Before I go into this chapter I just want to say thank you to all the support everyone has given me regarding this story. This is the first fanfiction I have written and as such I wanted to get it just right. Thank you for all the reviews I have received. I had not expected such positive comments, they have really spurred me on.

I hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Infuriated Cuddy slammed the tabloid down on her desk. The local paper had splashed pictures of House and his patient across the front page. A photographer had snuck into the hospital in disguise and had managed to find Mrs Hamilton's room and had taken photos of her unconscious and vulnerable before moving to House's room. They must have had help from someone in the hospital she silently fumed.

In front of her sat the imposing form of Michael Hamilton and his lawyer. He was already threatening to sue the hospital for letting this security breach happen, and had also made a number of personal attacks on Cuddy's ability to do her job and how women should not be given positions of power.

The real reason for his anger was not the fact that his wife's privacy had been invaded. Pictures of her sick and in pain would score him points of the campaign trail. No, he was angry because the paper had printed the fact that the young woman was high on a cocktail of alcohol, Valium and marijuana. That would not go down well with the voting public. If he could not control his wife and her errant ways how would he run a state, or eventually his own country. His political career may not come back from this.

Cuddy eyed the politician, trying to contain her scorn. Since the accident he had been milking the proceeding events for all they were worth. He had publicly thanked House for saving the life of his beautiful wife, and had offered to pay all of his medical bills. He had praised the hospital on the fine job they had done keeping his wife alive and in a comfortable condition. He had stood side by side with Cuddy and had spoken about the hospital's unique vision and drive and had donated money to the burns unit in recognition of the support they had shown his family.

It had all been one long media stunt. House, Sarah, Cuddy and her staff had all been used to promote his image as a family man and a dutiful member of the community.

Now that his image had been tarnished he was out for blood, a scapegoat. Cuddy would not let it be her, or her hospital. As he ranted about her incompetence she stole herself for a fight. The good thing about working with Greg House all this time was that she could stand up for herself.

HHHHHHHHH

The next day House's temperature was slightly elevated and he had begun to perspire. Fearing that he had caught an infection Wilson ordered some blood tests, and checked his wounds for signs of infection. He was puzzled when his tests revealed no signs of infection. Then he realised, House hadn't had any Vicodin for over a day. He was suffering from withdrawal Wilson observed sadly. Over the next few days House's condition stabilised. Without pain to contend with the effects of the detox were relatively short lived.

An MRI had revealed some brain activity, and the swelling was beginning to go down. He was still suffering from seizures, but they were becoming less frequent and tended to end relatively quickly. Despite this Foreman suggested that House may have to take anti-convulsants for a while, just in case he continued to suffer from seizures. The good news was that his sedation was reduced and he was not longer in such a deep coma. His doctor had begun talking about taking him off the ventilator.

House was moved out of ICU. He was no longer in critical condition and no longer needed constant attention. He was moved to a small private room on the floor below.

Although he was loath to leave his friend, Wilson returned to work. This was not out of necessity; there were enough members staff to cover him, but he needed to keep busy. Wilson would not admit this to anyone but he hated sitting by gazing at his friend's motionless body. He felt uncomfortable just being in the same room with Greg House when he was unconscious.

After the infarction Wilson had kept his distance, unable to stand seeing his friend in so much pain. He could hear his screams of pain down the corridor in his office or when he treated patients. They had left him feeling sick, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. He felt guilty when he prayed that House would just pass out from the excruciating pain, then he could almost forget his friend's suffering. When he was shot just a year ago Wilson made excuses, plagued by similar feelings. He kept picturing him on the gurney covered in blood, looking pale. Now Wilson again felt compelled to stay away. He found that dread would creep up on him if he sat in House's sick room. If he brought paper work to do it sat untouched. For he couldn't stop himself from looking to his friend to ensure he was stable, or looking out the window lost in thought, contemplating the time ahead.

Perhaps it was due to the nature of his job. He had to deal with so many ailing people, many of whom looked as sick and weak as House did now. When House was awake and on form he somehow counteracted the hopelessness Wilson sometimes felt when faced with the sheer numbers of his cancer patients. House helped to take his mind off the patients he was unable to save. Wilson would take a rude, smug, arrogant House over a sick one any day.

The young doctor found that if he was occupied he was able to push his worry to the back of his mind. In fact he would work longer than necessary. He took on extra cases just to have something to do. James didn't admit it to anyone, but without his friend's incessant prying, and probing into Wilson's private life, or his intriguing games, and flashes of medical brilliance, PPTH felt a cold and tedious place. The only way to counteract this unsettling feeling was to keep busy.

Besides, he assured himself House had plenty of people looking out for him. Cameron spent every spare second by his bedside, willing him the wake up. Foreman, as his neurologist, frequently visited him to carry out neuro checks. Chase also kept an eye on his boss's condition, although Wilson suspected he did this just so he could tell House he had looked after him when the man finally woke. He would do anything to ensure he still had a job to go to. Even Cuddy had taken to stopping by his room when she was not busy, she seemed to enjoy sharing a room with him without being insulted, leered at or badgered every two minutes.