50 chapters and almost 10 months writing this, wow.

I'm sorry I couldn't publish chapters these days. I had very bad luck in these two weeks; my laptop died the first day I started writing on it. I don't know what happened, I still have to take it to the technician.

Also, when I arrived home, the transformer that powers the building where I live had exploded. So everything inside the refrigerator had completely spoiled, along with what was in the freezer.

Fortunately, whenever I leave my house, I disconnect my computer, so nothing bad happened to it. The electricity was fixed until a few days ago, but with all the electricity problem, I had completely forgotten to pay the internet, so there was no internet when the electricity came back. Only a few days ago was the internet reconnected.

Well, just a setback in life, sometimes it happens, you have to move on. I wrote down some ideas for this chapter by hand, and also took the opportunity to organize the internal calendar of the world I have planned.

(I'm not a scientist (yet) who has published anything in any kind of journal, nor have I won a Nobel Prize, so in this chapter, there is a set of nonsense, fasten your seat belts.)

Enjoy.

---

After assisting in the birth, the Wallace family and I stayed inside the tent for several more minutes, waiting for the rain to stop or the storm to calm down enough. During that time, David Wallace, now out of the shock of the intense situation, began to ask question after question, obviously intrigued by my medical knowledge and abilities.

"Leave PJ alone," weakly tapping her husband, Mrs. Wallace ordered him in a whisper as she cradled her exhausted newborn baby.

"How can you not be interested? He's a sixteen-year-old who knows how to assist in a birth," said the surprised man, unintentionally raising his voice, which immediately woke the baby who began to cry. "Oh, I'm sorry," Mr. Wallace whispered apologetically while Mrs. Wallace, rocking the baby again, managed to get him back to sleep.

"I read a lot of books, my mother is a nurse, and I plan to be a doctor someday. I study a lot," I explained silently, relieving the tension of the situation as I looked out of the tent. It was still raining, but with much less intensity.

"Just books?" still incredulous but keeping his voice low, David Wallace asked, "PJ, that was insane, you took control of the situation like a professional, you were even prepared to perform an emergency cesarean section. How could you know that? Did you learn it from a book too?"

"There are books, yes, but I've watched dozens of procedures and practiced countless hours," I explained.

"Aren't you in high school?" surprised, David asked.

"The hospital have a collection of hundreds of videos of different procedures in the library," I said, recalling all the videos I've seen in this life and my past life.

"The hospital..." Mr. Wallace was asking, but a faint shout from outside the tent stopped him. "PJ!" what I recognized as Bob's voice came from the other side of the river.

"I'll be back," I said to the couple with the newborn baby before stepping out into the now much lighter rain.

"Dad?" approaching the edge of the small island in the center of the river, I shouted.

"The rangers are on their way, how's everything over there?" wearing a heavy jacket with his company logo, the man asked.

"The baby is out and doing fine, Mrs. Wallace too," I said in summary, causing Bob to give a thumbs up before running to take cover from the rain in his truck, where Gabe was in the front seat trying to see out of the windshield.

Back in the tent, David, carrying his newborn baby with one arm, while with the other he nervously shook his wife, who had suddenly passed out.

"She'll be okay, she's just very exhausted," moving inside the tent to shield myself from the rain, I checked the pulse of the sleeping woman. "You have to support your baby's head," watching as the man held the baby, I continued moving his arms to show him how to hold the child.

As time passed, due to the rain and wind, the temperature of the area began to drop. The most warmly dressed and my top priority was the little baby because being a newborn, he obviously had more risk. He needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible, just like his mother.

A few minutes later, with the rain much more controlled outside the tent in the now dark of night, illuminated only slightly by the moonlight until the emergency lights fully illuminated the area, followed a few minutes later by the characteristic and loud sound of a helicopter flying and subsequently landing.

In a short time, a lot of emergency personnel including rangers and paramedics were preparing to assist us.

With the help of the rangers, we managed to cross the now much calmer river to the other side, where a few steps away, an emergency helicopter was parked with paramedics waiting for the newborn mother and her baby.

"Moderate premature birth due to stress, the baby was suffocated by the umbilical cord but was successfully revived after forty seconds of CPR, no visible bleeding, normal signs in both the mother and the baby. I couldn't check the oxygenation, but just to be sure, I recommend they do a CT scan," walking quickly alongside one of the paramedics under the still present rain, I said, visibly surprising the paramedic but at least ensuring he listened to me fully.

"I won't forget this, PJ, thank you so much. I'll find you at some point," Mr. Wallace shouted loudly with a big smile as he got into the helicopter with his wife and newborn baby wrapped in thermal blankets.

After watching the helicopter take off into the distance, carrying the small family to the nearest hospital, I hurried into Bob's truck, lying down in the back seat and wrapping myself tightly in my own thermal blanket, feeling mentally and physically exhausted. "That's why I hate fishing trips," Gabe, completely dry and not at all exhausted, said amusingly from the passenger seat.

"For this specifically?" I ironically asked, using part of my last energy to lightly tap the boy's head and turn on the heater inside the car.

In relative silence, Gabe and I stayed inside the truck, waiting for Bob and the other adults who stayed behind to explain what had happened.

At some point, which I missed due to being completely exhausted, Bob returned to the truck and drove until we arrived at some motel on the side of the road.

"PJ, we're here," shaking my shoulder energetically, Gabe from the front of the truck woke me up before quickly getting out of the rain.

Inside the room that Bob rented for the night, I was able to take a much-needed hot shower before collapsing into bed and sleeping deeply.

The rain continued all night until the next day. Early in the morning, feeling much better rested, we prepared to have breakfast before leaving the motel to head home.

After having a hearty breakfast, especially myself as I was quite hungry, since I started training with Case just over two weeks ago, my diet had drastically changed. The man seemed determined to force me to gain weight, creating a high-protein, high-calorie diet for me that had managed to add a few pounds to my weight. Fortunately, in addition to the diet, my physical activity had increased as well, ensuring that those pounds weren't all fat.

Despite the rain still falling, the journey back home passed without any problems. Listening to music and stories from Bob about his fishing trips with his father, time flew by quickly, and before we knew it, we were back in front of the house, unloading all the equipment we had managed to recover from the forest incident.

"You're back early. Did the storm drive you away?" sitting on the living room sofa, Mom, who was watching TV, cheerfully asked while still dressed in a robe.

"Yeah," carrying a few things and setting them aside, I replied.

"How did it go?" lowering the volume of the TV, Mom asked, causing Gabe, who was a few steps behind me, to also hear the question.

Sharing a quick glance with Gabe, "it was something," I said after a few seconds while Gabe sighed and shook his head.

Later that day, a few hours after helping Bob and Gabe clean his now completely dirty truck, the Coopers returned from their own trip. Having a brief conversation with Sheldon, the boy shared his disappointment at not being able to see the launch as well as the worst moment of his trip, when his father made him stand in the rain for a few seconds.

The next day during Mrs. Ingram's class, the teacher reminded us of an exam scheduled for a few days later, but other than that, nothing else interesting happened during the school period.

Upon arriving at House's office, as I did every day lately since there wasn't an "interesting" case according to House, to drop off my things and head to the library, I was surprisingly met by House himself sitting behind his desk.

"What?" after hanging up my backpack, I asked intrigued by the calculating look the man was giving me.

"Surprising," leaning back in his chair while playing with his cane, House said slowly.

"Thanks, don't tell me too much, I don't want to be a total egomaniac like..." I said, jokingly pointing at him with my eyes.

"You're not even going to brag a little?" squinting his eyes, House asked, ignoring my joke.

"About what?" I asked.

"Oh, come on, you know where I've been these past few weeks," with exaggerated exasperation, House said.

"Oh, you've been taking advantage of the maternity lounge watching soap operas, does the Wallace come to this hospital?" understanding what he was implying, I asked, taking a seat in front of him.

"So, it was really you," amused, House said, "I thought there would be another teenager dumb enough but knowledgeable enough to assist in an emergency delivery in the middle of a forest."

"It wasn't something I planned. We had no way to get Mrs. Wallace to a hospital," I quickly defended myself.

"Wow, calm down. I'm not interested. I just wanted to know if it was really you," pulling out a handheld game from his drawer, House said sarcastically, "are you still here?" after a few seconds, he shifted his attention back to his game and asked me.

Slightly scoffing, I shook my head as I stood up, getting ready to go to the library for some videos before heading to a skills lab.

"By the way, mommy wants to see you in her office. She might not find your adventure as amusing," refocusing on his video game, House said as I was about to leave his office.

"What could Dr. Cuddy need with me?" I asked, puzzled, as I hardly had any interaction with the woman.

"You caught on to 'mommy' right away, huh," smiling arrogantly, House said without answering my question, putting his feet up on his desk.

Ignoring the exasperating doctor, I left his office on my way to Dr. Cuddy's office.

"I think Dr. Cuddy is expecting me," arriving outside her office, I said to the woman's secretary, who was working on some documents.

"Ah, PJ, come on in," suddenly opening the door to her office, Dr. Cuddy, who seemed completely excited to see me, said with a big smile.

"Dr. Cuddy," I greeted the woman as I took a seat offered in front of her desk, she sat excitedly on the other side.

"How have you been? Has your time here at the hospital been useful?" crossing her hands on her desk, trying to hide an excited smile, the woman asked.

Strange, I thought, considering the way House had told me that the woman was waiting for me, I thought it would be something bad. But from the woman's attitude and body language, I could discern an underlying interest.

"I've been very well, thank you. I've been taking advantage of the lab skills and a large number of surgical procedure videos," I said, still puzzled by the woman's attitude.

"I'm glad, I'm glad," nodding slightly, Dr. Cuddy said, "besides that, is there anything you'd like to ask for? I know spending a lot of time with House can be quite something sometimes, so if you need anything, just ask, and we'll see how to get it," she continued with a big smile.

Something was going on, "the videos are incredible, but I was wondering if there was a way for me to witness a live surgery?" I didn't know what it was, but I would take advantage of it given the chance.

"Oh, that can definitely be arranged," clapping her hands lightly, Dr. Cuddy said, "for obvious reasons, you won't be able to participate in any way, but being present with due care, asking questions, and observing closely can definitely be done."

"That would be amazing, thank you so much," I said excitedly, being inside the operating room other than being the patient would be an incredible experience for the future.

"Anything for you," the woman continued kindly.

After that, a somewhat uncomfortable silence fell within the office. "So, was that all you needed?" I finally asked, breaking the silence a few seconds later.

"I wanted to talk to you about this..." Dr. Cuddy quickly said, opening one of the drawers of her desk.

Taking what seemed to be a long book, a JAMA from what I recognized, she placed it on the desk with a joyful smile, opening it to a page.

Donnall Thomas, Joseph E. Murray; bone marrow transplant.

"Oh, it's Dr. Thomas's published work," I said cheerfully, taking the journal from the desk and quickly reading the contents. It had been a while since I had been in touch with the doctor; I was glad to see his work published again.

"Oh yes, look at the acknowledgments section," stretching to point to the end of the article, Dr. Cuddy said, now doing a poor job of hiding her excitement.

"Patrick John Dart Duncan and Texas Tech - Medford Teaching Hospital," I read the last of the acknowledgments.

"That's yours," excitedly said Dr. Cuddy.

Certainly, the acknowledgment was a pleasant surprise. I knew my 'involvement' in the doctor's research wouldn't be enough for co-authorship. It wasn't entirely why I did it. If anything, my past life taught me that having connections when building your career was essential. Therefore, my interaction with Dr. Thomas was merely to establish a connection with someone who would be highly regarded in the medical world.

"Do you know what this means?" Dr. Cuddy asked cheerfully.

If in any way I had gotten her hospital's name into an article that would likely, from her perspective, win the Nobel Prize.

"This is definitely on the list of potential Nobel winners," tapping the journal lightly, Dr. Cuddy said.

Yes, and she had no idea.

Dr. Cuddy and I continued to talk about my short-term future at the hospital and then going to medical school.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me about the Wallace baby," I said relieved when we finished discussing my future as a doctor, though I somewhat knew House was pulling a prank on me.

"What?" Dr. Cuddy asked incredulously, taken by surprise. "It was you?" she continued.

Noticing how my knack for speaking and getting into trouble had gotten me into another fix, I remained silent for a few seconds until I nodded defeatedly.

"You helped deliver David Wallace's son? Not only that, you saved his life?" Dr. Cuddy suddenly laughed, "I could kiss you, if you were a few years older," she continued disappointedly.

"I don't mind," I joked, relieved she wasn't upset. It was definitely a House prank if Cuddy took my actions badly.

"You spend much more time with House than you should," Dr. Cuddy said with mock exasperation, shaking her head amusedly.

"The Wallaces left early today. The nurses overheard them arguing about a teenager who saved their son's life, and the doctor who received the paramedics on the roof heard how a strange teenager took control to explain the patients' conditions," Dr. Cuddy explained, wiping away tears from laughing too hard.

As I left Dr. Cuddy's office, she grabbed my arm and gave me a long kiss on the cheek. "Keep up the excellent work," she whispered with a touch of amusement in her words before going back into her office.

Taken aback by the woman's sudden actions, I stood frozen for a few seconds where I was before snapping out of my trance and walking to the library with my journal under my arm.

Passing by the reception desk of the Fryday free clinic, which was in its usual place, with a haughty smile, she pointed to her own cheek, silently indicating it was dirty from my kiss.

The day continued, and at the hospital, nothing changed aside from my daily study and practice session.

With Case and Tim during the night, having read the muscular man's notebook, I had many questions about the positions in which the techniques were performed. Case's attitude toward me had changed significantly over these days, almost matching the much friendlier attitude he had with Tim.

"Are you following your diet?" Case asked with his usual furrowed brow, looking at my bare torso seriously.

"Yes, I'm getting more used to it. At first, I felt like I was going to vomit," I responded, not showing the slight discomfort I felt under the muscular man's judgmental gaze.

"You're developing real muscles," Tim said from the floor, surprisingly flexible for a man his size.

"Yeah," Case agreed with Tim, "do fifty single-legs each," he ordered, starting his own training.

During the relatively short time I had been training with Case, I had learned many new terms I never thought I would learn. Every few days, Case had a new type of training for a new technique to learn, each with their respective names, some even in Brazilian Portuguese.

Following Case's instructions, we finished the training as we did every day, doing stretches that challenged my ligaments less and less each time.

"See you tomorrow," I said goodbye to Tim, who nodded kindly, on my way to his van, while I stayed behind to hand Case the new notebook he had asked for.

"Case," after knocking on the man's trailer door, I waited a few seconds.

"What?" Case asked upon opening the door.

"Here," I said, handing him a notebook like the one he had given me but completely new.

With the trailer door open, I could see several things Tim had once told me about: small flags from other countries, including Brazil, Thailand, and Japan, adorned a small space on a countertop inside the trailer.

Also, quickly, before Case moved to block my view, I could see photographs arranged under the flags, some of Case with other people wearing outfits similar to what I saw when I entered the martial arts kids' class, others where he was with people very different from how he is now, with a big smile on his face, and very few where Case wasn't present, old photographs.

"Same time tomorrow," unlike the photos inside the trailer, Case, with a furrowed brow obviously annoyed, said.

"Yeah," I said as calmly as I could.

Moving to the other side of the door frame, Case allowed me to see a small table in the center of his trailer with a chess game in progress.

I had never seen anyone here other than Tim. There were even days when I arrived before him, and despite that, I had never seen Tim enter the trailer, so the game was possibly just Case against himself.

"Do you play chess?" I asked, pointing at the table with my gaze.

Raising one of his eyebrows, Case stared at me for a few seconds before snorting and nodding, "it's a great game for strategy," he replied calmly.

"Would you like a game?" I asked.

Apart from being a great game for strategy, it was an interesting game for mathematics. Whenever I participated in math tournaments in my past life, I saw many other teenagers from other schools playing chess matches among themselves.

Thinking it was some kind of study strategy, I learned to play by reading dozens of books about it, never really having a chance to play against someone. In this life, I might have had a chance to play against Sheldon, but knowing the kid, he would use it to flaunt some kind of intellectual superiority, which I wasn't willing to experience against a nine-year-old, no matter how smart he is.

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"Wait here," snorting once more, Case closed the trailer door and reopened it moments later, "come inside," he ordered.

Entering behind Case, I could see what he had done in the few seconds he had closed the door—all the photographs that had been on display were now lying down to avoid being seen.

"Left or right," as I took a seat across from Case at his small table inside the trailer, he clenched his fists, giving me a choice.

"Left," I said, causing Case to open his hand, revealing a white pawn.

"Are you a foreigner?" after setting up the board, I moved my first piece and asked.

Frowning, if possible, even more, Case didn't respond, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

"The flags," pointing at the fabric flags inside his house, I said by way of explanation.

"I'm from Brooklyn," Case relaxed his face, stretching his hand to move his own piece.

"So, why are you in Medford?" I asked, surprised.

"That's just how life is, play," he ordered, furrowing his brow obviously changing the subject.

We continued playing in silence; surprisingly, Case took a short time to think about each move. It was, to some extent, relaxing.

"Why martial arts?" after a few developing moves on the board, I asked again, feeling confident with the position I was in.

Looking at the board for a few seconds, Case remained silent without responding, "checkmate in ten," standing up, Case said without answering my question, walking to the 'kitchen' of the trailer to pour himself a glass of water.

His statement took me by surprise; the game was practically textbook perfect, I hadn't made any very serious mistakes at any point, and I felt confident in the direction we were taking. Surely, all that confidence and calmness in developing my game as the books say had blinded me. After studying the position, I could see the muscular man's checkmate.

"You have to see at least five moves ahead of your opponent," leaving his empty glass on the countertop, Case said with what I could recognize as a self-satisfied smile as he opened the door, symbolically ushering me out of his house.

"This won't end here; I'll win tomorrow," jokingly, I said as I passed by the man as a farewell, leaving the trailer with my things in hand.

"Good luck with that," I managed to hear before the trailer door slammed shut.

Arriving home, as almost always since I had started training with Case, my family was getting ready for dinner.

The next day, as promised by Ms. Ingram, we had an algebra test, "as you all know, this test'll count for twenty-five percent of your final grade," as she handed out the test sheets, Ms. Ingram said, "be sure to show all your work," she continued, finishing handing out the sheets and standing at the front of the classroom in full view of everyone, "if you get stuck on a question, move on and come back to it at the end."

Walking to her desk, the teacher took a seat, apparently remembering something, she raised her head seriously, looking at everyone. "And I shouldn't have to say this, but if there's any cheating, I will see it," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I got eyes in the back of my head," she continued threateningly. "I got more eyes than a potato," she finished, sweeping her gaze over everyone in the classroom.

"Ms. Ingram," raising his hand straight up to his body, Sheldon said.

"Yeah, Sheldon," with disappointment on her face after giving a small sigh, Ms. Ingram nodded to him.

"I'm done," calmly said Sheldon, making me sigh slightly as I continued with my own work; it was really an easy test, obviously Sheldon would finish it in a few minutes.

"What?" incredulous, Ms. Ingram asked.

"I enjoyed it very much," assured Sheldon, "I'll take another if you have one," he continued with decorum.

"No, I don't have another one," still incredulous, Ms. Ingram denied the boy, causing Sheldon to lower his head slightly in disappointment, "just read ahead in the textbook."

"Oh, boy," excitedly, Sheldon said, quickly opening his backpack to take out his book.

A couple of minutes later, I had finished my own test, 'accidentally' leaving it aside on my desk, visible enough for Brock next to me, following the previous indication Ms. Ingram had given to Sheldon, I took out my own book from my backpack, one of the ones I had borrowed from the hospital library to study on my own.

At the end of the class, after we all handed in our tests at the teacher's desk, we left discussing the difficulty of the test, "you probably didn't realize, but your test was perfectly positioned for me to see it, but I promise I didn't copy it exactly the same," admitted Brock with what seemed to be a little regret.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, pretending to be surprised, making Alan chuckle amusedly beside me, "don't worry about that," I assured him, lightly tapping his shoulder.

"It's not fair," offended, Georgie said, "you're lucky to have chosen that seat, I had to do this," stopping and checking his surroundings in the hallway, Georgie lifted one of his legs, showing us the sole of his shoe, where many things were written.

"That's a good plan, wish I had thought of it," frustrated, David said, apparently being the one who did the worst of all of us.

Later that day at the hospital, word had spread about how my name appeared in an important article; apparently, Dr. Cuddy had boasted about it in some sort of meeting with the department heads.

"PJ!" as I walked through one of the hospital corridors after greeting many people and receiving their congratulations, I heard Mom's characteristic voice somewhat agitated apparently as she walked quickly through the hospital.

"Mom?" I asked as internally I berated myself for not thinking earlier about how to explain everything at the moment when obviously my family would find out.

"What's this about your name being in a journal article?" fortunately for me, Mom was cheerful as she reached my side, taking me by the arms with excitement, "I don't understand what it's about, but your name is there next to the hospital's name," I could feel her hands squeezing my arms with a surprising strength for a woman of her stature.

"Dr. House, as part of my studies, gave me contact with Dr. Thomas, and I only helped with small things; the doctor was very kind to include me," I said quickly.

"Oh PJ, I'm so proud, no matter how small what you did was, it's still impressive," releasing my arms for a few seconds to give me a quick hug, the woman said affectionately, "but," she continued, pulling away and, to my misfortune, taking my arms again in her strong grip, "why did I hear about this from Brenda in maternity and not from my own son?"

"I'm sorry, Mom, I think I saw it as some kind of assignment and didn't want, I don't know, to bore you with it," I said, failing to find a better excuse; I had really forgotten.

"Oh PJ, nothing you say would be boring to us, much less to me," softening her reaction, the pregnant woman completely believed my excuse.

After chatting a few more moments with Mom about the article before she had to return to her 'station' at work, I arrived at House's office where he, along with the other three doctors, was talking seriously about something until I entered the room.

"Uh, it got quiet when the teenager everyone in the hospital has been talking about enters the room; what could we be talking about?" sarcastically asked House from behind his desk.

"I don't think it has anything to do with a plan to kidnap the president, right?" I asked, imitating his sarcasm as I left my things, looking at the people in the room suspiciously.

"Okay, who told the kid?" annoyed, House raised his hands, "we said it was a secret," he continued, looking at the other doctors, less Chase, who were not amused.

"Congratulations, PJ, you must be the youngest person to appear in such an important medical article," getting to her feet amiably, Cameron said as she gave me a quick hug.

"That's not true, I'm pretty sure the Japanese during the second war did experiments with children younger than him and had to register it somewhere, right?" said House cynically.

"Don't listen to him; he's just jealous," Cameron continued before returning to her seat and making way for Case, who was also ready to congratulate me.

"Impressive work, mate," less professionally than Cameron, Chase lightly tapped my shoulder, smiling widely.

"Thanks," I sincerely said, grateful to both doctors, not expecting anything more from the others in the room.

"Congratulations," from his seat, still seated, Dr. Foreman surprisingly and, to my mistaken notice, nodded slightly.

"Oh no, not you," frustrated again, House said, "I thought I'd have you to take the kid down a notch." House continued, pointing at Dr. Foreman, and honestly, I thought the same. "Cuddy was jumping for joy, the nurses are swooning over him, Cameron is her usual nice self, and Chase, well, he's Chase," House listed with disdain, "but you, Foreman, you hate the kid," House finished in defeat.

"I don't hate him," Dr. Foreman quickly and embarrassedly defended himself, "it's just that I used to think you were making a big mistake allowing him to be here," he continued, pointing at House.

"Well, thanks," I said at his change of heart.

"Stop it, no more congratulations," raising his hand in desperation, House said, silencing Dr. Foreman, "just look at what you've achieved, that arrogant smile," House continued, pointing at me.

"It's just you, House," suddenly entering through the office door, Dr. Wilson said, "PJ deserves the congratulations; not everyone has to be miserable geniuses." Arriving next to me and putting his hand on my shoulder, the doctor continued, "You too, of course," defeatedly House said with his head down.

"Congratulations, PJ, I read the article, it's amazing," with Dr. Wilson's characteristic kindness, the man said, offering a handshake.

"Thanks, but it was all the work of Dr. Thomas and Dr. Murray; I just helped a little at the end," I said.

"Don't be modest; it's a great achievement to be credited in an article like that," smiling, Dr. Wilson said.

"Modest," spitting out the word, House said as he stood up, "come on, kid, I heard they need hands for rectal exams; I'm going to teach you how to do one properly," walking out of the office, House continued.

"Don't let his attitude drag you down, PJ," snorting, Dr. Wilson said, "you can be proud of what you achieved; not many people can say they're involved in such an impressive article, let alone someone your age."

"Yeah, I'm pretty proud, thanks, doctor," shaking hands with Dr. Wilson again, I quietly said goodbye to the other doctors in the office, leaving behind House.

Having me wear a lab coat with his name on it, House forced me to perform several rectal exams; it was certainly humiliating to an extreme, but I couldn't imagine how humiliating it would be for the patient to find out that I was the one doing it, added to the fact that House, throughout the entirety of the exams, was just in one of the corners playing on his handheld console at a high volume.

After the psychological 'punishment' that House applied to me for receiving congratulations in the hospital, presumably to somehow prevent the idea of receiving attention from getting to my head, I went to my training with Case after washing my hands several times.

"You're late," with his seemingly ever-present furrowed brow, Case said as he helped Tim practice his punches.

"Sorry, had my fingers in someone's rectum," quickly changing my clothes, I stretched for a few seconds before starting my regular training.

"I've never heard that excuse in my life," Case said, bewildered, "but good for you, I guess."

"Yeah," a bit out of breath, Tim cheerfully said, "good for you."

"Yeah," I replied, starting to kick one of the punching bags that Case had surely built himself.

Like other days, Case had prepared what he was going to teach me; he wasn't a very friendly person, but at least he was a dedicated teacher.

"Now, with your opponent on the ground, you have to control their head and arms," said Case beside me as he instructed me on how to move; it was Tim's turn to serve as a test dummy, "hips down," he ordered, pushing my back with his foot.

"Good," said Case dryly, "you're in the north-south position right now; you're in control. You can navigate around Tim's defenses and, using pressure and your weight correctly, position yourself wherever you want to do whatever you want," he continued, walking calmly around us, "move."

After getting off Tim, Case calmly positioned himself on top of him in the same spot where I had been, "from here, you have several options; if you feel this elbow coming out a bit, you can pass your arm underneath and, using your weight, lay back, applying pressure on his shoulder, like this," he said, demonstrating, causing Tim to tap out a few seconds later.

"I got it," I said, kneeling back down, ready.

Like that, Case had Tim and me switch positions, applying different locks to each other and showing us how to escape from them or how to apply them to prevent it from being easy to escape from them.

"Do you want to play?" After all the training and saying goodbye to Tim, I asked Case, who surprisingly hadn't gone back to his trailer right away.

"Yeah," Case responded seriously, indicating with his head that I should follow him, "wait here," pointing to a small table with two chairs outside his trailer, Case ordered.

This wasn't here before, taking one of the chairs, I sat down, waiting for Case to come out with the board and pieces.

"Your turn with the black pieces," putting the game on the table, Case said.

"All right," I responded, arranging the pieces, "any reason we're not inside the trailer?" I asked as Case finished setting up his own pieces to move one of his central pawns.

"You're coming from having your fingers in someone's 'rectum'; I don't want you to get the wrong idea," joking lightly, Case said.

"Ah, so you don't mind if I ask you questions about your life; I'm glad, yesterday I noticed some discomfort from you when answering my questions," I said with false relief, realizing that it made the man uncomfortable for someone to inquire about his life.

"You're funny," with an extremely furrowed brow and without smiling, the frankly very intimidating man said, making me immediately regret my jokes; I've probably been around House for too long.

During our chess game, which Case won again, he hardly responded to any of my questions, causing me to stop talking altogether to focus on the game.

"It was a good game; you still need to learn to think a few moves ahead," Case said, taking the pieces to put them away.

The next day was the delivery of graded exams by Mrs. Ingram. Sheldon, who was the only one to volunteer, was distributing the papers, giving comments to each person before moving on to the next. "Surprisingly average work, a B plus," Sheldon said, handing Brock's exam to me.

"As expected, an A plus," Sheldon handed me my own exam, nodding slightly, much more formal than any child should be. "Thank you, sir," I mimicked his formality, inclining my head before he moved on to the next classmate until the last one.

The day continued like the previous one, with House, feeling that rectal exams weren't humiliating enough those days, forcing me as a "lesson" to assist in cleaning infected wounds in the emergency room.

With Case, it was more of the same, physical and technique training before a game, this time a bit longer than before. My focus was entirely on trying to predict Case's next moves before and after each of mine, which unfortunately didn't lead to success, resulting in another defeat.

"You're thinking too much," was all Case had to offer as a farewell before entering his trailer.

"Yeah, or not enough," I said to no one before walking to my car.

The next day, during lunch, I went to the library on my own to see if there were any useful books on chess. "Hello, Miss Hutchins, did you do something different with your hair?" I asked, resting my arms on the librarian's desk with a friendly smile.

"Oh, PJ, yes, I did actually, thank you for noticing, you've been the only one today," she immediately put aside what she was doing with a big smile.

"It looks great; I noticed right away," I said, I noticed more than just her hair, I observed things like the faint smell of bad breath masked by gum, a slight swelling in her eyelids, a rash on her neck, and a tiny Tupperware with an unappetizing salad. Miss Hutchins was, among other things, trying to lose weight, even taking medication for it.

"You're very kind, PJ," she said with a big smile. "If only you were a few years older," she added in a murmured tone that I managed to hear.

"It's nothing. I was looking for chess books," I said a little uncomfortable, ignoring her comment.

"Oh, of course, over there," the librarian pointed in a direction inside the library.

"Thank you, Miss Hutchins," tapping the desk lightly, I said, preparing to leave.

"I told you, PJ, call me Sheryl," she said as she walked in the direction she had given me.

Yeah, no.

At one of the tables in the library, and by a few bookshelves where I found a few chess books, Sheldon and Tam were sitting, eating their lunch quietly.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" with two books under my arm, I approached the kids, greeting Tam for the first time.

"Oh, PJ Duncan, my friend, I see you're interested in chess," Tam said, pointing to the books under my arm in his usual strange way of referring to me.

"Uh, I love those books, good choice, PJ," Sheldon added. "And to answer your question, the library is usually empty at lunchtime, so it's a quiet place to enjoy your meal," the boy continued.

"You're right," taking a seat in one of the free chairs, I said after 'listening' to the silence for a few seconds. "What's this?" picking up a sheet of paper from the table, I asked.

"Dear Coach Wilkins, please excuse my son, Sheldon, from P.E.," I read before Sheldon could take the note from my hands, "he has experienced a testicular hernia and needs to rest for the next six to eight weeks," I continued, "uh, that sounds bad," I said, amused by the worried look on my little friend's face. "Sincerely, Mary Cooper," I finished reading the obviously fake note.

"I didn't know you'd experienced a testicular hernia, buddy. I'm so sorry," I said, avoiding laughing at Sheldon's change of expression, from concern to extreme relief when he saw that his fake note had managed to fool me.

"I hope you get better," tapping Sheldon's shoulder lightly, I said. "Tam, always a pleasure," I continued, saying goodbye to the Vietnamese boy, who cheerfully returned the gesture as he walked towards Miss Hutchins's desk.

"By the way, Sheldon, fold your fake note," I said, enjoying the surprise on the boy's face, "when your mom 'gives' you a note, you always fold it before putting it in your backpack; that way, it's more believable," I finished smiling at the startled boy before turning back to Miss Hutchins.

The days passed with my routine unchanged. On Saturday, as promised to Gabe, we went to the monster truck show with Bob; it was a spectacular show, and everyone, especially Gabe, enjoyed it to the fullest.

When Monday came around at lunchtime, I went to the library again to return the books after a short chat with Miss Hutchins. Also, inside the library, I found Sheldon, this time by himself, pushing a small cart full of books while arranging them with a big smile.

The week went by, and the weekend arrived. Early Saturday morning, after my usual Saturday morning routine, the doorbell rang. As I usually do after exercising, I watched TV with Gabe for a while before doing other things, so I was the closest to the door.

"Tam," I said, surprised to find the Vietnamese boy with Sheldon and Billy Sparks.

"Hello, PJ. Tam will show us a board game, and we were wondering if you wanted to join," Sheldon said with his usual formality when speaking.

"I'm Billy," Billy Sparks said with his ever-present innocent smile.

"I know, Billy," I said, always surprised by the obvious cognitive issues the boy had. "Yeah, sure. Hey, Gabe, let's play. Come over," I continued, not giving my brother a chance to refuse.

In the Cooper's garage, Tam explained the rules of his board game, Dungeons and Dragons. It had dozens of rules, as the book Tam had said, but the simplest ones to play a game were summarized by the Vietnamese boy.

The game wasn't entirely simple, but once we played for a few minutes, it was easy to get used to it. The funny thing about the situation was that apparently, the game relied entirely on the players' imagination. While Tam acted as the story generator, the "dungeon master," the rest of us had almost absolute freedom to do whatever we wanted, as long as it was within the rules established by Tam and Sheldon at the beginning of the game.

"You walk down a hallway and come to a wooden chest," Tam, doing his job, was narrating what was happening with the darkest voice the boy could muster.

"Mister Cure-ious mender, what do you do?" Tam asked me, using the name I had chosen for my character, a cleric.

"I want to use the spell to search for traps," I said, making Tam nod, allowing me to roll a die that belonged to him. "Another twenty," surprised by the result, the Vietnamese boy said. I had managed to roll several "natural twenties," as Tam had called them, during our game. "Ultimately, there are no traps in the chest beyond a tiny splinter that someone could get if they touched it carelessly," Tam continued, inventing funny things.

"That's dangerous," worried Sheldon said.

"Fire Beak, what do you do?" the next one after me was Billy, who, I was sure, didn't understand what was happening the whole time we were here.

"Billy?" After a moment of Billy not reacting to the mention of his character's name, Tam spoke again.

"What?" Intrigued but still with his innocent smile, he asked.

"You are Fire Beak," Tam reminded him, being the third time he had to do so throughout the game.

"Okay," Billy said, smiling even more.

"So what do you do?" Tam asked again.

"I'm Fire Beak," proudly stated Billy. There was definitely something off about this kid.

"Hey guys," entering through the garage door, Mrs. Cooper, with a tray full of cookies, said, smiling, "I brought snacks." Placing the tray on the table, she continued.

"Thanks, Mom," Sheldon said, taking one of the cookies.

"What are y'all playing, Chutes and Ladders?" Seeing the small figurines on the table, Mrs. Cooper, in what I could discern as concern, asked.

"Tam is teaching us Dungeons and Dragons," Sheldon said formally. "We're on a quest to find the pitchfork of a devil named Baalzebul," he explained.

"I'm Fire Beak," added Billy.

"And is this the devil?" Mrs. Cooper asked again, taking the small figurine from the table, her growing concern becoming more obvious.

Clearly, the religious woman was having a silent panic attack.

"No, he's just a monster who doesn't wear pants," Tam calmly explained with a friendly smile. Yeah, that doesn't help.

"I see," Mrs. Cooper said slowly as she placed the figurine back on the table. "Yes, he's just hanging right out there, isn't he?" she asked, still keeping her gaze fixed on the figurine.

"Mrs. Cooper, in one way or another, we're playing a game where we join forces to fight against evil, in this case, a demon. I can't think of anything more Christian than that," I said, trying to ease the panic the woman was experiencing.

"Well, not really, this isn't Christian at all. Your character would be considered pagan by Christian standards; Billy's character uses magical powers, and historically, magic and Christianity don't get along very well," Sheldon said, throwing my little effort in the trash.

"Okay, well," elongating her words, Mrs. Cooper began to walk robotically out of the garage, "you kids have fun," she said before completely leaving.

"Great," I said, shaking my head slightly. I was sure the game would end in a few moments.

"What?" Sheldon asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, you'll find out very..." I was saying, but Mrs. Cooper's voice interrupted me. "George!" from inside her house, the woman shouted loudly, "soon," I finished.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Cooper, closely followed by her husband Mr. Cooper, interrupted our game, borrowing everything Tam had brought with him.

On Monday, when I returned home, Bob, as at the beginning of every month, was waiting with several sheets in front of him on the living room table.

"Champ!" excitedly, Bob said, indicating that I should come closer. "You know I don't understand all this very well, just the total, it grew again," taking one of the sheets from the pile, Bob said, pointing to a number he had previously marked.

"It's a little more than double," I said, having added up the totals mentally.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to withdraw something?" Bob asked nervously, surely thinking about the total amount of money on his own. Every time we received correspondence from Warren regarding the growth of my portfolio, Bob always had the same problem. Upon seeing that there was indeed growth, the man would panic, thinking it might go down, which could be true if it were any other investment, but in this case, it wasn't.

"No, Dad, everything has to stay for at least a few more years. In fact, if I get more money, I'd like to invest that too," for the third time since we received this correspondence, I reassured the man, who nodded slightly before carefully putting the papers away in a box.

The week passed without any issues. The next game of the season occurred as usual on Thursday, where without Sheldon's plays, it ended in a rather wide defeat for us. Our major problem was the defensive line, which was almost always leaky. Unfortunately, part of that problem was Georgie, who seemed increasingly physically overwhelmed by our opponents.

The weekend, the Coopers organized a barbecue to watch a game. Helping Bob carry his cooler, we arrived at the Cooper's house where everything was already set up in the backyard.

"Aces, tell me you have alcohol there," from the table in the backyard, Meemaw, with a soda in her hand, exclaimed in desperation.

"Here you go, Meemaw," I said, handing her a beer.

"Hello, PJ," next to the old lady, Sheldon, with a large book, greeted me formally.

"Sheldon," as always, mimicking his formality, I greeted the boy, taking a soda for myself.

"I was wondering if you were interested in joining my religion, Mathology. It's based on a universal binary system," the boy calmly said.

"Sure, why not," sitting down next to Gabe, who was reading one of his comics, I replied, amused.

"Perfect, that makes two congregants," excitedly nodded Sheldon.

"Tell me, does your religion celebrate anything? Christmas, for example," I asked, smiling at Meemaw, who was also amused by my interaction with her grandson.

"Of course, we have celebrations, March fourteenth, for example," Sheldon said obviously.

"What's that?" Not recognizing the date, Meemaw asked.

"Three point fourteen, pi," I explained, quickly understanding what the boy meant.

"Correct," nodding happily, Sheldon said.

"Speaking of Christmas," as Mrs. Cooper set plates on the table with different foods before the barbecue was fully ready, Meemaw said, catching her attention, "I invited Merle and his family for this Christmas," with a big smile, the woman said.

"Uncle Merle is coming; it'll be an incredible change for them, going from the icy weather of Minnesota to the heat of Texas," smiling, Mrs. Cooper said.

"Oh, yes, but they're already used to change, ever since you-know-who..." Meemaw said, making strange facial expressions as she moved her body.

"Then it's real?" Surprised, Mrs. Cooper asked, "I always thought he was a bit strange, but I thought that working on the farm, you know, man's work, would cure him..." embarrassed, the religious woman continued, "may the Lord forgive him," looking up to the sky, she finished.

The meal with the Coopers, as well as the game, were very interesting. Both Bob and Mr. Cooper performed their duties at the grill, making burgers non-stop for hours, while drinking beer and watching the game. Surprisingly, Sheldon and Gabe started chatting on their own about the comics each one had, and Missy and Teddy, separated from everyone else, shared secrets by whispering to each other.

The days passed, and during the following week at the Cooper's house, something had happened. Mrs. Cooper, along with her younger children and a large suitcase, on Monday night when I returned from my training, headed towards Meemaw's house.

Georgie at school didn't bring his usual lunch, causing the teenager to have to collect from others.

On Wednesday of that week, the Nobel Prize ceremony would take place. Despite knowing very well who would receive the prize, I stayed up until the early hours of the morning to listen to the broadcast on Bob's radio.

The winners of the Nobel Prize in Medicine, as in my past life, had not changed. Doctors Thomas and Murray gave a brief speech in which they thanked all the important people in their lives and those who had made the research of the article possible.

The procedure was something that would help thousands of people around the world over time, and I was extremely proud to be at least a part of it.

"Did he win?" Surprising me from behind, Mom in her robe with tiredness on her face asked.

"Yes, he won," I said, smiling happily.

"Oh, PJ, congratulations," walking over to the couch, Mom said as she hugged my neck.

"Thank you," I said, even though I hadn't won it.

At school, obviously no one, beyond Sheldon, who apparently had also listened to the awards, knew that the Nobel Prizes had even been awarded. The boy had mainly listened for the Physics prize, but out of respect, he had listened to the others too.

When I arrived at the hospital, it seemed that nothing had changed. The nurses, with their usual joy at seeing me, greeted me when I arrived.

In House's office, only he was sitting there with a furrowed brow. "If you let it get to your head, I'll make your life hell," he said annoyed when I entered.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I said, downplaying the issue, "I understand that my participation was almost nil. You don't have to worry about it getting to my head at all," I said, getting my things ready to leave. "Wait," House said, pulling an envelope out of his coat, open.

"So, are you going to keep reading my mail? I remember your excuse was that it was addressed to you; this one isn't," I said, showing my name on the front of the envelope.

"Would you believe me if I said it arrived like that?" House asked.

"No," I replied, taking out the contents of the envelope, a letter from Doctor Thomas.

In the letter, he thanked me again for my contribution to the research. "Also, my dear teenage friend, you are cordially invited to a party my friends and family will make. Attached to the letter are your plane tickets. See you this Friday at Logan International Airport," I read raising my voice, glancing sideways at House, who was playing with a ball, ignoring my gaze.

"What?" he asked with obvious feigned innocence.

---

Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American and not a doctor.

9k words, see you later :D.

With that said,

I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thank you for reading! :D

PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.