After he got home from House's apartment, Wilson felt strangely liberated and calm. He realized that that was the first time during their friendship where he hadn't done anything to enable his friend into making a decision, hadn't directed him down a road which would have ultimately lead to nowhere. In truth, all Wilson had done was say his peace and walk out knowing that House could handle it and would get though this on his own.
James thought of all the times in the past when things could have gone differently between them if both he and Cuddy would have laid off and let House alone with his own problems instead of acting like House's parents. Wasn't that ironic? Just the thought of John made Wilson's skin crawl. True, he wasn't Greg's actual biological father but he was the only thing close to it that House had ever had.
Blythe wasn't so bad. She was the only positive relationship to have come out of his childhood but then how could she just ignore what was going on right in front of her face?
Suddenly, the sound of the phone brought the oncologist out of his thoughts with such a jolt that Wilson nearly fell off the couch and onto the floor.
Hey Jimmy…you were right. (sigh) I've got to stop lying to myself. So, I've decided to do something about it. Wish me luck!….click
As the message was left on the machine and silence filled the room once again, Wilson sighed to himself while pouring another glass of wine while laying back on the couch and sighing in relief.
"Good Luck House….I hope you know what your doing."
*************************************************************
The next day, House woke up with a smile on his face despite the pain signals being sent to him by the damaged right thigh muscle while slowly getting out of bed and limping over to the closet.
There was something about this particular morning that made him feel alive and House was not afraid to show it. For the first time since he'd been discharged from Mayfield House felt like he was in control with his life and from here on out everything would be fine. After he took a shower and got dressed the former diagnostician entered the living room and was about to enter the kitchen when he was stopped by the sight of a 1986 medical journal lying abandoned on the coffee table.
A sigh escaped his lips as House picked it up and started leafing through the pages while trying to ignore the ache in his leg that seemed to worsen with every minute the former diagnostician stood reading from the keep sake from careers past.
House would miss working at the hospital. He would miss getting his minions to do his bidding, the sight of Cuddy as she walked into work every morning with that professional yet sexy allure, lunches with Wilson where they would talk about the latest hospital gossip and steal each other's food but most of all House would miss the medicine.
Why am I doing this?
The answer came to him like it had all those times before in the form of an epiphany that hit him like a ton of bricks while closing the journal shut with a snap and limping into the kitchen.
Doctor's orders.
An hour and a half later it was time to leave. However, as House was putting on his jacket a knock came upon the door that made all the hairs on his neck stand up while he peered through the peep hole to see who could be disturbing him on such a lovely day.
Seeing that it was Forman, the former diagnostician braced himself for what was to come while slowly opening the door which lead to the outside world and smirked to himself.
"Doctor Eric Foreman I presume, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
