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After Cuddy had left him in the cafeteria, House payed for his food, and decided to take a stroll around the hospital. On his way out of the cafeteria, he came face to face with Wilson. Stunned expressions took over both of their faces and they stood in silence facing each other.

Wilson looked him over once and noticed the same things that Cuddy did. Something was different about his old friend and he appeared to be in a better frame of mind. His eyes still looked tortured, but it was as if the degree of his pain was lessened slightly. Wilson could only imagine what House had been through since his release. Part of him wanted to ask, wanted to pry into House's head, but the other part of him remembered how guarded his friend was. He refrained from saying a word.

"I...I'm sorry," House began, breaking the sheet of silence over them.

Wilson looked into House's eyes and could see how genuine he was when he made his apology. He nodded, "I know."

"I could have killed you, and I never meant for that to happen," House continued. "I've been an idiot."

"Yes, you have."

"It's a lot to ask, but I was hoping you could forgive me," He said, shrugging. "I'll understand if you don't."

Wilson shook his head, "More than likely against my better judgment, I already have."

His comment stung House but he was grateful that Wilson had even forgiven him in the first place. He knew he probably didn't deserve even the slightest bit of forgiveness from anyone in his life, though he would cherish it.

He had taken advantage of their friendship for so long, and now he regretted it.

"Wilson, I'm not just sorry about what happened two years ago."

"Oh?" Wilson asked, suddenly curious.

"I'm sorry for everything...I haven't been a very good friend to you, and you've never given up on me even when you should have. In fact, you're an idiot for sticking with me, but I'm glad you did. I owe a lot to you, Wilson," House said, his eyes shifting away from him in shame.

Wilson was shocked at the words coming out of his friend's mouth. He ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief, then rubbed his forehead, still processing it all. "House," Wilson started. "I'm proud of you."

"Why?"

"Because it's obvious that you've changed."

House shrugged, "I tried. For the longest time, I held the belief that people didn't change, but then when I actually tried...I knew I had been wrong all this time."

"Are you sure this isn't some act?" Wilson asked.

House shook his head. He had made an honest attempt to turn his life around. Though he had fallen so much in the process, he did notice a genuine difference in his life, and he hoped that others around him would be able to see it as well.

"Then I really am proud of you...no games, no bets...just you being genuine. I'll be honest and tell you that I never saw this coming, but I'm glad this has finally happened."

"I guess it just took one final straw before I finally realized how wrong I've been about nearly everything," House admitted. He shook his head a few times, ashamed of himself.

"It's okay to be wrong. The difference is accepting that you're wrong and moving forward," Wilson offered, attempting to console his friend. He could clearly see that House was ashamed of what he had done, and still struggling, even now. Wilson intended to offer him his support in whatever way he could.

House didn't respond.

"So, where have you been?"

"Around. Actually, I've been pretty far away from Princeton," He explained. "I had to get my life together."

"Understandable...so are you coming back?"

"I don't know," He answered honestly. "I'll have to talk to Cuddy about that, but only when the time is right. Right now, my main goal is cleaning up my mess. Speaking of, how's my old department doing?"

Wilson shrugged, "They've been good. Foreman's in charge. They're treating patients more 'by the book' now, but it still isn't the same. They all know that, too." He stopped and grabbed a water bottle from the counter. "They asked me where you were quite often, but I never could give them an answer. You just...you just fell off the face of the earth, House."

"I know, but I had to."

"They understand that...I think everyone understands that. No one is mad because you stayed away for a year and a half without even a hint of a warning...if anything, I think people are shocked yet pleased by your effort," Wilson paused to pay for his water. "Everyone knows how much you needed this."

"Foreman shouldn't be in charge," House said suddenly.

"Why not?" Came a voice from behind. Foreman himself, along with Taub, Chase, and Thirteen stood before him.

They all stood in silence, shocked at their old boss's random arrival. All of them knew what he had done to Wilson and Cuddy, yet to them, he was still House. Each of them had an odd sense of respect for him, most likely streaming from his insane intelligence. He wasn't always ethical about it, but Greg House knew how to do his job.

"Foreman," House acknowledged. He turned his attention to the rest of the team, "Everyone."

"It's good to see you," Thirteen spoke up. Her Huntington's hadn't started taking its toll on her yet, from what House could see. He remembered his offer to her, when the time came, and fully intended on holding up his end.

He was grateful for Thirteen. She had been his supporter from the beginning. Perhaps it was because she saw herself within him. She stacked the parallels up and gained a whole new respect for House. The two of them weren't so different after all.

House nodded, but didn't say a word.

"You didn't answer my question," Foreman reminded him with a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

"I don't have an answer you'd agree with," House answered, shrugging. "No point in arguing an argument you know you'll lose."

"Wow, you have changed."

"I meant you," House corrected. "You would lose. Not me."

Foreman shook his head, fully smiling now. Despite all the disagreements between the two of them, Foreman was genuinely glad to see House standing in front of him, alive. He predicted that House would be dead from an overdose, or as a result from a bar fight. Foreman was relieved that his prediction had been wrong.

"House," Wilson said, redirecting his friend's attention away from his former team. "It's good to see you."

House knew their conversation was far from over, but he saw the look of forgiveness in his friend's eyes. He offered a nod in his direction. As Wilson turned to walk away, House called out, "Wait!" He lowered his voice so the team couldn't hear him, "Thank you."

Wilson offered him a close-lipped smile, then walked away.

When House turned to speak to the team again, they too were gone.

There he stood, alone. His eyes graced the cafeteria. Other employees were also stunned to see him in the hospital again. But as his icy gaze met each of their eyes, they turned away and continued to eat their lunches. With that, he turned and left the cafeteria.

The walls around him held so many memories of the life he missed. He shook his head, clearing his head of them. He walked across the room and through the glass doors of the clinic. Cuddy was standing by the counter, pulling her white lab coat over her shoulders. Her face was twisted into a determined expression. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her lips were pressed together tightly. She was in a hurry.

Careful not to disturb her, he turned and left, anxiously awaiting to see her the next day.