House was stretching his legs when Logan exited the vehicle. "Good morning," House said, "I see you haven't died from an infection. You should get that looked at."

"What?"

"The giant gouges in your arms."

Wearing a sweater, Logan shrugged as he examined the damage done to his vehicle. "It's nothing."

"Are you suicidal? You know how much crap is under a bear's claws?" House asked, and persisted when Logan didn't seem to care, "If you can afford a camping trip, pretty sure you can afford a free MRI."

Logan looked at him, and spoke with a voice that didn't betray the subtle warning in his eyes. "No MRI."

His cold stubbornness made House think he might have a better understanding of what his colleagues had to put up with. "At least let me look at it."

"What?" Logan repeated.

"I'm a doctor."

Logan tried to be gentle as he swatted House away with a steel arm. "Hey―fuck off, Nancy."

"You're shy?" House asked, incredulously. "You're not fat. You're not deformed. What are you so embarrassed about?" Then, as his eyes lit up with inspiration, he asked, "Are you a cutter?"

"Press me one more time."

House hushed, but he was unable to suppress his curiosity. The longer he hung around Logan, the more convinced he was that he was different. An aberration. An anomaly.

Anomalies bugged him.

Logan got back into the vehicle and started the car. But the engine sputtered and went out. He slapped the steering wheel, not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to wake up Kayla. She looked over at his mounting frustration. "What's wrong?"

"We're out of gas."

She looked perplexed as she sat up straight, pushing the blanket down.

"Damn it," he growled. "We've been siphoned."

"Are you sure?"

They looked briefly at each other, then he opened the car door again. Stopping by the gas tank, he found only a dime-sized drop of gasoline on the cement. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Who would―" But she cut herself off as the obvious answer hit her.

Logan delved into the car to grab his gun, then met her questioning gaze. "We're sitting targets."

Hearing at least that much, House looked back at them, watching the couple prepare to vacate. "Sitting targets for what? Does this have anything to do with the Colonel?" he added, when they appeared to ignore him.

Kayla walked up to the bed in which he sat. "Gregory, there are some things we can't talk about. Trust me," she added, when he began to respond. Instead, he nodded quietly and got off the truck.

Interesting...

"So, the head of your own department. What's that like?" Kayla asked, as they meandered through the forest.

"Like...medicine." He shrugged. "It's a job. I've been doing it so long, I do it in my sleep."

"I'm a school teacher."

House snorted, garnering her instant curiosity. "Oh, I just didn't think Canada had schools," he joked.

Kayla could tell he was being intentionally offensive and not serious. She could also see the pain beneath his façade; and sympathy for the misplaced American had her stopping on the woodsy trail. "Are you alright? Do you need a break?"

"I'm fine." He looked at her lingering face and smiled then, wondering if he could steal her from Logan. "Thanks."

"Alright..."

He watched her continue on down the trail, and enjoyed the view of her backside. Felt great to have goals again. But as he began limping after her, he caught sight of Logan observing his observance. The latter lifted his arms, pointing the gun to his side, and spoke in a deceptively quiet voice, "I think you're the one who's suicidal."

"Then you would be dead wrong." House smiled at his own acerbic wit. "I'll try to objectify her when you're not around. That work?"

"You just watch yourself."

"Does she like your attitude?" House asked, as he limped past Logan. "Or is she just with you for your strength?"

Logan tilted his head, scrutinizing House. "Why did you fake your demise?"

That shut him up. Logan caught up to Kayla, enjoying the peace.

Author's note: I am Canadian. Just trying to think like House.