House Fan Fiction ❯ A Christmas Story ❯ Yearbook ( Chapter 5 )

[ A - All Readers ]

Mr. Bell didn't end up coming up to the hospital, which was understandable. He lived almost five hours away and it had been last minute. Jamie would've noticed something and would want to tag along then freak out once she got to the hospital.
House was digging through his bookshelf trying to find his John Hopkins yearbook. He was horrible at remembering faces, but he was pretty sure Lilly looked exactly like Katie. He pulled books down from medical textbooks to magazines and random books that his mother had given him. He looked up on the top shelf and frowned. Of course, the top shelf.
He grabbed his stepladder, limped back to the bookshelf, and climbed up to the top step. He began to pull books down searching for that stupid book. Where the hell is it? He then looked above the top shelf; nothing. He stepped down and began to search through his magazine holders and closet. There was knocking at his door.
He sighed, limped over to the door and opened it to see Wilson. He held two coffees in his hand and handed one to House. He took it and stopped Wilson from coming in.
“What do you want?” asked House, eyeing Wilson.
“I called.”
“I was busy.”
“Ten times. Both home and cell.”
House looked between the coffee and Wilson. “So you decided to bring me coffee just in case I OD? That wouldn't have woken me up. What do you want?”
Wilson walked passed House seeing the books and magazines everywhere. The bookshelf was almost empty except the top shelf was full. House closed the door and turned around.
“Okay, fine. I'll rephrase this, Can I help you?”
Wilson looked down the hall to see that his room wasn't messed up yet. “It's still not bugging you, right?”
House put the coffee on the table next to the couch. “Mom wanted a book to read on the airplane. I can't find it.”
“Sure you can't. How much is this bugging you?”
“You know what's great about you, you don't listen to me. Makes me wonder why your cancer patients commit suicide? Hmmm.” He halfway, faked, smile then frowned and limped back to the desk. He began to open the drawers.
Wilson frowned at House. “Who is she?”
House slammed the drawer shut, pulled out his Vicodin and popped two into his mouth. “I don't know. Why are you here?”
“You didn't answer your phone and I saw an empty bottle on your desk. And you usually take a lot with Whiskey.”
“So? Climb up that ladder and find a yearbook.”
Wilson took a sip of coffee and placed it on the table. “A yearbook? Your mother wants to read a yearbook?”
House smirked. “Yes, Father. Mother wants a yearbook to give to her crippled son. Now climb up that ladder and find it.”
Wilson stepped up onto the stepladder and began to look. “What year?”
Wilson began to look as House picked up his coffee and took a sip. “So you think Lilly is in the yearbook?”
“Nope. Lilly is twenty, I'm forty-six. She wont be there.” He paused and kept drinking the coffee. He watched Wilson search for the yearbook and popped another Vicodin into his mouth. During the winter his leg hurt twenty times worse than any other season.
“So then who are you looking for?”
“Just find it,” muttered House. “How's the dying children?”
“The dying children are fine. They're developing a drug addiction.” Wilson grabbed a thin book and showed it to House. “Is this it?”
House limped over and grabbed the yearbook. He then sat down on the couch and flipped it open. Wilson got down and grabbed his coffee. He then sat down next to House who was flipping wildly through the yearbook.
“Lilly's parents?” he suggested.
House flipped by the page he wanted, but didn't go back since Wilson was looking over his shoulder. “Maybe,” he lied. He stopped at the end. “Wrong yearbook or just book. Thanks for the coffee. You can go now.”
House stood up, tossed the yearbook onto the piano, and limped towards the records. He started flipping through the covers hoping that Wilson will leave.
“How are you going to put the books back?”
“I'll send Chase or Foreman. Foreman is loosing his inner roots.” Wilson frowned. “I meant breaking and entering. Gosh, chill out.”
House then limped over to the couch and sat down. “How's your apartment?”
“Fine,” answered Wilson. “It's great not waking up to a cane, a hand in water, or in Cuba.”
“Good. Better get going before the cane smacks your head open.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Fine tomorrow I'll ask Lilly how she knows you. Night House.”
“She'll say what I've said!” he called as Wilson closed the door.
House quickly stood up, limped over to the piano, grabbed the yearbook, and limped back over to the couch. He opened the page up near the end and found her. Her long hair draped over her shoulders as she turned and looked at the camera. She was painting on canvas and had paint all over her face from another student in the class. She flashed her perfect smile at the camera. Underneath the picture was: KATIE BELL RIP (1959-1979). He then flipped back to the front seeing just the sophomores and found her. No paint on her face except for makeup.
He simply looked at her picture. His phone rang again and he answered it. “House,” he muttered staring at the frozen smile staring back at him.
Chase's voice came on, “Lilly had a dislocated shoulder that we missed. It was just enough out not to show up on the scan, but to be painful.”
“And this couldn't wait until tomorrow?” he muttered.
“Just thought to update you since you scheduled the scan,” he answered. “If we hadn't caught it on it wouldn't been bad in the long run.”
“Thanks. Bye.” House hung up on his cell and stared back down at the picture. There was no way Lilly could be Katie. Katie had died and had been buried. Who was Lilly?