A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. We had the computer program upgrade from hell on the 19th, and everything after that was a labor of Sisyphus. It was so full of issues that work finally undid the upgrade and set back all computers a few days ago. Moral: The newest and most improved version of your main program should be given enough real world trial out of the lab first to get all the bugs chased out before you jump on the bandwagon and purchase it yourself. But I hardly had time until a day or so ago to do anything other than try, often unsuccessfully, to get my work done. At least that is over. Three cheers for the old, not-so-fancy version of the program which actually works.

On the other hand, I am snowed in today. So I had time to finish and proof this chapter. Enjoy! I always love House and Jensen.

(H/C)

Jensen answered halfway through the second ring, sounding not only wide awake already but tense, steeling himself for bad news. "What's going on?" he asked, not even bothering with hello.

The genuine concern took House aback as it always did. Not that he could blame Jensen for wondering at first what disaster had befallen him now, not after car wrecks, undiagnosed and nearly fatal injuries, Patrick Chandler trying to shatter him mentally for revenge, and most recently explosions and collapsing buildings. Obviously, this wasn't a routine call at this hour. What always surprised House was the total lack of annoyance or resignation. Jensen wasn't tired of dealing with him yet. After it all, he still cared. "I'm okay," House said quickly. He heard the soft sigh of relief. "And the family."

"What is it?" With concern about their safety put to rest, Jensen settled into psychiatrist mode, steady and infallibly there.

"I had . . ." House caught himself. The nightmare wasn't relevant, and he didn't need to waste time off the differential here. "I have a tough case. It's Kutner." He had professional confidentiality with Jensen, after all, and unlike Thornton, Jensen actually knew Kutner, had met him several times. The identify of the patient would help him understand House's worries here.

Jensen didn't ask what Kutner had. Clearly, the answer was still unknown. House heard soft footfalls on the other end and then a door closing, and he pictured Jensen settling into his chair in his study. "How bad is he?"

"Some kind of high fever. Not responding to antibiotics yet. I found him yesterday morning, and he'd been sick at least a few days."

"You didn't see him Friday?"

"He was on vacation all last week." House drummed his fingers restlessly on the table. "Nobody thought of checking on him until he was late to work Monday." The annoyance surged back up. "Damn it, I should have called him."

"You had no way of knowing."

That made perfect sense. It also made him even madder at himself. "I should have."

Jensen tried to nudge the topic back towards the reason for the call. "So you've been working the case since yesterday morning, not much progress so far. But what's going on this morning?"

House dodged by reflex, even though he wanted Jensen's opinion. "Maybe this is the first time I've had a private chance to talk."

"No. You might work yourself into the ground, but you will stop on the team when they get tired past productivity. You would have sent them home eventually last night." He paused, and House could almost hear the followup question as Jensen wondered how much sleep House himself had had. He grinned. This was so familiar by now, talking to the other man, being known so well at this point and once in a while not even resenting it. It was almost comforting at times when his mind was in turmoil.

"I did get some sleep last night," House replied. "About four nap stretches of an hour or so in between checking on Kutner."

"Not enough," Jensen concluded, then dismissed the lecture to chase another point. "Sound sleep? You started out saying you had and then changed your mind in the sentence halfway."

Damn him. Nobody should be that observant at this hour of the morning. House immediately jumped to the real point, putting more distance between the nightmare and this conversation. "Foreman called me on something last night, and it got me thinking. He was questioning my objectivity on the case. And he was right, damn it, at least in the medical point he was making right then. Things are a little better this morning without the treatment I wanted to jump straight to. But he had to state that. I couldn't see it."

"Isn't that the whole point of having a team?" Jensen asked. "Different points of view? I'd think it's especially valuable with a patient who means so much to you."

"I'm already going to have to break in two new team members," House deflected. "It would be a lot more hassle to raise it to three."

"Two?" Jensen couldn't help wondering for a moment there.

"Foreman has a job offer in California that he's going to take. He's still standing on his dignity, because I referred him instead of him applying himself, but he'll wind up taking it. So two open spots for the egglings, Foreman's and . . . Hadley's." The residual guilt he still felt about her death pushed back in. Patrick had been after him, and she had been an innocent bystander who happened to wind up in the line of fire.

"Dr. Hadley's death was her own choice, and any contributing responsibility is on Patrick, not you, Dr. House," Jensen reminded him again. "But Kutner is special to you. He's always seemed to be your favorite of the fellows. From what you've said, and from what little I've seen, he's the one most like you. Of course you would identify especially with him, which makes it even harder to have him ill."

House set down his coffee cup a little too hard on the table, then wondered if Jensen had heard the thump and was analyzing it. "It would be a pain to break in three at once, like I said."

"It's all right to care about people, Dr. House." Jensen jumped away from that point himself, saving House the time. "Back to objectivity, of course you're not totally objective on this case. Nobody would be with someone close to them. The real question you're wondering, I think, is whether you can be effective on the case, whether it should be handed off to another doctor entirely and you step out."

"The great mind reader," House snapped, but he was on the edge of the chair waiting for the answer.

Jensen ignored the comment. "It might be different if you were working alone. It's certainly difficult, but given the framework you have of a team, in fact five other doctors with you on this counting the fellowship candidates, I think you provide checks and balances on each other, even if three of the six of you work with Kutner. Which sounds like what has already happened. You wanted to try something too soon, and Foreman called you on it. As long as you are listening to others, which you obviously are, I'd keep going and just be aware of the danger."

House looked at the whiteboard. "I was too locked in on that issue of dialysis. Hell, I still am itching to start it, even with renal function improving a little overnight. There's less reason to start it this morning than there was yesterday, but the idea hasn't gone away."

He heard the psychiatrist come to attention on the other end of the call. "Dialysis? What Foreman objected to involved dialysis?"

"Yes. Kutner was badly dehydrated when we found him. He'd obviously been lying there sick for a few days, not enough fluids. I wanted to start dialysis yesterday, and Foreman said we should give it a while to see if he responded to IV fluids first. He also said dialysis would only complicate the question of giving him meds for the fever, and he was right about that, too. But I never even thought of the meds. What the hell difference does it make what the medical point was? What matters is that I couldn't see something that should have been medically obvious to me normally. I'm not thinking straight."

"Dr. House, is there any reason why you were thinking more of your leg than usual before you found Kutner yesterday morning?"

House nearly jumped off the chair, and the leg in question responded with a snarl. He grabbed at it, massaging the half muscle and remembering that appointment in physical therapy yesterday morning, not two hours prior to the visit to Kutner's apartment. He'd have to postpone the first PT session this morning; too much else going on with the case. "How the hell did you guess that?"

"You haven't often talked about your leg, but one of the few times you have was just a few weeks ago briefly, and you were wondering what would have changed if you yourself had been started on dialysis after the infarction but before the surgery."

The old anger surged up against missed diagnoses, lost years, lost muscle. "I might have been able to deal with the pain that way. Maybe they wouldn't have had to put me in the coma." With some help dealing with the poison flooding his body, it might have been bearable.

"You still would have required surgery to remove the dead tissue," Jensen reminded him gently. "Dialysis wouldn't have changed that."

"But it would have been me authorizing it." His breathing was accelerating. "The debridement might have been less." Maybe he even could have had it under spinal, awake and aware, available for consult. Less tissue removed would have meant more function remaining, possibly less pain. And why hadn't he thought of dialysis himself back then? Even sick and in agony, he shouldn't have dropped the ball like that. "I should have thought of that."

"Nobody could have expected that of you. You were critically ill. But I wonder if that's why your mind jumped to dialysis when the question came up with Kutner."

House's restless fingers stilled momentarily and then doubled speed, fighting the conclusion. "You think I'm projecting?"

"I think you see him as a younger form of you. Subconsciously, maybe you want to spare him from mistakes or at least potential mistakes that were made in your case."

"I know the difference, damn it. He's a good fellow, talented doctor, but that's all. He's a coworker. It's not any more personal than that." Jensen's skeptical silence hovered on the other end of the line. "He's just got a fever. This isn't an infarction, and I'm not stuck in the past."

"I didn't say you were stuck in the past. You're definitely not stuck in the past, which is why you listened to Foreman. I just think that your mind saw and seized a similar element when it was already focused on your leg for some reason anyway. Tell me, have you been as locked in on any other medical symptom or potential treatment in Kutner's case as you were with wanting to start dialysis?"

House sighed. "No."

"And even with that one, you listened to your team. You're doing all right, Dr. House. Yes, it's a difficult case, but as long as you are listening to the others, even when their opinions annoy and challenge you, you're not doing Kutner an injustice by staying on the case."

"So if I suddenly get fixated on carving his leg muscles up, thinking that is fine as long as I stop and do a conference first?" House snapped.

"Now you're overprojecting. You demand too much of yourself, always have. It was one slip with a specific medical symptom to remind you. Kutner was having problems with renal function, you said. I think just being aware of the fact that you consider him a younger you will help you if any other parallels happen to come up, but I don't think you're creating parallels. Move it from the back of your mind to the front, Dr. House. Things are actually easier to deal with there when you allow yourself to face them."

"He's a good fellow," House insisted stubbornly. "That's all. Stop smiling, damn it."

"It's all right to care," Jensen repeated. "Just like it's all right to let people care about you." He ducked back to the beginning of the conversation. "Did you have a nightmare last night?"

House shied away from that question again. "Maybe you could have some more theories on the case. Kutner went somewhere last week, and he lied to everybody, but that's probably where he got sick. It was the anniversary of his parents being murdered when he was six. You're the shrink. Where do you think he might have gone?" He heard the emphasis on you and wished he could call it back. Maybe Jensen hadn't noticed.

The psychiatrist already knew about Kutner's parents. House had mentioned it once. "To their graves? To the store?"

"Wrong and wrong. They don't have graves, and the store was torn down several years ago. It's part of a mall now."

"So they were cremated? What was done with the ashes?"

"Dumped in a river." He sighed. "It's in California. That's where he's from originally." Maybe Foreman could take a quick road trip - as quick as anybody went across country - and do a live interview at UCLA after. But if the answer was clear out in California, the delay might be more time than Kutner had.

"He still might have gone to the river. Or to the mall. Or maybe he went to the prison - is that California, too? Maybe he wanted to forgive the man."

"That doesn't make sense," House protested again.

"Who else has already suggested that?" Jensen asked. House stared at his coffee cup. "What was the dream about last night?"

"It's not relevant," House said firmly.

"Isn't it? Are you sure that isn't bothering you this morning as much as Foreman questioning your objectivity last night? You didn't call me last night late, Dr. House."

"We haven't got time to waste on that." Still, he didn't hang up. "I need to get back to work on the case."

"If something is acutely bothering you, it's better to give it a few minutes than to try to stuff it down. It helps to process things, even if it's difficult. You know that by now. And I think the very first topic you almost opened this call with was that dream."

House's fingers were still now, wrapped around the coffee cup. The coffee was going cold. "I dreamed about finding Kutner yesterday in his apartment." He paused, and this time, Jensen didn't push him. "And then as I got to the bedroom, it changed into Mom, and she was looking at me. Dead but still looking at me." He stopped so long there that the psychiatrist gave him a gentle nudge.

"What happened then?"

"She changed into the old man. His head was bleeding, like back at the track, but this time, I couldn't stop it. He died. Right in front of me, he died. And then the ceiling fell in." He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that it had only been a dream.

Jensen gave him a moment, then remarked, "So John wasn't anywhere in this one."

"No," House answered, then sat up straight, the point soaking in for the first time. "No." His lips quirked in a half smile, and all at once, he thought of the drawing tucked into his wallet, the first draft tombstone of a six-foot middle finger and the inscription below. I win, jackass.

"Congratulations," Jensen said sincerely. "Down to this dream, it's got a lot of guilt and helplessness overlays. Probably Kutner's illness did remind you of Hadley's death, and your mother and the track are so recent that they would naturally jump right in. You're afraid you're letting down or have let down people who mean a lot to you. Did you call Thornton when you woke up to make sure he was all right?"

"Why don't you just tell me what we said while you're at it?" House grumbled.

"I couldn't, at least not all of it, although I think you must have asked him about Kutner's options for last week, too. It would be better if you would tell me about it."

House reached for his watch. It was the wrong watch, of course, his daytime watch. His grandfather's watch was at home, tucked into the nightstand, and had never been put on last night. No, this was the watch Kutner had given him. "He can identify with Kutner. He lost both of his parents together, too. I thought he might have some good suggestions."

"And you wanted to make sure he was all right."

"His suggestions were the same as yours. Even down to forgiving the man." House still couldn't quite grasp that one. "I'm amazed he even talked to me at all."

"Why? Of course he'd talk to you. He enjoys talking to you."

"It was today. The day his parents were killed in that plane crash." Fingering the wrong watch, he suddenly truly realized it. It was today. The musical talent wiped out in a few seconds, his grandmother's gentle understanding that Thornton could describe so well snuffed out like a candle. The grandparents he had never known. The grandparents he wished he had known. The anniversary of their death was today.

"Dr. House?"

He blinked and focused. "I didn't remember that was today, so when I started out asking him what kind of sentimental bullshit he did on that anniversary, he thought I was just being a jerk and rubbing the date in. He got mad at me."

"That still doesn't mean he wouldn't want to talk to you. Did you explain about Kutner?"

"Yeah. And he believed me. That it wasn't deliberate, and I wasn't just poking at him."

"Why shouldn't he believe you?" Jensen asked. "It was the truth." House didn't reply. "Actually, are you sure you didn't remember the anniversary? That could have been another trigger for the nightmare. Everything coming together, losing people in the past, being afraid you're going to lose Kutner now. And worrying that you're going to lose Thornton when you two are finally finding each other."

House took the final sip of coffee. It was truly cold now. He made himself swallow it anyway. "I hadn't even thought about that anniversary since we were on the case."

"But you knew the date."

"Yes." Maybe that had played into things. Someone walked by in the hall, and House looked through the glass doors. The hospital was beginning to wake up, even on this mostly office floor. "I need to get to work on the case. You can slice up dreams later and draw all your stereotyped shrink conclusions."

Jensen accepted it, backing off. "I think you're fine on this case, Dr. House, as long as you keep listening to your team. In fact, I think Kutner would want you working it. You have a better chance of getting the answer in time than any other doctor around there. And Thornton is fine this morning; you reassured yourself on that."

"I pissed him off, though."

"Through a misunderstanding. And he believed you. You aren't going to make him decide you aren't worth the bother, Dr. House, even when you say things that hurt. You're definitely worth knowing."

House deflected. "Easy for you to say. You've been paid for it." He knew that he hadn't come close to repaying Jensen, not even merely financially.

"In many ways," the psychiatrist agreed. "I'll let you go, Dr. House. Let me know when you find the diagnosis on Kutner, will you?"

When. He felt deeply reassured, even though he never would have said so. "Yeah."

"And one more thing."

"What?" He had already said they didn't have time for more shrinkage right now, and Jensen usually believed him on comments like that, at least when they were the truth instead of a dodge.

"Be sure to eat breakfast." Before House could frame an adequately sarcastic reply to that, Jensen simply hung up. House sat there at the table replaying their conversation, and after a few minutes, his eyes returned to the symptom list. Fully in medical mode now, he started sorting through them again.