House's hand hesitated on the restaurant door. Did he really want to do this -- enter and approach Cameron, Chase and Foreman, chatting at their table? Would they even want to see him after what he'd pulled, what he'd put them through? A woman was waiting impatiently to exit on the other side of the door, and the decision was made for him. He walked into the room and Chase immediately spotted him, looking incredulous for a moment and then waving over to House. House approached the table slowly and Cameron and Foreman shot him glances similar to the one Chase had been unable to hide.
Cameron spoke first, a curt "What're you doing here?"
House, ignoring her tone, just said "Shove over" and planted himself in the circular booth, his eyes scanning the room instead of meeting the glares of his team. Grabbing a menu on the ledge behind the booth, he asked "Anything edible in this dive?"
Foreman clucked derisively. "If you're here to apologize, House, you can just forget it."
"Apologize? Well, actually, yeah – I thought something like that might be in order."
Chase finally chimed in, "You put us through hell – you know that, right?"
"Yeah, about that. Look, I really just wanted to tell you guys that I was impressed by how hard you worked to figure out that case. 'Luke N. Laura' and his clan will be eternally grateful. Although, I must say, that sleep-deprivation look isn't very flattering to any of you."
"That's supposed to be an apology?" Foreman sneered.
"Well, in a manner of speaking," House replied.
Cameron said, "Look, we knocked ourselves out to help you, not some anonymous patient we've never met."
Chase then asked, "Can you explain any of this so it'll make sense to us? The Boston trial – it wasn't really just for a high, was it?"
House's face went blank, and he simply said, "I had my reasons. You don't need the details."
"Actually, yes, we do. If you want us to forgive you, we do," Chase said. "Was it about pain relief?"
House looked at him, recalling the tears and the hug, and knowing Chase deserved something more from him. But he wasn't willing to go that far, not here, in a public place, with Foreman and Cameron shooting their accusing glares at him. House finally said, "I'd rather not talk about it. But I am sorry. I never intended for any of you to know about it or get freaked out. Let's just eat and talk about something else, okay?"
Cameron and Chase looked at each other and shrugged, as Foreman's eyes bored into House's. They knew it was time to drop it, but were still curious and unsatisfied.
A waitress approached, and House ordered a burger and a beer. When he turned back to his team, he sensed they were still peeved, but maybe a notch less. Maybe they'd realize he really was sorry without further comment. Why was it always so hard to make himself understood and still maintain his privacy?
Unexpectedly, Foreman bailed him out. "What do you think of the pianist in here, House? He's obviously not up to Patrick's level, or maybe even yours, but he seems pretty good."
House considered the jazz stylings wafting through the room, and nodded his head. "Yeah, he's not bad. Not bad at all."
"Maybe they'd let you take over for a while," Foreman suggested.
"Nah. I've had enough reminders of my musical limitations in the last few days. I really just want to hang with you guys." His sheepish smile appeared, and for the moment, at least, there was a palpable thaw in the cold war. Wilson's words came back to House. Yeah, start small. It wasn't impossible.