Physical Therapy

Disclaimer: Gosh darn it, but I don't own it! Phooey.

"Could you slow down a bit?" Dr. Gregory House, MD asked his duckling, Allison Cameron.

"Sure. I hadn't realized I was walking so fast." She took several steps backwards and stepped even with him.

"I think we should get a gigantic cake, and then pay Cuddy to jump out of it." House suggested. Sounded like a riot to him.

Cameron cocked her head to the side as if considering it, but instead said, "I like my idea better. A lifetime subscription to some sort of medical journal."

House rolled his eyes as he limped along. "Yeah, that's just what every doctor wants for their birthday. Now, no matter where Wilson goes, the medical industry follows. He'll crack in a week!"

They rounded the corner and entered the stair well, but Cameron stopped. "Oh, how stupid of me. We need to take the elevator."

House waved the comment away. "Nah. I need some exercise anyway." He carefully took his left leg and put it on the first stair. His cane and right leg followed. He repeated this until he was down onto the first landing, and prepared himself for the next flight.

Cameron checked her watch. "You look like a complete idiot. Did you know that?"

"Shut up."

Cameron chuckled as she raced past him down the next flight. House could no longer see her, but he could still hear her.

Stepstepstepstep…pause…thudthudthud…WHAM! "Shit!"

House's heart skipped a beat. "Cameron, are you okay?"


"Cameron?" He quickened his pace until he could see her at last. She was in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, cholking back tears.

"What happened?" Stupid question, House immediately thought.

"What do you think happened?" She made a whimpering sound.

"I deserved that," he said, finally reaching her. "What hurts?" He asked.

"My ankle, my hip, my side, and something else that will-" She gasped in pain as House slid a hand under her ankle. "Remain nameless."

House held a smirk as he sat down on the ground next to her and prodded around at Cameron's leg. "Does this hurt?"

"Yes, it hurts, bastard!" Cameron shot back. House's eyebrow went up as he put her leg back down.

"Well, I don't think it's broken. Sprained maybe, but not broken. You'll need to get it checked out by someone other than myself."

Cameron propped herself up on her elbows. "So you can't help me at all?" House frowned.

"No. I'll refer you to someone who can. That is, if we ever get back to civilization." He said, referring to the small stairwell. House grabbed the railing and pulled himself to his feet. "I can't carry you."

"Obviously." Cameron was propped up now, hands on ankle. "But we really are in a shit story, aren't we?" An hour up and an hour down these stairs." House shook his head in a contradictory manner and whipped out his cell phone. "Hi, Wilson? I'm in an interesting predicament here…"

An hour and a half later, Allison Cameron and her temporary cane limped out of exam room 9, assisted by Foreman. House watched in amazement as she walked past his office, purposefully not looking in. He ran to his door before she could get away.

"You have got to be kidding me!" House said with a laugh. "Dr. Arnold gave you a cane?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "It's only temporary! Just to get out of the building."

"You could have used a crutch, but no, a cane would be funner!"

"I'm sure he did it just to mock you." Foreman said slyly.

"He doesn't even know me." House said. Her cane was nicer than his. "What's the diagnosis?"

"Sprain and some other crap that I don't remember." Said Cameron. "Stupid physical therapy for a month or so."

House tilted his head to the side. "Oh. Right. Good luck." He went back into his office. Cameron and Foreman looked at each other. "That was weird." Cameron whispered.

"He's just jealous because he doesn't have a grip oh his like yours does. Let's go."

"Somehow, this doesn't seem right." House paced back and forth in his office, his yo-yo going up and down, up and down. Wilson was staring at his computer screen. What at, House didn't bother knowing.

"You're being stupid," Wilson said in a far-off voice, not concentration on House's problem.

"She's got a broken rib definitely, and bruises on her hip and breast, but a sprained ankle? I don't know."

Wilson tore his eyes away from the screen. "How do you know about the bruising?"

"I saw it when you picked her up. Her shirt came up a bit, and there was a bruise-"

Wilson waved his hand at him. "No, the other bruising."

"Oh. Cameron told me."

"She told you she had bruising on her breast?"

"No, but…never mind. It's not important."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Why can't you get a sprained ankle from falling down stairs? My collage room mate did the same thing."

"No, it's not that. It's just, when you were helping Cameron up the stairs, I saw her try to put weight on her ankle, and pick it back up again, but it took her a second. Follow?"

"No." He said, flatly.

"When you sprain your ankle, it hurts like hell. Cameron sprained her ankle, right? So why didn't she pick her foot up faster?"

"So…you think she's faking it?"

"I don't know." House said. He stopped pacing and flopped down in a chair. All of the sudden, his eyes lit up. "Lemme use you're computer."

"No way! Get your own?"

"What? In the middle of a great porno you just can't miss?" House made a lunge to see what Wilson was looking so intently at. "Oh, Jesus. It's Cuddy. What the hell?" Wilson had made Cuddy his screen savor. "Why'd you do that?" House asked in disgust.

"Wait a second," Wilson said. He clicked on his paint icon and added a purple mustache to Cuddy's upper lip and then clicking "OK". It looked pretty funny.

"That's more like it." House said, leaning back. "She looks good like that." He left.

Wilson made sure the coast was clear before carefully going back into paint and eracing the mustache from Cuddy's face. He then hit "OK."

Oh, guys, that was soooo bad! I feel like I should revise it, and I may. Thanks for bearing with me, I'm just getting it started! Reviews welcome, how can I know who reads without reviews?