Lost Connections

Disclaimer: House, Lost and all related to these TV shows do not belong to me. This is being done purely for non-profit entertainment. Any characters and story lines I make up are mine, though. Just so you know.

White. All Dr. Gregory House saw was white – white walls, white floors, white doors – nothing to let him know where he was in St. Sebastian's Hospital. Stupid lecture he grumbled silently, the steady thump of his cane setting the tempo of his thoughts. Stupid Cuddy for making him give the lecture. Stupid Wilson for talking to Cuddy and --

"Hey, watch where you're going buddy."

House stopped, turning to look over his shoulder at the man who had nearly knocked him over. "Yeah, buddy," he said, "try not to knock over a cripple." The man stopped in his tracks and swiveled around so he was facing House.

"I'm sorry," he said, his forehead creased in a frown, "I didn't see you or you didn't see me – it doesn't really matter. Truth is you nearly tripped me with your cane. You should be more careful."

"Or you're going to do what, call my dad so he can ground me? I know, I know – the graying hair throws everybody off. Even my own mother." House gave the man a quick once-over, taking in the shadowed jaw, the circles under his eyes and the way he kept rubbing his upper left arm. "Hey, what's the matter with your arm?" he asked, pointing with his cane at the appendage.

The man, whose ID tag identified him as a hospital employee by the name of Dr. Jack Sheppard, dropped his right hand. "Uh, nothing much. Just a bit sore . . ." His voice trailed off as he looked more closely at House. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

House rested his cane in front of him with both his hands atop the handle. "Depends – ever been to Jersey?" Sheppard shook his head, his expression thoughtful as he began rubbing his arm again.

"No, but . . . wait – you're Dr. Gregory House. Are you here for the diagnostics lecture?"

"I gave the lecture," House replied, "and now this place has developed some sort of freakish fourth dimension that won't let me leave."

"Ah," was all Sheppard said, still continuing the circular motions on his arm.

"Look," House said, finding himself exasperated by the continuous motion, "I obviously am not in a hurry to get anywhere, so how about we go into the empty room behind you and I take a look at your arm?"

Sheppard looked about ready to protest, but then appeared to decide against it. With a curt nod of his head, he turned into the aforementioned room, hopping easily up onto the empty bed as House came in behind him. House rested his cane against the side table while the younger man shrugged off his lab coat. Rolling up the sleeve of his scrub shirt Sheppard revealed a black, Chinese-themed tattoo on his upper arm. House didn't even have to feel the area to know it was infected – the areas not marked with the dark ink were red and the whole area was swollen. But he did anyway, glancing at Sheppard as he let out a small hiss.

"You really should have picked a place that uses clean needles."

Sheppard nodded his head. "Yeah, well . . ."

"You know what to do," House said, grabbing his cane before taking a half-step back. "So, did it make you forget?" he added as Sheppard eased back into his lab coat.

"Forget what?" he asked, getting off the bed.

"Betty, Sue, Mary – whatever the name was of the woman that broke your heart. Men such as yourself generally only do such stupid things to forget a woman or because they're drunk, and you don't look like the drinking type." House flexed the fingers on his left hand. "So, did yours work?"

Jack Sheppard shook his head, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You really are a son of a --"

"And you really need to quit trying to fix people. Though on second thought, when you're ready to enter the dating pool again I know someone who would be per--"

The startled 'oh' of the nurse who had just stepped into the room cut House off. "I'm sorry," the woman said, "I didn't know --" Sheppard held up his hand.

"It's okay – Dr. House here was just giving me a quick consult." Sheppard turned to House. "Thank you for your help. As for the rest, well . . ." he rubbed the back of his neck while his expression filled in the blanks.

"Yeah," House said, making his way out of the room. He stopped to look at the nurse. Her name was Betty. Heh -- Nurse Betty. "Where is the main reception area?" he asked, thumping his cane to the rhythm in his head. "I'm lost and tired of walking around aimlessly."