I have been away, must to many readers dismay

We were on break, and it came not a moment too late

But now I'm back, Mid-terms I must now attack

There are papers due, and several essays to review

One class is reading the Scarlet Letter, praying their homework gets better

Another class has a research paper to write, (it will destroy the instructor's sight)

To get it done, this class may never again see the sun

It has parenthetical citations, (which is giving them palpations.)

There are works cited and works consulted, (many have already revolted.)

An appendix must be included, and the facts cannot be diluted,

It's being worked on day and night (the entire class looks a fright.)

Over ten pages of content with outline and more, (this class is heavily deplored)

So, as must as I would like to play, I have work in the way.

There are things which must be done, each keeping me on the run.

In case I have not made this plainer, here is the disclaimer.

These characters are not mine, (and your reviews have been very kind)

I hold no claim on this creation, (and writing is obviously not my vocation)

He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,

Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,

Dressed in gown, bands, and wig, was defending a pig

On the charge of deserting its sty.

House entered the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit and nodded to the nurse on duty.

'Any changes?'

'Actually,' she smiled, 'he's awake.' Nodding, he turned, but was stayed by the nurse. 'Dr. House, he's really weak.'

'I'll try to be good.' Giving her a weak smile he wondered into Winslow's room and stood next to the old man's bed.

'What are you doing here?' croaked a weak voice from the bed.

'Oh, I just thought I would stick my nose in and see if you were still alive and kicking.' He paused and looked at the ashen face before him. 'So? Are you?''

'Am I what?' asked Winslow eyeing House.

'Alive and kicking?'

'I think so.'

'Good,' House smiled at the old man with genuine relief before looking over his shoulder to see if the nurse was near. 'I need to tell you something,' he quietly whispered as he stiffly stooped over the side of the bed making certain Winslow could not avoid looking at him, 'Thank you.'

A slight smirk formed on Winslow's lips as he watched House straighten. That must have half killed him, he thought, before saying aloud, 'How is she?'

House stood for a moment, tapping his cane on the floor while looking at his shoes. Then, blowing out a long breath of air, he shrugged. 'Okay, I guess. She's battered and bruised, but okay.' He hesitated, 'she hasn't said much and she's slept through most of the last two days.' Glancing at Winslow's pale and drawn face, House could see their brief conversation was already becoming tiring for him. Plus, he too wanted it to end. 'I'll go.' Stepping back, he pressed his lips together and gave a nod as he turned to leave.

'The baby?' Winslow croaked. From the way House froze and stood tapping his cane before turning to answer made Winslow inwardly cringe.

'They tell us its fine.'

'But?'

House shrugged lightly, 'She's had a lot happen to her in the last seventy-two hours. Her face looks like it was used as a punching bag, and the shock of it all is affecting her. I would be a fool to say I was not worried.' He looked at Winslow, even bearing in mind the old man had saved Cameron from an unspeakable fate before suffering a massive coronary, House still felt uncomfortable about trying to be friendly with the man. He thought, however considering the circumstances, he owed it to his unborn child and his wife to at least try. Glancing back at Winslow, House mumbled a hasty get well and fled from the CCU ward heading to maturity to see his wife.

"My client's fate now depends on your votes."

Here the speaker sat down in his place,

And directed the Judge to refer to his notes

And briefly to sum up the case.

Cameron was sleeping quietly and peacefully when House entered the room. Against his better objections, both Cuddy and Annabella Stewart had insisted on keeping Cameron lightly sedated, while assuring him both she and the baby would not suffer any residual effects.

'She needs to rest House.' Cuddy had said immediately after the incident when they had rushed Cameron into a room to examine her. 'She has gone through a trauma and needs time to both mentally and physically heal. You both do.' House had stood and watched as nurses had held down the panic-stricken woman who he deeply loved, only half listening to the droning of Cuddy's voice. 'Hysteria is only going to cause more damage. We need to have her calm enough to run test, to check her wounds,' Cuddy had hesitated before saying, 'to see about the baby.' Giving a look to Annabella, Cuddy had silently okayed the sedative while House looked on helplessly.

For the next several hours, House had sat in his office watching Emma play as he waited. He had initially wanted to stay with his wife as test were ran, the ultrasound was performed, and skilled hands attentively dealt with the lacerations and bruises covering her Cameron's face and body. He had been holding Cameron's hand, whispering encouragements quietly in her ear and keeping a sharp eye on what was happening around them, when Cuddy had ran him from the room. 'They can't do their jobs with you telling them how to do their jobs House. You are going to have to trust us,' she had declared before demanding him to go and get out of everyone's hair.

Reluctantly, House had allowed Wilson to lead him away with promises from Cuddy he would be called the moment anything was discovered. They had first gone to the surgical observation deck and watched the triple by-pass performed on Winslow, before going to the next bay and to see Foreman and a team of neurosurgeons conduct a cephalotrypesis and a temporal-cortical bypass on Wendum to reduce pressure from the blow of the cricket bat. During the procedure House had pushed the button for the surgical speaker and announced 'let the bastard die' to the neurological team, which in turn had gotten both he and Wilson expelled from the observation deck. Finally, House had taken refuge in his office. Wilson had then collected Emma from the nursery in hopes her presence would improve he father's mood while they waited for Cuddy's call. Emma however had only made him worse. For the next two days, House was by his wife's side. Once or twice he had ventured toward the room containing Wendum, but each time armed guards had escorted him away. Cuddy wasn't taking any risks, anyone associated with House or Cameron was being barred from even the floor he was on. Security was tight, for Cuddy knew, given a chance, half the hospital wanted to make certain Wendum did not leave it alive.

'Greg?'

House's head snapped up from his recollections. 'Allison?'

He stood and leaned over her prone form wincing at the sight of Cameron's face. 'How do you feel?' he asked quietly.

Cameron stared up at him, their eyes connecting. He could see fright lingering in their depts. 'I don't know,' she uttered, pulling her gaze away and reaching for his hand. 'How long have I been a sleep?'

House glanced at the clock. 'About six hours this time.'

'My head feels fuzzy.'

House could not help smiling at her. 'Is that your best medical diagnosis? Fuzzy?' When Cameron didn't answer, he gently reached down and brushed away a strand of hair from her face. 'It's just the sedative. Cuddy and Stewart want to make certain you don't escape on them again. Remember what they told you about the baby and your stress level?'

Cameron gave a slight nod, before winced. Carefully, with her free hand, she felt along her face. 'Does it look any better?'

'No,' answered House honestly. 'You actually look worse.'

The cuts on her face were healing, but the bruising was still severe. They had taken on yellow and blue tinges around the corners of deep purple and black areas were Wendum had struck her. One eye was also still almost completely held closed through swelling.

Are you certain I can't bring Emma in. She keeps asking for you.'

'I don't want her to see me like this.' Cameron looked up at her husband. 'All of us do not need to be traumatized.'

Shaking his head, House squeezed Cameron's hand. 'She is going to see you the day after tomorrow when I take you home. The swelling is going down, but you're going to have those bruises for a while.' Pulling open the top buttons of his shirt, House revealed his right side shoulder and upper chest showing a large and nasty bruise from his accident. 'See, still looks horrid and I'm sore as hell. There's no magic wand for either of us. Emma is just going to have to see….let me bring her in.'

'Not now,' answered Cameron sleepily as her good began to droop. Leaning down stiffly, House tenderly kissed her split and swollen lips. 'Why are you making that face?'

Cameron asked, nuzzling into her pillow.

House smiled. 'Someone yesterday… or was it the day before… so much has happened I don't really remember when it was, anyway someone scrapped up my back.'

'That was you on that stupid bike,' mumbled Cameron closing her eyes.

'That too,' pulling the chair closer to the side of the bed, House settled himself in it and reached for Cameron's hand, squeezing it gently as she drifted into slumber.

Then the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite

Too nervous to utter a word:

When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,

And the fall of a pin might be heard.

'Are you sure about this?' Cuddy asked the person on the other end of the telephone. 'It can't be it just really can't.' She paused listening, making faces as she did so. 'Wow,' Cuddy breathed shaking her head. 'I'm sorry; I just don't see how that is possible. Let me give you my fax number and email and you can send me the information….Great, got a pen?'

Cuddy gave the caller the information and then hung up the phone. 'Unbelievable,' she uttered in astonishment, shaking her head. The fax machine beeped, causing her to jump. Getting up she raced to the machine, cursing at its slowness as it produced the first page of the fax. As page dropped into the tray, she snatched it up, eyes widening. 'Oh my God!' Cuddy gulped, 'It's just not possible?'

Grabbing the second sheet of paper from machine, she quickly scanned its contents; her heart racing. Glancing at the beginnings of the third fax, Cuddy could see it was a picture. With shaking hands she reached for it, as her computer beeped and an electronic voice announced, "Incoming mail." In a daze, Cuddy crossed to her desk and tapped the keyboard, opening the file. Her knees felt weak as she stared at the image on the computer screen and compared it to the crumpled paper she was clutching in her hand. 'Oh God,' she uttered again, before dashing from the room.

But their wild exultation was suddenly checked

When the jailer informed them with tears,

Such a sentence would have not the slightest effect,

As the pig had been dead for some years.

Hunting of the Snark by Lewis Carroll.

Author's note

Sorry everyone, as stated in the prologue, I was on break and now session has restarted it is mid-term On top of the school paper, mid-terms, research papers, essays, and a novel to read, we are also having a poetry contest (I'm in charge of it) and my department is moving (yep at mid-term….what idiots) into the "new building." This means we are packing, sorting, and shifting EVERYTHING across campus. I will try to finish up the last three chapters for you soon, but I can't promise. While on break I worked on getting the opening chapter of my Doctor Who story ready, but still not done with that either. I was also thinking of attempting another House story unless everyone is tired of me. Let me know if you want me to write another one….maybe I can attempt to do something happy for a change. Anyway…homework…must go. Ta for now, CBB.

PS….EMMA ALLISON…..You're kidding, right? If not, please email me, I have something I want to ask you.

PPS…..Claire Kelso….Gyre and Gimble in the Wabe comes from Lewis Carroll's The Jabberwocky.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

PPPS….Pumpkin…. Theatre, art, and multi-cultural literature