"There's got to be fifty, sixty dollars worth of stuff here," Cameron guessed. Still seated, she pulled her hands out of the backpack, looking up into House's looming eyes.

"It's nothing to him."

"The food would be."

"Believe me, Chase doesn't snack. He's a surfer. He's a surfer, who hates fat people."

"Well, he bought it for a reason. Or...tipped the vending machine over so the glass broke and stole everything for a reason."

"Probably the big fat pregnant lady," Cuddy chipped in, and took the chip bag House held with gentle fingers. "Stop worrying. It's perfectly fine in moderation and I have...no expectations for this baby."

Cameron frowned at her as House stared and asked, "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? Twelve failed implantations, three miscarriages, almost $100,000 dollars wasted, 56 years old."

"Partridge in a pear tree?" House asked, with the shadow of a grimace.

"I don't believe I'm going to carry to full term," Cuddy said, in a no-nonsense tone that defied the look in her eyes. "I never have. Maybe it's just something I'm not meant to do."

"So what if you do?" he asked.

"Then I'll be fulfilled, and happy, and...probably love this baby more than I love Rachel. And that would make me just the...worst person on the face of the earth."

"Now, now," House grumbled. "What about every other woman in your predicament?"

"Anyway," Cameron interrupted. "This hardly looks like moderation."

Cuddy forced a luminous smile at the woman who she still believed was a hardened criminal, now with a smooth technique to gain her sympathy. "That's where leftovers, waste, and the two of you come in," she said, and raising her chip bag like she was giving a toast, she turned and opened up the driver side door.

House began closing the car door, then changed his mind and grabbed his own bag of treats. Pausing, he looked into Cameron's worried puppy-dog eyes. "We'll get real food," was the only assurance he offered before closing the car door. He circled the vehicle and looked up into the eyes of the driver behind Cuddy's car, impatiently waiting for his turn at the pump. Eerily, he only smiled at the driver before getting into the car.

"So now what?" House asked, closing the door. "Want to run in there, grab some snacks...?"

A look of daggers was his only response. Chuckling to himself, he buckled up and Cuddy drove away from the pump.

"You know, it still surprises me that people who know nothing about engines are allowed to own a car."

"Weird, right? Somewhere along the lines of a doctor who hates people."

"Yeah... See, I just hate them. I'm not an idiot."

The car was mostly quiet then; the bubbly sound effect of Cameron's smartphone barely audible over the hum of the motor. As the ride progressed in silence, Cameron continued pointing her phone at the window for extended periods of time, then going back to tapping on her phone. Cuddy's eyes alternated from the road to her. Finally she asked, "Making a video for all your friends back home?"

What Cameron said then chilled her, "I'm not really sure where home is anymore."

Cuddy tried not to immediately start comparing her every action from that moment on to House; glancing over at him she saw that his eyes were shut and his head was loose, following the motion of the car. "House," she said beseechingly. And he made a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment. "What's wrong?"

"Headache."

She smiled, bobbing her head. "Good. You better not die on me."

"Don't worry. I plan on being a pesky jerk to you for many years to follow," his words faded out and he made a face, keeping his eyes closed.

Checking him out from the backseat, Cameron quietly unbuckled, leaned forward, and tried to pickpocket him.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy's blaring question startled both of her passengers, but only one of them froze.

"I have to see what the medication is if I want to research it."

"Yeah, brilliant idea," House snorted. "'Mommy, what are nightmares made of?'"

"Relax, Warden, I'll give them back when I'm done."

"It's a little hard to relax with a girl in my pants."

Cameron sighed, placing a hand on the back of Cuddy's seat. "House, we both know you can't do jack with your crappy phone."

He hesitated, but reached into his other pocket and gave her the pills. He closed his eyes again, shielding them from the blur of the land around them and the brightness, and she spun the bottle in her hand, then rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, it's Tylenol," she said accusingly, and cracked open the bottle.

"Tylenol gave you a headache?" Cuddy asked.

"Yeah, I'm allergic. Shit," he added under his breath.

"How do you react?"

"This'll evolve into a migraine, I'll throw up a couple times, and it'll pass."

Cameron dumped some pills into her hand, plopped a soda can onto one leg, opened it, and drank the medication down. Then she put the lid back on the Tylenol, dropped it onto the seat beside her, and fussed single-handedly with her buckle. "Damnit, this is hard."

House looked over his shoulder and observed her. "Believe me. It's not."

He turned his head quickly away as a driver behind them flashed his lights. Looking in the rearview mirror and recognizing Chase's vehicle, she turned on her signal light and pulled over. He did the same, this time walking up to House's side of the car; he knelt down and, after a slight pause, greeted him with, "Fucking mutants?"

The restaurant was abuzz with the commotion of many indistinct background conversations. House, Chase, Cuddy, and Cameron all sat quietly at the same table, a comfortable booth on each side; House sitting beside Cuddy and across from Cameron. Nobody spoke, or acknowledged the waitress when she delivered their menus.

"This is too weird," Chase finally said. "I mean, it, makes me want to think about... Grandma."

"Well, I mean, it's not that weird, is it?" Cameron began. "Our genetic material―"

"Logan's got a metal skeleton. Pretty sure it's weird," House interrupted.

Chase huffed a sigh. "I knew it."

Cameron just stared at House while Chase seemed to recover; both men picked up their menus. Cuddy absent-mindedly rubbed at her neck, with her elbow resting on the table. Suddenly she started to chuckle, and shook her head when the other three looked at her. "Dog tags," she said vaguely, through her laughter.

"What, uh, what about them?" Chase asked, equally confused as everyone else.

"He's the Tin Soldier."

There was only an awkward silence that followed, and when Cameron finally leaned forward, so did the other three. She kept her trembling voice quiet, for their ears alone. "I just, I find it so hard to believe... Are you sure you're not...wrong?"

"We're sure," House said. The quiet volume of his voice didn't make his tone any less urgent.

"Yeah, he had these huge, like...nasty, metal claws. House almost got decapitated."

"Yeah, that was intense," he said―chuckling.

"Are you serious?"

"What, you think I would joke about that?" Cuddy responded, and watched Cameron look shamefully away. Finally, she began to wonder if what she believed was wrong.

And Chase watched House, thinking maybe the man had no choice―he had to be crazy.

"You know what looks good? The chicken," House said calmly, looking at his menu. "But I know if I order meat, I'll get kicked to another table."

"Why? I want meat, too," Cuddy said. "Think I'll have the lobster."

"Great. We can throw up together."

"Hey, hello?" Cameron asked, "Can we go back to the part where you were almost beheaded?"

She whispered only the last word. Still appearing shockingly unruffled, he only smiled at her; and the look on Cameron's face came as great consolation to Cuddy. Perhaps she wasn't going to transform into him after―

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh," Cuddy murmured, a blank look on her face.

"What? Pukey time?" House asked, instantly attentive.

"No. No, no, no. When we were camping out before, you know, when you spoke to your mother..."

"Yeah?"

"You said there was a woman who was Kayla, but then she wasn't. What if you were wrong then? What if you weren't hallucinating?"

"Really?"

She scoffed. "It sounds pretty weird to me!"

"What, you mean like she―"

"Mutated," Cuddy interrupted Chase.

The table was quiet then, as House and Cuddy began discreetly glancing from one potentially-human customer to another. Facing only the wall, Cameron and Chase tried not to squirm in discomfort.

Then House chuckled, plopping down his menu. "I'm asleep. I'm dreaming. I'm crazy."

Cameron dropped her head into her hands and stayed that way, and Cuddy gazed at her own hand, slowly turning it over and over...imagining it becoming blue. Imagining her legs, her face, every inch of her, mutating into another woman. Into a man.

House and Chase just stared at each other and again, the table was quiet. Until the waitress materialized and asked, "Are you ready to order?"

"Uh, yeah, uh," House cleared his throat, trying to sound strong. "I'll have the chicken, she'll have the lobster...and I don't know what these guys want."

"Taco," Chase said, and added, "Please."

"And I will have...uh, just a glass of water, I guess," Cameron said, staring at the menu.

"Nope, she'll have the lobster too," House corrected.

The waitress collected the menus and walked away, and Cameron raised her brows at him.

"Wilson's treat. It's what he'd want."

"Okay. I thank you both," she answered awkwardly.

"Would you be afraid if I miscarry?"

House looked at Cuddy when he realized she was looking at him. "No. No, we're both doctors, and we both have experience."

"Right. Of course. Okay, I'm... I-I've been... We're in Antarctica, the ice breaks, I fall in... You get me out. I'm unresponsive, and civilization is miles and miles away. Are you still Mr. Calm-And-Collect or does my life actually matter to you?"

Head pounding, he looked at her and said, "Don't know! Let's try it."

"We discover dinosaurs are―"

"Okay, real life," Chase cut in. "The mutants?"

"Yeah," House snorted. "Like dinosaurs were ever real."

"Anyway, House gets into the driver's seat, and this English voice pops out," Cuddy was telling their eating friends, "'I've located your oppo, and I'm a professor, and I fly a ship.'"

House failed in suppressing a laugh as he looked from Cuddy to Cameron. "She's going insane."

"I'm not, because that's who found Cameron. Not you, the professor did it. That-that's why you can't remember finding her."

"So you're telling me," Chase said, "Some mutant or alien or whatever he bloody well is... Took control of his brain and forced you onto Cameron's path?"

"Is that really so much weirder than a metal skeleton and a...shapeshifter?"

Chase sighed, holding up both hands in mock surrender, then picked up his fork and muttered, "This cannot be my new normal."

"Okay," Cameron said awkwardly. "I thank you both."

"No. This...didn't happen in my... Ever," House blathered.

Cuddy grinned at him, nodding. "You had a guy in you."

"Shut your mouth. No, there's―somewhere out there is a perfectly logical, reasonable, rational explanation."

"The professor shooed me to the passenger seat."

"Because I hallucinated it. I'm hallucinating this entire thing. I'm probably in bed right now."

She reached over and pinched him.

He sighed, making a face. "Or I'm comatose. Unrousable."

"House, I remember the metal claws against your neck, too."

"Because I'm dreaming that you remember it. Obviously. You," he pointed at her with his fork, "Are a vegetarian. And I'm in Canada. This is not the brain of a well man. This is not your new normal," he told Chase, "Because it's not real."

"I'm afraid you're awake, House," Chase muttered.

"Yeah, I didn't lose my son and almost my life because you're sleeping," Cameron added. "Be rational. Be reasonable. Accept it, and move on."

Now House's voice hinged on desperation, "No, it-it's not real. It can't be."

"It's okay, House," Cuddy said. "We're all in this with you, and we―"

"It's a dream," he shouted. "Or it's psychosis. None of this is fucking real, you understand that?"

The restaurant was quiet. He ignored the timid silence that had fallen upon the customers as he grabbed his cane and limped to the door. They were all just a figment of his imagination anyway.

Shaking her head, Cuddy looked down at her plate and continued eating. Slowly, the customers carried on with their lives, and Chase's eyes alternated from his pregnant friend to his limping ex. Finally he pushed his chair back with an annoying scraping sound and followed House to the parking lot.

He found him standing between Chase's truck and Cameron's car, smoking a cigar or a joint or whatever he smoked these days. Chase approached, rather relieved to discern that it was just a cigar; still nasty, in his mind, but far less. He walked up to him and leaned against his own vehicle, facing House. "Good day to poison your lungs with smoke. Then again, they all are..."

"Enjoying my freedom while it lasts. Obviously I belong in an asylum."

"Been there, tried that, failed harder than Jon Voight's career."

House almost smiled, looking at him.

"You're awake. And if you need something bigger than a pinch, I know a lot of people willing to knock you on your arse."

"Thank you, for the pep talk."

Chase nodded. "You're welcome," he said, and began to leave.

"My life as I know it is dead, crumbling around me, and all I can do is put the bones on a shelf."

"Like all the rest of us."

"All the rest of who? You can't even name a fifth person who has to accept this new normal."

"No, but I'm sure they're out there. You said it's on the Internet, right?" he said, and shrugged. "People read."

"Hmm..." House tilted his head. "I still say I'm dreaming."

"Can I punch ya?"

"No."

"It'd make me feel better."

"Well, it wouldn't help me."

"Come on. One punch." Chase raised his fist.

House almost chuckled, moving further away. "I only said it because I can accept it."

Chase found himself laughing with him, and he quickly sobered, trying to remember everything wrong he'd done.

House shook his head. "This is..."

"Insane?"

"Yeah."

House's eyes flicked past Chase, as the women came slowly out of the restaurant. Cameron hobbled alongside the pregnant Cuddy, who still seemed timid of her. Regardless, she let her lean on her for support as they made their way to the men. House's eyes found Cameron's cane, from which he could not look away.

"I need you to be honest with me," Cuddy was saying, as Cameron struggled just to put one foot in front of the other. "Are you a criminal?"

"No. Wait, what? Why would you even ask me that?"

"So be honest," House said. "You hittin' that?"

Chase didn't answer.

Regrouping by the cars, Cameron released Cuddy, grabbing onto Chase instead. He put an arm around her and they struggled to the car together.

"So," House said again. "Now what?"

Cameron nodded, finally leaning against the car instead of burdening her friends. "That's a good question," she said quietly.

"Well, I meant in general, but...sure. Let's talk about you."

She gave a light scoff. "I think I need to sell my house."

Chase tried not to show it, but he so desperately wanted her to move back to New Jersey. Only House saw the flash of emotion so briefly in his eyes; then he quickly regained composure and calmly said, "If we can do anything..."

"I know." She thought for a moment, then sighed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "I'm going to be a homeless person with insurance. Suppose it'll come in handy in the winter, when I get frostbite..."

"You could come back with us," House said. "You could sell your house online and never look back."

"Yeah, you'd...have, like, seven places you could make yourself at home in," Chase agreed.

"Well, I did just lose custody of my child," she grumbled.

"And I am...very sorry about that," House interjected.

"There's no coming back from that... Is there?"

"I don't think so, no," Cuddy answered quietly.

Cameron nodded slowly, meeting Chase's eyes. "Okay. Alright, I'll do it!"

Chase blinked in amazement. "Yeah?" he twanged.

"Yeah, let's... Let's go to America, sell my house online, and never look back. Oh, except, um... Well, I do have to make a quick stop at the house, grab some things." She smiled prettily and apologetically. "My passport."

"Of course. Shit, of course you don't have it with you; you live here. Lived here," Chase blathered.

"Stop talking," House told him.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Wow! Omigosh, this is exciting. Hey, don't tell anyone," Cameron told them all. "I'll just walk in and surprise the hell out of them."

House smiled and walked away from their excited chatter, thinking mostly about the $100 bet.