a/n: So, you're probably asking, "What gives Fluffy and Jenniffer, why the season four recap now?" It's our assumption that season four is done, and if it's not, the first eleven episodes were so painful, it's done for us!

Most of the credit for writing season four's recap goes to JennifferButterfly, since Fluffy2001 actually stopped watching the show at episode 6. Flowers for JennifferButterfly can be sent to the Northern Suburban Hospital of Englewood's psych floor. Yeah, she's lost it. Also, we are wearing our black armbands over the loss of Chase, and have decided it's time to go out with a bang. Or a whimper. You get to decide which.

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Chapter Four: Season Four

"The season that makes you wonder what are the writers getting paid for?"

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House sat in the now empty diagnostics office with his forehead on the glass table top, tapping his cane on the floor. He sighed and tried to formulate a new way to make Cuddy's life a living hell when Wilson came bursting through the door. "Great news, House! The writers are on strike! Do you know what that means?"

House lifted his head, "We have another reason to hate unions?"

"Even better! We only have to do half a crappy season. Because the writers have suddenly decided they're underpaid, and want to cry over spilt milk, they've stopped writing. I think this aptly counts as one of those situations that's both a blessing and a curse."

House leaned back in his chair and studied the table top as he twirled his cane in his fingers. "Still, it's half a season too long." He got out of his chair and walked over to the whiteboard, pulling out a marker. "Well, how about you and I begin the recap, one on one style. We haven't had any legitimate time together since what, season two?"

"What about the others?"

"You mean the old team? The former top notch ensemble now relegated to wallpaper, forced to prove their relevance by looking pretty for one minute an episode before vanishing without a trace? They can make their appearances known when needed. Not that anyone will ever notice, because apparently the rabid fans only want to see us anyway."

Wilson resignedly nodded in agreement, while House went back to the whiteboard. "Now, where should we begin? Ah yes, the case of the lady with a lot on her mind."

Wilson furrowed his brow and sat down in a chair. "I didn't think your first season four patient had anything big on her plate."

"I didn't say on her plate, I said on her mind. As a matter of fact, she had a whole building on it, literally."

Wilson groaned and leaned back in his chair while he rubbed his face. All of a sudden, Cuddy decided to make a visit. "House, hire a team," she said as she leaned into the diagnostics room from the hallway.

House dropped his shoulders and stared at Cuddy with a bored expression. "You know, since that seems to be your mantra for this whole season, how about you get it out of your system now and just say all that you need too."

Cuddy pulled her head back, slightly taken aback, before stepping into the diagnostics office. "House, hire a team. House, you hired too many. House, pick three of them. You're not picking, are you? Didn't I just tell you to pick? House, this is your last chance. Guess what?" She reached behind herself and grabbed Foreman. "I hired him back after he screwed things up at Mercy for being like you."

Foreman gave a quick nod to Wilson before turning his attention to House and saying his season four rhetoric. "You can't do that."

"Jesus, Cuddy, you've gotten a tan and sex change."

Cuddy shoved Foreman back out the door and finished her rant. "Hire two. You have to hire two. Why aren't you hiring anybody? You're only down to four, you need to cut two more. Just hire two. Good, you hired the two boys. Wait, crap, you need sexual tension, I, er, mean a woman on the team. Hire one more. No, wait, crap, I've been had again. Ah well, I guess it doesn't really matter. They all suck anyway." Cuddy stopped and stood still in the doorway.

"Are you done?" House asked.

Cuddy looked at the ceiling and ran through things aloud. "I bugged you to hire a team, hired Foreman back, bugged you some more, yup, I'd say that pretty much covers it."

"Good, now get the hell out of here." Cuddy promptly did so and House turned back to the board. "What's next?"

"Shouldn't we figure out what's happened to Cameron and Chase?" Wilson offered up. "I can either mislead you with a phone call to Arizona or we can get to the point."

House looked at his watch and sighed. "We've already wasted too much time covering too few things. Let's just skip the dramatics. Cameron is in the ER trying to cure car accident victims and drug addicts with hugs and kisses."

Cameron quickly ran into diagnostics wearing scrubs and carrying a puppy. "You did it because you didn't want to destroy her dreams and I'm going to take one of your potentials under my wing, so to speak."

Wilson and House glared at her before the former finally said something. "You stole that puppy from the service dog that comes in to visit the sick, didn't you?"

"Uh, well, it's much more complicated. You see…um," Cameron bit her lower lip before holding out the puppy, "Come on, how can you say no to a face like that?" She dashed out of the room and went back down to her bleeding heart's heaven.

Wilson turned around and got readjusted in his seat. "Glad she's gone. Well that covers all but Chase. What about him?"

House shrugged and went back to writing on the white board. "He's Crocodile Dundee with a scalpel now, big deal."

Chase quickly popped in for only a few seconds, which equaled all the screen time he had this season. "You call that a scalpel?" He pulled a spoon out of the pocket in his scrubs. "That's a scalpel."

There was silence in the room. House and Wilson stared, shared a look with each other, and then looked back at Chase. "Uh, Chase," Wilson said, "that's a spoon…"

Chase lifted his eyebrows, pulled his head back, and smiled. "Alright, alright, you win. I see you've played scalpel-spoony before." With that said, he ran out never to be seen again, except in Cameron's pants.

Wilson closed his eyes and ran a mental check list. "Let's see. Cuddy, Foreman, Cameron, Chase…it's time we run through some patients again."

"The astronaut had Von Hipple-Lindua disease, a dude in a wheel-chair gets killed by one of my incompetent candidates, some lady sees dead people, I have no idea what the amnesiac had; I can only suspect that the writers made something up for the sake of making something up, a chick had a heat stroke and a man ate too many nuts in the not-queer sense, I can't remember what the kid with the god ugly face had because I was too busy messing with the film crew, the magician had lupus, the druggie had measles,a lady had a boob behind her knee that was cancerous, the psychiatrist that I not-so-subtlety had feelings for had a broken toe, and the not really Hasidic Jew had a loose kidney."

House paused to mentally review the cases while Wilson stared at him, slightly shocked that he remembered that much worthless crap. "Man, these cases are so far out there I'm not quite sure I believe them."

Wilson shook out of his horrible medical plot induced daze, "That's it?"

"Yup, patients are taking a back seat again this season. After all, what's the fun of medicine in a medical drama? That's just too logical," House assumed sarcastically.

Wilson nodded in agreement. "Not to mention the fact that we had a Christmas show in January. Listen, I don't care if the writers are on strike, the network should've aired at least the holiday episode at the right time and saved the other two episodes for further down the road."

"Hey!" House snapped, "If you get to have eight days of fun with your fancy candle holder, we can let Christmas spill over into the next month. Though, I have to admit, you did look hot in that reindeer hat." House stopped and took a breath, "Now, what should we go over next?"

Wilson, choosing to ignore House's crude jab at his faith, sighed and continued going down the list of things they had to cover. "Do you want to review your candidates?"

House rolled his eyes in disgust. "Ugh, the thought of going through all that again makes me want to rip my eyes out and shove them in my bleeding ears. What a waste of air time. I personally would have picked Bosley, Big Love and Cutthroat Bitch, but I guess that's why the writers get paid the big bucks."

"The writer's don't get paid the big bucks, remember? That's why they're striking."

"At this rate, I'd make a better writer. Hell, Joe Blow on the street would make a better writer, although that would probably result in me sleeping with Cameron one week, Cuddy the next, then a three way after that, over and over again." House took a moment to ponder which would be the lesser of the two evils, season four or really bad fanfic. The decision was too close to call, so he concluded being on American Gladiators would be the coolest scenario.

Wilson, pondering the missed opportunities over what a great team that would have made and that maybe no writers isn't a bad thing, shook out of his train of thought. "Who did you hire again?"

House had to think for a moment, for he couldn't remember either. "Ah yes, I chose the plastic surgeon, the dude who has a fascination with the paddles, and the chick who is a clear replacement to Cameron while being mysterious. Oh yeah, and just like Cameron, the writers can't get enough of her. I mean we have to deal with drama from that Thirteen bitch every ten minutes, don't we?"

Thirteen walked up to the glass and started tapping on it. "Excuse me? Is it time for me to pine over the fact that I killed somebody and his dog?"

Wilson stood up and walked to the blinds, shutting them rather harshly. "Good point. By this point I don't think the viewers really care about you showing any logic in your judgment."

"Um, seriously, you guys. When do I get my screen time?" Thirteen said as she walked into House's office and looked through the glass separating the two offices. "I can sulk about the handi-able man and his dog some more. Or how about I put on my mysterious face! I'm really good at that!" Thirteen, who has no real name because she's a loser like that, puts on said mysterious face. "I also have this awesome family secret to divulge! My mum had Huntington's! And you know what? I don't feel like telling a soul because I might die! DIE!!! Oh! To top it off, I'm bi!!!"

House walked over to the blinds separating that half of the office and shut them much in the same way that Wilson did. "Anything else interesting we should go over?"

"Aw, come on you guys," Thirteen could be heard from the other room. "I promise to be dark and mysterious. Here, how about I go into my 'I'm going to pretend I don't care all the while desperately trying to see if you care that I'm not caring' mode." Thirteen paused for a minute. "Okay, I haven't been caring, what do you guys think? House?"

Suddenly a flicker of lights came through the blinds that were separating Diagnostics from the hospital hallway and Thirteen could be heard sighing. "Jesus Christ, not again, Kutner. I thought we took those away from you!" She promptly left the office to go tend to her idiot coworker. Taub could be heard in the distance yelling something about giving Kutner boobs while he's unconscious.

Wilson walked back over to the table and racked his brain desperately for something interesting. "Oh, we got to air an episode after the Super Bowl. That was pretty special."

"Did Janet Jackson show us her voluptuous chocolate love mountain again?"

"If by that you mean her breast, then no."

"Then nothing special happened." House tossed his marker onto the tray of the whiteboard and sighed. "Well, I guess that means we're done until the writers decide to write again. And once that happens we'll be good to go until we're canceled. Which, at this rate better happen really soon, otherwise I'll be so bored with the repetitive story lines and lack of proper character development you'll have to kill me."

House then looked at the fourth wall and warned, "By the way, that is –not- a free invitation for new angst/hurt-comfort fan fiction. Do you hear me, fanbrats?" After that was established,House turned to Wilson and frowned. "Is there anything else you want to add?"

"Yeah, why did it take so long for the writer's to get me out of the hotel? And why is it I couldn't get out unless I went with Cutthroat Bitch?" Wilson started ranting.

"Its okay, Wilson, she's just your way of getting closer to me, remember? Besides, we should be celebrating that the writers have now suggested slash between us without the entire annoying subtle context."

"Hey, that means…"

House walked over to Wilson and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We've been outted. Let's go rent your hotel room again. I can think of a million safe things we can do there, and a million more dirty and kinky things to do instead."

Wilson looked House in the eyes and smiled. "Are you saying we should?"

House nodded. "Yup, I figured this show could use a little spice. Maybe bring it back from the verge of all out crappiness."

Wilson sighed. "Yeah, but you can't bring back the dead, House. And this show is just that."

"No, but I can make the dead walk and talk for several seasons past its prime. It's quite easy actually, I just asked the people over at ER how they managed it and they were more than willing to help."

Wilson nodded in agreement and the two left the office to go…er, consult each other on various cases.

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And with that said, thus ends our recapping…permanently. Doing this for the past three seasons has really fried our brains. It's not easy sticking in all the stupidity in such a limited time frame and lately we've been given –a lot- of stupidity to work with. Still, we didn't want to disappoint those of you waiting for the season four recap, so we wrote it with the intentions of it being our last. Sorry, you'll have to entertain yourselves when season five rolls around, but we are very grateful to those of you that have followed our story this far.

Regretfully yet respectfully yours,

JennifferButterfly and Fluffy2001

PS- Bonus points to whoever caught the shameless Simpsons reference that shamelessly referenced Crocodile Dundee.