DH House MD

They hadn’t even asked if you had wanted to come. It wasn’t a secret that the Diagnostics Medicine Team wasn’t particularly fond of you, especially after Cuddy pushed and pushed to have you as a part of the Department. Didn’t even try to hide it when you eventually arrived. They just liked to pretend you didn’t exist. And it was supposed to be just another night out, without you, of course. Even House wanted to join. But fate seemed to have other plans. Chase had just scored a strike when House’s phone started blasting “Dancing Queen”—Wilson’s ringtone. The older man rolled his eyes before flipping it open and picking it up. It was two seconds into the call his expression slightly hardened. He then clicked the phone shut. “We have to go.” Was all he said. Foreman, Cameron, Chase all seemed confused. But House didn’t seem all too eager to explain. When they arrived at Princeton-Plainsboro, still none of their questions had been answered. Until House lead them to a particular room. Where you lied in a hospital bed. “What happened?” Cameron asked, voice hushed. “Don’t know.” House responded.