A/N: So the mood did strike! Here's another chapter :-) Hopefully, the characters aren't too OOC but, as I said in the first chapter, it's a strange and unusual situation. Happy Reading!

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The three younger doctors exchanged a few looks, debating the question. Foreman made heavy use of his brows -they moved fiercely up and down- to convince the others. He also used the tilting of the head technique; his eyes looked grave. Chase frowned at him, seemingly not understanding a thing.

"We've got to seize this opportunity!" Foreman quickly whispered to him in a strangled voice, "It might be the only one we'll ever get!"

"Can we ask you anything?" asked Cameron, intrigued

"I'm already starting to regret this…" House mumbled as he shut his eyes for a few seconds and sighed "Let's set up a few rules for this new "torture House with personal questions" game that you all seem so excited about. I guess-"

"You put us through so much crap and you're still going to "set rules" for us? I think we deserve to ask whatever we want" Foreman interjected, raising his characteristic brow to add to his seriousness.

"I'll be off then" House stood up to leave but, as he put his hand on his cane, Cameron softly held him back, although the look she gave him was steely

"Don't." She said simply "Just don't."

House seemed a little startled. He seemed to want to retort, opened his mouth, but then – most probably thanks to Wilson – closed it shut again. They stayed like that for just a moment, him standing, his hand on the handle of his cane, while she held his forearm, both gazing at the other, sharing silent words. Cameron must have won the battle; House slowly sat down again, still looking at her thoughtfully. She was the one who broke away.

"Fine" he said slowly, watching her "You can ask whatever you want." He didn't sound defeated as he gave in to them, although his voice wasn't quite as sarcastic as before. Maybe he thought Foreman was right, or maybe Wilson had actually knocked some sense into him. Whatever the reason, he had just given them the permission they were longing for.

However, instead of immediately jabbering out questions, the three fellows were silent. The fact that this was actually happening must have utterly stunned them. They definitely weren't used to this kind of situation, of having some kind of advantage, some kind of new power over the man who always berated them. The cheering of the middle-aged men suddenly went up a notch, their rough voices filling up the whole bar. Their horse must have won. But at the booth, time stood still and the air was heavy. House waited patiently, but he wouldn't wait forever.

"Why would you do something like that?" Cameron started, in a tone devoid of any pity, voicing the question they were all wanting to ask, although they already knew the answer. They just needed to hear it from him.

"I…" House stopped, froze. The answer might have been simple but it certainly wasn't easy. In fact, it seemed impossible to him at the moment. "Truth is," he started again, not daring to meet their eyes "the answer is simple, as simple as one word in fact, as simple as diagnosing a cold…" He didn't seem to know where he was going with what he was saying, which was so unlike him. "Imagine a house" he paused and shook his head at the irony. "A lovely big house that is serving its purpose well. A guy and his girlfriend are living in it, and they love it. But one day, they notice a crack -not a very big one- in one of its walls. They call in a guy who checks on it and says it's fine; he adds a superficial layer of material on the crack. So, great, everything's fine. No need to worry. But then, the crack gets bigger. Again, another guy says it's fine, does the same thing as the previous idiot. The couple trusts the professionals of course, although it does seriously seem a bit strange to them. Then, sometime later, the wall starts to rot, air goes through it. This time the professionals actually realize they've missed a huge breakage in the wall, one that's getting worse fast. They feel sorry about it, but feeling sorry doesn't repair walls. And so it gets worse. They have to act fast now. Can't afford to waste anymore time… They suggest taking it down and building a totally new one, which would work great, they say. The boyfriend wants to keep the wall. He wants to repair it, because he loves the wall, and he knows how to build. They tell him it's very risky, but he doesn't care, it's his wall. It has huge emotional value. It's his choice, anyway. So he goes off to get the materials to repair it, says it will take a while for him to find everything he needs. And so he goes off. His girlfriend, meanwhile, discusses other possibilities with the professionals. She thinks her boyfriend is being crazy. The wall could break later, she says, it might not work. They totally agree with her and suggest doing it halfway." House smiled bitterly "So, while the boyfriend's away, she asks them to tear out the piece of the wall that's broken and do their best to repair it that way. And so they do. When the boyfriend comes back, he's devastated, of course. He can't believe it. It was his wall, and it was his choice. The wall is now nothing like its former self. It can hardly hold the house up anymore and so he has to add a couple of pillars. Some time passes, the boyfriend tries his best to improve it, to reinforce it, but what can you do with a wall that's half broken? They did it too late. They didn't do what he asked. His girlfriend. He can't forgive her. He feels… betrayed. And he just can't take it. She can't take the fact that he can't take it and thinks he's being more of an ass than before. So she leaves out of frustration, even though she still loves him. And the guy finds himself all alone with a broken House… He keeps trying to repair it, hopes that somehow he can. But nothing ever works. Every attempt is met with terrible results that just push him further into his miserable hole. Nowadays he doesn't let himself hope because when he does, his hope just gets thrown back at his face. People think he's bitter. He thinks they're idiots. Thing is, people don't know what having a whole the size of a fist in their thigh is like. It hurts. That's why I did it. Because it hurts."