This is a special chapter, one made to try to write much more than I had ever done before from a ge of perspective.

  I'm sorry, but this chapter be sidered a filler chapter, so there isn't really any story development (which doesn't mean it's not reted to the story) but if you don't want to read it and wait until the chapter, you are perfectly wele to do so.

  Meanwhile, those who do prefer to read this 'special' chapter.

  Enjoy.

  ---

  Along with a buny friends, we went, as we do every year, to a barbecue at the same camping area. We had been doing it since we were in high school, and it was a tradition I hoped would tinue for a long time. I really hoped we could keep it going.

  Callie was eight months pregnant, which at that time, stupidly, didn’t seem like such a risky situation to me.

  The day was like any other day in Texas, pletely sunny and perfect for a day in the woods.

  A few hours after we arrived, a small family of three men of different ages arrived in an unattractive yellow truck with ads for aerminator pany.

  Bob, obviously the owner of the pany because of the name on the side of the truck, the father of the two boys traveling in the car, leasant person, so they easily ied introup after Callie and I introduced ourselves.

  PJ, as his father and brother called him, was a tall teenager and, by the looks of it, physically well-built, with a pleasant attitude and a maturity far beyond what I could imagine from a teenager his age.

  It was clear that the boy should be popur just for these traits, but despite this, he didn’t seem arrogant at all. In fact, quite the opposite. From the moment Callie and I approached the Dun trio, the boy eloquently and edly asked how many months pregnant Callie was. Thinking back, it ossibly a sign of his worry.

  After the Duns settled into the camping site and after introdug Bob to the others, we tinued with the barbecue.

  The younger boy, about ten years old, like any other child his age, quickly got bored with the fishing trip with his father. Fortunately, he had his older brother and a few ic books.

  At some point iernoon, the storm began. It arrived so quickly and suddenly that it was a stressful situation for everyone. Acc to the hospital doctors, this could have been one of the triggers for the premature bor.

  On the kind of isnd away from the shore where everyone else was, only Callie, PJ, and I were separated by a stroke of bad ood luck. Because of Callie's pains and the speed at which the water moved in the river els, it was impossible to reach the other side safely.

  Callie's screams and the difficulty of the situation put me in check. I didn’t know what to do, and the pressure of everything happening could have been fatal if only Callie and I had been there.

  “There’s a tent up there still,” PJ shouted, snappi of the horrible and useless trance I was in. Without waiting, he helped me with Callie, and we walked to one of the tents his family had set up for the night.

  “Hoart are the tras?” With incredible professionalism, the teenager, several years youhan me, asked while helping me y Callie on the floor of the tent.

  The boy seemed pletely uurbed, as if this were an everyday occurrence. Callie answered his question, and the boy tinued. Due to the shock of the situation, I didn’t fully uand the sentence he said after that, just the end.

  “We have to deliver this baby now,” preparing his clothes, the boy said with the same serious demeanor he had carried for several minutes.

  “What?” I immediately asked, uo believe what I had heard.

  Showing that my disbelief was unfounded, PJ immediately took trol of the situation, speaking seriously to me, me to stay by Callie’s side throughout the difficult procedure before he left to get what he needed for the emergency delivery.

  With incredible professionalism, PJ did what I only describe as the work of an expert, doing things I ter learned doctors train for months to do, as if he had do before, helping Callie through the process and ensuriook care of every moment for my son and my wife.

  After what seemed like hours with Callie in bor and PJ taking care of everything, my beautiful wife screamed, begging for the impossibility of what she had to do.

  It seemed impossible, but once again, the teenager, making sure I aying attention to what he was saying, “I know how to do an emergency C-se, but the baby is about to e out, and it could be dangerht now,” he affirmed, surprising me once again.

  Feeling useless for all the ways I couldn’t help my Callie in this process beyond staying by her side, I leaned in, “You do this. You’re Callie Walce; there’s nothing you haven’t been able to do before, just one more time, honey,” I said into my wife’s ear, squeezing her hand, feeling her squeeze mine in response.

  Nodding at the teenager, Callie pushed once more with a scream. “I’ve got it,” PJ affirmed, lifting a weight off my shoulders.

  “Why isn’t he g?” a sed ter, Callie, beside me, asked with extreme worry, making that weight return in an instant.

  “Damn,” for the first time since we ehe tent, PJ said with , moving quickly.

  If I hadn’t been so worried about my baby’s health, I would have been even more impressed by the boy’s ‘work’ in saving my child’s life.

  While PJ applied what felt like ay of CPR to the baby, which paramedid doctors ter expio me was the proper method for a baby, I could only pray for my child’s well-being, not even feeling the pressure Callie lying to my hand.

  “Waaah!” For the first time in my life, I heard my child’s cry. I don’t think I’ll ever feel so relieved to hear anything in my life.

  “Thank you,” talking to my baby, I heard the teenager, who was shedding tears despite his incredible feat. “gratutions, it’s a boy,” he said, ughing slightly while trying to hold back more tears. I immediately imitated him, g with relief.

  A few mier, when we all mao calm our nerves, my journalist instincts kicked in. Unfortunately, Callie didn’t allow me to bother the amazing teenager, so I only got a few ao the questions flooding my mind about PJ’s as.

  The paramedid emergency services arrived not long after, and with the help of the park rangers, we crossed to the other side of the river, where an emergency helicopter was waiting to take us to the hospital. PJ, once again showing his incredible knowledge, quickly and thhly expihe situation to one of the paramedics.

  “I won’t fet this, PJ. Thank you so much. I’ll find you someday,” I mao say to the boy o time before leaving in the helicopter.

  At the hospital, after aire night of ensuring Callie and our son weren’t seriously harmed, I was ready to go out and iigate the story.

  “Where do you think yoing?” my now much better-rested wife, mother of my child, asked, frowning and incredibly upset.

  “I have to go iigate for a story,” I said, embarrassed.

  “Your son just got born, and you’re already thinking about writing? You’re forbidden from going near your typewriter for at least a month,” Callie ordered furiously but quietly, not wanting to wake our baby.

  “Callie, when will I ever find aory like this from a town like this? A teenager with incredible medical knowledge saved our child’s life. I have to write the story,” I said, preparing to beg if necessary.

  “Two weeks,” with little iion to iate further, Callie ceded after a few seds of pting my words.

  “Thank you,” I excimed, relieved, hoping no one would find this incredible story before I could write it. Amazingly, I was right.

  During the lo but most rewarding two weeks of my life, I lived without toug my typewriter, taking care of my wife and my newborn baby, who was fortunately in perfect health.

  When my ‘ban’ ended, I returo my work. I had to start with what I khey lived in the small towhe hospital was, Medford, only an hour and a half from Houston, where we live.

  Also, thanks to Bob Dun, I khey had moved to Medford from Colorado a few months ago.

  Spending a few hours on my first day of iigation at the city’s public library, I read many loeers looking for any articles that might have already been published about the teenager. I was sure he had prior experiences helping people.

  The most I found was an i at the mall where someone was seriously injured, putting their life at risk, but an uified person saved them. I had a slight suspi that the mysterious uified person J.

  Apart from that, there was nothing else. I was the first to write about someone I was sure would be famous one day. Even sidering the type of he small town published, my story would be known by all.

  Thus, my days of iigation tinued. Being such a small town, it wasn't a very difficult search. With only a couple of high schools to ched the public records of Bob Dun's pany, I had more than enough information about the boy to tinue.

  The first thing, since PJ was still a minor, was to obtain permission from his parents.

  Although Bob owned a "pany," he, his truck, and his tools were all the pany had. Surprisingly, the man single-handedly worked for entire buildings around the small towhey lived.

  "Bob Dun, I don't know if you remember me," I said when I had enough information about the man's work life and approached him at the end of one of his extermination jobs.

  "Of course I do, David. I'm gd to see you again. How are you? Your family, are they well?" After a few short seds used to recall my face, the man immediately said with a big smile, removing one of his gloves to offer a handshake.

  "I'm doing very well, thank you. Callie and the baby are also perfectly fine," I responded, accepting the man's handshake.

  "Do you work here?" Bob Dun asked, pointing to the building he had just exited a few minutes ago, ed. "They have—well, had—a severe termite iion," he added with a bit ance, obviously proud of his work.

  "No, actually, I'm here to meet with you," I said, mentally hoping the man wouldn't be worried that I was following him.

  "Why? Do you have a pest problem that you need me to solve?" The man immediately asked seriously; he obviously took his work seriously.

  "Oh no, nothing like that. I just wao have a versation with you and your wife about your son PJ," I quickly expined. "I don't know if you remember, but I'm a journalist. I'd like to write an article about your son," I tinued immediately, notig the doubts on Bob's face.

  "An article?" Bob asked, taken by surprise. "Do you know something about the award?" he asked again with suspi, strangely excited.

  "The award?" It was my turn to be surprised; there was ion of an award in any loeer.

  "It's just something Amy, my wife, mentioned," Bob expined as if it were no big deal. "How about this, I'm heading home now. The kids are at school, and Amy is probably getting ready for work. Why don't you e for a cup of coffee, and we discuss this article?" Bob said, finishing pag his things into his yellow truck.

  "Perfect, thank you very much," I said before heading back to where my car arked.

  The drive back to the Dun's house didn't take long as I followed Bob in his truck.

  Iheir house in a middle-eighborhood, I sahotographs of a happy family. I could reize two of the children in most of the pictures, while there was anirl I had never seen before.

  "Hello, I'm Amy Dun, PJ Dun's mother. Bob says you want to write an article about our son. We're pletely on board," suddenly said a not very tall woman with a high-pitched voice, obviously excited, as she shook my hand.

  "Oh yes, do you knoJ did for my family and me a few weeks ago?" I asked, taking the seat on the sofa the woman was , relieved by how easily I had obtained PJ's parents' approval.

  "Of course, I know. Bob told me everything," the woman responded, striking poses as if I were holding a camera. "PJ is quite the hero, something he clearly ied from me," she tinued proudly. "You put that iicle," she added excitedly.

  Bob, sitting oher side of the sofa with his own cup of coffee, strangely his wife's words while sipping his coffee.

  "Okay," I said, taking a big gulp of coffee, trying to avoid showing the disfort the woman's posing and profile showing was causing me.

  "The title could be something like 'Mother of the tury, Her Son a Hero,'" the woman said with a big smile, moving her hands as if the title appeared in front of her face.

  "Honey, why don't you sit down a David talk," Bob said, finally resg me from the disfort by guiding his peculiar wife to sit beside him on the sofa.

  "Thank you," I couldn't help but say. "As I'm sure Bob mentioned, I'd like to write an article as a token of gratitude about PJ. While we were in the forest, I had a brief versation with PJ about his knowledge in medie."

  "Well, I'm a nurse. PJ gets his i in medie from me," the woman quickly expined, almost immediately interrupted by Bob.

  "No, that's actually iing. So, you're a nurse, which is why PJ is so knowledgeable about medie? He learned from a young age?" I asked, taking notes.

  "Yeah," the woman responded immediately, puffing her chest with pride. "No," Bob corrected her right away.

  "No?" I asked.

  "Well, PJ wasn't the most, how to put it," Bob paused to think, "brilliant," he finally said.

  "That's one way to put it," Amy Dun said, nodding slightly after being corrected.

  "I don't uand," I said. Not the most brilliant—that didn't sound at all like the teenager I met a couple of weeks ago.

  "Ba Colorado, PJ wasn't very 'brilliant,'" Amy ented, nodding towards Bob, "until the day we arrived in Texas and the act happened," she tinued, nodding slightly, corroborating with her husband.

  "Act?" I asked, intrigued, while taking notes on what the woman was narrating.

  "Yes, while we were unpag our belongings from the moving truck, PJ tripped and hit his head. It was quite scary," adding theatricality to her narration, Amy tinued. "He lost sciousness for a few seds. Bob wasn't there yet, so I had to take him to the hospital by myself," the woman tinued, still overag.

  "I was ihroom," Bob responded, embarrassed.

  "Anyway, at the hospital, they immediately did dozens of medical exams. Fortunately, his health erfect," Amy quickly said. "Unfortunately, the blow caused amnesia. The doctor who attended him believed it would pass, but so far, nothing has e back," the woman tinued, still overag.

  "Amnesia," I said, surprised, tinuing to write in my notes.

  "And from then on, it was as if a curtain had been lifted, and PJ started to be 'brilliant,'" Bob tinued for his wife.

  "So, your so from not remembering anything to having incredible knowledge in medie in just a few short months?" I asked, incredulous.

  "Basically," Bob and Amy responded in unison, nodding.

  "I spoke with some of the doctors at the hospital where I work. There are doted cases where brain trauma, like a blow to the head, cause itive ges. The usual oute is ive, but in very few and rare cases, they do wonders," Amy expined cheerfully.

  "And you think your son is one of those cases?" I asked, noting ideas for the article.

  "All parents think their children are special," Amy sincerely affirmed, and I pletely agreed with her. "I don't think the knowledge just appeared in his head, you know?" the woman tinued. "I think it simply made it easier for him to absorb information, but PJ still studies a lot. His room is almost always full of books."

  It was obvious they were both proud of the teenager. Who wouldn't be?

  "He also told me something about the hospital. Is that where he gets all these books?" I asked, making more notes in my small notebook.

  "Oh yes, ever since he started studying under Dr. House, the number of books he's brought home has only increased. His grades are perfect, and my nurse colleagues at the hospital always talk about his study hours at the ic," Amy proudly affirmed, smiling.

  "He studies at the hospital?" I asked, surprised once more.

  "Oh yes, it's something 'unofficial.' He studies with Dr. House, who is a very renowned diagnosti specializing in difficult cases," Amy tinued, even prouder, if possible.

  "So, PJ learns by watg Dr. House work?" I asked, jotting down the new and iing name.

  "Yes, something like that. In fact, he helps quite a bit with the cases, obviously just giving opinions. Anything more than that would be irresponsible," Amy responded, maintaining her proud smile.

  While drinking the coffee the proud couple had given me, I listeo dozens of stories about their eldest son. Most of them were not particurly relevant for the article I wao write, but overall, the love these two parents had for their boy was evident.

  "So, when will we be able to read this article?" Amy Dun asked several minutes after we had arrived at the Dun house. The two adults had to tih their daily duties, marking the end of our versation.

  "If all goes as pnned, possibly in one or two weeks, maybe on a Saturday," I replied, putting away my small notebook filled with iing information.

  "I 't wait to see PJ's face when he reads the article. It will be an incredible surprise," Amy said excitedly as she and Bob guided me out of their house.

  "I hope so," I said, shaking hands again and thanking the couple as I left the Dun's home.

  With the help of the Duns, I had obtaihe phone number of the principal of the high school where PJ atteo tinue my iigation. The day, outside of school hours, I had mao schedule an appoi with the principal.

  "Yes, Dun is undoubtedly one of the brightest students we have at the school," Principal Peterson responded excitedly, beginning the interview after I had properly introduced myself.

  "One of the brightest? PJ isn't the oh the best grades?" I asked, writing in my small notebook, taking the man by surprise as I discovered him in what seemed to be a slight exaggeration.

  "Well," the man elohe word nervously, "we have a student who is only nine years old and is undoubtedly a genius," he tinued, straightening his posture. For some reason, talking about this peculiar child made him nervous. "But about the grades, I think the teachers have more information on that. I know they share many csses together."

  The man's partial ignorance of the boy's grades left little to ask about.

  "I think I have everything I need. Is it possible to speak with some of PJ's teachers?" I said with a small smile, seeing the few notes I had from my versation with Principal Peterson.

  "Of course, the teachers are ieachers' lounge. I asked them to wait a few minutes because you might have questions for them as well," the man said excitedly as he stood up, pg his hand on my shoulder to guide me out of his office.

  "The school is pletely proud to have people like PJ in its halls," Principal Peterson said as we walked towards what I assumed was the teachers' lounge. "Maybe the article could include a mention of the support the school provides for his extracurricur activities," he hinted as we reached the door of the lounge.

  "Of course, I will write about the support PJ receives from this school," I assured immediately, though at the moment, there wasn't much to write about.

  Ihe louhe smell of cigarettes and coffee was the first thing I noticed. Four obviously exhausted teachers were waiting ihe room.

  "Everyohis is David Walce. He's writing an article in the neer about PJ Dun," Principal Peterson introduced me as some of the teachers extinguished their lit cigarettes.

  "I k was only a matter of time before someone wrote an article about the boy," one of the present teachers, a fat man, said amusedly. "What did he do now?" he asked.

  "Gee Cooper, the football team's coach," Principal Peterson said, smiling cheerfully as he introduced the man.

  "He saved my baby's life," I responded, smiling at the amused teachers.

  "Obviously," one of the present teachers said, amused. "Victoria McElroy, I teaglish," the woman introduced herself.

  "I'm telling you, that boy should be in some uy right now," aeacher present, a nky and balding man, affirmed.

  "But if he goes, we won't have ao ba Cooper," aeacher, a woman of color, immediately disagreed, causing Coach Cooper to press his lips in embarrassment and the nky teacher to nod in agreement with relief.

  "Evelyn Ingram, math, and Hubert Givens, sce," Principal Peterson said, giving the st two teachers a stern look as they were introduced.

  "I'll leave you with them, David. It leasure to meet you. I look forward to reading the article," the principal said, shaking my hand once more.

  "Thank you," I said as we watched the man leave the lounge.

  "So, what would you like to know about the boy?" Coach Cooper asked, breaking the silence caused by the principal's departure.

  "You don't seem very surprised that the boy saved a life," I stated, taking my notebook out of my jacket. "Is that on?" I asked.

  "Obviously, it's not on for a teeo save a life," Ms. Ingram stated matter-of-factly.

  "But when it es to PJ Dun, many things are not on," Mr. Givens said, amused.

  "Besides, it has happened before," Ms. McElroy said, looking at her colleagues. "Remember that time, everyone was talking about it, PJ saved a barista's life?" she said, trying to recall.

  "Not just that time," Coach Cooper said, nodding. "The Duns are our neighbors, and a couple of months ago, I had an attack," he tinued, pointing to his chest. "The boy gave me an aspirin before his parents helped my wife a to the hospital," he narrated. "The doctors said the aspirin was a great idea. I don't remember why," he finished, ughing slightly.

  "I didn't know you were a neighbor of the Duns," I said, writing dowruly iing informatioeachers had given.

  "Oh yes, you must have met Amy and Bob. Obviously, you 't write about PJ without their sent," the coach said. "We live door to them," he tinued with strange pride.

  "Yes, I met the Duns yesterday, in fact," I affirmed. "But back to the topic, PJ stands out for his exceptional medical knowledge at his age?" I asked.

  "Not just for that," Ms. Mmediately disagreed. "Long before anyone knew about his 'brilliant' medical knowledge, PJ stood out on his own," the woman affirmed with strange affe.

  "Yes, PJ is the image of the ideal student," Ms. Ingram affirmed. "Intelligent and hardw, he currently has perfect grades. He's at the top of my css," she tinued proudly.

  "And even though his knowledge may surpass many of his cssmates and possibly us at times, he doesn't rub it in your face," Mr. Givens affirmed with strange rese.

  "He's also a great athlete," Coach Cooper, not wanting to be left behind, affirmed. "He's the quarterback of the team. Without him, we probably wouldn't have won many of the games this season."

  "Good grades and star athlete, sounds like a bination enough for a teeo get lost in himself," I said while writing more notes, studying the faces of those present. I had already met enough people, and none had said anything bad about the boy, not even the smallest thing.

  "Oh yes, that would be a dangerous bination for any teenager, but PJ is different," Professivens said, amused, while shaking his head.

  "Yes, PJ is a great person. During css, he makes our work much easier," affirmed Ms. MacElroy.

  "So easy," agreed Ms. Ingram, "he finishes his work so quickly that he has time to do anything else, but instead, he helps his cssmates, not just his friends, anyone who needs it."

  "He's an excellent captain, he's like a third coach when things g in games, always knowing what to say to ence his teammates," Coach Cooper said proudly.

  "So, he must be quite popur among his peers," I said, trating on writing notes, immediately hearing amused snorts from the teachers.

  "Mr. Walce, something the students don't realize is that we usually hear most of what is said in the hallways," Ms. MacElroy said, "PJ is undoubtedly the most popur boy in school; there isn’t a month that goes by without the hallways being full of whispers about him," she tinued, amused.

  "One of the test was his breakup with Regina Gee," Ms. Ingram said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "There must be a limited number of girls I haven't heard talking about their pns regarding it," she tinued, sn.

  "Sadly for them, PJ quickly got attached to the Stratfirl," Ms. MacElroy affirmed, amused, "another brilliant student, she always has opinions in css," she tinued.

  The teachers tialking for several more minutes about their impressions of the boy in their csses and outside of them. In general, PJ Dun tio be nothihan what his parents had painted him to be.

  With a much fuller notebook of information for the article, I returned home for the day.

  I had one more pce to visit before I could start the article: the hospital.

  I k was the same hospital where the rescue helicopter had taken us, a surprisingly modern hospital to be oskirts of a small town like Medford.

  The dean of medie didn't have any openings in her schedule for an interview until the day, so I had time tahe notes I already had.

  Two days ter, in my reliable car, I drove back along the road I had taken several times in the previous days to the Medford Teag Hospital.

  "David, gd to see you. How are your wife and baby?" Dr. Cuddy, the dean of medie at the hospital, asked while me a seat in front of her desk.

  "They are very well, thank you. I didn't know you knew about my wife," I said, puzzled, while taking out my small notebook.

  "I am the dean of medie; it's my job to know," she said with a professional smile, g her hands on the desk. "What I do for you?" she asked.

  "I'm writing an article," I said, studying the gleam in her eyes.

  "It must be about PJ," she said with a big smile, surprising me before I could tinue. "If I remember correctly, he was the one who helped your wife and baby in the act, right?" she said, surprising me again.

  "I didn't know PJ had mentio," I said, noting that detail. Apparently, the boy had talked about it with someoher than his family.

  "It was by mistake. We received the news, and when I called him, he thought it was about how he had helped your family," she crified as if she could read my thoughts, making me cross out a small note I had taken about the boy.

  "News?" I asked, trying not to show my surprise.

  "You don't know?" it was her turn to be surprised. Seeing the ck of knowledge on my face, she stood up and walked to a wall where she had varinitions hanging.

  "I don't know if you know it, but JAMA is one of the best medical journals," she said, handing me what seemed like a plicated medical article. "As far as I know, that article is on the short list for the Nobel Prize," she affirmed, smiling strangely.

  I didn't uand much of what was written in the stific article until Dr. Cuddy poio the aowledgments at the end.

  "It's unheard of," she affirmed. "Never before has someone his age, without previous higher education, achieved something simir."

  Now I remembered Bob mentioning something about an award; apparently, the couple had pletely fotten to mention it. This was much bigger.

  "This hospital is quite grateful to PJ for this. Just beiioned in an article like this means a lot to any hospital," Dr. Cuddy affirmed, taking the frame from my hands before rehanging it on the wall.

  "What kind of tribution did he have to make to be mentioned in the aowledgments?" I asked, still surprised by what she had just revealed.

  "Oh, it had to be something signifit. Giveively short time he had tact with Dr. Thomas, it's likely somethied to the end of the article," Dr. Cuddy expined.

  "tact with Dr. Thomas, was it provided by the hospital?" I asked.

  "You could say that, yes," she said immediately with a professional smile.

  "Okay," I said, suspicious. "Could you tell me how a hospital decides to allow a teenager access to its facilities? I uand it had something to do with Dr. House," I tinued, reading my past notes.

  The professional smile Dr. Cuddy maintained was lost for a sed, quickly managing her expression as she nodded.

  "Sure, PJ had a versation with House one day, demonstrating he was a brilliant young man. So, with my permission and under certain ditions, PJ was allowed to e to the hospital to apany Dr. House's team and learn from their work," she calmly said.

  "Then, what kind of work does Dr. House and his team do? I uand he is a 'diagnosti'?" I asked, reading again from my notes.

  "Yes, Dr. House specializes in cases that are, in short, difficult," Dr. Cuddy began to expin. "Dr. House has a great talent for diagnosing patients, so we allowed him the first diagnostic department in the try. Many people from other cities e here for Dr. House to work on their case."

  "And where does PJ fit into all this?" I asked, ied.

  "PJ shares House's ability to diagnose people, so they basically brainstorm while the other team members try to provide reasons why the diagnoses are incorrect. His team could tell you more about it," she assured.

  "Very well, besides 'w' on House's diagnostic team, does PJ do anything else in the hospital? Does he deal with patients?" I asked.

  "When appropriate, PJ apanies House in his ic work to observe how the doctor works," she admitted with a strange forced smile.

  "I also wondered, PJ mentioo me that he had access to the hospital library. Is he allowed much more beyond that?" I tinued with my questions.

  "Yes, the hospital offers him access to almost everything he o tinue his prior education. PJ spends most of his free time in the hospital in any of the skills bs, he has plenty of material to practice whatever he needs," she said, much more excited to leave a good impression of the hospital.

  "How would you describe PJ Dun?" seeing that Dr. Cuddy really wouldn't have many more answers, I asked.

  "I'd say he's astute, pleasant, and has an ialent for medie. I'm excited to see what the future holds for him," she said with a small smile.

  "Thank you," I said while writing down her words. "I was w if I could have a versation with Dr. House and his team," I said, notig how Dr. Cuddy's smile soured for a sed.

  "Yes," after a few moments of silence, Dr. Cuddy finally responded, "I'll take you to the diagnostic department," she said, guidi of the office.

  As we walked through the hospital corridors, she talked to me about the wings we passed and the renovations they had done over the years, as well as the achievements the department heads had aplished, obviously seeking aory for her hospital.

  "We're here," she said in front of an office with gss walls, with Dr. House's name written on the gss door. We entered, and I followed her.

  Ihe office, like a déjà vu, three other people were sitting around a table, each doing their own thing, between writing on a pile of papers and reading books.

  "These are Drs. Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. This is David Walce, and he's here to ask some questions for a neer article," Dr. Cuddy said, making our presenown to the distracted doctors while introdug each doctor by name.

  "A pleasure," Dr. Cameron, the first to e out of the surprise of seeing her boss and a plete stranger, was the first to greet me.

  Dr. Foreman, a bck man, slightly nodded in a silent greeting.

  "An article?" the st of the doctors, Dr. Chase, asked with a friendly smile. "We haven't had iing cases tely, the st one was the babies, but that was a couple of weeks aght?" he asked his colleagues, who nodded.

  "Actually, I'm writing about PJ Dun," I crified, immediately seeing the doctors' reas. Dr. Foreman seemed, for some reason, immediately disied iopic, rolling his eyes aurning to his reading, while Dr. Chase and Dr. Cameron shared a few seds of surprise before Dr. Cameron, disappointed, pulled a bill out of her pocket and ha to the other doctor, who took it.

  "We k would happen at some point. I bet it would be within this year; Cameron thought he would have to attract the attention of someone really important or study with House a bit longer for it to happen," Dr. Chase said, amused.

  "That was before his name appeared in an article that might win a Nobel Prize," Dr. Cameron said, defeated.

  "Or that he saved the life of the son of the person writing the articles," I joked, seeing how my words surprised the three doctors for the sed time.

  "Wait a moment, David Walce," apparently having heard my name before, Dr. Chase said, ughing. "So it J, that's why House was b him so much," he tinued, amused.

  "Did he really help with a premature birth in the middle of a storm?" Dr. Foreman asked incredulously, frowning as he leaned ba his chair.

  "As far as I remember, yes," I replied, "and I was there. He was even prepared to perform an emergency C-se," I tinued, still incredulous at my own words.

  Sn while shaking his head, Dr. Foreman tinued his reading.

  "That sounds like PJ," Dr. Chase said, amused.

  "Yeah," Dr. Cameron said, ironically, while nodding.

  "David is here to ask some questions about PJ and his role here. I'll go find Dr. House, I'll leave you for a moment," behind me, Dr. Cuddy suddenly said, cutting the doctors' iing versation before leaving.

  "So, what do you o know about PJ?" Dr. Chase asked with a kind smile.

  "What do you think about him?" I asked.

  "At first, it was strange," Dr. Chase was the first to respond, "he was a teenager who suddenly arrived and helped with differential diagnoses."

  "I was the first to meet him," Dr. Cameron said, "after Dr. House, of course," she crified. "Dr. House brought him to a patient's family, and PJ easily diagnosed a Myoic Jerk and expi immediately. It was surprising; I hadn't seen it until PJ said it."

  "Is it normal for PJ to approach the patient's family?" I asked, surprised.

  "Oh no, it's just something House did very few times. PJ doesn't have direct tact with patients or their families, only when he has to learn something, like seeing us deliver bad news or things like that," Dr. Chase said.

  "So, having PJ here is like being in medical such earlier?" tinuing with my notes, I asked again.

  "In a way, yes," Dr. Cameron said, nodding.

  "Actually, PJ has knowledge and skills that would easily pce him ier years of medical school, even the first years of a doctor's residency. I've seen how he does sutures, and I doubt I could do it better than him in some cases," Dr. Chase added, ironically.

  "He spends hundreds of hours a week in the hospital library; he's just building his career. With what he's achieved in this short time, he has guaranteed entry into any medical school, and wheime es for his residency, any hospital will be more than happy to have him," Dr. Cameron tinued.

  "Yes, I 't even imagihe moment he has to do his fellowship, the number of gifts he'll receive to choose the hospital he'll go to," Dr. Chase said, ughing, amused.

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Foreman, I haven't heard your opinion of PJ," I said, looking at the only other doctor in the office who hadn't spokeire time.

  Dr. Foreman, who was reading pletely focused, took a few seds to respond, "He has a great talent for medie," he admitted dryly before returning to his reading.

  Perplexed by the doctor's behavior when talking about PJ, I tinued with my here ossibly something here. "Aside from medical knowledge and skills, does PJ have any issues with his attitude?" I asked, studying the doctors' reas. Dr. Cameron immediately smiled and shook her head, while Dr. Chase and Foreman both sighed with different tones.

  "PJ is like a mini House," Chase expined. "He observes everything; it's like always being under someone's scrutiny," he tinued, notig my fusion.

  "PJ is kind and funny; I 't see anyone disliking him," Dr. Cameron remarked, gng at Dr. Foreman signifitly.

  "All the hospital nurses adore him," Dr. Chase added with a smile. "They always ask about him."

  "His mother is a nurse, do you think that's the reason?" I asked.

  "I don't think so. I've seen him talking to the janitor, the library attendant, volunteers—almost everyohey seem like friends," Dr. Cameron quickly added.

  "We're here!" suddenly, from the offitrance behind me, Dr. Cuddy's voice cheerfully announced.

  Turning, I found Dr. Cuddy apanied by a well-groomed man in a hospital gown—the infamous Dr. House, as I read on his gown.

  "You must be David Walce. Dr. Cuddy told me about you. Pleasure to meet you, Gregory House," Dr. House said with a friendly smile, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

  "Pleasure. I've heard a lot about you, Dr. House," I greeted the friendly man. "I was just talking with your team about PJ," I tiurning to the other doctors, pausing for a moment as I noticed their puzzled expressions, which immediately ged—strange.

  "Ah, PJ, my protege!" strangely excited, Dr. House excimed with a broad smile. "Tell me, what I tell you about my fabulous apprentice, of whom I, Dr. House, am utterly proud?" he said, still maintaining a pyful smile.

  "I just want to know your thoughts on PJ," I said, amused by the maement to talk about the boy.

  "Of course, follow me to my office," Dr. House said cheerfully, walking briskly to a room separate from the main office.

  Ihe room, there was a bookshelf filled with books and a desk where Dr. House cheerfully took a seat, me one of the vat chairs in front of him.

  "What do I think about PJ?" Folding his hands on his desk, the cheerful doctor said thoughtfully, "I see myself in PJ. He's a medical prodigy, and it makes me proud to be the one giving him his introdu to medie."

  Dr. House seemed like a very kind persoirely in lih what Amy Dun had said about him.

  "What do you think his future holds?" I wrote down what the man had said and asked.

  "I think PJ will achieve remarkable things. The other day, upon hearing the hat PJ was aowledged in an article as important as Dr. Thomas's, some tears escaped my eyes, thinking that I could help him reach that," Dr. House said, nodding slightly.

  After that, Dr. House briefly reted the cases he had worked on with the teenager and how he was an essential part of his team.

  "Would you like to add a few more words for the article?" I asked, feeling I had more than enough to start writing.

  "Of course, I, Gregory House, not only see in PJ Dun an image of my younger self or an apprentice, but I see a son whom I resped even admire. I'm proud of him," the man said, smiling broadly.

  "Perfect." Finishing writing down what the doctor said, I stood up o the man, shaking his hand once again before returning to where everyone else was.

  "The article may take another week to be published. I'd like everything to be kept secret, to work as a surprise for PJ," I said, thanking the doctors in the office.

  "Of course," Dr. Cameron immediately said with a big smile, while the other doctors simply nodded.

  "It won't just be a surprise for PJ," Dr. House amusingly ominously remarked, making the other three doctors nod in amusement.

  "I'll let you all tih your work." Bidding farewell to the people present, I said as Dr. Cuddy apanied me through the hallways toward the exit.

  "We'll all be looking forward to reading the article. PJ deserves it," the doctor said with a smile as we reached one of the hospital doors.

  "I hope to meet everyone's expectations. I have to start writing," I said, shaking the woman's hand once again.

  "Excuse me, am I interrupting something?" sarcastically asked a voice from the hospital door, causing Dr. Cuddy's hand to tighten for a moment.

  "Not at all, e in," the dently guided me slightly out of the way, signaling the man to ehe hospital.

  "That's a great shirt," passing by us, fog on Dr. Cuddy, the strange man walking with a e said dryly.

  As the man walked into the hospital, disappearing down the hallway, I looked at Dr. Cuddy, who had a furrowed brow upon seeing the man. "Do you know him?" I asked.

  "He's just Dr. Wilson, our oncologist," the woman said, f a smile.

  Bae, I began to write the article. I wa to be perfect; I had more than enough information and opinions from others to write a prehensive piece about PJ and his achievements.

  As the days went by, the following week arrived. I had a signifit se iicle specifically reserved for when the Nobel Prize winners would be announced, which acc to the hospital doctors, would be on December 10th.

  The day after the award ceremony, sihe awards were given in the early hours, I found out that the article where PJ had given his support had won, giving me much more to write about.

  The day, I had enough to send it along with a photograph that the Duns had provided to the editor and wait for it to be published on Saturday.

  On Friday night, as I reread my work o time, pletely satisfied with what I had written, all I could do was save it again and hope that PJ would enjoy my gift.

  Turning off the lights in my study suddenly, from my son's nursery, the baby's g began.

  Taking the small and fragile creature in my arms, gently rog and stroking his little face, I could only be grateful once again to the teenager who had saved his life. "Sleep tight, little PJ," with a soft kiss on my son's forehead, once he stopped g, I returned him to his crib.

  ---

  Author Thoughts:

  As always, I'm not Ameri, not a doctor, and not a fighter.

  I have to admit that I didn't quite like this chapter. With my schedule packed with school and the y of starting a job search, I didn't really have the time to fully develop some of the opinions about the MC as I would have liked.

  I also feel like I missed out on the opinions of PJ's teenage friends, siblings, etc.

  But I would like to know your thoughts on the chapter.

  With that said,

  I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

  Thank you for reading! :D

  PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.