Summary: Sometimes, all that's needed is a little angelic intervention.

Disclaimer: Of course I own House. Just remember, "Everyone lies."

Chapter 1

Dr. Gregory House strolled down the hall of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital as easily as his cane would allow him. He'd just finished his minimum two hours in the clinic and was in serious need of some down time with his Gameboy. In between the taps of his cane hitting the floor, he heard a steady 'thump-thump' coming from his office.

Someone was playing with his racquetball. His graying brows pulled together in a frown; his blue eyes glaring down the glass-walled hallway, as if he could see through the pulled blinds in his office to glare a hole in the offender's forehead.

He pushed through the door in a flurry and gaped at the intruder. "You!"

The blue ball smacked the floor, ricocheted off the wall, and flew back into the visitor's hand. "Hello to you too."

"What are you doing here…and in nurse's scrubs?"

"I work here." This was said with a cheeky smile.

"Since when?"

"Officially…since," his visitor looked at her watch, "this morning. I've had orientation all week, but you would know that if you actually did your clinical rounds."

"What is it with women and them invading my life?"

"Please, don't hold anything back. Tell me how you really feel."

"You're lucky you're family."

"Speaking of which, Grandma sends her love and wants to know if her youngest is still being an asshole. I'll tell her that's an affirmative."

"And how's my darling sister, your mother?"

"Better since you sent her to that specialist. She's ornery, which is easier to handle than when she was bitchy."

The ball bounced on the floor once…twice. "I understand Stacy's working here too."

"You get around fast."

Her arm whipped out and the racquetball nailed him in the chest.

"You really are an ass Uncle Greg." She said as she caught it on the rebound. "How could you do that to her? Hasn't she been through enough?"

"Haven't I been through enough?" He fired right back at her.

She flung the ball at him again, this time aiming for his head. He whipped his cane up at the last minute and batted it right back. She ducked behind the desk. It banked off the window on the far wall and smacked the back of her head. She let out a yelp and a pair of bespectacled brown eyes glared at him over the desktop.

"I still think your mother named you wrong. You've got too much temper to be an Angel."

"Comes from your side of the family."

He leaned on his cane and let out a sigh. "How about we resolve this like responsible adults. We'll get drunk off our asses and beat the crap out of each other."

"Works for me."