Dr. Gregory House shot up in his bed and wiped the sweat from his brow. His breathing was rapid and shallow. He hadn't slept all night and when he had, his mind took him back to that day 26 years ago. He can still recall the way the sun shown through the clouds. The way the soft breeze tingled his nose hairs. And how that beautiful image was destroyed within minutes. It was all too vivid and he wanted to forget it, but had a feeling he never would. He sensed that he needed some sort of resolution for what occurred on that fateful day, because his mind kept bringing him back to the base camp.Back to the tires. Back to sitting on the ground with an injured Ally in his arms. Back to the last time he saw her. He'll never forget her green bluish eyes staring after him and trying to tell him something.
House's dad took him away from the base camp that day and never returned. His dad was relocated, and Greg was back to living the only life he knew. One that consisted of no friends, pets, cars, or girlfriends. He got his schooling done fairly early and left his military life to go attend John-Hopkins, where he became a Board Certified Diagnositician with a double specialty of infectious disease and nephrology. He was now Head of the Diagnostics Department at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in New Jersey.
His alarm brought him back to reality. He glanced at it, 9:00 am. He shut it off, grabbed his cane from chair, and headed to the bathroom. After taking a shower, he grabbed some clothes from the floor and got dressed. He limped to the door, but stopped at the table. He glanced over at a picture of him when he was 10 at Johnson Base Camp. His parents always took pictures of him at every base camp they went. He kept this one in particular because it reminded him of Ally. He grabbed the red ribbon that was tied around the frame, slipped it into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.