Chapter 1
Two months later
"Do you think he's ready?"
The setting sun slanted through the wooden blinds of her office windows, striping James Wilson's face in bars of light and shadow. He shrugged at her question. "Who knows? We've tried to think of everything, anything, that would appeal to him." Wilson's brown eyes flicked away, but not before she saw a hint of his desperation. He hesitated, shifting position and uncrossing his legs. Wilson's voice became distant. "After the infarction, part of him died, I think. Part of his spirit."
Cuddy nodded. She knew.
"It took everything he had to face people again, to work. To even engage himself that much with the world." His tone grew softer. "He said he hated how people looked at him. Hated dealing with their sympathy and stupidity. You know, he'd never had much faith or trust in people, even before his leg."
"I always figured he was fueled by anger. Anger, and the need to put his brain to use."
Wilson met her gaze. "Lisa ... I think now he's even given up the anger. Another piece of his spirit is gone. I'm wondering if there's anything left of House. Anything that gives a damn."
Cuddy lifted her chin. "We know he wants to live. He fought hard to survive Thompson's crazy vendetta. The catatonia scared me, I admit, but he fought his way out of that, too. He agreed to, and had some corrective surgery. He's still fighting, James. To get his life back. If there was nothing left of him, he'd just let himself die." She leaned forward and touched Wilson's hand. "He needs his old life back, as much of it as he can get back. He needs to be reminded of who he was, who he still is. Getting him back to work will do that. Solving medical puzzles is the only thing he's ever really given a damn about."
Wilson was nodding, but still wary. "It's his decision, in the end."
"I know. Just get him to meet with me. Any time. Anywhere." Cuddy tapped perfectly manicured nails on her desk, her mind racing. "At tomorrow's board meeting, I'll announce the news of Dr. Evans' resignation. And I'll suggest the position of Chief of Diagnostics be offered to Greg House. If House will talk to me, I want to be able to just hand the job to him. I don't want to take the chance that if he agrees, the board will put up a stink. Better to handle that ahead of time."
Wilson stood up. "Good thinking. I'll see what I can do on my end. No guarantees."
Cuddy smiled and stood too. "Understood. Thanks, James."
Halfway to the door, Wilson paused, turning. "You know, it upsets him, that we saw him when he was in prison. In chains, and in such terrible shape. And that we witnessed what happened in the courtroom and took care of him after. It's humiliating to him, although he's mostly able to accept that I was there."
"He's always been able to accept your help," Cuddy admitted. "But is that why he won't let me visit? Because I was there during the catatonia?"
WIlson sighed. "How would you feel?"
"How would I feel? I wouldn't want anyone's pity. Understanding, I think I could handle. As for House, I'd feel awkward until he cracked some kind of crude joke."
Smiling briefly, Wilson commented, "He calls that time his 'salad days.'"
She smiled too, hearing an echo of the old House.
Wilson shoved his hands in his pockets, his head bowed. "Lisa, the main thing is, House doesn't know we've seen one of those tapes. He thinks we only know what he said in the trials. If he ever found out ..." He shook his head, at a loss to complete the thought.
"All right, then. I'll take that memory to my grave and never tell another soul. Work on him, James. Get him to talk to me."