I spoilt House too much in my last story with all the Huddy stuff going on. So he' s gonna suffer a little bit more this time.

None of the following characters belong to me.

His four team members starred at him. For the last ten minutes they had a lively discussion until House suddenly paused and put on his typical face that told them he had just found an answer.

Without another word he took his cane and rushed out of his office and right into the elevator.

As usual he burst into Cuddy's office without knocking and interrupted her phone call.

"Need a favor.", he explained leaning with both hands on his cane.

"I'll call you back in a minute.", Cuddy told her dialog partner and hung up.

"You'll never learn to keep quiet for two minutes, will you?", she sighed.

House shrugged. "Why would I? I made all my way downstairs to come here this guy only took his phone. So he can wait for a minute."

"This guy is in Denver. That's why people use phones. To communicate with people out of town."

House took a Vicodin.

"Can we stop this discussion? I have a dying patient upstairs so I'm in a hurry."

"What do you want?", she asked him annoyed.

"I want to prevent that this dying patient is actually dying. So I need your approval for his treatment."

"What do you want to do?", Cuddy wondered.

House tapped his cane on his tip-toe and prevented eye contact with his boss.

"Maybe you shouldn't know too much about it.", he mumbled.

Cuddy shook her head.

"Then I can't give you my approval. I need to know what's going on here."

House rubbed his forehead for a moment.

"It's legal and it's even following protocol."

"Then what's the problem? Tell me!"

"I can't test him. Test would need 24 hours he doesn't have so much time left."


"If I'm wrong he will die from the treatment.", House finally admitted.

Cuddy stood up.

"No. You will not do this! Find some prove you are right about your diagnosis. Then treat him."

House rolled his eyes.

"I just told you, there is no time. I can find you some prove and tell his wife and children when they say good bye to him down in the morgue."

"Don't act as if you cared about his family. You just care about your diagnosis!", Cuddy told him.

"At least I care about saving his life. You obviously don't!", he yelled now.

"Shut up, House!", she shouted back.

"I can't just sit here and watch you play your game. I'm responsible here. I can lose my job, the hospital will lose its reputation. These protocols aren't useless. They were made for people like you who are doctors but don't show the responsible behavior that should come with the position."

He raised his eyebrow.

"Do me a favor and tell him that he will die because who love your job too much. Can I come and watch?"

"Get out of here. Go back upstairs and do the test. Make sure he makes the night and then treat him. In other words: Do your job!"

"Sure. You want me to find a cure for cancer while I'm at it?", he snapped and walked to the door.

But before he left he turned around again to face her.

"Trust me, Cuddy. I'm right.", he told her once more. House's voice almost sounded desperately this time.

"I'm sorry, House. I can't let you do it. I need evidence."

He turned around and left.

Cuddy sat down and shook her head. House and his stupid pranks!

House stood in the clinic and thought about his next move. He glanced over to the pharmacy.

Marco, the pharmacist seemed to be busy with a new load of drugs.

All he needed was one syringe. It wouldn't be enough for a cure but it would show him that he was right. Problem was pharmacy was off limits for all medical stuff. And especially off-limits for House. He had a history of using it as a self-service store.

But obviously it was his lucky day. The phone rang and Marco answered it. It seemed to be very urgent. He hung up grabbed a white bag with some medicine and left the pharmacy.

House didn't hesitate. He limped across the clinic right into the pharmacy and found what he needed within a minute. Before Marco returned House had vanished back in the elevator again.

10 minutes later the content of that syringe was already in the IV line of the patient. Satisfied House left the room and went back to his office ordering Kuttner to monitor the patient for a while. For the head of diagnostic medicine the case was closed. Another patient saved but even more important another puzzle solved. And his short trip downstairs had filled his jacket pockets with red suckers. One of them he unwrapped right now and stuck it into his mouth.

15 minutes later he was done enjoying his success. House's pager went off.

"Patient in cardiac arrest!" it told him. House got up and limped over to the patient's room as quickly as possible. His team joined him on the way over there. Foreman and Taub supported Kuttner in his desperate try to get the patient's heart back to beating.

House stood in front of the room and watched the scene while Thirteen tried to calm down the family.

"Come on!", House whispered after the 6th time Kuttner shocked the patient's heart. "Come on!", he spoke out loudly the second time.

He was right. He knew he was right about his diagnosis. This couldn't be true! He was so sure he had found the right diagnosis. "Maybe it was an allergic reaction to the medicine.", House thought now.

He didn't spend a single thought about the possible death of the patient or his family that had to observe that dramatic scene. And he definitely didn't waste any thoughts about the possible consequences threatening him for this stunt.

Taub, Foreman and Kuttner gave it another try but eventually Foreman announced time of death. They had lost him. The neurologist came out and approached his boss.

"We couldn't save him. Why would his heart stop? So far it was the only healthy organ left.", he wondered.

House starred at him unbelievingly. Slowly it began to dawn on him. He had screwed it up. He had just killed a patient. And the crying and shocked widow with her two children a few feet away made it even clearer to him. He had just killed a father and husband.

"House?", Foreman asked him now and brought him out of his thoughts.

"Do an autopsy. ", he mumbled and limped away.

House went back to his office and sat down. He knew what would happen now. He knew she was probably already informed and on her way upstairs.

So he wasn't surprised when Cuddy stepped in his office five minutes later.

First she just stood there and starred at him. He avoided her view and looked down on his desk.

Eventually she sat down.

"What have you done, House?", she interrupted the silence. He didn't react.

"House, did you or did you not steal a syringe from the pharmacy and injected it to your patient against my orders?", she said in an insisting tone.

Again he stayed silent.

"House, say something!", she yelled at him.

He sighed. "I guess I have the right to remain silent."

Cuddy shook her head.

"Oh God, House. I told you so. Why do you think I denied my approval so many times? This had to happen sooner or later! You are not always right and this poor fellow had to prove it."

"It's not proved yet. There could be many reasons why this happened.", House told her but he didn't believe it himself.

"We'll do an autopsy and you can start praying we don't find any unusual drugs in his system. This time you are on your own. I won't protect your ass."

She got up and looked at him. He still focused on his desktop.

"Until we have the results you are suspended. I don't want to see you on hospital grounds. Get out of here, House!"

He nodded and watched her leave his office. He packed his knapsack, grabbed his jacket and his helmet from the conference room.

His team had returned in the meantime but they had no idea what had just happened.

"Where are you going?", Foreman asked him.

"Take good care for our children.", he told his neurologist and left the department.

His team looked after him pretty confused.

House took his bike for a good ride. Instead of driving home he steered it out of town and drove through the countryside for a while. He tried to get his head clear. But how was that possible? He had not even started to realize what he had done that day.

Finally House arrived at home but before he pulled over he screened the street for a well known silver Volvo. He would rather spend some good money on a hotel room than being forced to listen to a lecture from Wilson.

But the road was clear and so House put off his bike and went inside his apartment. On his way to the kitchen he killed his phone. The answering machine already blinked and indicated two new messages.

But he deleted them immediately. There was nothing he wanted to hear right now.

House got himself his beloved peanut butter sandwich and collapsed on the couch.

Slowly he let the worst thought in his mind develop the emotions that were connected to it. He would lose his job. Actually that was only the second worst problem. They would take away his license they would take away medicine from him.

He searched in his pockets for his Vicodin and brought out the orange bottle.

Too many pills and everything would be over. He could avoid the embarrassment of losing his existence. He wouldn't have to deal with all the morons in the hospital who would throw parties as soon as they could wave him goodbye forever.

House had certainly more than enough pills in his apartment to do the job. A little bit of Scotch would speed it up.

But giving up that easily was not an option for him. Yet!

So instead of committing suicide he got a beer from his fridge and checked what his TiVo provided for him that evening.

Of course Wilson showed up in that night. He let himself inside with the keys he still had since the time he had moved in with House after divorce number three.

House had passed out on his couch an hour earlier. The oncologist sighed when he saw his sleeping friend. After Cuddy had told him about what had happened he was furious with House eager on driving over to his friend's place and read the riot act to him. But now the oncologist stood there and didn't know what to do. He recognized the empty Scotch bottle. The diagnostician had only opened it two days earlier when they had a nice evening here in the same room. Everything had been alright back then. Only 48 hours had passed but House's life would probably never be the same again.

Wilson realized that House didn't need a lecture since he would get enough of them in the next days. House needed a friend right now.

The oncologist figured that sleep was also something House wouldn't see too much of in future and decided to let him sleep.

He got his buddy a blanket and switched off the TV. Then he removed his coat and lied down on the recliner in the living room and pretty soon he was snoring quietly as well.

House woke up early the next morning. Sun was only preparing for rising so it was still pretty dark in his living room. For a moment he wondered if this had just been a nightmare. But when he saw his best friend lying on his recliner he knew he had no such luck. The lack of empty pizza cartons or Chinese food boxes showed him that he had not enjoyed a typical evening with Wilson. Which raised a question: What was the oncologist doing on his recliner?

House was not in the mood to find out. He had a headache and he still had the same problems than the night before. His stomach growled reminding him that he had missed dinner. Time to find himself some breakfast. Silently he got dressed found his keys and his jacket. He grabbed his wallet but left the cell phone behind.

But what should he do with his involuntarily day off? Finding himself breakfast kept him busy for half an hour. And then?

House sat on his bike thinking about what to do next. He was only two streets away from the hospital and glanced over at the modern looking orange building. There was no use in wasting his time while there were so many open questions on his mind. He started his bike and headed towards his possible future former working place.

He parked on his usual handicap parking space got his cane of the bike and limped towards the main entrance.

The security guy spotted him immediately and obstructed his passage.

"Dr. House, I can't let you in.", he told him.

"Get out of my way!", House snapped but the guy placed his hand on House's chest and stopped him from entering.

"I'm sorry. My instruction says you are not permitted on hospital grounds. You have to leave."

House shoved of the hand.

"I need to talk to Cuddy.", he explained but the guard shook his head.

"Not on my shift. Leave or I'll call the police."

House starred at him for a moment but finally he stepped back. No need to get deeper in trouble than he already was.

So he limped back to his bike and sighed when he saw Wilson waiting for him already.

"You left pretty early this morning.", the oncologist said.

"I always do that when I wake up next to an intruder.", House snapped.

Wilson nodded at the hospital.

"You talked to Cuddy?", he asked.

House shook his head.

"Her gorilla wouldn't let me in."

"Well maybe I could talk to her.

House rolled his eyes.

"Can we get this over with? Start your damn lecture already."

Wilson shrugged.

"What do you want me to tell you? That you screwed up? That you put your license on the line again and lost this time? I'm sure you know that already."

House looked surprised.

"Where is Wilson?", he wondered.

Wilson smirked.

"I watched you playing with matches many times. Why should I slap your hand now when you already put the house on fire? I should have interfered way earlier."

House chuckled.

"You're a moron. You had nothing to do with it but still you are blaming yourself for my mistake."

"Excuse me for trying to help you.", Wilson yelled and shook his head.

"I'll talk to her. See what we can save.", he finally said and walked away.

House settled back at home 20 minutes later.

He didn't move from his couch the entire day until he heard a knock on his door at 7 pm. He had expected Wilson to show up but it was Cuddy.

She looked depressed and House knew this wouldn't mean good news.

"Can I come in?", she asked him. He just nodded and stepped aside to let her inside.

He collapsed on his couch while Cuddy sat down on the piano bench.

"How are you?", she asked him.

"Depends on what you have to say.", he mumbled.

Cuddy looked around. The empty Scotch bottle had found some company through the day and was surrounded by beer bottles. Next to an empty Vicodin bottle she saw a half full one. He was not doing very well.

"We got the autopsy report this afternoon. We found your nice little drug in his blood.", she told him and waited for his reaction.

House tapped his cane on the floor repeatedly.

"Are you in trouble?", he asked and surprised her completely.

"What do you mean?", she wondered.

He looked at her.

"I already kissed my license good-bye. I was wrong and I made a mistake. But it would be a shame if you'd pay the bill for it.", he admitted.

"You didn't kill him, House.", she told him after a while.

"What do you mean? You just told me they found…", she cut him off.

"Yes, we did. They also found a cardiac defect. You were right with your diagnosis but his heart couldn't tolerate the drugs and stopped. Didn't you check out his heart?"

House was amazed. This changed everything. He was right. He had found the right answer. Again.

"His kidneys were shutting down his liver failed his pancreas wasn't looking very promising. Why would I care about his heart?", he told her.

Cuddy nodded. "It was just bad luck, I guess."

She sighed again.

"The family pressed charges against you. I put our lawyer on it."

House chuckled.

"Good thing you keep those 50000 bucks every year for my lawsuits."

Cuddy was nervous. And House realized this wasn't the end of it.

"House, we can't do this anymore. I have enabled you long enough, I have watched you long enough ignoring protocol or coming up with your crazy theories. I don't want to tolerate this any longer.", she paused for a moment before she went on.

"I'm sorry House. But I have to fire you.", she finally told him. Cuddy knew she destroyed something inside him right that moment but she also knew he would never show it.

"I'll get my stuff tomorrow.", he just said and got up.

"Fine.", she mumbled and walked over to the door.

"House, please don't…", but he didn't listen.

"Just get the hell out of here!", he yelled, walked into his bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Cuddy watched him sadly and left eventually.

Reviews are welcome and gratefully accepted. :-)