed back.

"Wait," Chase said, pulling away for a second. He looked at Thirteen. "You're thinking of me, right?"

"What? Oh, yeah, of course." She smiled at him.

"Right. Just...making sure."

Thirteen leaned forward to kiss him again and then stopped. "You were thinking of me, weren't you?"

"Uh, yeah," Chase grinned. "Definitely."

"Cool." She scooted her chair closer to Chase's and resumed making out with him.

[]

House didn't consider pretending to care that Cuddy was on the phone when he barged into her office.

"Excuse me, could you please hold for one second?" she said quickly before pressing a button and putting down the receiver. "What's up?" she asked House, leaning back comfortably in her chair.

"It's not gonna work," he said, glaring at her.

She shook her head and shrugged. "What's not gonna work?"

"He's not gonna cheat on me. And definitely not with the piece of ass you hired to follow him around and tempt him."

"House," Cuddy said in a warning voice.

He stopped, and they had a staring contest for a moment before Cuddy looked away.

"You're being paranoid," she said. "If you're feeling insecure about your relationship, I'm here if you'd like to discuss it with me, but I'm going to ask that you not blame me for it. I hired Dr. Ramirez as part of a shadowing program, not a let's-find-more-panties-for-Wilson-to-peel program. She was the most qualified applicant, as I'm sure you've ascertained from the files you spent yesterday going through instead of diagnosing your patient." She looked up at him. "What, did you think I didn't know about that? You underestimate me, House. Now if you've got nothing else to say, I've got a phone call to continue."

House glared at her for another moment. "Wilson's not gonna fall for your tricks," he said finally.

[]

House made his way slowly from his office down the hall towards the elevators, backpack slung over his shoulder. Wilson was waiting for him, and Monica waited with him. Both doctors smiled at House, and Monica nodded and said, "Dr. House," in acknowledgement. House ignored her except to put his arm around Wilson's shoulders possessively. Wilson gave his shadow a "Don't ask" smile and snaked his arm around House's waist in return.