*** First, let me say I apologize for my absence. Life has not been kind for the last few months, and the last thing I could think about was writing. I hope to back on a regular basis to finish this up. Thanks to those of you who are continuing to read. ***
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Foreman rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"There is no 'team' House. I told you, they are all gone."
"Not exactly what you said."
"Yes, that's exactly what I said. I told you they had all moved on."
"Except for..."
Foreman frowned, then he understood what House was getting at.
"I told you Chase was still here at the hospital. I didn't say he was going to be on your team."
"So I am getting a team..."
"House..."
House smiled, he loved agitating Foreman. Even now, it was so easy to do. But when he walked through the doors at PPTH, it had started to hit him. It would be way too easy to fall into his old habits and patterns, which would inevitably lead to him making the same mistakes. He had changed since his last go round here, at least that's what he kept teling himself.
"Listen," he said, glancing around the office. "Can you give me a few minutes to...settle in?"
"All right. But then we have to get you a hospital ID, and I have an appointment set up with a lawyer at 1 pm."
"A lawyer?"
"There's a lot that has to be worked out. Dead men can't work at the hospital, or get their medical license back."
House nodded and turned his back to Foreman. He waited until he heard the sound of the door closing, and then limped over towards the wall. Glancing around, he couldn't help but feel Wilson's presence. He shook his head, reminding himself that he didn't believe in such things. Even so, the way the office was kept, untouched, was just too much for him to take. His eyes settled on the Vertigo poster, and he knew what had to be done.
"Sorry, Wilson, but these have to go."
He rested his cane against the wall, reaching up with both arms. As his hands reached the sides of the frame, he felt a sudden, stabbing cramp in his thigh. Immediately losing his balance, he fell backwards, somehow managing to end up in the chair. A smirk crossed his face as shook his head.
"Okay, Wilson" he grumbled as he rubbed his thigh vigorously, "You win. For now."
He spun the chair around, and turned his attention towards the file on the desk. Quickly realizing he didn't have his reading glasses, he began to look through Wilson's desk. As he rifled through the contents of the drawer, he came across a small photograph. It was a picture of himself, Wilson, and Cuddy, obviously taken at some obligatory fund raiser. Carefully removing it from the desk, he couldn't help but stare. The two most important people in his life, one lost to cancer and the other...
House found himself wondering what Cuddy was doing right now. While he knew that the events of the past week hadn't washed away all of his prior sins, it was still hard to believe that there had not been one phone call, or even a text. Had it not been for Rachel, there would have been no update at all. This office, this hospital, was just so full of memories, both good and bad. He threw the photo back in the desk. It wasn't going to work for him. He just needed to...
"Hey."
House jumped, startled by the voice from the doorway. Before he even looked up, he recognized the Australian accent, and he smiled, almost grateful for the interruption.
"Hey"
"I heard the rumors...but I had to see for myself. You're alive."
"Brilliant medical diagnosis. Glad to see that your skills haven't diminished in my absence."
Chase sighed heavily. Why had he expected any different response from his former boss than just plain sarcasm.
"Sorry." House whispered, struggling to his feet and walking around the desk. "Old habits."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"What?"
"How many people knew about this? Better yet, why wasn't I one of them?"
"Until recently, it was a pretty exclusive club. Only Wilson knew for sure."
"Wilson and Foreman."
"I don't understand where this is coming from. You almost sound...jealous."
"For years, I did whatever you told me to do, even when everyone else refused. Even when I knew you were so strung out you shouldn't even be near patients let alone treating them. Even when I knew you were wrong!"
House took a half step back and gave him a side eyed look.
"Are you gonna hit me again?"
Chase shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.
"No." he said, turning towards the door.
"Chase. It wasn't a slight. There wasn't a need for you to know."
"And Foreman needed to know?" he asked, turning back around.
House limped back over and sat back down at the desk, rubbing his leg almost without realizing it.
"Foreman chose an unfortunate time to make me responsible for my actions. He would have seen my death as the direct result of his not covering for me with the parole board. I didn't want him to have to live with that."
There was a prolonged silence, as he seemed to be mulling it over in his head. House waited, surprised at his own anxiousness. Aside from Foreman, Chase was really the only person in his life right now that he could trust. He spent years being a loner, and aside from Wilson, he preferred it that way. But having lost almost everything, he really wanted to salvage this relationship. There was a long silence as they stared at each other.
"Ok."
"Ok? That's it? You're still easy."
"I'm glad you're alive, House." then, changing the tone in his voice he asked "I'm sorry about Wilson."
"Yeah, me too."
Chase stepped forward and grabbed the file folder off of the desk, flipping it open.
"So who's our patient?"
Over the next two months, House had fallen into a routine. With some help from Chase, he had managed to solve the first case in record time, and soon after that, he was in demand. Getting his license back was taking longer than he had hoped, but it was only a matter of time.
The halfway house had turned out to be a blessing. As much as he wanted to believe that he had miraculously changed, he knew that had he been spending nights alone, things would have been much different. He would have ended up in some seedy bar, or worse. The one thing that really helped to keep him sane was the call he got every Wednesday at 3 pm. Arlene would pick Rachel up from school, and let her call and talk to him during the drive home. Through the calls he was able to glean bits and pieces of information. From what he could pick up, Cuddy's speech was much better, and she was getting around just fine, athough not back to work. It wasn't much, but it was more than he could get out of Arlene, who seemed conflicted about all of it. He wondered if Cuddy knew, or if they were keeping it from her, but thought it best not to even ask. Rushing back towards his office, he looked at his watch. 2:55.
When the phone rang, it was all he could do to wait until the second ring, not wanting to be too anxious.
"Hey kiddo."
There was a silence on the other end, and House started to get a bad feeling.
"Rachel?"
"Not exactly."
House stopped mid step. As badly as he had wanted to hear Cuddy's voice, he knew this wasn't going to end well.
"Cuddy?"
It seemed like an eternity before she responded, as if she herself didn't know what to say.
"Did you really think that I wouldn't find out about this?"