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Chapter 2-

Leaving prison seemed like a dream to House. He walked outside to a bright sun and strong winds, leaning heavily on his cane as he slowly left the place he hated so much. Outside the walls and the barbed wire things seemed to be going on completely normally. There were cars, people, and even small animals hiding underneath cars or in the bushes. He looked around him, for the first time in months absorbing the feeling of life, the feeling of being alive.

He immediately found the car waiting for him. Unlike the time he picked up Thirteen after prison, there was no champagne there for him, no one waiting because they wanted to. No, seeing the familiar car and the cold expression on it, he immediately realized that the man who was his best friend did not come to pick him up because he wanted to, but because Cuddy forced him. Wilson seemed as if he could not care less about him, which made him feel a weird feeling of pain and sadness. He had never expected Wilson to abandon him.

"As we agreed with Doctor Cuddy," The officer told Wilson as House entered the car, "He is only allowed to go to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and his house. If he goes out of those two places, he will be returned to prison."

Wilson nodded briefly. "Thank you, officer."

The officer nodded back at him and then turned around and walked back into the prison. Wilson stood outside the car for a few long minutes before finally entering and immediately starting the car. He then silently drove out of the prison's parking, not looking at House, not even once. He silently drove towards Princeton Plainsboro, still avoiding House's blue eyes, who kept staring at him.

"So you're never gonna talk to me again?" He asked eventually, leaning back in his seat. Wilson did not response. He continued driving silently, looking straight ahead all the time, except for glances at the other mirrors. "Great. That means I'll have to do all the talking. Should I start analyzing myself, too? That used to be your thing, but if you're not talking to me, I suppose I'm gonna have to do it myself. And since you're obviously dying to know how prison was, I'm gonna have to tell you."

He paused, waiting for Wilson to speak. He wanted Wilson to say something, anything, even just to shut him up. But he did not speak. It was even worse than the time he drove him to his father's funeral, a short time after Amber died.

"I wasn't raped, though I did get into a couple of really good fights. But then again, they're criminals-"

"Unlike you?"

He spoke. Wilson finally spoke. He still refused to look at him, his brown eyes remaining focused on the road, but he spoke. His tone was cold and emotionless and he was clearly cynical, but he replied, which already seemed to House like a good sign.

"C'mon, Wilson." He abandoned the light tone he was speaking in earlier and turned more serious. "You can't be mad at me forever." Wilson did not response. "I'm sorry." He paused again. Then, tilting his head towards his wrist, he added, "I see your wrist's okay."

"It's fine now."

He sighed quietly. "I did what I had to do. I did it and I paid the price for it. Can't we leave it all behind? I'm your best-"

"We're not friends anymore, House." Wilson slowed down and finally looked at him for the first time. There was seriousness in those brown, usually compassionate, eyes of his. That coldness and seriousness practically hurt House as he realized there was nothing else behind them. Once again, Wilson tore them apart completely, and House remained alone with the hope that he could once again get his friend back. Wilson turned back to the road, leaving house with his own thoughts.

They remained silent until they reached Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Neither of them spoke as they drove into the hospital and parked in Wilson's parking space. They then left the car and walked into the hospital, Wilson in quick, decisive steps, and House in slow, agonized moves. He tried his best to keep the oncologist's pace, but gave up on it as they reached the elevators and he realized there was no way he could do it, not with his leg. Still in complete silence, they walked into the right elevator, ignoring all the eyes that were immediately turned towards House. House couldn't not to smile slightly.

He could see the room in which the lungs lay the moment he left the elevator. Foreman was there, along with Adams, who just left the room when they started walking towards them. She briefly nodded at him as she walked past them, and he responded with a nod, showing her he, too, recognizes her.

House was the first to walk into the room. For the first time, someone at Princeton Plainsboro seemed to be happy with his return. Foreman shook his hand, looking relieved and slightly happy to see him. Then he turned towards the lungs, causing House and Wilson to do the same thing. They silently looked at the lungs that were kept alive by machines for a few minutes before Foreman finally spoke.

"Donor's an eighteen-year-old college kid back from Hofstra. Goes to a homecoming party with his buddies, hops on his motorcycle, ends up an organ donor. Asystole in the E.R. No pulse. No blood circulating. His heart, liver, kidneys were all toast. The lungs survived, and as you can see they're in suspended animation-" He quickly explained.

"-Which buys us about a day to save them. When did that happen?" House asked, quickly reading the file Wilson handed him as Foreman spoke. As much as he wanted to interrogate Foreman about Wilson, Cuddy and his former team, knowing the time table, he knew it would have to wait.

"Nearly thirteen hours ago," Foreman replied. "Thirteen and I tried to fix it, but we couldn't do it. Ruled out all usual suspects. We couldn't find any drugs in his house, too. Transplant team thought it might be ARDS secondary to trauma, but it turned out to be wrong."

"Alright." House paused and looked at the lung thoughtfully. He knew they would search the house, and hoped they might come up with something. Apparently he was wrong. "How about coke? It's a perfect match."

"We didn't find any drugs," Foreman repeated.

"Is there a law against doing drugs at your friend's place?" House retorted, cynical. For a second Foreman seemed more shocked than anything, before he shook his head slightly to himself. "Get Thirteen and go find some of his friends. Hopefully that's all it was."

Foreman nodded briefly and left the room. House did not move as he heard the door closing behind his former underling, not even to put down the case. He could almost feel Wilson's eyes focused on him from behind, as the doctor remained a couple of steps behind him, looking at the House catching up. Wilson did not move either. House could still hear his breaths coming from behind in a slow rhythm.

"Why do you care so much about the lungs?" He asked quietly a few long minutes later. "A patient of yours? No, can't be. Are they meant for a patient of yours, or you just can't stop caring?"

"They're meant for one of my patients. But it's none of your business. Just treat the lung, and stay away from me," was all that Wilson said to him before leaving the room. House sighed quietly. Even then, realizing that getting Wilson back would be more difficult than he thought, he did not run after his friend. Instead he remained standing by the lungs, thinking.

"House is back."

Cuddy looked up from the request she was reading. At the door stood Wilson, who walked into her office the moment she looked up. He closed the door behind him before walking towards her desk. He stopped right in front of her.

"I know," She replied calmly. "I bailed him out."

Wilson sat down in one of the chairs, still looking at her. "I didn't think you'd want to handle him again," He said quietly, remembering the last conversation they had about him. It was a few days earlier, at the year anniversary of House's jail time. They both could not help but remember the last time they had seen him and wonder what happened with him. Even though they both decided to detach themselves, they both still cared about House.

"I don't." She sighed. Wilson was the only one these days she trusted enough to tell how she really feels about some things, House included. "But I don't have a choice. You said so yourself, your patient will die if we won't fix those lungs. If Doctors Foreman and Hadley didn't make it, the only one who'd be able to figure this out is House. We don't have a choice. I don't like him being back for a year any more than you do."

Wilson looked at her silently for a moment, softness in his eyes. Cuddy was a longtime friend of his, and he did not enjoy seeing her suffer. As usual, she did what she had to do for her hospital and its patients, ignoring her own life. It did not matter that she was mad at House and was still incredibly hurt after what he did to her. All that mattered was the hospital, the child that was second only to Rachel.

"You work too hard," He said quietly.

She smiled slightly. "Mark says that too."

"He's right. When did you two last get to go on a romantic vacation?" He asked curiously, trying to think about the last time she took a vacation, let alone a romantic vacation with her boyfriend.

"I don't have time for that right now, especially not with House." She smiled at him gently, knowing just how much he cares for her. "I'll be okay, James. Really."

Wilson looked at her seriously for a moment before nodding. "Don't let House get in your way," He advised as he got up.

Her smiled turned sad. "Is that even possible?"