"Shabbat Shalom, Wilson."

"Shabbat Shalom, House."

Wilson, shivering in his shirtsleeves in the frigid February air, turned around and walked back into the hospital lobby, as House turned to go home. House couldn't help chuckling at the whole situation, and his standard catch phrases ran through his mind. "Everybody lies." "People don't change." He was still convinced these axioms were true, for the most part, but recent events had him just a bit flummoxed. Had Amber indeed changed, valuing a budding relationship with Wilson more than the prized fellowship she'd tried so hard to land? Or was she just messing with both of them, as revenge for being sacked? Had his patient really morphed from a drug-using music producer into a devout Hasidic wife? He wasn't entirely convinced, but there was certainly something going on that didn't conform to his usual world view.

Then other pieces of conversation drifted through his thoughts. Cuddy telling him "You'll never lose your friend, House. You're the long-distance runner of neediness." Wilson asking him incredulously, "Are you being self-sacrificing?" Amber staring at the whiteboard and offering a plausible diagnosis even after choosing Wilson over the job. His own words to Cuddy when she told him to pick 13 over Amber because she's "the one that gives a crap about people," and he'd replied, "They both do."

Truth be told, he sort of liked Amber, and could see why Wilson would find her attractive. Yes, she could be a bitch, and annoying as hell, but he couldn't deny either her smarts or her guts. She'd had her share of epiphanies while working for him, and was willing to do whatever it took to figure things out. Not wanting to admit she'd been wrong had been her downfall, in his opinion, but he understood that too. He hated to be wrong himself, and his biggest frustration in life, apart from the constant frustration of his physical limitations, was when his mind refused to easily make the leap and he struggled, like every other mere mortal, to deduce the right answer.

So, what was the right answer about Wilson, and about Amber? He still had his doubts about her. But for now, at least, he owed her the benefit of the doubt -- after all, she'd saved his life. Yeah, sure, she had no choice, but he'd trusted her enough to rely on her to do it, when he could've paged any of the others instead. About Wilson, though, there were no doubts. House knew Cuddy was right. He supposed he'd known it all along, but it took Cuddy to remind him. He never needed to worry about whether Wilson was dating, who he was dating, or even if he someday decided to give marriage a fourth try. None of it mattered. As House had just told Wilson, he didn't "sacrifice self." It was no sacrifice to let Wilson and Amber be, as he knew Wilson wasn't going anywhere.

Wilson was the brother he'd never had, the soul mate who couldn't be driven away no matter what abuse House threw at him. Of this, he was sure. More memories flooded back. Wilson by his bedside, how many times now? After the infarction, after the shooting, after the electrocution -- just sitting and patiently waiting for House to open his eyes, for the inevitable silent glares and the eventual grudging appreciation. Wilson giving him rides when he couldn't drive; cleaning his apartment, doing laundry, and keeping his fridge stocked after Stacy left the first time. Wilson badgering him to "get his sorry ass" to PT, urging him to return to work, goading him into hiring fellows, tricking him into taking cases. Wilson laughing with him and drinking with him and providing that witty, sarcastic conversation that only he could offer. Wilson, just always there. House realized, on some gut level, that he trusted implicitly in Wilson's friendship.

So, maybe change was still unlikely, but this much he could do. He could allow Wilson whatever joy Amber might bring him. House knew beyond a doubt that "You can't always get what you want." Life had proven it to him over and over. But, "if you try sometimes"... He needed Wilson, and the small amount of trying it took to keep him around was really no sacrifice at all.