Title: Unbroken

Author: Indigo Night

Feedback: Yes please

Summary: House is tired, but remembers why it's worth it.

Disclaimer: I do not own House or the characters.

Spoilers: For the rest of the Contractverse stories.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied wumpage.

Author's Note: Set in the Contract verse, if you have not read at least the original then you will have no idea what's going on at all, started by the ingenious DIY Sheep. Thank you so much for building this little playground and letting us use your toys. Just a little tidbit set during House's imprisonment. Hopefully I'll be coming out with some more contributions to this delightful verse soon. Read, Review,

ENJOY!

House knew it was just a dream before he'd even opened his eyes. But it was a nice dream.

The first tip off was the sun, hot and strong beating down on him. The very slightest of breezes ghosted over his moist skin, the red glare shining through his eyelids. Not too far off he heard the gentle lapping of water. Swimming pool, he thought, not loud or consistent enough to be the ocean, and too loud for anything else.

The second big tip off was the pain, the total lack of it that is. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been completely without pain. He cracked one eye open, looking down and sure enough, there was his body, complete and whole as it had been, before Thompson, even before the infarction. Well, no sense in pretending half only half way, he supposed.

"I'm hallucinating," he observed. He'd only meant to think it, but apparently it'd come out loud because he got a response.

"Yes, you are." Wilson's voice agreed.

Startled he opened his eyes again and looked toward the voice. There Wilson was, lounging in a deck chair next to him, looking relaxed and content with one arm tucked behind his head and his legs stretched out in from of him, head rolled to the side toward House, a lazy smile on his lips.

House had seen his best friend before in various states of undress, for various reasons, but this was new. Wilson was wearing swimming trunks, and nothing else. Admittedly, a middle aged, mildly pudgy oncologist would not normally have been House's first chose if given one as to who he wanted to see in a bathing suit. But this was not 'normally', and for all House generally hated clichés, Wilson was a sight for sore eyes, love handles and all.

Taking a look at his surroundings, it turned out his initial guess about the pool was correct. Beyond that there actually wasn't that much to look at. Basic deck, pool, lounge chairs, Wilson and himself, a big bright clear sky, and warm sun. Then he heard it, a happy, playful, female shriek.

His eyes were instantly riveted to the source of the sound. She was beautiful, as beautiful as he remembered. A pale blue bikini displaying her trim body in a way that ordinarily would have had House leering and making inappropriate comments for months, Allison Cameron was laughing, her head thrown back so that the sun glimmered off of her blonde highlights and her bright green eyes sparkled, crinkled up in the corners with mirth.

Chase and Foreman were there too, also in swim trunks. They'd just scooped Cameron up, likely having snuck up and taken her by surprise, and were currently threatening to dump her in the pool. They were laughing too.

Cameron landed in the pool with a massive splash and came back up spluttering. The boys were nearly choking on their chuckles, which wasn't helped at all when she immediately began threatening bloody revenge. Predictably Chase caved first, apologizing and offering her his hand.

She accepted it, but instead of allowing him to help her out, with a wicked glint in her eye, yanked him in with her. Foreman dove in to join them, and they all started splashing each other.

"Hey!" protested another voice good naturedly. Cuddy was by the edge of the pool, long perfectly shaped legs kicking absently in the water, leaning back on her elbows and shielding her face from the errant bursts of water. She too was wearing a bikini. This was turning out to be a fantastic dream after all.

Surrounded by all this happiness and light, things he'd all but forgotten, House felt oddly choked up. Here they all were, his family, laughing, alive. For some reason it was almost physically painful to witness.

"Am I dead?" he asked no one in particular. He'd never believed in an afterlife, but maybe it was time to start. Maybe they were all dead, maybe this was it. It wouldn't be so bad, he supposed, to spend eternity like this. Although he wouldn't have minded the seventy-two virgins.

Oh, who was kidding? A thousand virgins wouldn't have been as good as this. After years (?, he had no idea how long it'd been) of darkness and pain and torment, and nothing to look forward to but more darkness and pain and torment, he would give anything to be able to lay here in this chair and watch all those he cared about (because he did care about them, all of them, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud) be happy forever.

"No." It was Wilson's voice that again answered him, breaking through his musings, "This is just a dream."

In spite of himself House's heart sank. So it wasn't over, the pain and the fear, he'd have to go back to it. He wasn't allowed to die, ever.

But he pushed those thoughts away, clinging to the light for a little while longer. He might as well enjoy the reprieve while he could. He watched as the kids frolicked in the water, as Cuddy lazily sunned herself, Wilson rested eyes closed. He let the contentment and peace wash over him, soothing his aching and broken soul. He didn't have the strength to face reality again, not yet.

He didn't know how much time had passed, of course time probably didn't exist here, as the chorus of cheerful voices and laughter lulled him into a drowsy state (weird, being drowsy in a dream). But slowly, against his will, his mind started to work again. The damn thing just couldn't shut up.

"Why this?" He wondered aloud, "Of all the fantasies to escape into, why here? Why like this?"

Wilson rolled his head toward him, eyes opening to give him a look as though asking why he even felt the need to ask such a silly question. But Wilson didn't answer right away. Instead he watched the kids try to tease Cuddy into joining them for a game of water volley ball.

"Because," he said at last, speaking slowly as though carefully formulating his words before he said them, "You need to remember it's worth it. Why you're doing all this."

House nodded slowly, that made sense.

"You gave us this," Wilson continued, "Life, the chance to be happy."

"Not Cameron," he pointed out dully, even as he worked to commit the brightness of her smile and the music of her laugh deeper into his memory.

"True," the oncologist admitted, "But you tried. And you want her death to mean something. Giving up now would mean that not only was her death pointless, but also everything else you've been through too."

House sighed. There was no lying when talking to your own subconscious. Vaguely he tried to remember if the real Wilson had been this insightful.

"Guess I really do have to go back then," he said sadly.

Wilson nodded, looking apologetic."Just don't forget," he said, and his voice was sincere, his big brown eyes oozing exactly the deep caring the House used to mock him for, but at the moment found comforting, "We're with you. Out there somewhere, we're all behind you. We believe in you."

House wondered if that was actually true.

*V*V*V*

The next day when the guards enter the cell of prisoner 507, to their surprise the normally cowed, beaten, shell of a man was not huddled in the corner tugging uselessly at his chains, nor did he immediately make a desperate and ultimately doomed attempt to scramble to his feet.

Instead he was sprawled lazily on the floor, or at least as much as someone chained as he was could. When they entered he opened his eyes slowly, and a vague, inane smile spread across his lips. It was not a real smile; there was not even the faintest trace of genuine happiness there. No, it was the slow smirk of a man who knew he was right and wasn't going to let anyone change his mind.

At least for a little while longer Gregory House remained unbroken.