It didn't take months, but many of the employees at PPTH became accustomed to the sight of Brennan's squints roaming the halls during her recovery. Agent Booth took an extended leave of absence, feeling vindicated as Brennan's lucid periods became longer and more frequent. On the day that she was to be discharged, Angela, Hodgins, and Cam drove up to collect them.

Brennan stopped by House's office on her way out, interrupting his glum game of solitaire.

"Did you bring the tar and feathers?" he asked.

"I don't know what that means," she replied.

"Probably lucky for me," he said, too downcast to notice the twinkle in her eye.

"I just wanted to thank you for taking my case."

"No need," House said, not meeting her gaze. "And I really mean that."

"And also for being honest with me."

He finally looked up at her. "That's something I don't get very often."

"I don't blame you. When you lack enough information to reach a solution, it only makes sense to do more experiments. In your case, sometimes that entails certain risks to your patients."

"I sense a 'but.'"

"But it is true that if your team had taken a more thorough medical history initially, and believed my responses to the questions they did ask, you probably would have come to your conclusion about the mefloquine much sooner."

House made a sound that might, or might not, have been an apology.

"By the way, Booth said that he watched you convince me that I had been having hallucinations. Apparently that was the turning point in my condition."

"You convinced yourself," House said. "I just reminded you about the evidence."

"Still. I think that Dr. Sweets might say that you actually effected a talking cure." Her eyes danced.

House's lip curled. "If you told him."

"If I told him," Brennan agreed. "Or if Booth did. Which, I am quite confident, is highly unlikely."

House nodded. "Thanks. And you're welcome."

"We're driving back to DC after dinner, but Booth thought we should all go out for a drink first, to celebrate. One of your colleagues recommended a bar just a couple of blocks from here. I hope that you will join us."

"I'm not really big on partying with my employees," House told her.

"While I used to think that it would not be appropriate, I've come to appreciate the value of social interactions outside of the lab in building trust and creating a more collegial and productive atmosphere," Brennan said seriously.

House cocked his head at her with something approaching fondness in his face. "I'll consider it. But don't wait up for me."

At four in the afternoon, the Alchemist and Barrister was still fairly quiet except for the Jeffersonian researchers and their recent acquaintances from Princeton Plainsboro.

"I heard a rumor," Wilson said, sitting down next to Angela, "that you co-authored parts of Dr. Brennan's latest book. If it's true, then on behalf of all men everywhere, I would like to express my gratitude."

Angela grinned. "I think it would have been more appropriate to express gratitude on behalf of women everywhere, but I can see how that might be misconstrued."

Wilson had the grace to blush. "Um. Bet it must have been a lot of fun for you to work together on a project like that."

"Oh, it was," Angela said. "Once I convinced her that the steamy scenes wouldn't detract from the seriousness of the science."

"Stubborn, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I might."

Angela smiled. "You and Doctor House are pretty close, aren't you?"

"No! I mean, yeah. But not close, close. I mean, we're not- We're both seeing other people." He sighed. "I'm not helping my case, am I?"

"Don't worry," Angela laughed, patting his arm. "I just meant that I can tell you guys are old friends."

"You and Dr. Brennan must be, too. Are you like sisters separated at birth, completing each other's sentences, that sort of thing?"

"Are you kidding? Brennan and I are like night and day. Sometimes I feel like we speak completely different languages." Angela smiled again, her whole face lighting up with a beauty that Wilson couldn't fail to appreciate. "But it works. We make a great team."

"I usually understand what House is talking about," Wilson reflected. Then he frowned. "That's what's so worrying."

"Angela seems terrific," Chase observed, trying to sound friendly but wincing at the bitterness in his own voice.

"I'm crazy about her," Hodgins said. "Always have been."

"Look, I'm sorry," Chase said. "It's none of my business. You just… seem so happy. I guess I'm a little envious."

Hodgins looked at him closely. "No, it's okay. Bad break-up?"

"Divorce, actually," Chase said, pulling the ring out of his pocket and moodily spinning it on the table until it collapsed on its side with a sad little clink.

"Sorry, man," Hodgins said sympathetically.

"Yeah," Chase said. He replaced the ring and took a big gulp of his beer. "I was crazy about her, too. But she was never sure about us. We almost broke up right before the wedding, and then it lasted less than a year."

Hodgins took a swallow, then came to a decision. "I've been there, man." Chase looked at him, doubt plain on his face. "Seriously. When we first started dating, things were so… great." He didn't have to resort to crude terms for Chase to understand that the sex must have been amazing. Much as it had been in his case.

"But Angela, she wasn't ready. She didn't want things to get too serious." Chase nodded encouragingly. "I asked her to marry me, and she said no. So I backed off. I tried being patient. Then I… well, it's not important. But once she stopped feeling like I was pressuring her, she agreed to marry me."

"Seems to have worked out for you," Chase said.

"Yeah." Hodgins grinned at him. "But not before I discovered on our wedding day that she was still married to someone else."

"You- really."

"And then when her dad found out we'd broken up, he tracked me down and tattooed her face on my arm."

"Wow," Chase said. "But… you eventually did get married?"

"Yup. Last year. We were in jail."

"In-" Chase started to repeat, then shrugged and grinned. "You crazy optimistic bastard," he said, tapping the neck of his beer bottle on the rim of Hodgins' glass. "Cheers."

"Oh, I've always enjoyed getting married," Angela said cheerfully. "It's waking up the next morning that's the killer."

Wilson looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Kidding," she reassured him. "It only happened once. What about you, how many times have you been married?"

"Um… three." He paused. "Does it count if you wed the same person twice?"

"Sure," Angela said, smiling. "In fact, Hodgins and I have decided that it counts twice as much."

"That's a nice way of looking at it," Wilson acknowledged.

"So then does that make it four for you?" Angela asked.

"No," Wilson said quickly. "At least, not yet."

Angela took a sip of her water. "What about House, has he ever been married?"

Wilson laughed, shaking his head. "No-ho-ho. No."

"Reluctant to commit?"

"Not exactly," Wilson admitted. "Maybe more reluctant to be committed to."

Angela nodded in apparent understanding. "Brennan's never been married, either."

Wilson leaned forward. "So, are she and Booth…"

Angela looked fondly over to where Booth and Brennan sat, slightly separated from the others, heads bent close together, laughing at a shared joke. "No," she said. "But it can be kind of hard to tell sometimes."

"I know what you mean," Wilson said with feeling.

"Oh, I've got another one for you." Cam took a gulp of her gin and tonic and pointed a finger at Cuddy. "Last year, Hodgins used melons as stand-ins for people's heads when he was trying to identify a murder weapon and blew one of them clear off."

"House once shot a cancer patient's corpse in the head. Try explaining that to the funeral home."

"Hodgins and Brennan's former grad student blew up the lab."

"After House shot the corpse, he tried to scan the bullet-ridden body and blew up our MRI."

"Hodgins dropped a frozen turkey off the balcony to see how it would shatter, and it bounced and hit Angela in the face."

"House punched Dr. Chase in the face. And that was because he was about to cut off a little girl's arm and leg with no medical justification but Dr. Chase stopped him. And then a week after that, he got caught stealing a dead patient's drugs, and I had to perjure myself to keep his ass out of jail." Cuddy ran out of breath and stopped, looking flustered.

"Wow. I think you win," Cam said.

"Yeah," Cuddy said, trying to smile. She downed the contents of her glass and signaled urgently for another.

House pushed open the door about half an hour behind everyone else, pausing to take stock of the situation before selecting a seat. He could see Booth and Brennan huddled together, oblivious to their surroundings; Cuddy chatting animatedly with her counterpart from the Jeffersonian, Chase looking unusually cheerful in the company of the curly-haired entomologist, and Wilson appearing all too captivated by the beautiful Eurasian artist at his side. (Near the end of the first trimester, if he was any judge.)

As his gaze swept over the small crowd, something about the way one of the scientists was eating his shrimp cocktail suddenly snagged his attention. House thought about it for a second, then allowed himself a half-smile. Catching the other man's eye, he pointed and mouthed silently, "Page 187?" Hodgins squinted, blushed, then broke into a pleased, embarrassed grin and raised his glass.

House sat down next to Wilson, satisfied, and held up his hand for the bartender to bring him a beer.

THE END

Afterword:

A professional writer acquaintance with little appreciation of fanfiction as a phenomenon recently read "Three Months" and expressed dissatisfaction with the lack of an original medical mystery, her favorite aspect of House M.D the show. I agreed that it would be great if I could come up with a plausible plot for a genuine casefic, but it took a while for inspiration to strike.

The described side effects from mefloquine (Lariam) are the real deal, although rare. A friend of mine was forced to return home early from Africa this past year because her paranoia from the drug became so debilitating. When Brennan came back from Indonesia at the beginning of the current season of Bones, I realized that it was the perfect opportunity to bring her in contact with the PPTH Diagnostics Department. However, the lack of synchrony between the shows' subjective timelines required a little fancy footwork on my part. My sincere apologies for any canonical inconsistencies that may have resulted.

Finally, I couldn't have done this alone - thanks very much to stenveny, jezziejay, and especially longtime RL beta Susanne for encouraging me to rise to the challenge and offering helpful suggestions, and to these friends plus yarroway and menolly_au for constructive criticism and positive feedback during the drafting process. If you enjoyed this story, please let us know!