This story was written for a Fan Fiction contest on the Fox board. It's not very long, but I think it's cool. Hope all of you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

"So, if you can't tell me what's wrong with her, tell me anything." House said to his team.

"Like what?" Kutner asked.

"Well, you could tell me who got voted off American Idol last week, but I don't think that will help the patient."

While Kutner scrambled to think of something intelligent to say, Taub and Thirteen began looking at the patient's records for the information House wanted.

"She's a college student." Thirteen told him. "She has an apartment off campus."

"She works, in a coffee shop on 6th, near the campus." Taub looked at the notes. "Cool Beans."

"We need to test her blood again too." Kutner added.

"Okay." House said, rising from his chair. "Kutner, you do her blood. Taub and Thirteen, check out her apartment. I'm taking a coffee break."

With that, he grabbed his jacket and helmet and headed out of the office.

Melissa Edwards watched the man who limped into her coffee shop and sighed. She took in the scruffy beard that said, 'I don't care how I look,' the motorcycle helmet held carelessly by the long musician's fingers, the rock t-shirt with the worn jeans all spelled BAD BOY to her in big block letters. She knew the type all too well.

But a customer was a customer. She smiled at the man, "May I help you?"

"I'll take a large coffee. To go."

"Sure." she turned to fill a cup when he spoke again.

"Tracy Schumann works here?"

It was as much a statement as a question. She eyed him warily. This guy was way too old to be interested in Tracy.

"Who wants to know?"

"Since I just asked you, I'm guessing that would be me."

"And who are you?"

"The person asking the question."

"Why do you want to know?"

"We're not getting anywhere when you keep answering me with questions."

"I'm not saying anything about Tracy until you tell me who you are and what you want with her."

"Let's just say I'm an acquaintance. I'm not out to hurt her."

She was still wary, but decided she could maybe tell him enough to warn him off. "Yes, Tracy works here. She's a nice girl and very serious about her education. She's not interested in any distractions."

House smiled slightly. "You think I'm a distraction?"

"I think you could be. You're also way too old for her."

"I think I'm insulted. Relax, I'm not interested in her. At least, not in that way. Ours is a more 'professional' relationship."

Melissa was still unsure.

"When did you last see her?" he asked.

Melissa sighed. "Last Friday. She was supposed to work yesterday, but she never showed up. I tried calling her, but there was no answer."

"That didn't bother you?"

Melissa shrugged. "Yes, but I've been employing college students for years and they do that sometimes. A class or lab gets rescheduled, a meeting with a professor, you know, lots of things."

"How was she last week when you saw her?"

"She was fine."

House looked around the shop. It was painted in muted shades of blue and green, but that was all that was serene about the décor. The walls were adorned with what he assumed was amateur art, since he didn't recognize any of the paintings and there were little white cards next to each one with the artist's name and a price.

Behind the counter, she had mugs and tea cups, plates and glasses. Nothing matched. But even so, it was an interesting eclectic mix. As if a lot of strangers got together and decided it would be fun to hang out together.

House thought for a moment, considering his next question. "Does she work with any chemicals here?"

"Nothing stronger than dish detergent or bleach. I don't use anything dangerous."

"And what does she do here?"

"Well, there's a trapeze in the back. I bring it out and she swings from it to entertain the customers." Melissa said with a straight face, enjoying the look he gave her. "It's a coffee shop, what do you think she does? She serves coffee and food and helps to clean up. Okay, I've answered your questions, are you going to tell me what this is about?"

House eyed the woman standing in front of him. She was of medium height, slim, but well-built, with interesting curves. Her dark auburn hair and golden brown eyes completed a face that was already very easy on the eyes. He judged her age at about forty, but the years looked good on her. He gave her a slight smile.

"No. Good coffee though." With that, he limped out of the shop and onto his bike.

She watched him leave and sighed again. That guy was trouble from head to toe. Unfortunately, he was exactly the type she could fall hard for. And the type that would break her heart.