And we're back!!!

  Thank you all so much for your movie reendations. Even though I didn't respond to any of the ents, rest assured that I read eae of them.

  I also discovered why I have to study so hard during exam season. There were very few movies reehat I hadn't already seen. I spend more time watg series and movies than studying (procrastination).

  ---

  With An behind me, we ehe house, which for several days now, like almost the whole town, had been pletely decorated with the Christmas spirit.

  "Dad," as we ehe house, Bob was on the sofa in his usual spot watg television.

  "Hey champ, you're back," the man said cheerfully, turning around, "oh, you're An, right?" Surprised for a sed to see my quiet friend, Bob asked.

  "Yes, good evening, Mr. Dun," An immediately replied, giving a barely visible small smile.

  "Did you get into anht?" Bob asked, standing up and looking closely at An's bruised face, then searg my fatently.

  "No," I replied, gng sideways at my friend.

  "It was just a training act," before I could tih any expnation, An said, just like he did with me so long ago in school.

  "You guys o be more careful with your training," Bob said with a forced smile, looking again at the bruises on An's face, "well, I'll leave you. Feel wele, An, this is your home," he tiurning his attention back to the TV as his program returned from ercials.

  "Speaking of which, Dad, is it okay if An stays here for a few days?" I asked.

  "Sure," Bob replied immediately without taking his eyes off the television.

  "Perfect, thanks, Dad," I said, indig to my quiet friend to follow me as we walked to my room, "I told you so," I said arrogantly, lightly tapping An's shoulder.

  "It's just for a couple of days until everything calms down," An murmured again with a bit of embarrassment.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently as we entered my room, not wanting to force him to talk.

  "Maybe ter," An said, setting down a backpack he was carrying on the floor of my room.

  "I uand," I said immediately, knowing nothing good would e from being insistent. "Hey, Kiddo," I said, notig a strange sound ing from the small video game sole I had given my brother. I found him lying on his bed pying with the small device.

  "PJ, when did you get back?" Gabe asked, pletely surprised, tearing his attention away from the sole's s.

  "Just now. Have you been pying with this thing all day?" I asked, approag the child and almost snatg the sole from his hands.

  "What time is it?" Gabe asked shamelessly, trying and failing to grab the sole back from me.

  "It's time for you to go toue grass. e on," I said, taking him by one leg and lifting him off the bed to pce him carefully on the floor.

  "Really?" Gabe asked with frustration, still trying to grab the sole I held above my head.

  "Yes, let's go throw the ball around for a bit. There are three of us; it'll be fun," I said, hugging his head tightly after throwing the video game sole onto my bed, out of his reach.

  "I know ting be a bit difficult for you, but there are two of us," Gabe said arrogantly, pushio free his head from my grasp, "owo," he tinued, pointing at me and then at himself.

  "And An," I said slowly, pointing to my incredibly quiet friend.

  "Hello," Aed, raising one of his hands.

  "Ah," Gabe excimed almost immediately, hiding behind me, "how long has he been there?" he asked, peeking out from behind my back.

  "I've beehe whole time," An replied, nodding slightly.

  "That was totally a Batman move," Gabe said, visibly excited, pointing at my friend.

  "Yeah, he's like a ninja," I agreed, nodding slightly with my brother, "well, let's go py."

  Gabe quickly grabbed the ball, being the first to go out the door, seemingly eager to py. I could see him walkiedly towards the street, possibly because he hadn't spent time like this in a while.

  "I didn't even ask you if you wao py," I said, walking alongside An, remembering my ck of sideration.

  "Don't worry, it sounds fun to throw the ball," my friend replied without ging his expression.

  As we pyed, throwing the ball to each other, shortly after, from the Cooper house, Geie with a plicated expression on his face, followed closely by Cam, approached.

  "An?" Geie asked, surprised, seeing our quiet friend.

  "He's going to spend a few days at my house," I expined while greeting Geie, "Hey Cam, right?" I greeted the robust boy again.

  "Correct," Cam said, obviously f depth into his voiodding firmly, "throw me that," he said, preparing his hands in front of his chest.

  "So, Cam, where are you from?" I asked, throwing the ball weakly, fearing he might not catch it from our brief introduinutes ago.

  "Missouri," Cam responded immediately, showing I was wrong to judge him, catg the ball with obvious ease and throwing it back with much more strength and speed than I had, straight into An's hands, who caught it effortlessly.

  Seeing that everyone in the circle could throw and catch the ball without much effort, apart from Gabe, the game tinued for a few more moments in awkward silence. Cam, who had been ag strangely rigid sihe start of this new iion, was the most unfortable, swaying on his feet, looking at the others present.

  "How is Missouri?" I asked, seeing no one else po tinue any versation, visibly relieving Cam.

  "It's not much different, apart from the weather. At this time, we would need coats to be outside like this," Cam responded immediately, theatrically spreading his arms before closing them again in embarrassment, "we have the usual tornadoes, and on the farm, igs, cows, and chis, nothing really iing," he tinued, obviously returning to his exaggerated act.

  "Sounds great," I said, somewhat unfortably by the general disfort around me.

  An was always this quiet, Geie obviously had some degree of reservation with his uncle, and Gabe, being a child, I couldn't expect him to start a versation with someone nearly twice his age.

  "Yeah," Cam said, still swaying on his feet and toug the tips of his fiogether when it wasn't his turn with the ball, drawing out the word.

  I couldn't stand much more of the unfortable silence. Possibly, if Geie and Cam weren't so painfully unfortable, it would be pleasant. I also couldn't ighe guest from Missouri by fog on a versation with any of my friends or my brother.

  "So... are you guys on the football team with Geie here?" Thank goodness, Cam asked, taking the initiative in the versation, addressing An and me.

  "Yes," my quiet friend responded simply, nodding.

  "An here is the fullback, and I'm the quarterback," I expined, avoidiing the versation die once more, "and what about you? Do you py bae?" I asked, strangely receiving an amused loeie.

  "Yes, in fact, I'm going to py for the Uy of Illinois as a starting offensive lineman," Cam responded joyfully, causing a ge in Geie's expression. Apparently, my friend had no idea about that fact.

  "Oh, then you must be really good," I said kindly, causing Cam to smile much more, shedding some of his body's rigidity.

  "I've been part of the varsity team since my sophomore year," Cam admitted, raising his head with false embarrassment, "you guys aren't bad either; you have a great arm and excellent aim, and you have surprising reflexes," he added, pointing at me and then at An, with exaggerated praise.

  "Thanks," I said, throwing the ball once more, "so, the Uy of Illinois, do you know what you want to study?" I asked, trying to keep the versation going.

  "Art," Cam responded instinctively, raising his hands slightly with great emotion, making Geie, who had found something in on with his retive, look at him with a certain degree of disappoi again.

  "That sounds fantastic," I said, smiling at Cam, ign my friend's rea, "and how does that work? Do you want to make music?" I asked again.

  "Music, sculptures, paintings, but above all, theater," the robust boy said with a big smile, making a small bow, "though my dream has always been to be a ," he said slowly, studying my rea.

  "?" I asked, surprised.

  "Yes, I love s," Cam said seriously. "I was even thinking about going straight to College."

  For a long moment, I didn't know how to respond to such a revetion. I had no idea Colleges existed, though it made sense somehow.

  "Sounds quite here are studies indig that ughter signifitly improves people's health in one way or another," I started to say, but Cam interrupted me, pletely excited.

  "I'll be doing a doctor's work," Cam decred fancifully, spreading his arms almost perfectly y degrees from his body.

  "I was going to say 'helping doctors' work,' but yeah," I said, though it seemed Cam wasn't listening, murmuring things to himself.

  Still in his head, surprisingly maintaining the same arm position, to Gabe and Geie's amusement and embarrassment respectively, he began to dance lightly in pce.

  "That's a great argument," Cam said suddenly, snapping out of his reverie and pointing at me, "you know what, I'm going to show you my act. I've been w on it; it's obviously beginner's work, but I think I do quite well," he tinued excitedly, causing Geie o him to start coughing aggressively.

  "Maybe one of these days; it's almost diime," I said, trying to be as polite as possible to dee his offer.

  "Yeah, sure," Cam said, also notig Geie's rea and apparently remembering the situation, he said again, deepening his voice, "and what about you? Pnning to study anything?" Fortunately, he asked, keeping the versation going.

  "Actually, yes, I'm going to study medie," I replied easily, finding it somewhat amusing how the versation ected.

  "Uh, that sounds difficult," Cam said, throwing the ball to me with much more force than anyone else oeam, except maybe Brock, seemingly embarrassed. Geie snorted with amusement, and An smiled slightly. "What?" Cam asked, worried that he might be out of an inside joke.

  "PJ is like Sheldon, but not," Geie replied after thinking for a few seds.

  "He even appeared in the neer," Gabe proudly boasted.

  "PJ the local hero," An dictated with a slightly arrogant smile, saying more words than he had iire iion.

  As Cam's surprise grew, my ically strange headache also appeared.

  After pying for a few more minutes, Geie and Cam were called from the Cooper house. Baside, An, Gabe, and I walked to my room to put away the ball.

  "Cam is pretty funny," Gabe said suddenly. "Being a , what nonsense," he added, sn and shaking his head.

  "I don't uand it either," I said seriously, looking at my brother. "But that doesn't mean it's okay to make fun of someone else's dream," I tinued. "If you keep doing that, no one will be ho with you," I warhrowing a small towel I use to wipe off sweat during practice at Gabe's face.

  "Yeah, yeah," Gabe said, throwing the towel to the floor in disgust and rolling his eyes in frustration.

  "Mom says dinner is—Oh," Teddy, who had opehe door without knog, said from the doorway of our room before suddenly stopping.

  "What?" I asked, puzzled, looking at my sister. Following her gaze, I saw my quiet friend halfway through putting on a shirt.

  "Yeah, no."

  "Thanks," I said seriously, stepping in front of Teddy and log eyes with her to stop her fr to look behind me.

  "Yeah, you're wele," Teddy said dazedly, nodding robotically and walking away from the room.

  "Really?" I turo my friend once my sister was out of sight.

  "It was dirty, sorry," An said with his expressionless face, pointing to the shirt he had been wearing previously. I couldn't tell if he was truly sorry or not.

  "Yeah, it's not your fault," I said, ign the strange feeling the whole iion caused in me.

  After ging my dirty shirt for a one, we went to dinner.

  Mom was pletely fih having An in the house, simply surprised to find a guest.

  As every day after dinner, Bob, Gabe, I, and now An too, went to the garage to train with some weights. With Case, my training was still focused on submissions, so I generally didn't train much with strength exercises.

  An, who for obvious reasons didn't find the idea of trainiirely pleasant, apanied us for a few minutes befoing baside to take a bath.

  "Is he okay?" Bob asked worriedly, looking towards the garage door several seds after my quiet frie inside.

  "Why do you ask?" I asked, lifting the barbell easily off my chest, ed.

  "He's really quiet, isn't he?" Bob tinued, helping me add a few more ptes.

  "He's like Batman," Gabe affirmed, carefully lifting a pair of dumbbells. "You only notice he's there when he wants to be," my brother tinued with a big smile.

  "I think it's just his personality," I assured Bob, not wanting to reveal An's secret and damage his trust in me. "He doesn't have a problem being in a versation, maybe just starting one," I added.

  "Well, you should invite him more often; it's o meet a respectful teenager on a while," Bob said pretentiously.

  "Oh, poor you," I said exaggeratedly with feigned exasperation.

  "Yes, poor me. Lift that thing; you've rested long enough," Bob said, smiling amusedly as he lightly pushed my head, helpiake the barbell off the rack to tinue our workout session.

  The day, early as my biological clopelled me every day, I woke up. An, as st time, wasn't in what he had cimed as his er of my room. The bs and pillows he had used for the night were perfectly arranged and folded to one side of where my friend had slept.

  If it weren't for his backpack still on the floor of my room, I might think he had left.

  "Didn't train again?" I asked. As st time An was at my house, my friend was sitting on one of the garden chairs, disturbingly quiet, staring at the horizon.

  "No reason to do it, at least not here," my friend responded calmly without seeming the least bit surprised.

  Using ay chair beside him, I sat with An, appreciating the beauty and tranquility of our backyard, listening to the birds sing and the occasional distant dog bark.

  "You have to do something about your dad," I said without hesitation, loud enough for only An to hear. "It's nht; he 't hurt you uhe excuse of training."

  For several seds, the only response I received from my friend was long sighs. "I know," he finally said. "But right now, he's all my brothers and I have."

  "That's not true. I'm sure if you seek help, anyone will help you and your brothers," I argued immediately, shaking my head. "Heck, you could live with us as long as you need. We'd just have to set up the garage for the two of us, and my room could be fabe, Braxton, and Christian," I tinued. Money wouldn't be an issue; my iments geed enough monthly ihat the expenses of three more people in the house wouldn't be a problem. I could even buy another house right now.

  Laughing slightly, much more than I'd seen him do in the past few weeks, An shook his head. "Of course, you'd offer something like that, 'local hero,'" my friend said teasingly, pung my shoulder pyfully. "You know that's not possible," An tinued, a slight hint of sadness on his face.

  Yes, I knew.

  "But thanks a lot for even ," my friend added, with a barely visible smile, nodding.

  "It's the least I do," I said sincerely. It was very difficult to do nothing when a friend of mine was a victim of some degree of domestic violence. But giveime and the special ditions of his family, I feared that child services would separate An and his brothers. I couldn't be the reason An lost what remained of his family.

  "Lettiay here for a day is more than I could ask for," An said, l his head, still with a small smile.

  "You stay as long as you need. You saw that my parents don't mind," I reminded my quiet friend.

  "Yes, I saw that," An said, looking towards the house with a certain longing in his voice. "But I think I prefer to spend Christmas with Braxton and Christian. At least they deserve that these days," An added seriously.

  "They always spend Christmas with us," I said slowly, gauging my friend's rea.

  Standing up while shaking his head, An said, "Your mom is awake; I think she's going to make breakfast," stretg his body slightly.

  "What?" I asked, puzzled, turning to the kit window. A moment ter, Mom, in her robe, much more put together than she should be just waking up, ehe kit, heading to the fridge cheerfully. "How did you know?" I asked, surprised.

  "I heard her," An simply responded before walking into the house.

  "How?" I asked, following my friend. It was impossible; I hadn't heard anything.

  "Oh, boys, you're awake. Good, help me," Mom said cheerfully as she saw us enter, first handing An a rge bowl with a bag of flour. "We're going to start making cookie dough," Mom tinued with a big smile.

  "Good m, Mrs. Dun. Tell me what to do," An said kindly, ign my questioirely, as he washed his hands in the sink.

  "We're going to start with the cookie dough. I have the recipe around here somewhere," Mom said, looking through the kit drawers. "e on, PJ, help me find it," she ordered, moving her hand insistently as she kept searg.

  As time passed, the other family members also woke up. Mom had bought materials for decorating the cookies, making it aertaining activity, even for An, who surprisingly didn't have much skill in decoratie incredible trol of his hand's small movements.

  When the cookies for decorating were finished, almost as if waiting for the occasion, the house ph. "I got it," Gabe quickly stood up, running to the phoo ahe call.

  "PJ, it's for you," my brother said, pulling the phone away from his face with a certain degree of disappoi.

  "Hello?" I answered as I took the phone.

  "Mr. Dun, you have a call from the North Pole, a Mr. Nicos," a voice, obviously House, said oher end of the line, in an exaggerated attempt at a cheerful voice.

  "What do you need House?" I asked, closing my eyes with a bit of exasperation.

  "e on, kid, it's Christmas. Have some spirit," House said sarcastically.

  "I'm not sure what you sider Christmas spirit," I replied, matg his sarcasm.

  "You're right," House admitted. "I need you to e to the hospital today; we have work to do," he tinued, and before I could say anything, he hung up.

  "Truthfully, I nning to spend all day at home for Christmas, but sure, I'll go to the hospital," I said to myself with the sound of the open line on the phone before hanging up.

  A few hours ter, An had already packed the few things he had unpacked from his backpack. "Are you sure you want to go bae? You spend

  Christmas with us," I said to my friend as we sat in my car.

  "Yes, I want to spend Christmas with my brothers. Don't worry, PJ, I have everything under trol," my calm friend assured me, keeping his eyes forward.

  "I uand," I said relutly.

  Finally outside An's house, my friend, despite having a pletely stoic expression when seeing his home, still took a few seds to finally gather the ce to open the car door.

  "Thanks for everything, PJ," An said with his very small smile, nodding slowly. "Really."

  "I already told you, there's nothing to thank," I said, bumping his fist as a farewell, starting the car once more and waiting for my friend to enter his house.

  Once again, An simply closed the car door and stood pletely still, waiting for me to leave before walking to his house.

  After a few dozen unfortable seds in whi didn't move, I accelerated away from my friend's house, seeing in the rearview mirror when he finally walked toward his house once I was far enough away.

  When I arrived at the hospital, after greeting and wishing happy holidays to almost all the nurses and doctors I passed in the hallways, I reached the ic, where House, the day before, had surely in his sadistic crusade, ordered me to e to work.

  House, who was sitting in the nurses' bay with Dr. Wilson, had behind him a tower of what I knew were deyed charts. "Look who arrived, the wonder boy," House said sarcastically when he saw me.

  "Dr. Wilson," I greeted the other ma, momentarily ign House. As always, Wilsourhe greeting with a kind smile.

  "It's a Christmas miracle that you're here today, kid," House said, moving his feet off one of the desks and taking the first chart from his mountain. "We're doomed to useless bor, but if we do it together, I'm sure we'll finish faster," he said theatrically, handihe file.

  "Fourth circle of hell," Dr. Wilson said while filling out his oers. "And no, charting goes a lot faster when you eliminate all cssic poetry, not when you take advantage of PJ."

  "I'm here because you told me to be here, and I don't think it's a good idea for me to fill these out. If the insurance finds out, you'll lose your lise," I said, putting the chart ba the pile of files.

  "Writing down what we already know to be read by nobody, I'm pretty sure Dante would agree that qualifies as useless," House replied to Dr. Wilson while throwing small paper balls. "And there's no problem, kid. You were there for most of these cases; none of those people in suits with sticks up their butts will know the differeween what you write and what I don't," he said, smiling. "Besides, it will serve as training. I think so," he added ironically.

  "I don't think it's a good—" I was saying, but behind me, Dr. Cuddy, who had suddenly appeared, interrupted me.

  "You're over two weeks behind in your charting," Dr. Cuddy excimed angrily, suddenly receiving one of the small paper balls House was throwing. Raising her hands, intrigued, she stared at House.

  "Oops," House said, feigni. "I missed."

  "What are you, eight?" Dr. Cuddy asked, exasperated.

  "Could a-year-old do this?" House asked, making a pletely immature face.

  "You'd better stop, or it'll stick that way," Dr. Cuddy said seriously while taking a chart from the pile of charts House had.

  "It'd be better than what he normally has," I said, reading the first of the charts iower, causing Dr. Wilson to nod in agreement.

  "You have a patient in exam one?" Dr. Cuddy asked House while reading the papers in her hand.

  "Yeah," House replied shamelessly, "but, see, I'm off in a couple of hours," he tinued, cheg his watch.

  "She has been waiting for you for an hour," Dr. Cuddy said seriously, extending the chart to House. "PJ," she tinued, handihe chart when House didn't take it, before leaving, staring ily at House with a frown.

  "Mencholy without hope," House said, closing his eyes in frustration. "Which circle is that?" he asked Dr. Wilson.

  "All of them?" Dr. Wilson responded doubtfully.

  "Yeah," House said, standing up in agreement. "e on, kid, you have to be there so you fill that out," he tinued, pointing to the chart in my hand.

  Defeated, I sighed, following House to the exam room, silently bidding farewell to Dr. Wilson with a slight nod.

  Wheered the exam room, three nuns were waiting, surprisingly uurbed by having possibly waited for over an hour.

  "Hi, I'm Dr. House, and this is Stanley Donen," House said after rec from the surprise of seeing nuns in the exam room. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

  "Stanley Donen?" I murmured, asking House.

  "Show them your hands, Augustine," one of the nuns said, lightly tapping the shoulder of the nun in the middle. "It looks like stigmata," the same nun tinued nervously as Augustine showed House and me her damaged hands, likely due to some allergy.

  "Pius," the older nu scolded the nervous woman.

  "You must be all the talk around the 'holy water' cooler," House said sarcastically, iing the hands for a moment. "Been washing a lot of dishes retly?" he asked.

  "I help out i," the nun with the damaged hands admitted.

  "Anything new i?" I asked.

  "We just got a donation of saus and pots this week," the nun responded with a kind smile.

  "Should have spent your time saving souls," House said, uo resist. "It's easier on the hands."

  "The dish soap is the same as always?" I asked, ign House.

  "Yes," the older nun and the patient responded simultaneously.

  "It's tact dermatitis," House immediately affirmed.

  "You're allergic to the dish soap," I expined, seeing the nun's intrigue.

  "Nonsehe older nun immediately said. "We've always used that soap; why is there a problem now?" she asked House incredulously.

  "I've been a doctor for years, and he's almost a doctor," House said, feigning offense. "Why do I have to keep assuring people that I know what I'm doing?"

  "A person develop an allergy to things they're exposed to repeatedly and for a prolonged period," I expio the nuns, ign House.

  "The good news is," House said, walking to one of the drawers in the exam room and searg through the boxes, "free samples." With a box of Diphenhydramine in his hand, he ha to the nun, nodding strangely cheerfully.

  "It's an antihistami'll stop the allergic rea," I expio the woman.

  "Take one every eight hours," House said seriously. "It might make you feel a little sleepy, a some of that over-the-ter cortisone cream," he tinued.

  "Thank you, Doctor and Stanley," the nun said kindly.

  "That's not my name," I murmured unfortably.

  "You want some water?" House asked as the nun took a pill from the box.

  "I have some tea," the nun said kindly, deing as she received a small cup of tea.

  "Well, you just rex for a few minutes," House said, nodding slightly. "That stuff works pretty fast. Let's go, Stanley," he tinued, smiling arrogantly as he walked out of the exam room.

  "Four minutes, impressive," Dr. Wilson said, looking at his watch as he tinued w on his charts.

  "Don't make it so easy, Wilson. Even the kid make a joke out of that," House said as he walked towards the other doctor.

  Taking the top chart from House's tower of charts to start filling it out, I ughed.

  "Doctor?" the older nun said from the exam room we had just left. "I want to thank you for your patience," she said with a slight smile, strangely looking at House.

  "Is she talking to you?" Dr. Wilson asked, equally puzzled.

  "Is she?" I asked, exaggerating my terror.

  "I don't know," House said, equally puzzled, looking behind him. "She's certainly looking at me."

  "It's good to get a secur diagnosis," the woman said. "The sisters tend to interpret their illnesses as diviervention."

  "And you don't?" House asked, amused. "Then you're wearing an awfully funny hat," he tinued, pointing to the nun's hat with an ironic smile.

  "Oh boy," Dr. Wilson said, incredulously taking his things from the desk. "Excuse me," he tinued, hastily leaving the ic.

  "If I break my leg, I believe it happened for a reason," the nun expined. "I believe God wanted me to break my leg, but also I believe he wants me to put a cast on it."

  Before House could respond with something likely insulting, the remaining nun in the exam room, who wasn't the patient, came out pletely worried. "Doctor! Something is wrong," the woman excimed, causing both House ao rush bato the exam room.

  Upoering the exam room, I found Sister Augustine clearly struggling to breathe. "Lift her ," I ordered as House walked in.

  "Sister, you're having an asthma attack," House said immediately, arriving at the same clusion as me. Walking to one of the drawers to get epinephrine, he tinued, "I need you to rex. Roll up her sleeve," he ordered me after speaking to the nun. "I'm going to give you epinephri'll open your lungs and help you breathe," House expined while iing the medication into the woman's arm.

  "What happened?" the older nun, who had entered behind us, asked nervously.

  "Did she take the pill?" House asked while discarding the used syringe.

  "Yes," the nun who had called us a moment ago responded, still pletely frightened.

  "It's probably an allergic rea," House said calmly.

  "She's allergic to an anti-allergy medie?" the older nun asked incredulously.

  "You figure somebody's out to get her?" House asked sarcastically. "How are you feeling?" he asked Sister Augustine, seeing her calm her breathing a bit.

  "Better," the nun responded in a murmur, still breathing heavily.

  "I'll put you on some steroids instead," House said, taking out his small prescription pad.

  "Is my heart supposed to be feeling so funny?" Sister Augustine asked, toug her chest worriedly.

  "What Dr. House ied is adrenaline," I expiaking one of her wrists. "It makes your heart beat fast," I said, feeling the woman's pulse and gradually falling silent. "But not this fast. House!" I excimed as I helped the nun lie down.

  "Get a nurse," House quickly ordered one of the nuns while taking his stethoscope to listen to the nun's heart. "Somebody get in here!" he shouted a moment ter after listening.

  "Call a code," I ordered when the on-duty ered the room, helping House open the nun's shirt.

  "She's having pulseless ventricur tachycardia," House said. "Charge up a defibriltor," he ordered the present nurse.

  "I'll start with the chest pressions," I said, pushing House's hand away and beginning the procedure.

  While the respoeam began eg the nun to the portable monitor, I focused on perf the pressions correctly. "Charge to two hundred," House ordered with the paddles in his hand. "Clear," House said, pg the paddles and delivering the shoce everyone's hands were clear.

  It took awo minutes of pressions and another shock to get a normal sinus rhythm.

  "We o admit her," House ordered once more.

  When we left the room a few seds after a group of nurses left with the patient and the two worried nuns, Dr. Cuddy was waiting with a deep frown. "To my office," she ordered sternly, holding a chart in her hand, and walked briskly toward her office.

  "Five dolrs, and you take this?" House asked me, raising one of his eyebrows.

  "I don't think that'll work for Dr. Cuddy," I replied immediately.

  "You're right. I'm too handsome to be mistaken," House said with feigned disappoi, walking toward Dr. Cuddy's office. "Start with the charts," he ordered before entering Dr. Cuddy's office.

  ---

  **Author Thoughts:**

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

  Two weeks without a chapter have showhat there are truly people who eagerly await updates of this novel week by week. I would like to thank absolutely everyone once again. I have never achieved anything in my life that makes me feel as special as reading ents asking when the update will be. Thank you.

  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.