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"So, I take it we found our runaway patient?" House barely glanced up from his computer, the question directed at 13 who had just all but skidded through the doorway.

"The nurses did. In a closet on the third floor, with Mr. Wayne. And he's had another seizure."

That got his attention completely. "Wait, seriously? They were in a closet?"

"And…he was wearing a nurse's uniform. Apparently he got bored when Mr. Wayne went out to get lunch and he went up to pediatrics, found a nurse, took the outfit and gave her his gown, and went back downstairs." She looked both thoroughly shocked and annoyed, but also slightly amused. "Think Foreman's right about the brain problem now?"

"Closet, nurse uniform...kinky, but not consistent with them coming to us for help." He pushed away from his desk and pulled his cane into his hand, heading over to the door. "What is it about the closets around here? Chase and Cameron, now-"

"They weren't doing anything. Mr. Wayne went looking for him, said he found him in there."

"Would this be an appropriate time for a joke about one of them still being closeted?"

13 rolled her eyes. "Yes. Sure. After that, maybe we can focus on the patient and the fact that whatever he has seems to be worsening. Kutner's on his way to go draw blood now."

He tossed his cell phone into her hand, pulling open the door. "Call him off."

"I…why?'

"Because, I'm doing it. I want to meet the patient."

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"How are you feeling?"

"…like my head hit the floor, what do you expect?"

Bruce sighed, leaned over in his chair to rest his elbows on the bed. "You had a seizure. I have no idea how that might leave you feeling." Shoving the chair away from the bed he paced, shaking his head. "I should have noticed something sooner…."

"Find anything interesting in the closet?"

Bruce turned to face the man just coming through the door, leaning heavily on a cane. "You're Dr. House."

"Yes, I am. And you're the guy with enough money to buy the hospital." His turned to Joker, eyes running over him. "And you must be the nurse-wannabe."

Bruce cringed internally, spoke up before Joker had a chance. "I'm sorry about that, I just left to get him some lunch and-"

"Not interested." He pulled up a rolling stool and sat down by the bed, scooting closer to the railing. "I need to draw some blood, find out -."

"What drugs I'm taking? Sorry to disappoint you, but that's just not me." Joker stretched his arm out obediently enough, but the smile he was giving House worried Bruce more than a little.

"Oh, if I had a nickel for every patient that told me 'I'm not on drugs, because I'm a good person', I'd be...well, not doing this, obviously."

"I never said I was a good person, doctor." The needle slid into his veins then and he hummed in pleasure, closing his eyes and relaxing into the pain.

House's forehead furrowed slightly, overwhelmed with curiosity. "You enjoy that?"

Hurriedly, Bruce started to answer for him. "He-"

"I don't recall asking you." He didn't even spare Bruce a glance, his attention focused on Joker. "The pain, has it started to feel good recently?"

Joker's eyes opened slowly as House pulled the needle out, ran his tongue along his scars as his smile widened. "I find pain to be one of the beautifully immersive aspects of life. It's such a waste, isn't it, not to learn to enjoy it?"

"…right." House pushed away from the bed, tucking the vial of blood into his pocket. His eyes skimmed absently over the pattern of scars on Joker's exposed arms. "You either do a job with heavy equipment at which you're very, very bad or you spend a lot of time knife fighting. Or these are your handiwork." The question lingered in unspoken suggestion, and from the flicker of House's eyes between the two of them it was clear he wasn't sure which one was responsible.

Joker smoothed one hand over the scars, grinning smugly. "Aren't you more curious how I got these?' he gestured at the corners of his lips, eyes sparkling. "They're more, ah, interesting."

"My faithful underling already told me, sorry to cut the story short." House stood, shoving the stool back toward the bed. "Someone from my dream team will be by in a few hours to tell you when you'll be having your MRI tomorrow. At some point before then, Dr. Wilson will probably be by to talk to you about a potential diagnosis."

"Which is?" Bruce's tone made him unavoidable, commanding attention.

"At this point, the most likely suspect is a brain tumor." With that, he turned and walked out the door.

It took Bruce a breath or two to restart his thoughts, he wasn't sure how long. As soon as he could manage it he took off after him, catching up with House just before the elevators. "Dr. House!"

House sighed, didn't turn. "Look, it might be operable, but we won't know until we do the MRI."

"Are you basing this off of Jack's…behavior? Because if you are-"

House turned to face him then, clearly exasperated. "I'm sure to you he's the image of well adjusted perfection. There's a reason love is blind, otherwise most of us would be screwed if anything happened to us. However, that doesn't mean he's got everything all turned on upstairs, it just means that you've conveniently not noticed."

Bruce couldn't help laughing, and for a moment he wondered just how much like Joker he would become, in the end. It would have been a disturbing thought if his mind hadn't been so occupied. "You think…you think I don't know he's crazy? That he has problems?" He sobered up a little, the laughter fading into seriousness. "I live with him. Trust me; he's been the model of good behavior here. His…insanity is absolutely real, but it's not a symptom. It's just…Jack."

That wasn't exactly what House was expecting to hear, but it didn't set his argument back, either. "And just because this is the way he's been since you've known him doesn't mean it's not a symptom." He turned around to punch the elevator button with his cane, tiring of the conversation. "Think of it this way, if everything goes well he could end up being easier to take out in public."

Bruce stepped in front of him, blocking the door. "I don't care about that. And I'm not wrong, this isn't a symptom. Whatever's wrong with him, it's recent. He's been like this for years."

"Or it isn't a tumor, but whatever it is has been affecting him for years." Annoyed, he waited until the doors opened to push past Bruce and slip inside. "Leave the diagnosing to us, it's what you're paying a small, small fraction of your fortune for. If you want to help, go keep Houdini in bed."

Bruce watched the door shut wordlessly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He hated the constraints he was under here, hated having to just be semi-clueless Bruce Wayne. He was Batman too, dammit, and while he might not have been a doctor he was almost certain he knew enough to know he wasn't wrong about this. Whatever it was, it wasn't a brain problem. At least, not in the way they were thinking.

Still, however angry he might be, there was worry he couldn't shake mixed in as well. Nothing about the thought of a brain tumor sounded promising, and his mind had latched onto the way House had said it might be operable, if that were the case…

He tore his gaze away from the closed door and stalked back down the hallway, increasing his speed as he reached the door and saw Joker swinging his legs over the side of the bed, hand fiddling with his IV. He caught both his wrists easily, pinning them to the bed before shoving him back.

"Don't even think about it."

"I don't need to be here."

Bruce all but collapsed into the chair by the bed, tired of the argument. "Yeah, you're the picture of health. Right up until the moment you collapse. What about your head, how often does it hurt?"

"Oh, so maybe he's right about my brain, hm?"

"Jack…" Everything about his tone made it crystal clear he wasn't in the mood, but even so he was pleasantly surprised to feel Joker's grip on his chin, turning his head to face him.

"Lighten up, Bats. I'm fine."

"Let them be the judge of that, alright? Just…humor me."

Joker grinned, teasing. "I do that all the time." Against his will, Bruce's lips twitched into a smile. "There it is. A smile." Joker sat up and leaned forward to kiss him, deceptively gentle at first before he nipped hard at Bruce's lip. "You're always such a pessimist."

"Yeah, well, I have to balance you out, don't I?" As worried as he was, though, Joker had at least distracted him a little, for the moment. "You still hungry? Think you could eat something?"

"Is that really a question?"

"Yeah, alright, hold on." He pulled the rolling table toward the bed, handing Joker the Hardee's bag. "It's cold."

"Well, I'm not picky."

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House barged into Wilson's office, immediately falling back on his sofa. "Need a consult."

Wilson barely raised his eyes from the file on his desk. "On that special request patient Cuddy took?"

"Could have a brain tumor. Definitely crazy." House twirled his cane over his head easily. "I told them you'd be by to talk to them."

Wilson nodded slowly, thinking. "I can, I have time. Have you talked to them about the diagnosis?"

"…Briefly. The boyfriend insists I'm wrong, cause apparently playboys come out at the top of their class these days."

"Yes, well, I know you don't understand this, House, but no one likes hearing the person they're in love with is could be dying of a brain tumor. That does tend to trigger all sorts of emotions, and denial is a fairly common one." Wilson flipped the file shut, trailed his fingertips over the name. "I'll talk to them as soon as I'm done here, another hour or so. He's scheduled for an MRI?"

"Bright and early."

"So…how crazy is he? I heard he ran away from you earlier."

"Ran away, and managed to freak 13 out, though she's denying it." House tossed his cane once and caught it, twisted his head to see Wilson's expression. "Can I come to the consult? I'd like to see what he does to you."

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A/N: Sorry this one took a couple days to get up, sleep and school and…grrr, lol

Thanks so much for all the awesome comments! :D