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  That Time May Cease 
 by echoes mourn  

 Disclaimer: I own House about as much as I own Bill Gates.

There are references to the Vogler story arc, but nothing you'd call a
spoiler.

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self place; for where we
are is hell,

And where hell is there must we ever be.

--Christopher Marlowe

 ----------------------------------------------------------

Cameron was well into sorting through House's e-mail, and Chase had a good
start on his crossword puzzle when Foreman arrived, wearing the harassed
look of someone not used to being late. "Sorry. I got my new couch
delivered today, and of course they were half an hour late getting it
there."

Chase shrugged. "Well, unsurprisingly, you still managed to beat House
here, so you're good."

Foreman hung up his jacket and pulled on his lab coat, turning around just
in time to see Cameron holding up a small white box. "Here, have a
croissant. I got them on the way in. There's no sign of a case yet, so we
might as well all relax while we can."

It was perhaps this last statement that led fate to bring Cuddy into the
office, obviously on a mission. She wore a flamingo pink jacket and skirt
that made the other doctors blink at the color. "Please tell me House is
here," she said, holding up a file. She looked frazzled -- not unusual if
House was involved -- but this time she actually looked hopeful at the
thought of finding him, which definitely was unusual.

"This early? Not a chance," Foreman said, shaking his head. Croissant in
one hand, he picked up the box and offered it to Cuddy, but she waved it
off.

"No, thanks. I'll leave this here for you three to start with," she added,
putting the thick file folder on the table. "This is your new patient."
She spoke almost reverently, and earned herself three odd looks.

"William Oswin," Chase read. "Wait, the second richest man in the world,
that William Oswin?"

"The same. He's expected here in less than an hour, and he's requested
House specifically."

Foreman looked at her pleadingly. "Please, don't tell House that. He has
enough ego as it is."

The three of them were already studying the file, handing papers back and
forth. "The man's already had every medical test under the sun," Chase
observed. "But they all look, well, normal."

Cameron was nodding in agreement. "Why did he request House? None of these
tests show anything actually wrong with him. Except the fact that he's
eighty years old, and it doesn't require a world-famous diagnostician to
reach that conclusion."

To Foreman's annoyance, House chose that moment to appear, bursting
through the conference room door in his usual abrupt fashion. "Ah, you're
all talking about me again. I can just feel the love." Then he saw Cuddy,
and held up a hand to shield his eyes. "Whoa! But I can't see it, because
your outfit has blinded me. Is this your new, subtle way of telling me not
to look at your cleavage?"

"House, if you pull this case off, you can stare at my cleavage until
Doomsday, for all I care."

"Where's the fun in that, unless it bothers you?" He limped over to the
coffee maker and poured himself a cup before throwing himself into one of
the chairs. "Just for that, I may refuse to take this wonder case of
yours."

Cuddy sighed. "It isn't your usual sort of case, I admit, but this is your
big chance."

Cameron offered him a croissant, which he leaned forward to claim. "What,
to win fame and fortune? I'm already famous, as Cameron so rightly pointed
out."

"The second richest man in the world is on his way here," Cameron
explained.

"Bill Gates is coming here?" he asked around a mouthful of pastry,
eyebrows raised.

"No, he's the first richest," Chase said.

House shook his head. "Nuh uh. I hear Gates has been slipping and let some
other guy pass him up."

"The point is, he's a billionaire trying to buy his way out of getting
old." Foreman said.

Cameron nodded. "He's already taking a very expensive course of anti-aging
hormone treatments, but apparently that's not enough for him."

House grabbed some papers with his free hand and glared up at Cuddy. "What
is this crap? How is this a diagnostics case?"

"Look, we all know that he's just being a hypochondriac and thinks enough
money can fix anything. But he has promised - House, are you listening to
me? Because this is important."

"Yes, mommy," House sighed, rolling his eyes up at her.

"If we can help him, he has promised to replace the entire hundred million
dollars that you lost. The entire hundred million. No strings attached. So
can you please just forget the fact that this isn't a diagnostics problem
and humor the man? Run a few tests, get him on some palliative treatments
- who knows, maybe there really is something minor wrong with him that we
can actually fix. So for god's sake, just try and take this seriously."

The three younger doctors tensed and exchanged startled looks as Cuddy
laid out the stakes, watching quietly as the battle of wills continued.

"So if I humor this guy long enough to get the money, you'll never be able
to throw that whole Vogler incident in my face ever again," House said
thoughtfully.

"I realize that's a very big if, but I hope that statement means you're at
least willing to try."

"Is he going to want to talk to me?"

"For a hundred million? Yeah, I think you can spare him a few minutes of
your valuable time."

There was a tense moment, then House made a strategic withdrawal. "All
right. But I wouldn't do this for a penny less than the full one hundred
million." He hauled himself up and went over to the whiteboard.

Cuddy's relieved smile froze into a grimace as she heard his next words.
"Okay, kids, differential diagnosis on being an old fart with more money
than sense."

Foreman grinned, Chase turned a laugh into a cough, and even Cameron had
to fight to keep a straight face. "Oh, relax," House said, waving a hand
casually at the furious Cuddy. "I'm just getting it out of my system
before his majesty arrives."

"Just make sure it is out of your system," she replied through gritted
teeth, before turning and marching down the hall.

-----------------------------------

Unsurprisingly, Oswin wanted to meet the entire team. So, after a
diagnostic session that was really more a chance for House to vent, they
were all summoned into the billionaire's room. Two people in business
suits lingered in the background, one with a cell phone, the other a
laptop, clearly waiting impatiently for this conference to be over so they
could get back to the real work.

The expensive hormone treatments might have been worth it, for Oswin
looked closer to sixty-five than eighty. His hair was silver, but still
thick, and his eyes were alert, even piercing. He greeted them all as
Cuddy made the introductions, repeating their names and giving each a firm
handshake. Even Foreman had to admit that he was charismatic, though there
was also steel behind those grey eyes.

But the steel melted into relief when Cuddy introduced House. "The man
himself. I've heard a great deal about you."

Under Cuddy's watchful eye, House shifted his cane awkwardly and returned
the handshake. "I could say the same. Pleasure."

"I'm told that if anyone on earth can find out what's killing me, it's
you." The steel was back, and even House blinked at the bitterness in his
voice.

"We'll do our best, Mr. Oswin," House replied carefully.

The good humor was instantly back. "No, no, please call me William. We're
on the same side, you and me."

"Yes, well, we have your medical records, and a very detailed medical
history, but Dr. Chase will be asking you a few more questions, if you
don't mind, and we'll need to take some blood for some more tests."

"Perhaps Dr. Cameron could do that instead." It did a good job
masquerading as a casual remark, but it was clearly no such thing.

House was near enough to Cameron to feel her tense at this suggestion. She
was drawing breath to speak, and House himself was an instant away from
forever ruining his good first impression when Cuddy spoke up smoothly.
"Perhaps Dr. Cameron and Dr. Chase could work together on that."

"I'm sure Dr. Cameron can handle things on her own."

--------------------------------

"I thought you said no strings attached," House said accusingly, almost
before the door closed behind them.

"That much money always comes with strings," Foreman put in.

Helplessness made Cuddy angry. "Oh, come on. What do you think he's going
to do, try to maul her right here in the hospital? He's eighty, for god's
sake!"

Chase kept looking back over his shoulder. "His fifth wife just divorced
him for mental cruelty. She's younger than Cameron."

"Cameron can take care of herself," Cuddy shot back, but she didn't sound
convinced.

"She shouldn't have to worry about something like this!" House's voice was
a barely controlled shout. "The point is that if he starts pushing us
around now, he'll never stop. It'll be Vogler all over again." He was
quieter now, but no less angry.

"But he hardly even looked at her twice," Cuddy said, worry creeping into
her voice. 

Then her eyes widened. From their position down the hall, she could see
the two assistants leaving the room.

Then House was brushing past her at top speed, his blue eyes grim, and
Cuddy hurried to catch up. "House, please. Just let me go in there
instead."

"You won't be menacing enough."

"My point exactly!"

The male assistant considered getting in House's way, but an icy glare
changed his mind. He was bracing himself to barrel through the door when
it opened in front of him and Cameron herself stepped out.

"What happened?" House demanded.

"Are you all right?" Cuddy chimed in.

Cameron blinked, then slowly focused on the two people before her. "What
do you mean, what happened? Why wouldn't I be all right? I took the
patient history like you asked me to." Her voice, too, was slow and
hesitant at first, though this quickly passed.

House looked at her, frowning, then glared at the assistants and grabbed
the younger doctor's arm, leading her away from the door towards the
others. "First of all, I asked	Chase to take the history. And I realize
there wasn't much left to ask, but I know you didn't finish up that
quickly. What happened?"

"Nothing!" Cameron insisted. "He apologized for sounding abrupt. He's just
used to talking like that. His daughter is about my age, and he hasn't
seen her in years. I reminded him of her, that's all. It's sad, he wasn't
allowed to see his daughter at all, and he really misses her."

"Does he miss all the ex-wives who divorced him for mental cruelty, too?"

Cameron sighed and put on her patient face. "He's an old man scared of
dying. It's made him rethink his life, and he really regrets some of the
things he's done. He's trying to make up for them. That's why he's so
anxious to get better." The others were all looking at her oddly, and she
crossed her arms self-consciously.

"You know he can't `get better' from old age," Chase pointed out.

"And you were in there less than a minute. How'd he even manage to say all
this crap so fast, never mind get you to believe it? Even you're not
usually quite that gullible."

She glared at House, but there was uneasiness hidden in the blue-green
eyes. "I was--I don't know, I was in there for a little while. Certainly
not less than a minute. Right?" She looked around at the group, her
shoulders tensing.

Cuddy stepped in, sensing that this conversation would only make everyone
more upset. "All right, run whatever tests you need, fast, and we'll just
get him out of here as quickly as possible. We're going for professional,
polite efficiency. And no one talks to him alone. At least two at a time."

"What exactly do you think that guy's doing in there?" Foreman asked in
disbelief.

"I don't know, and I don't think I care to know. I just want him out of my
hospital before he does turn into another Vogler."

"Or worse," House said thoughtfully as Cuddy turned and walked briskly
back to her office.

-------------------------------------------

"So you're all right with going back in there with me?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "For the tenth time, Chase, yes, it's fine. He
was perfectly nice to me, as far as I remember. I just wish I could
remember more."

Chase shrugged helplessly. "It still doesn't make any sense."

"Let's just focus on what Cuddy said. We'll just get him out of here as
quickly as possible."

She hid her faint hesitation before stepping into the room with her best
professional demeanor. Chase paused just before entering, carefully
comparing his watch with the time on the hospital clock. The gesture made
him feel both relieved and foolish.

"We have some of your test results back, Mr. Oswin," Cameron began. She
held the file up like a shield, though she could never have explained why
she was nervous. Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she saw only ordinary
grey eyes, with the usual expectant look patients always had upon hearing
the magical phrase `test results'.

"There are signs of incipient diabetes, most likely Type II, which isn't
uncommon in people your age. We'd like to start you on an insulin regimen
to regulate your metabolism, but after a few days, you'll probably be able
to control it with diet instead."

Oswin shook his head impatiently. "But that's not killing me."

Cameron was taken aback by the flat, almost disappointed tone. "Uh, no.
Properly treated, even much more severe cases--"

"Then there's something else wrong that you haven't found yet. I'd like to
speak to Dr. House."

Chase had busied himself with noting the patient's vitals, but now turned
to look at Oswin dubiously, setting down his clipboard. "Well, we'll let
him know. There will be more test results finished soon, so he may want to
talk to you then."

"As soon as possible," was the clipped response.

Back in the hall, both doctors took a deep breath, as though there hadn't
been enough air in the room. "House is going to love this," Cameron
sighed.

"Damn, I forgot my clipboard," Chase suddenly realized. "Just a second."
He darted back into the room before Cameron could protest. She hesitated
just outside the door, trying to find a crack in the blinds that she could
peer through. Oswin had insisted on keeping them closed at all times,
which had only made Cuddy repeat her earlier order more forcefully.

A moment later, just as Cameron was about to barge in, Chase was back in
the hall, and she smiled in relief. Then she got a good look at his face.

-----------------------------------------

"Throw him out."

"Why, Dr. Chase, I'm surprised at you. What happened to Christian charity?
At least consider poor Cuddy. She'll have an aneurysm if she loses another
hundred million."

"He isn't sick. Give him some placeboes and discharge him."

"Chase, be serious," Foreman said, shaking his head. He looked at Cameron
for support, but she was studying House, as she had since she'd returned.
"We already know there's nothing wrong with him, but if we can just--"

"There is something wrong with him," Chase cut in. "It just isn't
something a hospital can fix."

House frowned, his sharp blue eyes not leaving Chase, who stood tensely in
the middle of the conference room. "I don't want him here any more than
you do. But we need a reason to kick him out that won't make us sound
crazy when we try to explain it to the board."

"Since when do you care what the board thinks? Cuddy will--"

"Even if we talk Cuddy into kicking him out, the board will probably just
fire her and we'll still be stuck with him. So give me a reason." His
words were hard, but his look was not unsympathetic.

Chase hesitated so long that House was about to speak again. "He's...
manipulative."

"So am I. Are you going to throw me out, too?"

Chase shook his head sharply. "Not like that, he... `There is also another
evil, which I have seen under the sun, and that frequent among men: A man
to whom God hath given riches, and substance, and honor.'"

"Chase," Cameron began, but he merely continued. She looked at House
again, and whatever she read in his face only made her more uneasy.

"'If a man live many years, and attain to a great age, and his soul make
no use of the goods of his substance, of this man I pronounce, that the
untimely born is better than he. For he came in vain, and goeth to
darkness.'"

"You want me to quote Ecclesiastes to the board?" It was a typical House
remark, but the edge was all but gone from his voice.

Foreman was looking doubtfully at his colleague. "You could say the same
thing about any rich man. What makes this one so different?"

"He's evil." Chase looked almost defeated, and did not meet anyone's eyes.

There was an awkward silence. Then House spoke.

"I think you're right."

------------------------------------------

Cameron had bolted when House left the room after his blunt statement, and
was now hurrying to catch up to him as he stalked down the hallway. "What
are you going to do?"

"If Cuddy asks, I'll tell her you knew nothing about it."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Cameron only caught the hesitation before he replied because she was
listening for it. "What, then? You want to protect me from the big bad
misunderstood billionaire?"

"I think Chase is right, too."

"Now that's a sentence you don't hear every day. Especially the `too'
part." He slowed down, and Cameron took advantage of this to put her hand
on his arm. Though he slowed further, he still wouldn't quite look at her.

"I saw how he looked when he came out of that room. He wouldn't tell me
what happened, but he was only in there for five seconds. Nothing normal
could have affected him like that so quickly."

"Don't be too sure. This is Chase we're talking about."

But he didn't turn away as he normally would have. "Don't go in there by
yourself."

"I'm not letting you anywhere near him." The false banter was gone, and
Cameron knew he was deadly serious.

She immediately changed tactics. "Then take Foreman with you. An orderly,
a nurse, somebody. Take a whole crowd with you!"

He stopped walking at last, and his eyes met hers. "Since when does an
atheist believe in the devil?"

Her heart clenched at the word. "He doesn't have to be the devil to be
evil."

"'The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary...'"

"'...men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.'" Cameron finished
the quote, looking up at him almost hopefully.

"You're still waiting outside."

"House, please--"

"You still don't remember anything else about what might have happened to
you?"

She saw concern, and, yes, uncertainty in his eyes, and that was somehow
more frightening than anything Oswin could do. "No. It feels like a dream
now. All I remember is feeling sorry for him."

House looked up at Oswin's door, now just a few yards away, and frowned.
"Looks like I'm expected. I guess I'd better hurry."

Her eyes flickered over to the door. Oswin's helpers were just leaving the
room, looking at House with vague curiosity. Or perhaps amusement.

Then House limped away. She followed him to the door, sending a chilly
glare at the assistants as they passed each other.

They reached the door, and House looked at her very seriously. "Wait here,
or you're fired."

Cameron bit her lip and nodded. She was relieved that he'd been his usual
self. If he'd told her kindly, she probably would have burst into tears.

Then he was stepping into the room, and shutting the door behind him. The
sound of it was like distant thunder.

She turned and planted herself next to the door, shooting wary glances at
the assistants and their bland faces. There was no question of her
physically stopping them from entering, but if something did happen, she
would at least get inside first.

-----------------------------

"Ah, Dr. House. I'm glad you could spare me some time."

"Not at all. I've always wanted to have a chat with the Amazing Kreskin."

Oswin shook his head. "You don't really think I'm some kind of sideshow
hypnotist, Dr. House. You'd like to believe that it's something like that,
but you know it isn't true."

Even using his title, there was something sickeningly familiar about the
way Oswin addressed him. "Actually, I heard you were evil and that got me
curious. Are you more evil than, say, Hitler? Because then I can brag
about having shaken your hand."

Now the man smiled. "You are clever, Dr. House. I understand wanting to
defuse the situation with your delightfully dry and acerbic humor, but we
really should get to business. I'd like to tell you a story. Sit down.
Rest your leg."

House would sooner have had another infarction than show weakness in front
of this man. "Go on," he said, bracing himself.

Oswin shrugged eloquently. "You do like to make things difficult for
yourself. Still, it isn't a particularly long story. I can be quite
brief."

When he began the story, House's first thought was that the comparison to
Hitler had been more apt than he'd realized. The words were simple, the
way they were spoken was nothing remarkable, but he was immediately caught
up in them. He had just time to wonder if hours or days would have passed
before he made it back outside before the words carried him away.

Once upon a time, there was a young man who wanted what most young men
want out of life - money, success, power, and, of course, sex. Not having
been born to money or power, he had to make his own way in the world. He
had a little more wit and imagination than most, but this is not generally
enough to make one's way, and he was no exception.

One day, he approached a man of wealth and power and asked him for the
plain truth of his success. The man looked the boy up and down, then
nodded once.

And he told the boy the plain truth.

The boy followed the wealthy man's advice to the letter, and because of
this, found himself in possession of a rare and valuable commodity: the
three wishes of fairy tale infamy.

Since he was a boy of some wit and imagination, he vowed to do even more
with these wishes than his mentor had done. To wish for money, fame, and
power was all well and good, but that would not give him the means to keep
those things.

So he wished, first, for an uncanny sense of business; the instinct to
know when to move and when to wait. This let him build his own fortune.

Secondly, he wished that anyone who heard his words would have to listen,
and believe. This brought him fame, or at least as much of that as he
wished.

And thirdly, he wished for the gift of seeing into others' hearts, of
knowing their deepest wishes and desires. And this gave him true power.

To have these three things for the next sixty years of his life, all he
had to give in exchange was one small part of himself, something he had
never seen and would never miss.

What do you think of the boy's bargain? Would you have made the exchange
as readily as he did, Dr. House?

House physically staggered as the sound of his name penetrated whatever
web the man had woven. His leg throbbed viciously as he righted himself.
How long had he been standing there? He scrambled for something to say. It
was only more weakness to be at a loss for words.

"I'd love to know what it was you were on. That must have been some strong
stuff."

"You know all about drug addiction, don't you? You were unwilling to trade
your leg for your life. What would you give now to have your leg back,
whole and healthy, just as it was?"

"Trick question," House snapped. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of
this man knowing about his leg, his pain, everything he hid from the
world.

"Not at all. You can have that. Youth, strength, wholeness. Fame, wealth,
power."

"Good things come in threes, huh?" The snark was all but automatic, but in
his mind, he was still reeling.

"Then how about respect, adoration, love? Are you as indifferent to those
things as you pretend?"

"I thought you already knew all that." The response was again automatic,
and House soon regretted it.

"Yes, I do. I know." Oswin leaned forward. "I know how much pain you're
in, all the kinds of pain you're in. I know how you fight against it, how
much you fear that it will take away your mind as well as your leg. In
your most secret moments you fear that someday, you will be nothing but
the pain.

"You can lose that pain. You can gain strength, knowledge, the world if
you want it! Think."

Thinking about the possibilities was already all House could do. The
images pounded painfully in his mind, echoing the throbbing hurt of his
thigh. Whole. No pain. Impossible. Wasn't it?

"Why are you doing this?" His voice was shakier than he liked, but this
was what he had to do. He had to attack.

"I want to help you." The words came smoothly, but there was a weakening
in his eyes that made House feel stronger.

"No, you don't. You're going down. You're dying. Maybe you just want to
take someone with you."

Oswin actually hesitated, and House stood a little taller. "I won't die.
You'll save me."

The arrogance still filled his voice, but House, of all people, knew a
brave front when he saw one. "If your little fairy tale is true, what
makes you think anyone can save you? You're alone now, and all your money,
everything you have, means exactly nothing."

But Oswin was rallying, and he replied rapidly. "I'm not alone. We're more
alike than you realize. Think what we could do together! Both of us are
intelligent, capable men, renowned in our fields. We're both driven,
determined--"

House shook his head and looked down at the remnants of his thigh. Your
leg. Whole.

No. Not like this. He lifted his head and met Oswin's gaze fearlessly. "I
am nothing like you."

As he enunciated each word clearly, he saw the answering realization in
Oswin's eyes.

Then rage flooded into those grey eyes, and House flinched in spite of
himself. "You're right. You act ruthless, pretend you don't give a damn
about anything but yourself, but in the end, you're as weak as everyone
else. You're just a hypocrite about it. You've surrounded yourself with
idiots. Dr Foreman doesn't have enough imagination even to guess what's
really going on, and Dr. Chase is still clinging to blind religious faith,
of all things. And Dr. Cameron..."

He paused, his lip curled slyly. He no longer hoped to persuade, only to
wound. "If I was in your place, I wouldn't be daydreaming. I would have
fucked that pretty little thing a long time ago. She looks delicious."

The tip of House's cane was pushing, hard, against Oswin's shoulder before
the last word left his mouth. House didn't remember moving, but at least
this time, it wasn't because of any mind games. "You'd better stop
talking."

"Or what? You'll kill me? Don't you know what's waiting for me? Go ahead,
kill me.  Kill me!"

But all the anger had drained out of House. The sight of the sheer, animal
terror in Oswin's eyes shook him, and he stumbled backwards.

The door flew open. "House!" Cameron said breathlessly.

"Out. Now." His voice was more a growl than words. Cameron stepped back
into the hall immediately, though she kept the door from swinging shut.

House turned to look at his patient. He looked every day of his eighty
years now, his body hunched as though waiting for the blow of House's
cane. He would not look up as House left, his free arm scooping Cameron
away from the door.

---------------------------------------

After rounding the corner, House turned and went into an empty patient
room, Cameron in his wake. "What happened?" she said breathlessly. She'd
been unable to read anything in his face, and this was frightening her
more than she cared to think about.

"Where'd his minions go?" was House's only reply.

"I don't know. They looked at each other strangely and left just a couple
of minutes after you went inside."

"How long was I in there?"

"Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds. House, what happened?"

House almost laughed out of sheer relief. "I always knew you counted the
seconds until you could see me again." But he couldn't stand the fear in
her eyes and continued immediately. "He tried to play me like he did you
and Chase. Unfortunately for him, I don't play so easily."

Yeah, right. He could feel Cameron's eyes on him, and sense how uncertain
she was. Her worry annoyed him just as much as it always did when directed
at him, but this time it was also exactly what he needed.

"What do we do now?" she finally asked softly.

"Chase was right. A hospital can't fix him."

---------------------------------

  
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