Hating Mondays was so stereotypical; House was sure that there was an entire cartoon character centered around hating Mondays, but he was in too much of a haze from the Vicodin he took on his way to work to remember what it was. He had weekends off, so the first day back to work was always the most obnoxious as he had to go through emails (or say that he does), but more annoyingly, he was going to have to skim through the case files on his desk to deem what was worth his time, or what he could send his team of Ducklings to do for him. Yeah, nine times out of ten, nothing left for him from over the weekend interested him enough to go down in person. Anything else usually resolved itself, and the patient was discharged before House could even get a hold of the charts.

As soon as House entered his office, he closed the door before tossing his backpack next to his desk before sighing. He didn't want to talk to anyone; he didn't want to look at emails or stupid files that were on his desk. He wanted to work one miracle at a time and for everyone to stop pestering him. More importantly, he predicted that either Wilson or Cameron were going to come through his door to beg him to take one specific case. Some type of emotional connection or whatever it was, they blabbed about wanting to solve the patient's case. If House had it his way, he wouldn't give them the time of day, but the way they looked at him with their damn puppy eyes always caused him to fold, even if he wouldn't admit it.

House sat down at his desk with a small groan, rubbing his thigh as a small amount of pain jolted through his leg and up his lower back. There was a small part of his brain that warned him not to take any more Vicodin since he just had some this morning… and on the car ride here… and as soon as he walked into the building. It was a small voice that was easily pushed aside by his addiction, screaming at him that the pain was too much and that having one more pill wouldn't be the end of the world. Feeling as though he won the inner battle with himself, House shrugged as he took out his prescription bottle, accidentally pouring two pills into his hand, but brushed it off and took them quickly without any water. At least now, he would be pain-free and able to focus on all the work he chose to ignore.

Before he could enjoy the silence, the door to his office opened, causing him to groan in frustration, it was like he couldn't get any peace around here. Everyone bothered him, even if nobody technically came to see him this morning, which he was hoping would've lasted longer.

Getting comfortable, House noticed the lack of papers on his desk, but there was only one that sat neatly in the centre of the messy space. Opening the file showed him a very minimal amount of papers that were stapled together; typically, patient files were a couple of pages long, but this one was two. With a frown, House picked it up, scanning it quickly to make sure that what he was holding was a patient's intake information and not some sort of joke. As an extra measure, House lifted up the file in case something fell out, but there was nothing there. Weird, but okay. That alone was enough to pique his interest. He sipped his coffee as he read through it.

No name.

No birth date.

No… anything.

Everything on here was an estimate - there wasn't even an accurate age, and apparently, the patient wasn't speaking. In fact, this patient seemed to be quite the handful from what he was reading on his copy of the shift reports. He was physically violent, throwing things and refusing medicine, but he didn't understand how they were having so much difficulty. It made him chuckle, honestly; there was no way a toddler was giving them this much trouble. How was it such an issue? Give it a cookie, threaten time-out, and you should be good to go. Typically, House wouldn't be interested in anything like this, but it was the lack of information and the behaviour the patient was presenting. Though he was weighing it in his mind, did he really want to walk all the way to the child inpatient unit?

With a heavy sigh, House figured that it was interesting enough to check out. He grabbed his cane, pushing himself to stand up with a small wince shooting down his leg again.

It was as though a light went off in Wilson's office as soon as House stepped out of his office; the moment he took his first step and closed his office door, Wilson was immediately by his side to check in with him.

"I told you that was a one-night thing; why are you still here?" House joked dryly as he began to walk down the hallway.

"I could ask you the same thing. Every day. When I wake up and, you're still in my apartment. In my bed," Wilson countered, trying to suppress his smile.

"Oh, please. You'd be so lost without me in your bed. You always call me your furnace."

"And you always call me your-…." Wilson stopped when he realized that House was about to walk through the child inpatient psych unit. "I think you made a wrong turn somewhere?"

"Shut up," House mumbled, using his badge to scan into the double security doors as he held up the file he had been given. "I'm working."

Wilson couldn't help but feel skeptical, taking it from him, but he was just as puzzled and interested as House was. The blank slate of a patient was almost unheard of as it didn't take long for them to identify a patient later on.

"Who the hell gave you a child patient?"

"Probably one who wants to see me get bitten by a toddler."

"That narrows it down to… everyone in the hospital?"

"Hm. Funny."

The moment they walked in, there was the familiar combination of children screaming, both happily and having a tantrum. Though, they only heard it from the outside where it wasn't as shrill. It caused House to flinch; it was like nails on a chalkboard, and that was one of the reasons why House never wanted kids. Wilson, on the other hand…. It was a conversation that House avoided every time it came up, and it drove his fiance insane.

"We should be able to sedate them," House mumbled, though Wilson wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "I have no idea how they put up with this for twelve hours."

"Believe it or not, some people like children and want to help them heal."

"I never said that. I mean… this…." He motioned vaguely to the ward. "The screaming… the bright colours…." He looked at the bright paintings on the wall that were supposedly there to help the children feel better or safer or something else that House couldn't comprehend. "It drives me insane."

"I think they have a sensory room around here somewhere; wanna give that a try?" Wilson joked, though he immediately regretted it when House used his cane to smack him in the shin. "I was joking!" He hissed in pain, leaning against a wall as he rubbed the area before turning to go back so he could attend to his own patient.

When he rounded the corner, he saw what he assumed was going to be in his patient. There were a couple of nurses and orderlies in front of a door to ensure that the patient wouldn't attempt to escape. Again, this was humorous to House, as this was a child and shouldn't have this much of an issue. Either they were completely incompetent, or he was about to be dealing with a little demon.

Before House was able to make a smart comment about the situation, there was a loud, frustrated scream coming from the hospital room, followed by some food being thrown into the hallway. House would agree that the food here kinda sucked, but that didn't mean it had to be thrown around.

Interesting.

"Is this our little monster?" House joked dryly as he moved past the nurses to see what it was they were dealing with. Nobody answered him, and he could see why. "I got it," he told them, wanting to see what would become of the situation if there wasn't a crowd around the room.

The first thing that House noticed was the small child who had been zooming around the room as he was desperately looking for a way out of the room. It didn't help that there wasn't a window in the room; it would have made it feel less claustrophobic, though House felt like that wouldn't have been too helpful in this case. There was a wild look in the kid's eyes that told House everything that he needed to know what he was up against.

"Yeah, you're him." As soon as the words left his mouth, the kid tried bolting out the door just before House could close it behind him. "Ah, ah," he said, outstretching his arm to prevent him from running off; that was the last thing this unit needed. "Calm down, would you?" House pushed him back gently enough so as to not cause the kid to tumble to the floor.

The kid did not like being told what to do and being controlled in any way. There was something off about him, not counting what was listed on his chart. His eyes were wild; they were dark and almost like there was nothing behind them as dull as they were. House could only assume that something traumatic must have happened to him that caused him to have such dead eyes, that, or something was misfiring in that brain of his.

As soon as there was some distance between the two, the kid turned around to face House again, this time growling in frustration just as he did with the nurses. Unlike the others, House wasn't at all phased by his actions; there was no way he would back down to a toddler. Somehow, he reminded House of a feral cat that was being attempted to be approached by humans for the first time in order to tame it or get a thorn out from its paw. How were they going to convince this kid to feed from their hand in order to get him the help that he needed?

"Look, can you just use your words- …. Don't you dare," House warned, seeing that the kid had climbed up on the bed, looking as though he was about to lunge at the doctor. House huffed, moving aside when the kid jumped at him effortlessly.

Feral kid. That explained a lot.

"Non-verbal, apparently, but not non-communicative," House mumbled, seeing the wild look in his eye darken as the kid scowled at him. "Y'know, facial expressions speak louder than words." He paused, hoping that would be enough to get him to speak, only to be disappointed. "Look, kid, I know you're scared and confused, but I'm here to help you. The quicker you can understand that, the quicker we can figure out that broken brain of yours, alright?"

When House moved closer to the kid, his cane thumping against the carpet, he was able to see how grey his face truly was. Either he was sick with something or was malnourished, though one look at him could've told anybody that. House tilted his head, seeing the bandages that were wrapped up around both of his arms, starting from his wrists all the way up to his elbows, covered by the sleeves of his hospital gown. God, there was a lot more work than House thought he was going to have.

One step at a time.

"Why don't you tell me your name, kid. Or do you even know it?" House narrowed his eyes, still studying the boy, looking for any sign of recognition within his eyes, only to find nothing. "C'mon, kid. Humour me. What's your name?"

For the first time since he had been brought in, the boy was silent, his eyes were fixed on something behind him. When House looked over his shoulder, he noticed that the door to the room was slightly ajar. The moment House didn't have his eye on him, he attempted to make a break for it; people figured that since House walked with a cane, it meant that he was slow; what they didn't expect was that he wasn't afraid to use his cane to his advantage. House leaned against the wall, using the cane to close the door before the boy could run out, only furthering his anger.

The boy growled in frustration again with the realization that the only way he had to escape had been snatched away from him. It wasn't fair. He had no idea where he was or what was going on; he didn't understand why people were crowding him all the time, trying to poke and prod him. Hell, it took almost an hour to bandage up his arms; even then, it was a half-assed job due to him squirming around and fighting the nurses the entire time. There was a point where they had to move on and pick their battles, and as long as the bandages held up, then that was better than nothing. This entire time, nobody had gotten a single word out of him; everyone had to guess and assume what he wanted, and each time, it was wrong, only making things worse, it seemed.

Even though this situation was clearly distressing, House was excited to see what he could find out about this kiddo.