House Fan Fiction ❯ A Christmas Story ❯ Repeat ( Chapter 4 )

Repeat

 

House kept his eyes on his door and into the next room. The receiver was up to his ear as it rang a few times. He knew that if Cameron saw him talking to anyone she would bug him about calling back Mr. Bell. It rang once more before Mrs. Bell answered.

 

“Hello,” she answered.

 

“Hi, Jamie. It's Greg. Is-“

 

“Oh, Greg! How nice of you to call back finally. Chris has been waiting almost all week for you to call back. Has your patient finally gotten better?”

 

House smirked. “Yeah. It was a coma person. Is Chris there?”

 

“Hang on.” He heard in the backward Jamie yelling for Chris who grumbled back to her. “He's coming. How's your parents doing?”

 

“Fine,” he lied. He hadn't called them at all to see what they were doing for Christmas. “How are you doing?”

 

“Oh, fine, fine. Have you gotten our gift? I sent it in the mail.”

 

“No not-“

 

“Here's Chris, Greg. Bye.”

 

Before House could say bye, Chris answered the phone. “Greg how's your patient doing?”

 

“Fine. Coma dude woke up,” he lied.

 

“Well that's good. I was wondering when you'd call even though your secretary is really nice.”

 

“She's a doctor,” he muttered. “Listen you don't have to keep calling me when I don't call back.”

 

“I know, I know. It's just that I like to thank you for the flowers once again. They're just so expensive this time of year.”

 

House shrugged. “I know. Your welcome Chris.” He paused and took another quick glance around. No team in sight. “Listen, Chris, did Katie have any…children before she met me?”

 

Chris became silent on the other end. “No, of course not. There's no way she would've hidden it either. Why?”

 

“What about Chelley?”

 

“She has all boys. What's going on Greg?”

 

House scratched his head feeling his now thin hair. “It's hard to explain. Do you think just you could come up here?”

 

“To the hospital?”

 

“I'll pay for gas,” he said, pushing it.

 

Chris paused for a moment. “Okay. Should I tell Jamie?”

 

“Nope.” He saw Wilson coming towards his door. “Chris I gotta go. Come up whenever you want.”

 

Before Chris could answer and Wilson to hear him, House hung up the phone. He pulled out his Vicodin and popped one into his mouth. Wilson walked in.

 

“I just ran into Cameron and guess what she said?”

 

“I'm high off my ass or I touched her ass?”

 

Wilson frowned. “No, some twenty year old girl is drawing you. Who is she?”

 

House shrugged uncaringly. “I don't know nor care who she is. So are you going to buy me lunch or what? It's break time.”

 

Wilson checked his watch. “It's not even ten-thirty.”

 

“Fine be like Foreman and be politically correct. You can buy me brunch or whatever. Hope to it.”

 

House stood up, grabbed his cane, and limped out of the room with Wilson walking next to him.

 

“It's not even time for brunch either. Who is she?”

 

“Like I said before, I don't know nor care.”

 

“Does she know you from somewhere.”

 

“Again. I don't know nor care.” He pushed the down button with his cane.

 

“Foreman says that notebook is what she dreams. Please tell me she's not a sleepwalker that you thought was a hooker,” he muttered.

 

“Man you have BAD HEARING!” House almost yelled into Wilson's ear making him flinch. “I told you twice that I don't know her and no, she's not a hooker. Hookers aren't in college when they can draw.”

 

“So you've seen those pictures?” he asked unbelievable as they stepped into the elevator.

 

“Yes. Cameron thought it'd be a good idea if I saw them. She tricked me saying that they were her nude shots for America's Next Top Model.”

 

Wilson rolled his eyes. “So what are you going to do?”

 

“Tell Cameron that she better wear thongs on the show,” he answered.

 

“I meant about the girl, House.”

 

“Nothing. Everything's fine with her.”

 

“It isn't bugging you to death?” They stepped out of the elevator and House limped towards the vending machines. “Oh, c'mon this should be driving you insane.”

 

“Nope. Can I barrow a dollar?”

 

Wilson pulled out a dollar. “Why?”

 

House took it and answered, “The peanuts are calling my name. Now stop worrying about this girl and go save dying children. That's what your good act.” He limped towards the vending machines.

 

“House.” He stopped and looked at Wilson. “This seriously isn't bugging you?”

 

“Like I said before, no. Now stop making me repeat myself. Go save dying children.”