Four days after House crashed his car into Cuddy's dining room, Wilson finally heard from him. No name appeared on Wilson's cell phone as he picked it up, and an unfamiliar number showed up, with an area code that Wilson couldn't readily identify.
"Hello," Wilson said.
"It's me," House replied.
The shock of hearing House's voice made Wilson momentarily mute, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. He finally regained his composure.
"God, House! Where are you?"
"That doesn't really matter, and you're probably better off if I don't tell you the details about where I've been. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be back soon. I'm on a flight tonight."
"You're in huge trouble. You know that, right?"
"Of course. I've had a few days to cool down, and now I'm coming home to face the music. I'm turning myself in as soon as I get back. Whatever they throw at me, I know I deserve it."
"You're lucky no one was badly hurt."
"About that, Wilson – how's the arm?"
"You noticed my arm? I thought you were in some kind of zone at that moment, where nothing was registering."
"I was pretty out of it at first, but I started remembering all the details a while later, and, subconsciously, I guess, yeah - I noticed that you'd hurt your arm."
"It was just a wrist sprain. I'll be okay."
"I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt."
"I know. Even in the middle of your rage, you had the presence of mind to tell me to get out of the car."
"I didn't really know what I'd do when I said that; I just knew that you shouldn't be a part of it."
"Can I ask you one thing, House?"
"Yeah."
"Why'd you do it?"
"If I could answer that, Wilson, I probably wouldn't have done it. I just snapped. I needed to let it out somehow, to do something, anything, to show her just how much she'd hurt me."
"But you weren't trying to physically hurt her, were you?"
"No. I could see the front room was empty as I drove up. But I wanted to shock her, that's for sure."
"Then you succeeded. She's certainly shocked."
"How are she and Rachel doing?"
"Well, luckily, Rachel hasn't seen the house at all. She was staying with Arlene that night and Cuddy won't let her go back there. They've moved in with Arlene while the house is being repaired. But I don't think she'll be staying in Princeton, House."
"What do you mean?"
"She told me she feels like she can't ever move back into that house – too many bad memories. After it's fixed, she'll probably put it on the market, and she may move away from Princeton entirely."
"You mean leave the hospital?"
"Yeah. She has contacts in New York, and may apply for a position at Mercy or Mount Sinai."
"Wow."
There was a prolonged silence, as Wilson waited for House to say something else.
"House? You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. Guess I can't blame her. I knew, of course, that what I did was the absolute end of anything between us, friendship or otherwise, but I didn't think she'd change her whole life because of it."
"Actually, she told me that she doesn't think she wants the pressure of the dean's job anymore. She wants to go back to being an endocrinologist and find a way to spend more time with Rachel."
"And what about you?" House asked.
"What about me?"
"Have I screwed things up so much that it's the absolute end for us, too?"
"No, House. I don't think so."
"You can really forgive me?"
"If you take responsibility for what you did and try to redeem yourself, then, yeah, I think I can, eventually. I get it, you know? Despite how crazy it was, I do understand, a little bit at least, how you felt. You saw her through the window, didn't you, when you walked up to the house - on a double date with Julia and her husband?"
"Yeah."
"And something happened earlier, didn't it, when you two had lunch?"
"Yeah, something happened. I don't really wanna talk about it right now."
"Okay. There's plenty of time for that. When does your flight get in?"
"Two a.m. Why?"
"I'll pick you up at the airport."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You don't need to do that."
"I know, but I'm doing it."
"And will you visit me in jail, for however long I wind up staying there?"
"Yeah."
"I don't deserve you, Wilson."
"I know. But you're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere, House."
"I'm a lucky guy."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that, especially now, in the fix you're in."
"I'm alive, Wilson. And I didn't kill anyone. And you're still my friend. All three of those things are pretty miraculous."
"Thought you didn't believe in miracles."
"I don't. But people do amaze me sometimes. You amaze me."
"I'll see you later. Two a.m. – at Newark, right?"
"Yeah. Newark. Continental Flight 505. Thanks, Wilson. Thanks for everything."
"You're welcome. I'm glad you called, House, and I'm glad you're coming home. You'll get through this. I'll help you get through it."
"Thanks again. Bye."
"Bye, House. See you soon."
Wilson stared at the phone in his hand for a long moment. His best friend was going to jail, for a serious crime, for who knew how long, but all the same he felt a great sense of relief after the conversation they'd just had. House was still House, and, whatever was to come, Wilson was grateful that their long saga wasn't over, that there was still a chance to be there for each other and to forgive. He had a fleeting thought of Amber, and of lost opportunities. Life was too short to give up on someone who'd meant so much to him.