Preface - Present

House
I believe in hallucinations.
I believe in delusions.
I believe in vivid dreams.

I don't accept a greater power.
I don't accept the afterlife.
And I don't accept heaven and hell.

But this was--none of the aforementioned.
Witnesses have called me crazy, believing and claiming that I was far past insanity. Some thought it was best for me to return back to the asylum--

I don't think I'm crazy. I'm insane--in a reckless and juvenile way. But I'm not crazy.
It's nothing I can explain. Only something I can show you. Picture in your mind. Help me out with this--

The only conclusion I've come to is:

A sixth sense.

---

Six Months earlier


House had been released from Mayfield, not too long ago. Working on retaining back his license, for the time being he was put under a watch or probation, within a six month period to determine whether or not he was mentally stable enough to return to his job at Princeton-Plainsbro. At the end of the probation, the board and or panel would decide. For now, House needed to appear sane, in no doubt he was, but most of his actions sometimes said otherwise.
Since his return, the only person to really avoid him was Cuddy. During his absence, Wilson eventually informed her about everything--she however already had a feeling--with House's consent. Since then, she has refused to talk to him, let alone look at him, unless necessary.
Everyone else welcomed him back with open arms.

House was now dead asleep on Wilson's couch in a semi-darkness. The fluorescent lights in his room were off, but a dim lighting from the outside seemed to illuminate the room. Dressed in what seemed to be fairly casual clothing, he rested soundly on the couch. What woke him up, however, was the friendly cunning oncologist we know as Wilson. He walked in casually, omitting House from the scene as he dealt with one of his patients. House jerked as Wilson spoke in a loud tone towards her. He sat upright and realized he was dealing with a patient. At first he rubbed his eyes trying to regain consciousness, and he did a second take on her.
She looks young. She's pretty. Very guilty of such, he thought. And as he examined her from head to toe, she gave occasional smiles and glances back at him. After Wilson dismissed her, she smiled at him again before closing the door.

"File," House called out. Wilson tossed the file over like a frisbee, and House examined the file.

Name: Strong, Antonette J.
Sex: Female
Age: 14
History: Biological parents health is unknown. Foster child at age six. Five foster homes within timespan of five years. Current family is Lucas and Haley Strong. Two sons, Matthew and Daniel Strong.
Diagnosis: Ovarian cancer.
Prognosis: Stage II.
Current Treatment: Unilateral oophorectomy (left ovary), with regular rounds of chemo.

"She's lucky," he finally said tossing the file back to Wilson. "you rarely catch ovarian in stage I or II."
"That's what I said to her." he replied apparently busy at his desk.
"Where's Foreman?"
"Why you ask," Wilson said, apparently uninterested.
"Passed by the office."
"Well, not that you would care, his mother passed."
"What'd she have?"
"Alzheimer's finally caught up with her and she developed pneumonia."
"Is that why he left yesterday?"
"He had gotten a phone call from his father." House had a tense face on as Wilson fixed around at his desk. He was preparing to leave again.
"Mommy put you in charge? Or did he ask you to take over?"
"Cuddy."
"How is she?" he asked with a slight concern in his voice.
"She's fine. She just doesn't want to see you," Wilson retorted opening the door. House followed him back to what was now Foreman's office, to watch the differential take place. He didn't stay in the outer office with them all, but he sat in his old recliner and watched them hard at work through the windows. Looking around his old office, it seems that Foreman was reluctant to change anything around except whatever was on the desk. From what he remembered, nearly everything looked the same. Within minutes of the differential, Cuddy walked in and began talking to all of them. Informing them on the patients worsening condition. Wilson had refused to allow House in on any of the cases, due to his probation protocol, but every now and again, Wilson would ask the occasional "hypothetical" question.
Before Cuddy had left the room, a quick glance had been thrown his way, and she immediately turned the other cheek and walked out. Things still hadn't been worked out between them. To mend this, he decided to follow her. Wilson looked suspiciously at him as he limped after her--he knew he would do something stupid.
Upon entering the elevator, House encountered a man. The doors closed, before he addressed him.

"Are, you Dr. House? Dr. Gregory House?" the man asked. He was an inch shorter than House, and had beautiful round brown eyes, and short hair. His smile looked crafted, almost too perfect. Curious of what he might say, House replied to him.

"Yes."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I'm Michael, Michael Travis."
"Am I supposed to know you--?"
"No, but I figured Allison would've mentioned me."
"Allison as in Allison Cameron?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes. Do you happen to know where she works in this hospital?"
"She manages the ER, why are you her secret love affair or something?" he asked sarcastically. The elevator doors opened and the began to walk out.
"I'd talk more but I have to head out, God's calling."
"Are you some kind of alter boy or something?"
"Let her know I dropped by? Michael Travis." House gave a curt nod and they parted their ways out of the elevator. Moving for the clinic to find Cuddy, he glanced back as he pushed through the doors of the clinic, but he was already gone.
Then what seemed to be out of no where, Wilson had pulled House aside.

"Do you want her to hit you? Because she'll do it."
"Who," House asked, distracted.
"CUDDY."
"Right."
"Can you focus?"
"What's Cameron's brother's name?" he asked, still staring at the entrance doors outside the clinic.
"Jared, why?"
"You know a Michael Travis?"
"Don't think so. He know Cameron?"
"He asked for her. And he knew my name."
"I'll ask her, next time I get a chance. But right now I suggest you get your ass upstairs before she sees you down here."
"Right." they both walked out of the clinic and headed for the elevators. The only thought he could process was the name Michael Travis. Why was it so significant that he had known his name, and how he connected to Cameron.