House was awakened by a pain in his leg and a pain in his ass. The first was literal. The second was Cuddy.

He'd stayed the night in his office, sprawled on his couch with no blanket and still in scrubs. This unfamiliar sleeping arrangement largely accounted for the pain in his leg. Prescription drugs would help with that. Cuddy was another story.

"What are you doing here?"

"This is my office," he pointed out. "I'll allowed to be here. Your kind isn't supposed to be able to enter without an invitation." He bared his "fangs" for emphasis before propelling himself to a sitting position. "Any other questions?"

"Yes, actually. What's this I hear about you being POLITE to a NURSE?" She paused and leaned toward him, sniffing. "And for that matter, why do you smell so good?"

"It's called "hygiene", Dr. Cuddy. You should try it sometime. As for the rest, let's just say reports of my manners have been greatly exaggerated." After loading his pockets with all he had emptied the night before, he grabbed his cane from the floor and stood, pushing past her. "Now if you'll PLEASE excuse me, I would be EVER so appreciative if you'd allow me the PLEASURE of taking a piss."

One pain temporarily relieved, he popped two Vicodin and continued on his way, cursing when he glanced at his watch; what the hell was she doing here at 7:30 in the morning?

After visiting the restroom he debated about whether to head home or check in on his patient. He was feeling a little more objective this morning after having gotten at few hours of sleep, and he was already moody because of his wake up call. Those things in mind, he felt it was safe enough to see her.

She was alone. That was good. She was also awake and looking miserable.

"Rough night?" he quipped, and was rewarded with a withering look. Rather than waiting for her explanation, he picked up her chart. "Oh."

Kelly had apparently been kept awake most of the night as Foreman and the floor nurses had applied cold and heat alternately to try to achieve a balance that never came. There was still no record of shivering or sweating.

"Why didn't you get Foreman to page me?"

"Oh, I tried, trust me. While he didn't say it in so many words, he made it clear you wouldn't come and that there was no need to bother you with this." Her annoyed tone softened slightly. "I could have blown your cover, but I decided I'd better hold onto your secret identity until I REALLY needed leverage." Though he scoffed, she tell tell he was amused and also thought there might have been a hint of gratitude in the mix. "I'm not hungry, but Foreman told me I need to eat and no offense but I'm not eating THAT." She gestured toward the waiting tray. "SO, you can repay me for abandoning me in my hour of need with McDonald's."

"Damnit, you are bossy."

"And I want a milkshake."

"You want a milkshake WHAT?"

She cocked her head and batted her eyes. "Pleeeeeeease?"

Another scoff; this woman was ridiculous. And yet he was fully prepared to get her just what she asked for. "Whatever. Where's your cell?"

"Purse," she said, motioning.

He found it, and used her phone to call his own cell number. Then he called her back. "There, now you have my number. Just try not to make it obvious, that's all I ask. My reputation has already been called into question once today." And with a little wave, he was gone.

At home he got cleaned up and dressed, then packed a bag with enough clothes for several days or several showers, just in case. He also threw in some less incriminatingly scented soap and shampoo with his toiletries.

He was in line at the Drive Thru when he realized he needed more information.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other end of the line.

"Vanilla, chocolate or strawberry?"

"This isn't a good time."

House rolled his eyes. "I take it one of my team is there with you?"

"Yes, that's true."

"Okay, fine. Is chocolate okay?"

"Sure."

"And you want the Egg McMuffin and Hash Brown combo, I assume."

"Yes."

"Yes, WHAT?"

"GoodBYE." And she hung up.

House got breakfast for himself as well, though with a coffee instead of a milkshake, and ate his in traffic on the way back to the hospital.

When he finally returned to Kelly's room he found that Thirteen and Kutner had replaced Foreman and Taub, who had likely crashed somewhere for a few hours of sleep. House hung back near the door as they did an exam and drew some more blood. He caught her eye and started drinking her milkshake as he heard Kutner encourage her to eat some of the normal hospital fare that was still in front of her. She smiled sweetly and promised she would.

"Good morning, Dr. House," she said, drawing the others' attention to him.

He ignored her, approaching the foot of the bed and addressing Kutner and Thirteen instead. "Get everyone in my office in an hour. Make sure the nurses know what to do here in the meantime." He dropped the bag of food there and hooked his cane on the rail so he could take the chart that Thirteen had just finished updating.

"Her stats were -"

"Your penmanship is impeccable, so unless there's something else you want to add...?"

Thirteen narrowed her eyes but left wordlessly, Kutner with the specimen samples in tow.

The second they were out of sight, Kelly reached both hands towards him. "I'll take that."

He took one more sip of the milkshake before handing it off, then tossed the food bag closer to her. His eyes went back to the chart for a closer look and he saw that while it had been a long night, his team had made some headway as to determining onset and tracking the condition's course. He was looking forward to the meeting; they had a lot to talk about.

When he looked up, she was happily nibbling on the hash brown, watching him.

"You want more?"

She held out the milkshake, and he took it, but then paused. "Actually, maybe I'd better pass. For all I know you've got a contagious disease that's spread through bodily fluids."

A sly grin transformed her face. "Oh, well; more for me. And an assurance that you'll be inclined to keep any future shower scenes G-rated."

He raised his eyebrows and took a big gulp of the milkshake. "I make no promises."

She was still laughing when he left the room.

The next hour should have been spent looking for answers, but instead he was distracted by a niggle of self-loathing, which led to some self-analyzing, something he hated.

He could admit to a passing attraction, but that was understandable - she was pretty, she was relatively young and certainly youthful, she was clever, and she could dish it out as well as she could take it, though there was that underlying, genuine kindness to her that made her a novelty, something to be studied. She was also damaged, which made her accessible to someone like him even as the memory of her husband rendered her, he imagined, ultimately inaccessible and therefore safe.

But the real attraction, he had to grudgingly admit to himself, wasn't romantic. He and Wilson had barely spoken in the weeks since Amber had been killed, and House was desperately lonely. In this woman he'd known for less than 24 hours he was finding an element of easy companionship, and as much as it was feeding him it was also making him aware of his starvation.

As he sat at his desk he held her journal in his hands. He'd flipped through it the night before, seen snippets of what she had written. Matter-of-fact records, random musings, honest thoughts, the beginnings of prayers. He'd set it aside not because he was embarrassed or uninterested, but because there was a part of him who resisted the thought of knowing her that well. She would leave here, one way or another. And then he'd be alone again.

Now, with 15 minutes left before they were scheduled to gather, he disciplined himself to open it, to skip the parts that felt like intimacy and simply record the times and dates and places. He was still working on that when his team began to arrive.