Stacy slowly wheeled House out of the elevator. His face set and his blue eyes piercing. Once at the doors, he held out his hand and grabbed the crutches from one of the nurses.
"Greg, I don't think that's a great idea." Stacy said.
"Let me try," He muttered. He held the crutches under his arms and tried standing up. Wilson was behind him suddenly in almost a protective manner. Carefully, House leaned on the metal and attempted to stand firmly. Stacy watched, terrified. House moved forward, just a baby step. There was a crippling sharp pain that shot through his entire right side and he staggered slightly. Stacy moved forward in vain to try and catch him. House, as determined as ever, took another step. It didn't work and he collapsed onto the floor.
"Ouch," He said, sounding pissed off. Wilson sighed and helped his friend up back into the chair.
"You'll get there, one day." He said.
"Don't patronize me," House spat. "I know I'll get there, I don't need the stupid encouragement."
"Greg, he's just trying to help you." Stacy said.
"I don't need any help," House shouted.
Stacy backed off for a moment. Fury flared up on her face.
"Fine," She said. "Fine," She picked up her purse from the back of House's wheelchair. "If you don't need any help then fine, you're not getting any."
She turned on her heel and marched away from him. House looked away.
Wilson stood there speechless. "Do you need somewhere to stay for the night?" He asked, nodding toward the descending sun just behind the glass.
House looked up at his friend. "Will your Bonnie mind?"
"I'm sure she'll be okay." Wilson replied, nodding.
"She hates me."
"True, but you can't hate the crippled."
"I'm talking about Stacy." House replied.
"She doesn't hate you." Wilson said, wheeling his friend from the hospital and into the car park. "She's worried about you,"
"She's right to leave me."
"Stacy is not going to leave you." Wilson opened the car door. "Do you need help?"
House looked up at Wilson, his face confronted into a strange snarl. "It was my right leg, not everything from the waist down." He slid from the chair and into the passenger's seat. His right leg dangled from the car. Wincing, he placed his hand under it and pulled it in.
"I'm going to phone Bonnie," Wilson said as he put the wheelchair into the back seat. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
House nodded. Wilson closed the door softly and strolled back to the hospital. House leaned back against the chair. His hand closed around the small pill bottle in his pocket. He sighed and banged his head. He let go of the bottle. His hand wrapped itself around the pill bottle again. Steadily he opened the bottle and pulled out a tiny pill. He swallowed it dry and leaned back; it tasted bitter in his mouth. But he weighed the taste against the agony he was in.
Wilson returned in few minutes. "She said it's okay as long as you don't eat all the ice cream from the fridge."
"Is she ovulating?" House asked.
"How do you- No, in fact, I don't want to know." Wilson replied, starting the car. "Did you take something?"
"An aspirin," House replied. "I had a headache."
"In your leg,"
"No, in my lymphatic system," House said, rolling his eyes.
Wilson reversed out of the parking space and began to drive away from the hospital.
"Be careful not to get addicted," Wilson warned.
"That's exactly why I had an aneurysm that clotted. I just wanted to get high." House said.
"I see it all the time. I'm just worried about you." The oncologist replied.
"Don't be, everyone has their problems, mine are mine and yours are yours." House clicked on the radio. Biting his lip he switched it off again. "Thank you, for this." He said.
Wilson took a double take. "Did you just thank me?"
"Don't make me say it again." House grunted.
"I'm just shocked. I've never heard you show appreciation for anything." He replied. "Was that difficult for you to say?"
House nodded. "I had my fingers crossed."
"No, you didn't."
"Fine, I had my toes crossed."
"No one can cross their toes."
"Tell that to all the hookers who make it sexy."
"You're a pig."
"And you, my friend, are poop."
Wilson frowned. "I don't understand."
"Pigs, though generally thought unclean, are actually the most hygienic in the animal kingdom. It's the poop that is dirty, though useful."
"You're comparing me to animal faeces?"
"You compared me to a pig. I only thought it was right to return a compliment."
"Poop, is not a compliment."
"Poop can do wonderful things. In medicine it can give us a diagnosis, in the animal kingdom it marks territory, and tribes in Africa would use poop and mud to build their humble homes."
"You're full of crap."
"So are you," House retorted. "Until we need to go to the potty."
"You're an adult House; please use better words than 'potty' and 'poop'."
"But I like watching your face contort into a disgusted way when I say those words." House sighed and looked out the window, his hand gently resting on his leg. "Do you think I'll ever be able to walk again?" He asked quietly.
"House-"
"You wanted me to grow up, so here we are, having a grown up conversation." House replied. "Just answer the damn question."
Wilson sighed as he took a left. "With proper visits to therapy and a correct amount of concentration and pain management-"
"Don't feed me the same crap as every other doctor," He said. "Just be honest with me."
Wilson bit his lip. Slowly, he shook his head.
House sighed and looked back out the window.
"The damage was too great. If we caught it earlier, maybe, but we didn't."
"Will I need a cane?"
"Probably,"
House sighed. "I don't want to be a cripple." He said, solemnly.
"Nobody wants to be a cripple. We don't pick the things that happen to us." Wilson replied. He stopped at the lights. "You never said, what did you see, when you died?"
"I wasn't-"
"Technically, you died, for a brief minute." He said. "What did you see?"
House thought for a long time then he shook his head. "Nothing, it was just black."
"Liar," Wilson said turning another bend as the lights changed.
House smiled, bitterly. "Everybody lies,"
"So you keep saying." Wilson turned back on the radio.
"You listen to crap," House said, changing the station.
"It's good crap,"
"Does Bonnie like it?"
"Of course she does,"
"There you go then," House said. "She likes it therefore you like it."
"If you're unhappy about the station, fine change it, but don't start with your theories of relationships."
"You're lucky you're not Stacy, she gets an earful." House said.
"Really?" Wilson said acting surprised. "I never knew that."
"She tells you?"
"Oh yeah,"
"Damn,"
They stayed silent for the rest of the journey up-state to Wilson's house. He got out and prepared the wheelchair for his friend. Bonnie observed from the door. Wilson opened the door and House lowered himself onto the chair. Snow was beginning to fall, gentle flakes landing on House's lap. Wilson wheeled his friend onto the kerb and locked his car door behind him. Then Wilson wheeled the chair up the steps that led into his home. With every step, there was a painful jolt in House's leg.
"Sorry," Wilson said.
"It's okay," House muttered, holding his leg. Once inside, Bonnie locked the door.
"You'll be staying in the downstairs guestroom." She said. "I'm so sorry about what happened."
House frowned, observing her body language. "No you're not," He said. "You just think that's the kind word to say. You actually think that I got what I deserve."
"When you put it like that," Bonnie said. "I welcomed you into my home, I can just as easily ask James to put you back out on the street where you belong."
House looked away. "Sorry," he muttered.
"Apology accepted," Bonnie said. She pushed House through to the tiny guestroom. "Do you want to phone Stacy?"
"No," House replied. "She'll be too pissed to pick up. I'll call her tomorrow."
Bonnie nodded. "Okay then. There is a spare shirt for you in the morning,"
House nodded.
"Give us a shout if you need anything," Wilson added.
"Don't worry, I will." House replied. He wheeled himself into the room and yanked himself onto the bed. Bonnie smiled softly, and then kissed Wilson.
"I'm going upstairs." She said softly. Wilson kissed back.
"Okay," He said.
House watched envious at their perfect relationship. Bonnie smiled at him again and went upstairs. Wilson lingered at the doorway.
"Need help?" He asked.
"No," House replied, taking off his shoes. He pulled off his suit jacket and un-ironed shirt then pulled the blanket over his torso. "Go to bed, go to your wife."
Wilson nodded. "Night, House."
"Goodnight, Wilson."