"I like a man who knows what he wants."

House smiled grimly, attaching his cane to his brand-new Honda CBR1000RR Fireblade. "I like women," he said, listening to the gravelly footsteps of someone approaching. Expecting to see a colleague, he looked over his shoulder to see just another random customer, who appeared amused by the exchange. His eyes sought Cuddy's car, pulling out of the parking lot, onto the road, and out of his life.

Well, good. Now he could stop burdening her, and she could be safe with her kid. And he could do what had to be done...even if every inch of him, every molecule, wanted to run in the other direction.

Starting the engine felt so good. He didn't like not riding; he'd already lost the ability to run.

Cars were too stuffy, too...crowded. He needed his wheels.

He began to ride, wishing only in that moment that he had his tunes.

"You're not actually throwing him to the wolves, are you?" Cuddy asked, and surveyed the silent Chase. "In my car," she added disbelievingly.

"No. We're not leavin' him."

"So who did we leave?"

Chase grinned, turning on the windshield wipers. "We're not leavin' him in Canada."

"Aw, Chase, I knew you cared," Cameron said.

"Sure I care. Want to see his arrest."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, as long as we're staying, we might as well not live in a vehicle."

"I know, you're too good for it."

"Everybody is too good for it, Chase."

He spared her a look in the rearview mirror, wishing he didn't have to look away so soon. He had missed her genuine compassion for all living things, probably most of all.

But Cuddy spoiled it with a dry chuckle and the words, "Not everybody."

Chase was quiet―the smart one had spoken. Cameron shook her head and snuggled up to the window, watching the rain. Her comment had given Chase the confidence that she would never, ever, ever turn into House; a confidence that barely faltered when she noisily opened her pills. His eyes darted back to the rearview mirror and he watched her tilt back her head and throw them into her mouth. Though his confidence wavered slightly more, her comment was an anchor to him. He clung to it.

"Cameron, there's a pillow in the back," Cuddy announced. "If you want it."

"Nope. Thanks, I'm good." She pulled out her ringing phone and took the call, smiling at Foreman's stressed-out face. "Hey, you. How's it going?"

"Occupationally, substandard. But it's good beyond words knowing you're okay. Work has been next to impossible."

"I'm sorry. Everything is fine," her voice hitched on the lie, causing Foreman to frown.

"Cameron..." he began. "I can tell you're lying."

"Nope. I'm not. I-I'm sorry, I guess I'm just... Ugh, emotional." She shook her head and rolled her eyes with a sigh of genuine stress. "First Mike divorced me, then he sued me for custody and won, then I get shot― I..." Her voice broke off and Foreman stared at her like she had just told him about the hassles of shopping for a bra with a third breast.

"Yeah. I, uh, I heard. House is kind of a talker. Is there anything that I can do?"

"Yeah, remind me not to marry again. I'm one divorce away from becoming Ross."

From the look on his face, she could tell he didn't understand the joke, but her comment elicited a chuckle from the front seat. "Okay, know your audience," she deduced, "It's not important. Just―please don't worry about me. Not to a...work-affecting level. I'm with...friends and I'm fine, Foreman. Really."

"Okay. Good. And House, learn to mind your business."

Cameron smiled prettily at him and told a second lie. "He's sleeping."

Cuddy raised her brows in shock.

"Oops. Okay, I have―"

"Foreman," Adams' disembodied voice said. "Sorry. The kid just died."

Foreman returned his attention back to Cameron, albeit for a moment. "Sorry. I have to go."

"Yeah you do. Thanks for checking in."

"Of course. 'Night."

He disconnected before Cameron could respond, and she pocketed her phone with a smile on her face.

"He's sleeping?" Cuddy asked emphatically.

"I mean, I could have told him he's on his way right now to ask the man who almost beheaded him with his metal claws if he wants a beer so that he can get to know him better in the hopes of turning him in to the police for being violent and deranged, but He's sleeping just sounds nicer."

"Yeah," Cuddy nodded.

The roar of House's new motorcycle growled through the forest like a mechanical bear. Having finally reached the top of the mountain, he braked and shut off the engine. Standing up he wiped the rain off his arms as he walked back to Logan and Kayla's cabin. The same cabin that had been riddled with bullets. The same cabin where a blue shapeshifter had kicked him in the head. The same cabin where House had unknowingly pushed many dead bodies into a public park. But he didn't want to dwell on it.

He checked his watch before knocking, but the soft blue glow peeking at him from behind the curtains dispelled his initial thought that they were likely in bed. Though maybe not sleeping at this hour... Then again they didn't seem like a particularly happy couple. Though, if learning a shapeshifter existed had taught him anything, it was that appearances could be deceiving...

The curtains parted, but he couldn't see who it was. Suddenly it hit him―vulnerability.

The door opened. And he was greeted with the rather comforting words, "What the fuck are you doin' here, Nancy?"

Thank goodness.

"Yeah. Sorry to interrupt movie night. I've just been crazed thinking about―may I come in?"

"No."

"Fair enough. But, come on, I mean, I'm a doctor. Of course I'm going to think about it. You know? I spent my life studying the natural, and the logical. Learning it, embracing it, using it my whole life. To find out that mutants are―"

He barely made a face as Logan grabbed him and drew him into the cabin. Deliberately talking loudly―it never failed.

Logan slammed the door, walking with unnaturally heavy steps into the mutants' abode. "Listen, bub, you gotta be careful what you say and how you say it. You never know who's listening."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Last time I was here, Kayla became this blue creature and kicked me in the face."

Logan turned to face him more head-on. "Hey, you wanna repeat that?"

"Yeah, either somebody was masquerading as Kayla, or...you have no idea who your girlfriend is."

"You son of a bitch, why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Logan rasped. He left the kitchen, moving stealthily up the stairs―until one broke under his adamantium weight. He spared House a look of seething irritation, then surged out of the hole and disappeared upstairs.

House wandered to the base of the stairs and yelled up them, "Hey, you got any beer?"

No answer came. "Hmm," he said to himself, and awkwardly limped to the fridge. Pulling it open he stared for a moment at the contents of the fridge, most of which was alcohol. The drinks varied in brand and took up most of the fridge; there were also unopened cases of it on a shelf, but House wanted a cold one. He liberated one of his favorites from its chilly prison and cracked it open. "At long last," he said to himself, and took a seat at the island. He was about halfway done by the time Kayla came down the steps, Logan in tow. He stopped walking and wouldn't come any closer; she circled the island and just gazed at House―effectively making it impossible for him to drink.

She said nothing, just stared at him with her pretty eyes full of judgment and questions.

House shrugged. "I thought I was hallucinating."

"I thought you lied about that."

"Didn't bang my head," he said roughly. "Been hallucinating for years."

"What do you see?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Christ, I can't believe there was another one," Logan muttered.

"And a fourth."

"A fourth?" Kayla asked.

"At least." He made a face, still brandishing the beer. "Guess it is a thing," he muttered, and took a swig.

"So you're really not messing with us," Logan deduced.

"You almost chopped off my head. No," he sighed, "I'm not messing with you."

Kayla hesitated, rubbing her neck, then awkwardly said, "Your―uh, your hand looks good."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot. You know what doesn't look good, though, is Cameron's foot." He watched her immediate remorse. "Why did you do that?"

"To slow her down, so I could make her forget! And I... I didn't even have to," she said, and started blinking back tears. "If I had known, there's no way I..."

"Really don't like crying women," House hinted, and drank some more.

"Well, I ruined her life. Excuse me for feeling bad."

"You ruined your friendship. She doesn't give a damn about you. But I guess that's what you wanted."

"No. No, that's not what I wanted. I wanted her to be safe, you know, and I knew she wouldn't be."

"So you took preventive measures by shooting her in the foot and abandoning her in a shack with blood loss and amnesia. Can't ask for a better friend than that."

"Well, I'm, I panicked. Yes, people know about us―but we're not close with them."

"No, you just kill them and stay up here. Not close with anybody." He twisted his mouth, then got noisily up off his seat, carrying the bottle. "My kind of life, I tell ya. I am so gosh-darn sick of people. I've never fit in with anyone, either."

They didn't seem surprised. He forced a smile at them. "We all probably have stories. Like... I didn't start taking lunch breaks until I became a doctor." He shrugged. "I enjoyed school too much."

Kayla crossed her arms and shook back her hair. "I always spent recess sitting with the same playground monitor because I didn't have any friends."

"Hmm. I always sat alone at recess, because...I hated people," House shrugged.

Logan nodded vaguely, then moved to the fridge. House observed him, trying not to smile as he pulled out a beer.

"So. Allison. She's, uh, she's really okay?"

"She's even laughing."

Kayla tried to smile, but it didn't begin to touch the sadness in her eyes. "Good."

"Yeah. Really sorry about movie night. Sucks having your whole life interrupted. That," he added in Logan's direction, "Is why I faked my demise. See, my friend Wilson got cancer, and we made these plans to spend his last months however he wanted. But, I was facing jail time that was longer than the time he had. So I did what I had to do."

"Sounds like both'a you got fucked-up ideas of preventive measures," Logan muttered, and drank deeply.

"That's true, you are quite a competitor."

Kayla raised her eyebrows and nodded in contemplation. "I guess so."

"I'm telling you, I mesh here. I wish I wasn't human."

"Ah, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Logan muttered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and observed their reticence. "From where I'm sitting, or standing," he amended, "You guys have got it made. I-I had as much power as I wanted, being, you know, a world-renowned doctor with a bum leg. People let me get away with a lot. But now I'm just...an old man. And shockingly poor. I don't know, I guess I'll miss having things kind of just handed to me. Having the stuff I worked for. I'm nothing now, and...you know, you guys'll never be nothing."

"Maybe, but it's hard," Kayla said.

"Lonely?"

She nodded.

"I call it peaceful," Logan muttered.

"Sure, it's peaceful. But don't you ever wish for...more?" she asked.

"No, do you?"

"Well, I didn't, until I had to break off my friendship with Allie. We were friends for 15 years."

This wasn't helpful to House. He wandered into the bathroom, took a pen and piece of paper out of his pocket, and wrote down their address; upon putting it all back into his pocket, he flushed the toilet he hadn't used and went back into the kitchen, forcing a smile at them. "Sorry. Old man bladder's a bitch."

"Thank God I'll never wear diapers," Logan growled.

"You see how lucky you are?"

He made a contemplative face as he took another swig of beer.

House scoffed in Kayla's direction. "Uh, Louie tells me I―"

"Logan," he bit.

"Right. Logan tells me I remind you of your grandfather. That true?"

Kayla smiled at him in confusion, hesitating briefly. "No."

House looked over at Logan's smile, not quite concealed by the mouthpiece of his bottle. "Right, well, I am German. Probably something else, but I don't know my dad. Kayla, that's... Irish, Greek, and Hebrew. Isn't it?"

"Yes," she looked as surprised as she sounded.

"Yeah, I should've figured. So what, uh, what flavor are you?"

"Hebrew."

He waited a beat for more, then said, "A thoroughbred? Nice. Everyone else I know is a mutt."

"And then there's you," she said, "A Heinz 57."

He grinned at her and raised his bottle. "To sex."

"I will hit you," Logan warned.

House shrugged it off and drank "his" beer, and Logan studied him for a moment, finally saying, "Jesus Christ, you're not slowly moving yourself in here, are ya?"

"Is that an offer? Because I will accept it."

Logan looked at Kayla. "I'll hit him into America."

"Relax. I'm just delaying going home. 'Cause I know I'm going to be arrested at the border."

"Because you faked your death?" she asked, "Just tell them what you told us."

"Yeah, that's how the law works," Logan said.

"Actually there's a lot of counts. Violating a DNR, bringing a dead animal into the operating room, not appearing in court, some...acts of aggression. And now there's new ones; being the last person to see the guy who was shot to death, taking money off his corpse. I'm not exactly Greg House, upstanding citizen. I'm like you," he added in Logan's direction. "I'm a lot like you."

"You're not, trust me."

"Well, we both went to Japan. We both ride motorbikes. Smoke the same cigars, drink the same beers. Same taste in women," he added, casting an appreciative look to Kayla.

"Look, pal, unless you can cut yourself open..."

"I have."

The mutants stared at him.

"Yeah, had to get rid of my tumors. Didn't want a doctor knowing, because... Well, the tumors were an unfortunate side effect of trying rat medicine."

"Rat medicine?"

"I was desperate."

Kayla shook her head in amazement. "Damn, Greg."

"Yeah... My mother always said I had a way about me."

The clunk of a bottle on the island counter top made both of them look at Logan. "Ain't no way you came here after supper to see if we're compatible. You're up to something."

"You're right! Please, please, chop off my head!"

Logan smirked at him. "Is that an offer?"

"What about my tone implies that I'm serious?"

"Nothing. I just want to do it."

House sighed, rubbing his forehead as he wondered if this was how he sounded to his colleagues. "I came here because...I can't think," he confessed. "Everything I know is telling me you shouldn't exist. I mean, it shouldn't be possible. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"I can make you forget again."

"I don't want to forget again. I want to understand. It's-it's what I do."

Kayla nodded, squinting―her pretty eyes full of judgment and questions.

"Learning and understanding is the only power I've got. It doesn't make me special, but it's...been a crutch."

"So you want us to divulge everything about ourselves. How do we know you won't turn us in to the police?" she asked.

"How do you know I won't do that with the little information I've got? Besides, A.), you can just kill the ones who show up, and B.), you can kill me for the betrayal. Quite easily, I might add."

Kayla considered, then raised her eyebrows and looked at Logan.

"Quite easily," he growled.

House's only response was to smile.

"Wait, you're...you're okay with being killed for the betrayal?" she asked.

"Won't be a betrayal," he lied.

Kayla turned around and went to the fridge. As she opened it, House surveyed the interior―and suddenly realized that to Logan, it might appear he was admiring her backside. He quickly said, "You know, I have to say, as a doctor... It's a little concerning that 80% of your fridge is just beer."

"That's not true," she said, setting her bottle down on the counter. "There's also wine."

He rolled his eyes and she giggled. "I'm serious, it's not healthy. You're going to get sick!"

"We're okay. I have a garden, too."

"A pot garden?"

"A fruit and vegetable garden." Again, that belated frown.

"Oh, good."

"We may not live like you, Greg. We still live."

There was a brief hesitation; then Logan asked, "So how do we know we can trust you?"

"You want to put your claws to my throat again?"

Logan's turn to smile. "I was thinking I'd actually work my way up to your throat."

"Fair enough," he repeated, after making only a slight face.

"So," Kayla sighed, gripping the counter with both hands. She looked tentatively up into House's eyes. "What would you like to know?"

Hoping that turning them in would feel better than a brisk jog around the park, House smiled into her eyes.