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Desperados
by naughtybookworm
House parked his bike and heaved himself up the few steps to 221B, unzipping his leather jacket as he did. The neighbor kid stood against the wall, trying to be invisible. This was getting old. It was nearly 10PM. He ran into the boy every time he came home or went anywhere. Or the kid was sitting on the stoop; playing with the harmonica House had given him. They'd actually "jammed" together a second time, House on his piano in his living room with the window open, the boy out on the front stoop.
The doctor paused before he unlocked his door, thinking he should probably do something; talk to the mother, find out what was going on there, at least. That definitely wasn't Greg House's way, though. He preferred to mind his own business, and he liked others to do the same, thank-you-very-much.
"Hi kid," House adjusted his grip on his cane.
"Hi." He stared at the floor.
"I'm not practicing tonight," the doctor told him. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm pretty tired. Go home. Do your homework or something."
The boy answered without looking up. "Okay." But he didn't move.
Irritated, House hobbled to the opposite door. He rapped on it with his cane. "Hello? Hey... lady, come let your kid in. He should be in bed."
The look of horror on the kid's face stopped House in his tracks. "Hey..." He limped a bit closer, the boy tensed, if getting tenser than he was could be possible, and started looking for an exit path. House froze. "Hey...kid....-what did you say your name was?"
"David."
"-David. Is your mother actually in there?"
David shook his head.
"When did you see her last?"
Shrug.
House regarded David fully for the first time since the incident with the bullies. He looked like a homeless person. Stringy hair, clothes wrinkled beyond reason, even skinnier than House remembered, a little bit rank. As usual, the doctor understood a lot of things very quickly. David hadn't actually been hanging out in the hallway from time to time. He was living there. The kid's mother might have been gone as long as four days. That was the last time House had seen her...actually, heard her, yelling at the kid.
David's worn-out plastic knapsack, the one he'd worn to school every day was tucked into a corner. House limped over to it, grabbed it up with his free hand, and headed into his own apartment, leaving the door partly open.
David's mouth fell open a little when Dr. House had taken his backpack. He froze for several minutes, terrified. He didn't know what to do; he wanted to cry, but that was the worst thing to do if a bully took your stuff.
The boy edged towards the open door. He pushed it open a little more, then a bit further, careful not to let it creak. David looked around. This place was just like the one across the hall, except this one was nicer to be inside. There were books all over the place. The leather furniture made everything look dark, but it was okay. And there was the piano. He couldn't resist getting a closer look at that. There weren't any keys, it seemed, but David figured out that the little knobs on the front would help you lift the cover. He experimented with lifting one of them. When it slipped out of his hand, there was a single, very loud 'plink' of one of the keys on the high end of the instrument. Oh no.
"Shut the door," Dr. House called from the kitchen. Then David understood. He had expected David to follow him; he wasn't stealing his stuff at all. The boy followed the voice to the kitchen and peered around the doorjamb.
He was making something to eat. Instantly, David's stomach growled fiercely at him. He tried to make his stomach muscles taut in a vain attempt to control the sound, but it was to no avail. His mouth watered so much he nearly drooled.
"I hope you like peanut butter," Dr. House was saying. "Because there isn't much else to eat." He slid the sandwich on a paper plate across the table to David, and started making another one for himself.
By the time House was placing the top slice on his sandwich, David was popping the last crust into his mouth, and trying to cope with the thick peanut butter in his throat. He started to cough and splutter suddenly.
"Holy crap!" House rose and made his way to the boy. Damn, peanuts, he thought. Every third kid was developing a peanut allergy nowadays. He was pretty sure he didn't have any epinephrine in the house.
David recovered quickly. He'd been so hungry that he choked on the sandwich. Catching his breath, he sneaked a glance at the doctor. The man's eyes were like daggers the way they pierced into him. He looked angry. David, frightened, started to back away.
"Okay?" Dr. House asked. He got a glass of water from the tap and handed it to David. Not angry, then. But something...
David nodded and sipped his water slowly, knowing that having the liquid in his stomach would make him feel fuller longer. "Thanks, Dr. House."
Dr. House picked up the empty plate in front of David and replaced it with the other sandwich. David froze again, afraid of what Dr. House would think of him if he ate the sandwich. His mother had told him over and over about how he needed too much, cost too much money. But the man seemed totally unconcerned about that. He started making another sandwich for himself. The little boy picked up the sandwich, which House had cut in half, this time.
"Take it easy this time," House said to him. "No need to rush." He got up and retrieved two cokes from the fridge. He supposed he should offer milk, but if there was any, it was probably sour. "You can just call me 'House.'" He added.
* House * David thought, a place you can live inside. He liked it.
David managed to eat about two-thirds of the other sandwich and to down half a can of coke. He felt uncomfortable now that he wasn't so desperately hungry. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, and he wasn't sure if there was something he was supposed to do. If someone was angry, David knew he could try saying he was sorry. Dr. House wasn't angry. He was just eating. So David just stared down at the table while he waited, occasionally sneaking a glance at the man until their eyes met. Then the boy would bend his eyes, the way his mother made him do when he looked at her too much. "Bend those eyes, boy" she would say to him when it got on her nerves.
House cleared away the table, leaving the dishes in the sink and left the kitchen, beckoning for the boy to follow him. He showed him into the bathroom - David had forgotten how much he'd needed to go - turned on the shower and instructed him to clean himself up. "Leave your clothes on the floor. I'll get you something else to wear." He showed him how to lock the door in case he needed to in order to feel more comfortable.
David stood in the room that was filling up with steam. He was a little afraid. He knew about creepy men who liked little boys in the wrong way. He'd been approached by one of them on the playground at school when he was six; a bigger kid, a girl named Sophie, had seen what was happening and threatened to tell if the man didn't go away. Then Sophie explained about men like that. He hoped that House wasn't a man like that, but his life so far was mostly crap, so he didn't hold out much hope. Anyway, he could get cleaned up. Even though his clothes were dirty most of the time, David hated being dirty almost as much as he hated being hungry. And if Dr. House was a creepy guy, well, maybe he could outrun him.
House poked around in his tool kit until his found his locksmithing tools. Then he opened his wallet and pulled out a credit card. He made quick work of letting himself into the apartment across the hall. It was sparsely furnished with cheap Rent-A-Center crap. A sofa, a TV, a kitchen table. The mother's contained a full bedroom suite, curtains, artificial plants, another TV, a collection of cheap porn. Working girl's setup. House checked the drawers and closet in her room and found them empty. David's room contained only a mattress on the floor. On the mattress House found a miniature Casio keyboard and a pair of dirty, threadbare pajamas. He rooted around in the closet that was mostly full of junk, but also found a pair of jeans and a shirt on the floor that didn't look too dirty. He hunted a while longer for underwear, but didn't have any luck. Disgusted, the doctor let himself out of the apartment, locking up as he left.
Back in his own apartment, he threw the pants and shirt into the washer/dryer in his kitchen and turned it on. He scrounged up the smallest t-shirt he owned and found a clean oxford shirt. He hung the two items on the bathroom doorknob and called in, "David?"
"Yeah?" Over the shower.
"I'm leaving two shirts for you. Wear the long-sleeved one on top, okay?"
"Okay." He sounded a bit puzzled.
House made up the sofa into a bed for David, and placed his extra pillow, Wilson's pillow, there for him. This was probably the longest shower any kid in history had ever taken, he mused. There just wasn't that much to clean. He sat down at his piano and played something slow and light and quiet while he waited. David appeared silently at his elbow within five minutes, peering intently at the keys. House's t-shirt came down to his knees, the oxford the boy was wearing as a robe, down to his calves. Without commenting, House made room for him on the bench and tapped one key three times.
"Middle C," House intoned.
*****************
They were playing hooky. Actually, House was playing hooky. Schools were closed for some ungodly reason. House was completely clueless about school schedules. When David informed him on Sunday night that he wouldn't need lunch money for school the next day, eventually explaining the two-day holiday, he didn't understand why House was irritated with him.
He couldn't sleep. House hadn't actually said he was angry, just was a bit short with him. It scared David when House showed displeasure in anything he did. He tried his best not to screw up, ever, but he never saw this one coming. He wasn't even sure why House would be bothered; what difference did it make if he missed school. School was easy and boring and House only made him go because missing school would invite too much attention to their new living situation. Anyway, everybody else would miss, too.
It was another hour before the TV went off, and David was still unable to sleep. He wanted to make things right with House so he wouldn't feel so scared, but he didn't know how. He heard the familiar "tap-step step" coming down the hallway. Then the hall light was turned off before House quietly entered David's room.
"Hey..." House sat where he always did in David's room, at the foot of his bed, his back against the wall, long legs stretched out across the bottom width-wise. "I could hear you not sleeping. You move around a lot. When you're asleep, you're still as a stone." He turned in the darkness towards the boy. "I snapped at you earlier. I'm sorry."
David didn't reply. He didn't know how, since he'd never been in a situation like this before.
House continued, "So I'm kind of guessing that you didn't know it would be important for me to know when you're off school."
"I don't know." David agreed.
"Yeah, well, you're too young to be left alone all day long. So if I had known about your holiday earlier, I'd have been able to make some plans for you."
"It never mattered when I...before... I'm not a baby. I can stay here alone. It's not like when you went on that trip. I can practice on the piano."
House shook his head in the darkness. "Not gonna happen." He answered. "Not even legal."
"Then what?"
House shrugged. "I'll think of something before tomorrow. Don't worry." He rose and sat closer, on the side of the bed so he could tuck the boy in again and kiss him goodnight.
David fell asleep almost instantly after that. House loved him again.
House did think of something. A wonderful surprise. When David woke, House was sitting at his bedside again. "Get dressed," the man told him. House had gathered their MP3 players, David's harmonica, some blank sheet music, and several other odds and ends he thought they might need for the day into his knapsack, and was waiting in the living room for David.
"Where are we going?"
House shrugged. "Surprise."
"What about the hospital?"
"All taken care of." He'd taken a personal day. He'd been prepared to offer some extra clinic hours if Cuddy balked, but it never came to that. She'd been only mildly irritated with him. He could live with that.
They got into the Corvette. It was late fall, but the morning was bright, and it promised to be a fairly warm day. House hoped he could put the top down later. They crept out of town before rush hour traffic got into full swing. Within 30 minutes, they were on the open road, cruising along a tree-lined highway, heading east.
House really didn't know where they were going. Just for a ride. He liked driving when his leg allowed it. Cruise control helped, once he was on the highway.
David had never really gone anyplace just for fun, only to escape. "Are we leaving for good?" he asked. His face was impassive, but House could tell there was impending disappointment behind his eyes. "Is there gonna be a piano where we're going?" Then: "House, can't we go back? I promise I'll tell you right away next time there's a holiday."
Shaking his head, the doctor explained that sometimes people go off on little trips just for fun. "Geez, this isn't punishment. We're just doing what's called a 'day trip.' It's gonna be fun. Don't worry so much. You're shaving years off your life."
Then, as the drive stretched into nearly an hour, "House, where are we going? Please let's go back home, House." David was starting to panic in his deceptively even, semi-calm way.
Frowning, House pulled off onto an exit that promised to have a decent pancake house. In the parking lot, the doctor regarded his young friend. "David, shhh" He undid the boy's seatbelt and took him by the shoulders. "We're supposed to be having fun, buddy."
David couldn't chill out, though. At breakfast, he barely ate anything. When House suggested that they both use the restroom before they continued on, David refused until the doctor stood where the boy could see his shoes. Then House understood that David was afraid House might abandon him out in the middle of nowhere. Like an unwanted puppy. He made himself a mental note that being surprised was not David's strong suit.
On the road again, House fired up the stereo system, plugged in an MP3 player, and handed it to David. "Pick some traveling music," he instructed, hoping to take the boy's mind off his fears.
The weather turned even more spectacular. It had gotten warm enough to put the top down, as long as they kept their jackets on. Even David's short hair was whipped around pretty well by the wind.
The music did help to wind things down a little. He'd become absorbed in a particular song, which he couldn't help but deconstruct in his mind. He played it about four times before House tuned it out and let his mind wander the way it did when he drove alone. He wasn't sure how many times the song had played before he noticed David's high, fluty voice singing above the sound of the engine. This was certainly better. Perhaps he'd decided to trust House tentatively.
Reading the road signs occasionally, David noticed that a lot of them mentioned the names of different beaches. "Are we going to a beach?" he asked.
House hadn't any notion in his mind of going to a beach, but shrugged. "We could. I haven't been to the ocean since... in years."
"I've never been to the ocean." David said simply.
"Then we've GOT to go there," the man replied, and floored it.
David was totally awe-stricken. He'd never experienced a body of water larger than a swimming pool, actually. Miles and miles of sand, and huge, magnificent, constant crashing waves that happened no matter what. There wasn't a thing that could stop them. House explained how waves and wind, and the moon, and the tides worked.
Standing outside the car, House closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Smell that," he instructed David.
David inhaled the salty, fishy, sea air, wrinkled his nose a bit and asked, "What is it?"
"Low tide," House replied, grinning at the boy. "You'll appreciate it someday. It's an acquired taste."
House knew that it would be hard for him to walk in the sand, so he found a huge fishing pier that provided them a way to get out over the ocean for the full effect. Later, they bought lunch at a sub shop that was still open in spite the off season. David carried their meal while House concentrated primarily on getting out onto the sand about halfway to the water so they could watch the tide come in. House did also manage to carry along an old blanket he'd found in the trunk of the 'vette, which they spread out on the sand.
After they had eaten, House took the liberty of removing David's shoes and socks, then his own, and instructed the boy to walk around on the sun-warmed sand, experience it between his toes. At first his didn't like the sensation at all, but, watching the sublime expression on House's face encouraged him to try a bit longer. He found that it was fun to walk on it and stay balanced as it shifted underfoot. David walked around and around House, then ventured towards the surf.
"You don't need me to tell you not to go in, right?" House called. "'Cause I'm a pretty decent swimmer, but I've kind of lapsed in the running department, so you might drown before I get to you." David didn't answer, but it was the kind of non-answer that meant, in the body language that had begun to develop between them that he had heard.
David walked up and down the beach in his general vicinity, occasionally turning around to check on House. It didn't take an advanced psychology degree to figure out that he was dealing with a very deep, very basic issue. Would House try to leave him? If he didn't stay right in House's face, would House disappear? Shaking his head, the doctor reflected that this was an emotional task that should have been completed in David's infancy. What had the boy lost as a result all those years of not having some person who was a permanent fixture in his life? The man cursed the kid's mother for about the ninety-first time in the few months he had known him.
Up close, the waves were louder and more powerful than David had surmised. This was awesome, the relentless pounding, the steady wind, punctuated by laughing gulls overhead. Facing the horizon, he stood, a barefoot boy in jeans and a windbreaker, arms outstretched sideways, letting the wind wrap around his skinny body, blasting him with salty sea spray.
He began to hear music in the waves, something deep and mysterious, relentless, but monotonous in a way that he liked. Always, always there without fail. A steady backbone for a tune that was developing in his mind. He let it play out on its own, pushing it in right direction occasionally, but mostly just letting it happen. When it was over, he knew he needed to get it down before it started to mutate in his head. It was exactly right the way he created it just now; no revisions necessary. He turned and raced back to the blanket, and House. Digging through the backpack, he dragged out the blank music sheets that House knew he needed to keep with him all the time, grabbed a pencil, and began to write.
Fascinated, House watched David at his task, shaking his head in disbelief. He pulled the harmonica out of the backpack and placed it between them on the blanket so the boy would have an instrument to check himself against, but there didn't seem to be a need. Hell, David barely needed an eraser today.
House yawned, thought it would be a good idea to rest a bit before they headed back. He poked David gently. "Stay with me on the blanket. I'm taking a nap."
*Stay with me*... "'Kay." The boy replied without stopping his work.
House dreamed about Wilson. He and Wilson were lying on their backs on the beach blanket, watching David who was nearby, exploring or getting inspired, House wasn't sure which. What he did notice was that David looked great; he had somehow filled out his too-thin frame a little. He was smiling; a natural, genuine smile, with none of the demon-haunted shadows that normally existed on the boy's face. He found a shell and started running back to show them. House turned to exchange looks with Wilson, and noticed that his friend had reached down and taken hold of his hand. He raised both their hands high up above where they lay, and smiled broadly, triumphantly at Greg.
When House woke, David was sitting cross-legged, watching the ocean again. House sat up next to him. Without looking at the doctor, he began to talk.
"One time," he whispered, so faintly that House had to strain his ears to hear him over the surf, "One time, when I was little, SHE took me to a car place. Where they fix cars. And I was asleep in the back seat, so they didn't know I was there. And the car went up on the lift. And she just left me trapped up there while the car was getting fixed."
House compressed his jaw, clamping down on the string of profanity he wanted to release. He didn't want to frighten David into silence. This was the most he'd ever said at one time about his past. "How long were you up there?" he asked.
Shrug. "I was little. I didn't know about telling time until I was four."
"Any idea where she went?"
David shook his head. "I went to sleep for a while, then I woke up. When the man in the garage saw me, he took me down and gave me a sticky bun. It tasted like cars. I got sick." He couldn't look at his friend. "She didn't come back, House. Until I was four, on my birthday. The social worker came to the place I was staying with Miss Richards and took me back to her. Then everything started all over again. Then every time we almost got in trouble with them we just moved someplace else."
House looked out at the ocean, controlling his reaction, knowing that the intensity of the self-righteous hissy fit he WANTED to throw right now might scare a child, especially this child. He placed his hand on David's shoulder, gave it a little squeeze. "Let's go home," was all he could say at the moment.
Back in the 'vette, David stood on the seat before they drove away, getting one last look at the ocean. "Could we come back again sometime, House?"
"Sure."
"Sometime real soon?"
"Okay."
David pressed on urgently. "'Cause I don't think it'll be long before this is over." He sat down properly and clicked into the seatbelt.
House said nothing for quite some time. David thought that this was just a brief respite from his miserable life. He wasn't surprised that the boy had developed some pretty unhealthy paranoia. The doctor needed to think about how best to approach this. He considered waiting to talk it over with Wilson, but he couldn't leave David like this, not even for a short time.
It got dark and cool pretty quickly, so House put the top back up. David fiddled with the music a little, but couldn't find anything he really wanted to hear. He finally settled on a mindless, muzak-y recording of Broadway tunes.
House turned off the stereo. "Wanna tell you something, David."
"Okay." As usual, David appeared reserved, restrained, preparing to be crushed, mentally flinching.
House pulled onto an exit ramp and pulled into a restaurant where they could have dinner after they talked. He turned a bit sideways in his seat. "David," his voice was gentle, gentler than David had ever heard him speak. "You mother was very wrong to treat you the way she did."
David shrugged.
"When she did that to you, she hurt you very deeply." He tapped the little boy's temple, "In here...And in here." He tapped David's chest.
David stared down at his chest for a moment. "Yeah." Was all he said.
"I wish I knew how to make that hurt go away," House told him. "I'm not always that good with things like this."
"That's okay." David shrugged again.
Sighing, the doctor said, "All that I'm sure of is that it is never right to hurt a child the way you've been hurt." He gripped the gear-shift with his left hand.
"I shouldn't have told you, right?" David asked, dread in his voice.
"You absolutely should have told me." House corrected instantly. "I want to hear everything you have to say to me."
David glanced quickly up at House's eyes and back away again. House reached forward and tipped the little boy's chin up until their eyes had to meet. "This is important, David." When he was confident that David wouldn't avert his eyes, he released the child.
"Sometimes, when your heart is hurting for a long time, you come to expect the hurting to go on and on forever." He squeezed a small shoulder. "Even when hurting isn't happening anymore. People are funny like that." I should know, he thought to himself.
David gave his usual non-committal shrug.
"I love you very much, David," House said. "No matter what else happens in this world, you have me. I'll always be on your side. I'm not going away."
"Okay."
House put his arms around David then, and the boy wasn't his usual wooden self, but he wasn't exactly huggable, either. No matter. Everything in its time.
"Hungry?" They left the car and started walking towards the building.
"House?" David caught the man's cane arm. "House, WHY do you love me?"
House's eyes were dark and unreadable in the dimly lit parking lot. "I can't help but love you. You're my kid."
"I was HER kid first," David murmured. "SHE didn't love me one bit."
"Yeah, I know." House said after a long pause. "But she was a bitch. People don't like to admit it, but some mothers just aren't any good.. She didn't deserve a wonderful kid like you."
David was ravenous. The sea air and the long day gave him quite an appetite for a change. He ate every bite of the kid's meal, and had peach pie for dessert. Before he could find a comfortable spot back in the 'vette's shotgun seat, he was out like a light.
An hour into the drive home, House's leg began to complain. Waaay too much walking today. Too long riding in the same position, too. He popped a Vicodin and started looking for a decent hotel.
House tipped the bellhop in advance to carry David up to their room for him. After he put the boy to bed, he sat on the sofa, watching the TV with the volume on low and massaging his thigh. Eventually, the Vicodin wave crashed over the nerves in his leg and he could rest. Stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt, he eased himself into the king-sized bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
When the doctor woke, dawn was just beginning to break. He immediately noticed that the foot of the bed was a tiny bit sandy. David was sitting up cross-legged, dressed as House was in a t-shirt and little boxer shorts. He was watching House. More precisely, he was peering intently at House's damaged leg, which had come uncovered while he slept. He was trying to see it in the dimness of the room, aided a little by the blue cast of light from the TV that House had left on. He didn't realize that the man was awake. It occurred to House that the boy had no idea what it was that made him limp, just that the leg hurt. They'd never really talked about his leg in all this time.
House reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.
David dropped his head down, afraid that his attempt to get a look at the ruined leg would make the doctor angry.
"It's okay," House whispered. "You can look."
David looked up into House's eyes for reassurance. When the doctor nodded, he scooted a bit closer to the man and peered intently at the massive scars. His eyes, curious at first, became frightened, then mournful. He looked away, down at the bed sheet.
"A few years ago," House supplied, "I had a blood clot in my leg that caused something called an infarction." He went on to explain what that meant, and how some of the muscle in his leg had died and gotten damaged forever.
David didn't know what kind of response he was supposed to make to House's story. He wanted to do something to make the man know how he felt, but David didn't know how he felt. There was too much to sort through.
The boy reached out tentatively with one finger and gingerly touched the scarred flesh. It felt warm but hard and stiff. When House didn't pull away, he placed his whole hand on the leg.
"Does it hurt?" David whispered.
"Not so much right now. It does sometimes."
"That's why you have to use your cane and the pills." David murmured.
"Yeah." He'd never talked about the Vicodin to David. He wasn't sure how to approach that, and they certainly had lots of other ground to cover.
"I wish your leg wasn't hurt, House." David told him earnestly. He removed his hand and knelt up close to the man and gave him a hug.
"Me too," House replied as he hugged the boy back.
David sat back, still watching the Doctor's face. "House," he whispered. "There's something else I wish."
House found that he had to strain his ears to hear, "I wish you were my dad."
David's candid confession had so touched him that Greg House was struggling not to cry. Strengthening his resolve, he held out his hand, and snapped his fingers. "You wish is granted." He said.
David didn't question. He chose to believe right away. "I love you, Daddy" he spoke, this time, in his bright clear, natural voice. To House, it sounded like an entire orchestra of flutes.
Tenderly, House pulled the little boy into his arms and held him This time there were tears on his face now, and resolve in his heart to find a way to keep this boy who was already his son.
*******
All the rest of the way home, House hogged the MP3 player. The whole time, he played one song. It didn't get on David's nerves. It was a good song. Can't go wrong with the Eagles. House sang along quietly in his gentle baritone, while David played air piano.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now.
Oh, you're a hard one,
But I know that you've got your reasons.
These things that are pleasin' you,
Can hurt you somehow.
Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy,
She'll beat you if she's able.
Know the queen of hearts is always your best bet.
Now it seems to me, some fine things,
Have been laid upon your table.
But you only want the things that you can't get.
Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger:
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home.
And freedom, oh freedom,
Well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking,
Through this world all alone.
And don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow, the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're loosin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling,
Goes away?
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, and open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you,
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you,
Before it's too late.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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