House lay on his bed in the cabin thinking about the situation with Wilson. Simmons had a point; it did seem like Wilson was jealous, as though House was cheating on him but that was ridiculous. They were best friends. Wilson spent time with other people all the time. Why would he be jealous if House did the same? Wilson told him to make nice and get along; he did just that and now Wilson was still angry. That made House angry. He didn't like to be put into the damned if you do, damned if you don't spot by Wilson. Although, he could admit to having put Wilson there a time or two. Maybe this was just karma biting him in the ass.

Cyrus had him stymied. Why did House find him so comfortable to be around? He actually felt like he could talk to him about Wilson, if he wanted to. He was easy to be with, easy to play cards with. Cyrus made an effort to understand House as he was, not to try to mold him into his own ideal friend. Wilson used to do that, he mused. Before Amber. Maybe Wilson still held her death against him. Maybe he'd never let that go unless House changed his personality completely. Could he do that? Did he want to do that? Even for Wilson? House sighed heavily as he realized the answer was no. Oh, he could work on changing some parts. After all, he was practicing do just that this weekend to get along with the group and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was working. But change his entire personality? No, he didn't think that was possible without brain damage and he'd risked enough of his brain for Wilson's sake already. And even if he did, there was the disturbing chance that he would be so different that Wilson wouldn't like him at all anymore.

Cyrus returned to the cabin about an hour later and found House seated in a chair staring forlornly out the window. Frowning with concern, Cyrus approached him and lightly touched his shoulder. "House? Are you alright?"

House let out his breath like he'd been holding it until Cyrus arrived. "No. I'm not alright."

"Is there anything I can do that would help you?"

"Can I talk to you? To the psychiatrist you?" House asked, not daring to look at Cyrus in case he was rejected as he feared he might be.

"Yes, you can," Cyrus answered immediately, sitting down on the bed. "To me the psychiatrist or to me your new friend, whichever of us can help you more right now."

House finally met his eyes, just for a moment, gratitude and uncertainty flashed in equal parts in that quick look.

"Maybe both of them," he muttered quietly. "I don't know what to think about Wilson and I need to figure something out since him and Cuddy are my ride back to Princeton."

Cyrus didn't point out that he would gladly give House a ride back to Princeton and stayed on the topic of Wilson. "Alright. What has Wilson said to you this weekend that might offer some explanation?"

"He's made repeated references about the board wanting to break my tenure and reminding me that his and Cuddy's votes won't be enough to save me this time. That I need to decide whether I want my job enough to suck it up and play nice. He said he knew that I was going to blow this apart and he was just waiting for it to happen. Then he said he was a sucker for lost causes," House recounted. "It's like he's been distancing himself from me starting a couple of days before we drove up here."

"What do you think Wilson wants from you?"

"I don't know!" House growled. "No matter what I do seems to be wrong. It's like he wants me to do exactly what he tells me to do. But I've never done that, even when he was right. Why would he think that would change now?"

"Maybe he thinks you will be easier to manipulate with your job on the line," Cyrus offered.

"And yet he seems convinced that I'll screw this weekend up and lose the job."

"Is it possible he has some ace up his sleeve to play? That he wants to swoop in and save the day once you've 'screwed it up' as you said?"

"It's possible," House admitted. "Probably thinks that would give him some leverage over me if he did. I wonder what he wants the leverage for."

"Would it help his career in any way?"

"Only if he's looking to move up from department head to a supervisory position, which I suppose he might be. He's been pouring so much of himself into his cancer patients over the years that I'm surprised he hasn't burned out before now."

"How would having leverage over you help him to do that? Hypothetically speaking," Cyrus asked.

"It would depend on what position he wanted to try for. There are two that could be opening up this year, based on age and health of the current holders. Chief Operating Officer that oversees all the department heads is one. The other is Executive Medical Director. That one would make more sense since the position oversees case management, performance and communications. Maybe he thinks if he can prove he can make me do what he wants, it will look good on his resume."

"Possible. What would it benefit him personally?"

House let out his breath in a huff. "I don't know. That he finally one upped me? Maybe he wants me to come crawling to him for help even though he's warned me not to. That would be right for his idiom. I just can't figure out why he's acting like I'm cheating on him though. He has no problem running off with every Sue, Betty, and Mary that comes along."

"Yes, but you usually are waiting for him to get back to you. This time, he's the one being metaphorically left behind and he's finding out it's not a very pleasant feeling. In order to ease his pain, he has to get you to accept the blame. Not a healthy way of thinking whatsoever," Cyrus pointed out. "I would speculate that since you never seemed to have many friends that it never crossed his mind that you might actually make some. That he thought he could rely on you waiting, alone and needy, when he was ready to get his fix of helping someone again. Not to mention that entangled in this mess, I think he really does like you a great deal. Maybe even more than a friend."

"More than a friend?" House repeated. "You mean, more as in like a boyfriend? Wilson acts gay but he's always been with women. Lots of women."

"Hmm. Overcompensating? Look, I don't know if he's gay, straight, or bi, nor do I care. I'm just speculating as to why he's so possessive of you. You have a reputation of being equally protective of him around the hospital. What do you think of him? Could you imagine a relationship with him?"

House bobbed his head from side to side, trying to weigh out his thoughts before answering. "I could have. When we lived together when I came out of Mayfield, it was good. I bugged him, he bugged me. The neighbors all thought we were a gay couple. We were both trying to date the same women in the building and he went so far as to propose marriage to me in a restaurant to break it up."

"Did you accept or leave him broken hearted?" Cyrus asked, partly joking and partly curious.

"Neither, actually. We just dropped it. Neither of us got the girl, she was too fed up with our shenanigans. I always wondered what he would have done if I'd said yes. But then Sam came back into his life and everything went to hell."

"Perhaps he's having trouble with that relationship and is trying to make sure that his fall back relationship, you, will be waiting for him the moment he needs it," Cyrus guessed. "At any rate, what is going on with Wilson isn't anything that you've done or said, and it isn't anything that you've not done or said. Something has shifted in his world and made him uncomfortably unstable. He's looking at you, someone he sees as in a state of constant instability, to make himself feel steadier. Only this time, you're the steadier one. He doesn't know how to react to that, so he's lashing out at you, trying to destabilize you so that his world goes back to normal. Don't let him do that to you; he doesn't have the right."

House nodded that he understood, but Cyrus could see that part of him was still tempted to appease Wilson by any means, even if it meant blowing apart the fragile network he'd starting building this weekend and Cyrus was determined to try and stop him. It was old habits, entrenched but unhealthy, that made House willing to destabilize himself for Wilson's sake. He'd seen that pattern repeated over and over at the hospital though usually in a smaller and less dramatic fashion.

"Can I ask you a personal question, House?"

"Okay," House answered hesitantly. "I thought we were already at personal questions."

"I have the feeling this one is loaded with issues. Don't feel pressured to answer it. If it's too much, just say so and I'll drop it."

House nodded in agreement.

"What happened when Amber died that convinced you to agree to deep brain stimulation?"

House visibly flinched away and Cyrus was about to apologize for going too far when House very quietly related the details leading up to and following Amber's death. Cyrus was silent for a long moment, processing the twisted details and implications buried in the facts.

"He still blames you for her death, doesn't he?"

"He says he doesn't."

"But you think he does. And more importantly, you blame yourself for her death."

"It was my fault. I should have called a taxi. I should have just taken the bus on my own."

"Nothing that you did, nothing that Amber did, had anything to do with the garbage truck hitting the bus and wouldn't have changed anything."

"Yes, something I did could have changed it. I could have just taken the bus instead of calling Wilson! She'd have never been there and she'd have been alive! Maybe I would have been dead, maybe I would still have survived, but I wouldn't have had to see that look in his eyes when all the pieces got put together," House argued in a tight, anguished voice.

"How long does your punishment last?"

"What?"

"You already risked your life to remember that it was Amber with you in the crash. You risked your mind to remember what had caused the fatal drug interaction. Her death and Wilson leaving you was one of the catalysts that led to your increased drug use leading to your stay at Mayfield where your sanity and your career hung in the balance. Have you paid enough to atone for calling Wilson and getting Amber instead of just getting on the bus alone?"

House's eyes lost focus as he thought through Cyrus' questions for a long moment before he hoarsely whispered, "I don't know."

"That's something you need to figure out, House. He's still using it against you, even if only because you're still using it against yourself."

"Do you think I've paid enough?"

"Yes, I do." Cyrus watched House's facial expressions as he tried to fit those simple words into his mental framework of the event and was clearly having a hard time with it. He glanced up at the clock. "It's one hour before lunch, when we agreed to meet to work on the skit. Do you want to do that? I could make an excuse for you if you need some time alone."

"No. No, I… time alone wouldn't be… let's go work on the skit," House finished, rising to his feet.

Cyrus nodded and stood, following him out the door toward the dining hall. He was relieved at House's decision to go work on the skit, since he didn't think leaving him alone would be a good idea right now. He had opened a much larger can of worms than he'd thought was there and was quite worried but at least House had been willing to talk about it.

By the time they'd worked through the first drafts of their lyrics that just needed to be cleaned up to be finalized, House had the emotional upheaval hidden from view again. Simmons and Parks had noticed something was off but working on the lyrics had sufficiently distracted them from pursuing the issue. Cyrus knew that this was a well-practiced coping mechanism that House was using and had to admit he was pretty damned good at it. Little wonder so many people in the hospital accused him of having no feelings or being cold-hearted. He wondered if Wilson even knew how deeply House had been affected by Amber's death.

Pizza and wings were brought over to the table while the rest of the group had hamburgers and fries for lunch. House gleefully dug into the treat, even teasing Dr. Cuddy by showing off a piece of pizza when she looked their way. She rolled her eyes and smiled before turning back to her table mates.

"Where's our question box?" Simmons asked, then spotted it on the table behind them and snagged it. "Okay. How do you act when you're stressed out? Yikes. I get really short tempered, unfortunately. I snap at people and usually wind up having to go around and sooth ruffled feathers the next day."

"That's a pretty common reaction," Cyrus commented. "I tend to get very controlling when I get stressed out. Kind of like, if I organize and structure everything enough that will overcome the stress."

"I constantly check and double check everything," Parks put in. "And I eat candy bars."

"So that's why that vending machine is always out of chocolate," House said with a smirk to chuckles all around the table. "When I'm stressed out…I either get very angry and yell or really quiet and drink."

Parks pulled the box over and pulled out a slip. "If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about how you living right now? Definitely. I would quit my job and spend that last year with my daughter, creating memories for her to hold onto when I was gone."

"I would have to go after my bucket list," Simmons said. "All the things that I want to do but have been putting off because of working and family and all. So I think I'd take the family with me and we'd just spend the year doing bucket list items."

"I've always wanted to travel Europe," Cyrus put in. "I'd start out in the Scotland and work my way south, through the Chunnel and do the rest of Europe by train."

"I'd like to join a band," House said. "Play some gigs and jam sessions. Maybe sling my guitar on my back and take off on my motorcycle."

Cyrus pulled a slip out of the box next. "What kind of an impact do you believe you have on people? I think I have a positive impact on people. I think people find me a little intense at times but overall friendly and understanding. I hope you three will tell me if I'm wrong there," he said with a smile though he was serious.

"I'd say you're doing pretty good on that," House said. "My impact on people is more like a wrecking ball."

"I think it's hard to have an impact on people, especially harder to have a good impact," Simmons offered. "People always seem to remember the bad more than the good."

"That's true but I think it's hard to judge the impact you have on people unless you do something big for them even though I think you can make a bigger impact on someone by doing a lot of little things for them," Parks added.

Nodding in agreement, House pulled out a slip from the box. "What are you most afraid of and what's it stopping you from doing?" He dropped the slip onto the table and just stared at the table for a long moment.

Cyrus wasn't sure that House was going to answer; this was a pretty heavy question. Of course, he could just pick something vague and go with that. No one would hold it against him if he did.

House looked up at the other three finally, giving them an assessing look. "I don't know whether to answer this or pass," he admitted. "My answer wouldn't have anything to do with work and I don't expect the truce and camaraderie to last past this weekend. If I answer honestly, it could give you all enough information to use against me at work. Don't bother saying you won't; everybody lies. I would use it, if it came down to it for something my patient needed."

"You've already done that, haven't you?" Parks asked. "Used something told in confidence to you to get what you wanted?"

"Yes. Many times," House admitted.

"The reality is that you've already told us a lot that we could use against you if we took a mind to," Simmons said quietly. "I don't imagine many people know the truth about your sabbatical. You trusted us with that. For my part, I think that whole incident answers this question pretty well and I could give you a pass on it."

"That's true," Parks agreed and Cyrus agreed as well. House met their gazes with some surprise evident on his face then slowly shook his head.

"No. I mean… I appreciate you being willing to give it a pass but… you're right. What I told you there could do more damage professionally to me than this could," House admitted.

"What about personally?" Cyrus asked, wanting him to think this decision through carefully.

"No one cares about that," House answered with a dismissive shrug.

"Of course people care about things that damage them personally," Parks protested at once.

"Well, yeah, people care about what damages them personally," House drawled back. "They just don't care about what damages me personally."

Parks frowned, a bit taken aback by his response. "Well… I think that's because everybody thinks you don't care about damaging them personally. At least, that's what it was for me, until this weekend. Getting to know you just a bit better has changed that."

House nodded, accepting her admission without rancor. "I actually knew about half of what you told me about yourselves before this weekend started. The rest was a surprise. I'm surprised you shared it with me of all people. But I swear, as long as a patient's life isn't on the line, I won't use anything you told me against you."

"So, do want to pass on the question then?" Simmons asked after a moment's silence, a little unsure whether a decision had been made or not.

"No. I'll answer it. The thing I'm most afraid of is opening up to another person. Giving them potential ammunition to use to hurt me and leaving myself vulnerable to their judgement and rejection. It stops me from having any close relationships with friends, family, coworkers or potential girlfriends."

"What about Wilson?" Simmons asked. "You've been friends with him for years, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Wilson knows more than anyone else about me. But nothing before we met. He's a yenta; he'll gossip in the name of helping me. I can't trust him with dangerous facts," House responded. "Maybe if I'd started telling him things in the beginning, it would be different now but now he thinks he knows me well. He thinks he knows me better than I know myself."

"So is that why you act like such a jerk to people sometimes?" Parks asked. "To discourage them from wanting to get close to you? Close enough to learn something personal?"

"Nailed it," House answered with a hollow grin. "Better to be the one doing the rejecting than the one being rejected. I learned that lesson young."

"Alright, I admit that right up to the first day of this weekend, I was one of the ones rejecting and judging you," Parks said. "Sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry. Sorry doesn't mean anything, doesn't change anything. You don't regret it; not based on the information you had to make the decision. You got more information, you made a different decision. Just like diagnosing patients. I've had all the sharing I can stand for the moment. See you all at the mid-afternoon activity," House said, getting up from the table. "I promise you won't have to snag my off the trails today," he added with a smirk and headed out toward the cabins.