Author's note: Okay here goes my first House M.D. story. If you think it's too out of character, or have any suggestions for style, plot lines and such, please do review! But no flames, they're just useless, and believe me my retort will not be nice. I also apologies for any medical atrocities. I did my research, but internet is far from being a foolproof search tool. It starts case-centered in order to introduce the story, so if your not medically hell-bend, fear not.

Disclaimer: Obviously House M.D. is not mine, otherwise it would be House/Cameron through and through (I mean what are the writers waiting for!?)

Obviously ridiculous. Or vice versa?

'Tough case?'

It was lunch break. Cameron was sipping her well deserved coffee at the cafeteria.

'Do you recall any easy case with House?'

Foreman was sitting across Cameron, frowning over a patient's folder.

'Right. So what is it?'

'Pathergy reaction, skin lesions, what seems to be a burgeoning mouth ulcer and fever off the roof. The most inexplicable is the on and off weird and seemingly completely unrelated coughing, and the occasional blacking out. Thank God the patient is knocked out by House's drug cocktail by now. Constantly asking whether she's going to die. As if we weren't pressured enough. Especially Thirteen actually. And House isn't helping.'

'House went to see the patient?' Cameron asked incredulous, leaning over the table.

'Eventually, yeah, he did. It is a pretty weird case after all. At least the toughest I had since I'm back.

'So what did House say?'

'To the patient?' Cameron nodded. 'Well of course you're going to die. Who doesn't.' Foreman mimicked. He sighted heavily, dropping the folder on the table and leaning forward, head dropped.

'May I?' Cameron asked, already tugging the folder towards her.

'Sure. Go for it'

Cameron smiled sympathetically to Foreman. He looked exhausted. She knew he wasn't the most caring of all doctors (apparently she still had the golden palm for that) but she knew that despite his detachment saving the patient was his ultimate goal. What's more Cameron was sure House wasn't helping and probably berating his team endlessly.

She frowned, concentrating on the list before her.

'What are your theories so far?'

Foreman propped his jaw in his hands.

'Everything from food poisoning to brain tumor. All results were either negative or unrelated.' Foreman smirked. 'No Lupus though. My colleagues seem to cherish their lives more than extending a diagnosis to extremes. Though I've just tested for cancerous cells from the guy' sputum. Maybe a developing laryngeal or trachea cancer. I'm waiting for the results.'

Silence settled again, Foreman staring at the folder and Cameron still frowning over it, until she spoke.

'What about Behçet's disease.'

Foreman raised a quizzical eyebrow. Cameron continued.

'The stress of his failing immune system would explain his high fever, as well as the coughing. And the pathergy reaction, skin lesions, and mouth ulcer are not uncommon to Behçet's. The black outs could be due to eye inflammation. I admit it's a little farfetched since she doesn't have the appropriate background nor history, but not impossible.'

'Exactly. It's way too farfetched. Nothing fits her background nor history. I know you're the immunologist here, but face it, it's more then unlikely.' Foreman drew another long sight. 'No harm in checking though. Where we're at I could try anything out.'

He looked at Cameron, who was still frowning over the folder, a gentle smile across his features.

'You miss it, don't you? The challenge, solving the puzzle.'

Cameron snapped the folder shut, slightly glaring at Foreman. Then her face relaxed into a light smile, her gaze dropping to the folder again.

'I can't say I don't. I like the ER, having to rush for the correct diagnosis, the satisfaction of saving lives or simply helping. I don't have time to get attached to the patients, which is a good lesson for me, and I still get to help them.' She marked a short pause. 'But I have to admit that when a case is slightly more complicated than the others I can't help going into detective mode. I like the thrill of the challenge, as small as it might be, and it generally lightens up my day.'

They were both smiling, Cameron's gaze still on the folder and Foreman's locked on her. Then she snapped playfully.

'But don't you dare tell House any of this. It'll make his day and he'll come down more often to tease and prod, interfering with my work and annoy the nurses.'

'Yeah. Can't help but notice how House has suddenly found the ER interesting.' Foreman was fully grinning now. 'Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.' Then he stood up. 'I have to go back to the lab. They probably have the results by now. I'll check your theory, too. Thanks for the help. I'll let you know about the results.'

Foreman waved at her with the folder and marched out. Cameron waved back and downed the rest of her now cold coffee. She couldn't help but envy Foreman a little. Every time a case couldn't be solved in the ER, it was dispatched to another department, away from her.

. . .

Foreman was walking fast towards the lab, tapping the folder on his thigh. How come none of them had thought of Behçet's? Well maybe House did. You never know what he's thinking. Though if even him didn't throw it in their differential diagnosis brain storm, then he too probably found the idea completely off tracks (or 'moronic' as he would label it). Sure the idea was (very) farfetched. Yet plausible. What if Cameron was right? House would go ballistic, and Foreman would make sure not to miss this.

More than that, he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of Cameron. The team had been working on this case for almost two and a half days (plus nights) and Cameron came up with a diagnosis in less then ten minutes? She was the immunologist after all, but still. Foreman knew she was an excellent doctor, and couldn't help thinking that she was being wasted in the ER. He was proud he had worked with her.

He pushed the doors to the lab open. A lab technician immediately approached him with the results, which Foreman almost snatched out of his hands. Negative. Again. Damn it. Start over from square one, yet again. Foreman sat down in front of the computer. He had half a mind to punch the answer out of the key board. 'Well, time to test your theory Dr. Cameron.'

'Which theory?' Enquired the lab technician. Was he still here?

'Behçet's disease.' Foreman groaned out.

The lab technician snorted in disbelief.

'Right. She does know that you are treating an American woman who has never set foot out of the country?'

Foreman glared at him. 'You got a better idea, genius?'

The lab technician scrammed out of the room, muttering a sheepish excuse.

. . .

Forty five minutes later Foreman stared at the computer screen, eyes bulged out of their sockets. Then his face morphed into a stupidly wide grin. Oh boy, this was going to be fun.