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A Warning to All House MD Fanfic Readers: They walk among us, perhaps as close as the next story. They disguise themselves as House's long-lost daughter or niece (it's canon that he's an only child, peeps!), a perky young patient, or the new four-year-old head of radiology. They're unrealistic. They're smarter than House, more compassionate than Wilson, have better hair than Chase, and they have names like Amber, Tiffani, Jade, or Jasmine. All male characters want them. All female characters want to be them. They show House that life is worth living. They save the patient, then ruin the fanfic. They are:

THE ATTACK OF THE FIFTY FOOT MARY SUES!

Dr. Gregory House limped painfully through the halls of PPTH. He was searching for something, but then he'd been searching for something his whole life. Daddy had been mean to him, Mommy had been too weak to stop him from being mean, Stacey had crippled him and then abandoned him, and now Wilson was mad at him, just for stealing prescription pads, lying to the cops, and getting a few bank accounts frozen. Life hated Greg House and Greg House hated life. Since there was no reason to livehe planned to swallow a bunch of pills and kill himself. On second thought, maybe he'd lie on the floor in a puddle of his own throw-up for awhile first, just for effect.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!"

House pulled himself back from his dark, hopelessly hopeless thoughts and looked down at the girl he'd just knocked over. She was about fifteen, small, slender, with high, sculpted cheekbones and electric blue eyes that snapped her anger like two electric blue snapping things. The fact that she was bald did nothing to detract from the sheer, perfect beauty of her face.

"Excuse you Your Highness," he said sarcastically.

"Oh sorry," the girl snapped back, widening her blue eyes in an expression that was somehow familiar to House. "I didn't know it was Cripple Night at the ballpark. I would have brought my walker."She crossed her arms and stared up at him insolently.

House smiled to himself. There was something about this girl. Her fire, her love of life. "I'm Dr. House. You can call me Greg."

The girl tossed her head in a pert and plucky manner. "I'm Tiffani Britney Kasey. You can call me Tiffani.Britney Kasey."

House smiled to himself again at her refreshing insolence. Everyone else was afraid of him. Everyone else treated him with kid gloves. Well, the gloves were off this kid, that was for sure. "So, Tiffani Britney Kasey , if you don't mind me calling you that, what's wrong with you?"

She shrugged. "Stage eight Neuro-blasto-fibro-cortico-greco-romanoma."

House winced. The worst kind of cancer. Rare and fatal in about 120 percent of cases. The pain. The degeneration. And yet this girl-both plucky and pert-maintained her pluck and pertness. He felt his heart soften.

"Let me take you back to your room. Your parents must be worried."

Tiffani Britney Kasey looked down. "Mom died in a bullfight when I was four. Dad choked to death on a balloon animal he was making for my tenth birthday party. I've sorta raised myself since then. But I don't need your pity, see? I'm doing okay by myself."

Tears sprung to House's eyes. He took Tiffani Britney Kasey by her small, slender hand and walked her to her room. "Would you like to be my friend?"

Tiffani Britney Kasey nodded, gazing into his eyes with a hint of unaccustomed-but still fetching-shyness. "Sure, why not?" Her pluck returned. "I'll be your friend for the rest of my life...all two weeks of it."

House set his jaw. He would help this girl, by God. He would cure her stage eight Neuro-blasto-fibro-cortico-greco-romanoma if it was the last thing he did.

If only he could figure out why those electric blue eyes and twisted sarcasm were so familiar...

BANMARYSUEBANMARYSUEBANMARYSUEBANMARYSUE

James Wilson wandered into the diagnostics area. As head of oncology, he had no patients, no paperwork, and no other obligations, which left him conveniently free to stalk House and deliver regular moralistic sermons on how the older doctor conducted his life.

Chase, Foreman, and Cameron were sitting around the table with a new doctor. The new doctor! Wilson did a double-take as he felt his heart jog in his chest.

She was about six feet tall, a perfect muscular build-but still feminine-with long, flowing curly (not to mention fiery) auburn tresses. Her almond-shaped violet eyes tiled upwards and sparkled when she laughed.

Wilson elbowed his way between Foreman and Chase, who were leaning forward, hanging on the new doctor's every word. "I-I'm, um-" for a moment he lost his breath as those sparkling violet tilty almond-shaped impossibly beautiful eyes turned to him.

She smiled modestly, obviously aware of the effect she had on men. "Dr. James Wilson?"

Wilson nodded mutely, then managed, "Uh, oncologist-er-" He felt stupid. What was the magic this creature worked?

"Well, pleased to meet you. I'm Amber Jade Jasmine." She held out her hand.

Chase elbowed Wilson out of the way. "I'm Australian!"

Foreman elbowed Chase out of the way. "I'm black!"

Wilson elbowed Foreman out of the way. "I'm Australian and black!"

The men fought, jockeying for position by this goddess' side.

She laughed, a sparkling sound to match her sparkling eyes. "Oh, you! I haven't had men fight over me since I was teaching martial arts to the Israeli army!"

Just then, Cameron discarded three years of established characterization and became a mentally unstable bulimic cutter. "This will make House love me!" she declared, simultaneously slitting her forearms and ramming her fist down her throat.

Amber Jade Jasmine placed a hand simply dripping with compassion on her shoulder. "I've been there," she said, compassion simply welling from her tilted violet eyes. "It seems like a good idea to bleed and barf all over him, but trust me," she smiled, showing her even white teeth, "that's not the way men work, honey."

Cameron threw down the scalpel and dropped to her knees. "Oh, Amber! Help me! What should I do?"

"Start by losing a few pounds. Men hate a fattie, especially that blond Aussie." She wiggled her fingers across the room and Chase fainted. "I used to weigh a hundred pounds, too, gorging myself on celery and water. Then one morning I woke up and decided to join Jenny Craig. I lost those troublesome fifty pounds and now-" she ripped off her top and displayed her tanned, rock-hard six pack abs. "Of course, I suppose six months running guns in the jungles of South America might have helped."

"Good morning, everyone!" House said cheerfully, almost skipping into the room. "Isn't it a beautiful day? I never noticed how blue the sky was until-" He stopped, jaw slack, eyes glazed. "And who are you?" He limped toward Amber and caned his way through her throng of male admirers.

The newcomer dimpled. "I'm Amber Jade Jasmine. You must be Dr. House. Very pleased to meet you. I've been looking over your case files and I think I know what's wrong with Mrs. Smith. She has advanced sclerotic edemic bungholism. I started her on an IV of pakistanogen. She should be fine by tomorrow."

House slapped himself upside the head. "ASEB! Of course! How could I have missed that?" He gave Amber Jade Jasmine his brightest life-loving smile.

She waved her hand modestly. "It's a very rare disease. I've only seen three or four cases and they were while I was excavating tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Now, about Mr. Steinberg. I looked over his blood work and I think he has Explosive Gonadotropic Gentile Syndrome. Not to worry; I gave him a shot of IM cholorhydrodreidlose and discharged him."

House beamed. "That never occurred to me. He would have died if it hadn't been for you, Dr. Amber Jade Jasmine."

"Doctor?" Amber Jade Jasmine laughed, causing Chase, Foreman, and Wilson to sigh with longing. "Oh, I'm no doctor. Of course, I used to be, back before I negotiated that hostage situation with those American circus clowns in Riyadh. But I gave up that life. Now I'm just your secretary."

House smiled gratefully. "Whatever you are, I'll be glad to have you around here."

During the worshipful silence that followed, Chase, who was suddenly overwhelmed with depression over his mentally abusive workaholic father, physically abusive alcoholic mother, and sexually abusive childoholic priest, started cutting himself.

Wilson, who suddenly realized that it had been a whole hour since his last moralistic rant about House's life, started spouting a moralistic rant about House's life. "You love to be miserable! Stop blaming everything on your infarction! You pushed Stacy out of your life twice! You're not really in pain! Call your mother! No more Vicodin for you! Eat more vegetables!" Then he started cutting himself.

Foreman, who suddenly realized that all honkies were fucked in the head, started cutting himself to show those crackers what normal was.

Cuddy walked in with a small toddler in tow. The little girl was adorable. About four-years-old with chocolate brown hair, deep doe-eyes, and wearing the most adorable little business suit and miniature lab coat. "Everyone, please meet Dr. September Claudia June, the new head of radiology."

Everyone dropped his or her cutting instrument of choice and goggled.

"But-but you can't have graduated medical school at age four!" Foreman exclaimed.

September Claudia June scoffed, "Don't be absurd, dear man! I graduated medical school at two and a half. I merely accepted this job to slow down a bit after that year spent advising the World Health Organization."

Wilson paled. "September Claudia June?" Could it be? Yes, it looked like it was-

House frowned. If only he could figure out why that chocolate brown hair and deep doe-eyes were familiar...

Cuddy made a panicked "not now" gesture and Wilson shut up.

The tiny head of radiology turned her sharp gaze toward him. "Dr. Wilson? Yes. I understand you're still treating cancer here? I, of course, cured it when I was three. I'd be glad to show you how."

Just then, Tiffani Brittney Kasey strolled in. "Yo, Greg!" she cried in a heartbreakingly plucky manner.

Wilson paled and made "not now" gestures at Cuddy.

House's eyes softened and his features relaxed into a smile. "Everyone, meet Tiffani Brittney Kasey, a brave young woman who's taught me that life is worth living, my leg doesn't really hurt, and that I shouldn't be afraid to be happy." The smile faded. "She also has stage eight Neuro-blasto-fibro-cortico-greco-romanoma." Tears started in his newly-life-appreciating eyes.

"No she doesn't."

Everyone turned to look at secretary Amber Jade Jasmine, who shrugged modestly. "Look at the slightly puce tinge of her fingernails. That clearly indicates Ferris-Bueller Syndrome, a disease rarely found outside of Eastern Mongolia where I received my master's degree in modern folklore. Unfortunately, it's still a death sentence."

"Not necessarily," September Claudia June spoke up. "When I was a year old I had great success treating Ferris-Bueller Syndrome. Give me an hour in the lab and I'll have you fixed up, young lady."

House sniffled. "It's still sad that she has no parents."

Wilson exchanged a look with Cuddy. "He should know," he said. "We've kept it from him for too long."

Cuddy nodded nervously. "House, Tiffani Brittney Kasey is your daughter."

Shocked, House dropped the scalpel before he could even start cutting himself. "What? How?"

"Remember our medical school reunion?" Cuddy asked. "You and I got drunk and slept together. I got pregnant. I-I couldn't keep her and I didn't want to ruin your life, so I gave her up. I never knew what happened to our daughter until she was admitted last week."

"We have a daughter?" House whispered.

"I have parents?" Tiffani Brittney Kasey whispered.

Father, mother and daughter embraced.

Wilson cleared his throat. "House, there's one more thing. September Claudia June is also your daughter."

House blinked rapidly. "But how? Who?"

Wilson licked his lips nervously. "Remember the night four years ago when Julie and I separated for the first time? You and I got drunk and slept together. I got pregnant and-and Julie made me give her away. I never knew what happened to our daughter until she applied as head of radiology this morning."

Father, father and second daughter embraced.

Amber Jade Jasmine cleared her throat. "I also have something to tell you. House, I'm your sister."

"But I'm an only child."

"When your father was a Marine he had a 24 hour leave in Australia. There he had a one-night stand with a lovely blonde woman. She got pregnant. She was married to a world-renowned rheumatologist, so when the twins were born, she gave the red-headed one up for adoption and- " she looked toward the forgotten ducklings. "-kept the blonde one to raise with her husband."

Chase paused in the middle of planning another suicide attempt. "You mean House and I-"

She nodded. "Brothers. I never knew what happened to either one of you until I became House's secretary this afternoon."

Brother, brother and sister embraced.

As the extended House-Wilson-Cuddy family gazed into each other's eyes, poor, forgotten Cameron watched desperately. "Guys? Hey, guys? I, uh, think I might be-" she fished desperately "-um, House's niece or something?"

"I'm an only child, Cameron. Well, except for Amber Jade Jasmine."

"I know, but," she thought quickly, "I think I heard my grandmother say once that my mom had an affair with your long-lost brother, which would make me..."

"My niece!"

Uncle and niece embraced.

Foreman threw down his scalpel in disgust. "Y'all crackers are crazy! I quit. I'm going back to stealing cars!"

THE END (OF ALL MARY SUES? DOUBT IT, BUT WE CAN ALWAYS HOPE.)

Author's Note: Man, I hope I get flamed for this story. You know the kind of ungrammatical, poorly-spelled drivel that flows forth on the Fox message boards: "your mean u rite this but your not funne at al dude if u hat the show y do u watch u shud go away we don need u!" Usually followed by an all-caps "TROLL!" Cause those are the kind of writers who crank out Mary Sues by the truckload.

Go ahead-flame me! I'll push my flowing, curly, fiery red/ebony blue-black hair out of my almond-shaped violet-green eyes (they change depending on the light), strike the martial arts pose I learned while liberating Iraq with the Marines, and snap your neck like the CIA taught me when I was simultaneously working with North African freedom fighters and earning my double-M.D in cardiology and proctology!