Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cuddy strode into the conference room where House's team was assembled. Foreman was the first meet her eyes. She tried to communicate with him silently. But in that moment of silence Drs. Taub and Hadley had come to attention.

"I think I need to sit down," Cuddy took the head seat.

"What's the verdict?" Eric was ready for just about anything.

"He's coming back to the office tomorrow."

Well, almost anything. "The guy's off his rocker. We can't have him endangering patients-"

"Or us," Taub piped up.

Cuddy held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I said he was returning to the office, not necessarily to work. Dr. Foreman will still be in charge."

"And we'll be at House's mercy."

"Is this your idea of a suicide watch," Thirteen questioned.

"He's not suicidal-or homicidal. He had a full psychiatric review. The doctor suggested he get back on a routine as soon as possible."

"So, in other words, just another day at the office," 8Eric said snidely.

"No. We'll be moving in a small desk and chair for Roz. She's been temporarily re-assigned as his assistant."

"Let me guess, she's going to type in the web address and he'll watch the porn."

"The white boards that still have writing on them will go into the office too. She's going to work on her thesis simultaneously."

Taub was paying full attention now. "So they're coming back to work but not working at their jobs."

"I'd rather have them here not working than melting down. In the meantime, let them work through their issues while you guys run the department."

Dr. Hadley raised her hand like an obedient schoolgirl. "If our assistance is requested to aid in their quest…"

"Up to you whether you want to get involved. All of you play nice, or I'll have you swabbing crotches in the clinic."

House dressed in two-day old clothes. At least they didn't reek as bad as he suspected they would. He was pulling his rumpled dress shirt on when Wilson appeared outside the door. Greg glanced away pretending not to see him.

Wilson did the same. He walked a few steps away before deciding whether or not to confront his friend. Was House capable of remorse? He had apologized before, but never without provocation. James needed this apology to mean something. And therein lay his conundrum. In this situation House wasn't responsible for his actions. And James knew it and still expected an apology. No way House would step up and do what he expected.

House could feel Wilson's hesitation. His own awkwardness made it all the more easy to avoid the situation. The problem was that James was his go-to person, the only real family he had. And for perhaps the first time ever, he had alienated him without wanting to.

The door opened while his back was to it. Greg turned expecting to see Wilson displaying some sort of psychic pain in his eyes. Instead he got Roz.

"What are you doing here?" The tone was accusatory, the intent was not.

"Came to see a friend…thought I'd pop in and see you too."

The faintest hint of a smile stretched his lips. "Did you get tested for STD's after you were raped?"

"That's a bit blunt."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Why, are you interested in bumping uglies with me? 'Cause I'm not sure you meet my standards."

"I'm not the one who's been with a hostile foreign country's heat seeking moisture missile."

"Just because it was hostile and foreign doesn't mean third world. The plague is non-discriminatory-even the classiest of professionals can transmit it. Has your rat been tested lately?"

"On a regular basis. What about you?"

"I was tested. It was negative."

"You should get tested again."

"Why? Do you think-" She wasn't playing anymore.

"Just a hunch."

"You and Wilson at odds?"

"You might say that."

"You and me?" She took a seat, moving his cane to between her legs where she dribbled it like a basketball.

He turned slowly. "What do you mean?" He snatched the cane out of her hands. "Stop yanking my cane."

"Are we at odds? You okay with me working in your office? You know, those kinds of things."

"Do I have a choice?" He reached down to scratch Natasha's ears.

"There's always a choice. We both know we're at our best when we have a routine to stick to."

"So you're going to hold me to some sort of schedule?"

"Operative words: some sort."

A nurse came in to discharge him.

"Can we walk you out?"

"Suit yourself."