For some reason, House had found it difficult to leave the kid behind in the bland hospital room. Well, not only was it physically difficult due to the fact that the kid kept getting underneath his feet and tried to bolt every chance that he got whenever House tried to leave, to the point where he had to call the nurses to come in to make sure he didn't run off, but there was something else that he couldn't put his finger on that made it hard. This wasn't normal behaviour, obviously; even if the kid was abused, as suggested in the patient file, something still wasn't right. Knowing that it was going to be a challenge, House still ordered a toxicity report to see if there were any drugs in his system that would be causing him to act out like this. If there was something more deep-rooted going on, then House would have to pass on this case to someone else, which would be the last thing that he wanted to do; he was given this case to solve, and that's exactly what he was going to do. He wanted to solve this, not anybody else. This was his case. His puzzle.

He had been sitting in his dark office by himself, tapping the handle of his cane gently against his chin as he stared at the whiteboard that was in front of him. He shifted in his chair a bit, leaning forward as if the answer would be hidden in tiny letters. Kids didn't lie. Not unless they were instructed to lie. Hell, kids wouldn't talk if they were told not to. It was something House knew all too well, as his own father would instill that into him. When he was a child and someone asked how he got that black eye, he was instructed to lie that he had played too hard on the playground on the weekend. The answer he wanted to say was the truth. That his father threw something at him and clocked him hard in the face. He had to lie. This kid had to lie.

"The problem is…" he started just as the door opened, pouring in light from the hallway, not once looking away from the whiteboard to see who it was. "Who told him to lie?"

"Told who what?" Wilson questioned, closing the door behind him. "Migraine?"

"No."

"Focusing?"

House hummed in response, his eyes not once drifting away. He tapped his foot against the carpeted floor; it was difficult to move forward when the little monster didn't talk, and they couldn't find any file on him. That wouldn't stop him, though; that only made it the more interesting. Most patients who came in through here demanded an answer at that exact moment to where it almost stressed House out when combing through everything. Someone who doesn't want to be here, and House doesn't have a clue who they are or what they have going on with them. That was something he had been praying for. This kid was an enigma. It wasn't like the symptoms he had written up on the board was going to jump out and shout out the answer the longer he looked at it, so with a sigh, House pushed himself to stand up, wincing a bit.

"What else did they say was going on with the kiddo?" House questioned, grabbing the dry-erase marker and dabbing small dots across the board out of boredom. "Mute. Violent. Zoomies," he added the latter on the board. "Feral cat with a good disguise?"

"Right. Out of all the places a feral cat wanted to sneak into, it's a hospital," Wilson added sarcastically, moving to stand next to House. "You didn't visit him very long?"

"There wasn't much I could do. I sent Cameron."

"Ah, yes. He just needs a mother's touch. That'll work."

"Yeah, well… Cameron's a sucker for wanting to save children."

"As any doctor should be."

Wilson watched as House only stared at the whiteboard, the familiar look of determination in his eyes. If anyone was going to figure this out, it would be him. He could imagine him trying to reason with a child, especially as one as rowdy as this one; it would only be a matter of time before he would give up and refuse to see the little one anymore and have his team do the dirty work for him. House might surprise him, as he was pretty good with working with children. In House's eyes, children were pure and didn't purposely conceal the information that he needed in order to help them. That didn't stop him from being sarcastic with them as with his other patients, though he was certainly gentler and patient with them. Parents were typically the ones who held them back; with no parents, there was nothing to worry about.

"This isn't something you'll be able to figure out overnight," Wilson reminded him. House wasn't stupid, he knew that, but that didn't stop him from trying to break that reality. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"Busy."

"You're just… staring at the whiteboard. C'mon. I'll buy."

"You always buy."

"I'll be more inclined to buy."

"Has the kid eaten anything since he's been admitted?"

"That's what you're worried about? You can't even be bothered to know patients' names. Don't tell me you're starting to go soft."

"Could just be hangry."

Wilson scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. That's it."

"Right…." He tossed the marker back onto his desk. "We'll see what Cameron comes back with."

It wasn't usual for House to give patient-related tasks to his team; he didn't care to see patients, and he sure didn't want to connect emotionally with them, so when he told her to talk to this kid, she didn't think anything by it. Even when he didn't give the patient a name, she assumed that it was because he had forgotten it or didn't even know it in the first place; that wasn't uncommon. In fact, it would be almost shocking if he did. Being given a case that involved the child inpatient psych unit was unusual for them; Cuddy had made sure to not give House any cases relating to the area, knowing that his ways of healing weren't orthodox.

Just as when House and Wilson scanned into the unit, Cameron was hit was the sound of screaming children.

Should have worn earplugs, Cameron thought as she looked down at the bare chart she carried with her. House wasn't exaggerating for once; this kid was a nobody. They didn't know what allergies he could have or what illnesses ran in his family, which meant they would have to keep a closer eye on him. Given House's misogynistic tendencies, he would make her do it.

When Cameron went up to the kid's hospital room, before she could put her hand on the doorknob, she could feel someone staring at her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a child around five years old who had his eyes locked on her before looking at the door in front of her.

"Are you gonna let 'em out?" The child asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Ah… no. I'm just checking on him. Is he your friend?"

The child shook his head.

"Nuhuh. All he 'oes is scream."

"Yeah? He's not feeling well."

"I heard he bit someone's finger off," he whispered with wide eyes. Leave it to children to overhear something small from the nurse's station and spread it around like incorrectly placed wildfire.

Cameron only smiled, trying her best to not chuckle at this child's real fear.

"No, no. He hasn't done that. I promise."

The child shrugged before running off down the hallway to go hang out with his group of friends. She was always amazed yet saddened that the only social group and friend group these kids had were with each other in a hospital setting. There was always that possibility when they leave they would never see each other again. It was something she tried not to think about. They were here to get healthy, not to be friendly, was something House would probably say. With a sigh, Cameron attempted to open the door, only to find it to be locked. Was this kid really that bad?

What was once silence now turned into screaming, but it wasn't like the other screaming from around this unit. It was more like a growling-type of scream as if telling her that he doesn't want to be bothered and to leave him alone. Cameron would be lying if she said that didn't startle her and maybe let out a small gasp; her grip on the chart was enough to crumple it up. She let out a breath, remembering that she couldn't act scared. And why should she be? This was a toddler, after all. Though, it didn't help when there was banging on the other side of the door.

Great. No wonder why House didn't want to do this himself.

Something caught her eye; when she looked down, she saw tiny fingers underneath the door crack. He was scratching against the tile floor, trying to reach out towards her shoes, not that he could do anything to her, but Cameron still moved away, not wanting to enable his behaviour.

"Sorry," a nurse said as she came up beside Cameron, shuffling through her giant key ring. "Got caught up with the little ones," she gave her a small smile. "Dr. House sent you?"

"Yeah…." Cameron mumbled, looking down again, but the fingers were gone. She noticed that there were a couple of orderlies with her. "Is he really that bad?" She asked, stepping aside as the nurse unlocked the door.

"We just took him out of restraints a bit ago, if that tells you anything."

"He's a toddler."

"I know. It's really sad."

The nurse hesitated after taking her key from the lock, one hand on the door, letting the yelling and screaming settle before even thinking about opening the door. Even with the manpower they had to contain him, they had to think about the other children who were in the ward. Not in all her years had she seen something like this; she had worked in this unit for almost twenty-five years, and she'd seen all sorts of neglect and abuse, all sorts of mental illness, but nothing came close to this. She had been working the night shift when he came in; the kid was inconsolable, screaming, crying, yelling, fighting, and lashing out. It reminded her of working a night shift in the ER, but that has never happened in the unit itself, especially after they've just come from there to get checked into a unit room. To say the kid was violent was an understatement; no matter what any of them did to try to calm him down, nothing besides sedatives worked, and they quickly learned that no matter how many times or how long they left him in restraints, it never worked. It was like his body forced him to keep fighting against them, never allowing him to take a break out of pure exhaustion. His fight-or-flight never stopped.

"How old is he, exactly?"

"If I had to guess… four or five?" The nurse answered with a small shrug. "Wouldn't expect that with all the helping hands, huh?"

"House said he doesn't have a name?"

"Nope. Nothing we could find, and obviously, he won't tell us. The kid hasn't said a word since he's been brought in. We've been trying to change his bandages all day."

"Let's see what I can do."

Once the door opened, the child immediately sprung out of the room, screaming and kicking as the orderlies were faster than he was. With one orderly on each side, they grabbed his wrists, hand under his elbows, and lifted him up as they brought him back into his room. Cameron was stunned into silence as she watched them try to control the situation. She had to force her thoughts behind and tend to the boy, who was now thrashing around on the bed as they were trying to restrain him once again, only for the nurse to stop them.

"Hang on. He needs a break from the restraints; he's at the two-hour mark."

Two hours.

"Well, can we sedate him?" One of the orderlies grunted, trying to keep the toddler still.

"No…."

Cameron swallowed hard, looking between the staff of this unit and then back to the boy. Either this would work, or she was insane.

"I got him," she said suddenly, causing everyone to look at her. "Let him go."

The nurse looked at the others before back to Cameron with wide eyes. Clearly, this doctor didn't know what she was asking for.

"Not the best idea. Nurse from this morning got bit."

"I… it's still fine. I got it."

The nurse shrugged; Cameron was the doctor; she overruled whatever the nurse said, so if she wanted to be alone with the kid, then that's what she'd get. She was the first one out of the room, no longer wanting to be a possible target for this little creature.

"Hey, sweetie," Cameron said softly, standing at the end of the bed, her hands resting on the bed's plastic frame. "Can we talk? It'll only be a second, I promise."

The child didn't listen to her, only twisting and turning violently, and would end up hurting himself if he pulled something wrong. Cameron could only watch in horror, doing her best to keep her emotions in check; it wasn't something she was good at, even though House had pushed her time and time again to 'get over' it.

"Hey," she tried again, moving to the side of the bed, kneeling down, and gently taking his wrists and holding them so the orderlies could leave the room. Just like they warned House, it wasn't the best idea, but at least they'd be waiting outside the door in case she needed anything. "Hun, it's okay."

The boy screamed again, attempting to yank his wrists away. Cameron sighed, trying to lower his arms on the bed so that when she did let go, it wouldn't cause him to hit himself. He'd never seen her before, and even though he hadn't talked to anybody, he could recognize them. All the doctors and nurses that came and went, it'd be difficult, but not for him, apparently.

"What's your name?"

The tactic here was to keep, well, calm him down at this point. Cameron wasn't going to get anywhere if he was in distress. Eventually, his body would crash, and he could get some sleep. A peaceful one. Not one forced by drugs and spawning nightmares.

Cameron hummed a bit, trying to speed up the process as her hands moved from his wrists to carefully rubbing his back. Anything she could think of to try to calm him down. His little body was running on fumes at this point; there was no way an adult could keep this up, and therefore, he couldn't either. Surprisingly, the boy allowed her to touch him; even though it was small, it was a breakthrough in itself. He was breathing heavily, and small growls would occasionally follow; the tension in his body would have been enough to put Cameron out of commission, so she wasn't sure how he was keeping this up.

"I know it's scary…." Cameron started again. Her toe was in the door; now she needed to get her foot to go in next. "There's a lot of noise… a lot of lights, and a lot of people poking at you. But you're safe here. We're going to help you. Your…." She sighed, not knowing if his parents were the ones who hurt him like this, so she didn't want to bring that topic up even though they desperately needed that information. "We want to see you healthy."

Only the words that Cameron spoke hung in the air; there was nothing indicating that the boy was calming down anymore. She didn't know what his triggers were, if any. Obviously, there had to be some triggers, but without him saying, she couldn't possibly know. God, how badly she wanted to pick him up and hug him tightly. She could only imagine what House would say to that.

"Have you met Doctor House yet? He's the one with the cane."

...

He nodded.

Cameron bit the inside of her cheek; that was the first of any confirmation she'd gotten from him, and she hoped that she could keep this going. The more he could trust her, the better, but she had to figure out exactly how to do that.

The boy had suddenly begun to stare off at the wall that was just above her shoulder; she took notice of this, trying to think quickly to get him from zoning out. Whatever was going on in that mind of his wasn't good; keeping him from dissociating was now her number one priority.

"Hey," she said gently, putting a gentle hand on his arm, only for him to snap his arm back with a scream. The look on his face didn't match with someone who was scared, but one who looked furious. "Hey, hey-"

He screamed again, hitting her hand, not wanting to be touched. Whatever little rapport they had was shattered only by one small action. Cameron cursed under her breath as she pulled her hand away; she should have figured something that would have happened, and here she thought she would finally have something to brag to House about.

"Sweetie, it's okay-"

He moved to climb onto the bed as a way to keep space between them, not wanting anybody to be near him. Arms. Bandages. God, she should have known that. Nobody would want their bandages touched, though she believed it had more to it than that. Somehow, she believed that she would've gotten the same reaction either way. The look in his eyes was telling Cameron that she should leave to give him some space, but she needed to be sure that he wouldn't do anything to hurt himself.

"Do you want some ice cream? I'm sure we-" This time, Cameron had been interrupted by him throwing a pillow at her. She huffed in defeat; there was no way of getting through to this kid right now. House wasn't just being lazy this time; the boy truly needed some work. Work that neither she nor House would be able to give. "Okay…." She stood up, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. "I'll just… give you some time to breathe, okay?"

The door to House's office swung open, revealing House and Wilson to a frustrated Cameron, who stormed up to his desk. The first thing House noticed was that she was holding a bandaged hand.

"How'd it go?" He asked dryly, feeling as though he already knew the answer. "Get the little rascal's name?"

"No. You didn't tell me he bites," Cameron huffed. "Or that he was mute… or had violent tendencies… When I tried leaving his room he bit me!"

"Didn't I? Oh. Thought I did. My bad."

Cameron rolled her eyes, leaving the office out of frustration, not before muttering something about having to get a tetanus shot.

"Hopefully, he's not rabid," House joked again to Wilson, who didn't look pleased with House's delegation process. "Hey, don't look at me like that. If she had read through his file like she was supposed to, she would've known all that."

"Did you read his file?"

"More or less. Look…" he said, leaning forward as he pushed his lunch further on his desk. "This is how it goes when we have these kinda patients-"

"Child patients or violent ones?"

"…same thing. Anyway, I send someone in, they give me the information, I cure them, they give them the cure, and the patient leaves with a happy bill."

"Who are they going to give the happy bill to? They can't figure out who his parents are. They're looking for any accidents that could explain this."

House hummed, spinning his chair to look at the whiteboard again, only causing Wilson to groan in response. He wasn't trying to get House hooked on the case again; he wanted him to sit down, relax, and eat his lunch for once, not getting sucked into this obsession again.

"No. Stop it. You promised you'd eat your lunch."

"I did."

"You haven't touched half your food. Come on."

"Thinking."

Wilson groaned, standing up from his chair. He now had the task of trying to calm House down from his obsessive thinking all over again. It took him almost two hours to do so in the first place; lord knows how long it would take him this time around. Wilson grabbed House's shoulders from behind, shaking him gently before burying his face into his shoulder blade. As much as he enjoyed and admired his boyfriend's work ethic, it made him want to pull his hair out at the same time. There was no winning either way. Either House cares too much about a case or cares too little until he's forced to get involved. Wilson understood this mentality; House had to be hyper-fixated on a case to get overly involved in it as much as he was.

"You go," House said suddenly, almost startling Wilson with his voice. "Go check on the kid for me."

Wilson stared at him like he was insane; even though House couldn't see him, he could still feel his eyes burning in the back of his head. Check on the kid? The feral one who hasn't cooperated with anybody? Who also apparently isn't afraid to bite people who upset him? Absolutely not.

"Seriously? After he bit Cameron? The sweetest doctor you have? No!"

"Careful. Your hetero is showing." He chuckled when Wilson smacked his shoulder. "What happened to the oath or… whatever it is?"

"Oh, and you follow it?"

"I'll give you fifty bucks."