wooedforyears | November 8, 2007

If it hadn't been for his previous case, freshly solved and still swimming inside his brain, House would have spent his Saturday like he normally did--half-conscious for most of it, in front of the TV, or in bed, going back and forth between reading recent articles and surfing the Internet. But his curiosity had been nagging at him since the case wrapped up.

House had said the patient was "nuts" and, therefore, unreliable, but it'd been entertaining and--yes, he'd admit it, if only to himself--interesting to learn a few tidbits about his team. He'd struck out with Thirteen, though, despite his best efforts to dig for some of her 'secrets' via the Mirror Man. Her resume only told him so much, and Internet searches yielded close to nothing--nothing more than her resume, college transcripts, and recommendation letters didn't tell him. He'd gotten a hold of her medical records and noticed that, strangely, her family history was missing. Nobody avoided personal questions so vehemently unless they had something to hide, and House wanted to know what exactly was so important for her to keep a secret. He had to root it out, and he needed a sidekick. A dog to help him sniff it out.

Wilson wasn't answering his phone, and House would rather save himself a trip across town if it meant he could whistle for another dog. House shrugged on his jacket as he headed out the door, his pager in hand, and sent a message to Foreman: 911. My office. He'd show; he knew he would.

When he reached his office, he made himself busy as he waited for Foreman to arrive. He looked up Thirteen's address, snagged it from her employee records, and printed directions from the hospital. He was ready to go a-sniffing, just as soon as Foreman showed up.

Threaded | Flat

It was Foreman's first real weekend back in Princeton, and so far, all he could think was how much he hated it. He should have been in New York; Dr. Schaeffer had arranged for him to attend a conference on short notice as Mercy's representative, where he would have been able to network and find contacts. He would have come out of it with new ideas for papers or presentations. Now, the only upside was that Schaeffer would have to explain his absence, and her embarrassment wasn't nearly enough payment for the hit his career would take from her explanations.

Being stuck in Princeton with nothing better to think about was even worse. Foreman didn't want to look up his old friends--well, acquaintances, mostly. Except for Cameron and Chase, they'd all be after him to explain why he was back, and he wasn't going to put himself through that. It was embarrassing enough to move back in to his old apartment that he'd jauntily left in the spring, content to keep it in his name until the lease ran out. Without a subletter, it had just been a waste of money; now, at the very least, he had a roof over his head.

It was almost a relief when his pager went off in the middle of some television show he wasn't even watching. He checked the number and the message, grabbed his coat, and was halfway to the hospital before he even had second thoughts about House paging him when Diagnostics didn't have a patient. Stopped at a red light and fuming over wasting time, it finally hit him that House was at the hospital on a Saturday. House fought tooth and nail against showing up at work during the week; imagining him there now...

It was a prank. It had to be. Foreman slammed a hand against the steering wheel and very nearly pulled an illegal U-turn. He pulled into the next parking lot instead. He wasn't going to ignore the page--this once. House didn't usually cry wolf, although his definition of an 'emergency' didn't match the rest of the world's. Foreman sighed. He'd pulled into a fast food joint, one where they at least had decent coffee. He started the engine again and went through the drive-through, taking his time ordering, and took his sweet time driving the rest of the way to the hospital. If House really was there, Foreman wouldn't mind at all if he was pissed off at the wait. And at going hungry, when Foreman had lunch.

At the hospital, Foreman took the stairs just to add a few minutes to his time, and glanced into the Diagnostics office skeptically--but House really was there, playing with his toys and looking as annoyed as Foreman felt. He pushed open the door to the office. "What?" he asked, in his most put-upon voice.

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