Yes, my friends, your eyes do not deceive you! The last installment of Seeing Double is finally here! It's been great fun writing this whole thing, even if, at times, it was difficult, and I can't thank you enough for your reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you! (I never said I wouldn't try.)

And, for old times sake, do you know who owns House? If you answered house-of-insanity, you are a buffoon, because I am not good enough to shine House's shoes.

But enough with the disclaiming. Onto the epilogue!

Epilogue:

Two weeks later…

"Is it just me, or am I beginning to sound like a broken record?" Cuddy asks me as she marches me to the clinic. "Because it seems to me that the only thing I say anymore is, 'Go to the clinic.'"

"That sounds about right," I say, pulling my jacket sleeve from her grasp. "Look, I have important doctor stuff to do. Find someone else to baby-sit the patients."

"Baby-sitting the patients is important doctor stuff; it's what I pay you for," she says. "Get in there right now!"

"Both you and I know how this is going to play out," I remind her. "Eventually, out of the goodness of my heart, I'll relent and go to the clinic. But then, in a subconscious effort to gain revenge, I'll piss off a patient, who will then come running to you. You will then come to me and tell me to apologize, which I will not do, because I am always right. Thus, another person's day will be ruined, and it will be all your fault. Do yourself a favor and spare me the clinic. It's the only way."

"The only way to what, piss off the other doctors? Everybody wants to know why you always get a break from the clinic when it's understaffed."

"They're just jealous because I'm your favorite."

"Play nice with the other doctors, and play nice with the patients, or I'll fire you."

"Thou shalt not lie. You wouldn't fire me for all the outfits in Sluts-R-Us. Love your blouse today, by the way. You know how I hate to use my imagination when it comes to your – "

"House!"

"…Chest," I finish politely.

Cuddy, having had enough of this foolishness, grabs my cane out of my hand and extends it in front of her, threatening to break it in two. "If you don't hobble your ass into the clinic right now, your cane is going to be kindling."

I watch intently as she lifts her leg to snap it in half. "Couldn't you just put me over your knee instead?" I ask. Defeated, she drops the cane in front of me and stomps away. She does a double-take barely five feet away and turns to face me. I roll my eyes, readying myself for round two. "What is it, exactly, that is so important that you have to miss clinic duty again?"

"My patient is checking out today," I say, glancing at the elevator. "In fact, she should be coming out of the elevator right…about…" I stare at the floors as they light up. Three…two…one… "Now."

The door opens and Wilson steps out. Disappointed, I shrug at Cuddy.

"Managed to fight your way out of clinic duty again, I see," he observes dryly.

"Cuddy put up a hell of a fight, though," I say, glancing at her. "But in the end, I think she understood."

"The only thing I understand is that you're a maniac," she mutters.

The second elevator dings and we glance at it expectantly. The doors roll open to reveal the Donahues and a nurse whose name I can't even bother to recall. They wheel Becca out of the elevator and head toward the exit.

Isabelle sees me and nudges the nurse away from her sister's wheelchair. "I've got it," she says, eyeing me. Her parents walk past us, muttering their thanks as they fumble for their car keys and sunglasses. The twins, though, take a moment to pause in front of me.

"How is she?" I ask to fill the silence.

Isabelle looks at her sister, who bores a vacant gaze into the air in front of her. "As good as can be expected, I guess," she says, smiling sadly.

"It could have been a lot worse, you know," I remind her.

"Yeah, and it also could have been a lot better."

"Look on the bright side," I suggest. "You're the cool twin now."

Her expression twists into something trying to resemble amusement. "Yeah, brain damage doesn't make for much popularity," she replies wryly. "But I'm not going to use her. I'm going to be better to her than she was to me."

"Awww, how precious."

"I'm serious!" Isabelle insists. "I've learned a lot since she came here." She pauses for a moment, squeezes her sister's hand, then continues. "It amazes me how quickly people can turn against each other. When she woke up from her last attack and we found out what was wrong with her, I was sure that all of her friends were going to rush to the hospital and do anything they had to to see her. Not one of them even called us back to see how she was."

"Not even Darin?"

"Especially not Darin," she says. "Then I told my friends what had happened, and they took it entirely the wrong way. They were sympathetic and all, but not like I would have expected or wanted them to be. 'She had it coming, Isabelle,' they all said. 'She deserved it after being such an awful sister.' It hadn't even occurred to me to feel that way, because I was so caught up in worrying about her."

"I think I'm going to have to take a few hours to overcome all this emotion," I whisper to Cuddy. "Looks like I'm not going to make it to the clinic after all."

"Do what everybody else does: grab a tissue and deal with it," she hisses back, mistaking my sarcasm for sincerity. I'm amazed when I glance at her to see that she is almost ready to cry.

"Thank you, Dr. House," Isabelle finishes, unaware that I was only half-listening. Revelations like hers are commonplace in hospitals; your average doctor will witness one for every patient they treat. We can be happy for them, we can congratulate them on their newfound insight, but you can only hear the same speech so many times before you wonder why this stuff isn't common knowledge.

"No need to thank me," I say.

"But –"

"No, really," she persists. "If we hadn't come here, if we hadn't met you, if you hadn't saved her life…I never would have learned to love my sister."

"You really think this little life lesson is going to stick with you?" I ask. "I see it all the time. Patients get caught up in the moment. They realize that someone they love is going to be okay after all, and for a while they're overcome with mushy, lovey-dovey feelings. Then I'll see them later – it may be weeks, or months, or even years, but I'll see them – and they've come down from the high."

"Caring about somebody isn't like being high," Isabelle says. "It's not a buzz, it's not temporary. If you do it right, it's there to stay."

"We'll see," I say. "You should go. Your parents are probably waiting for you."

Isabelle nods and begins to push Becca toward the door. "Just wait, Dr. House," she calls back. "I'll prove it."

"Yeah," I murmur, "and maybe cat shit will start smelling like daisies." But even as I say, I realize how right she is. If you do it right, unconditional love can work its way into your nature. If.

"Another success, Dr. House," Wilson says, breaking my train of thought. "Want to celebrate?"

"Not with you," I say, turning to Cuddy. "Does someone need a hug?"

Already back to that irritating business-as-usual demeanor of hers, she puts on her angry face and points to the clinic. "I need you to –"

"Wilson, can you take over my clinic hours today?" I ask. "I think Dr. Cuddy needs to be comforted."

"Leave me alone with him, and I'll –" Cuddy fumes.

"You work for her, you live with me. Just remember that," I remind him.

Wilson shrugs. "Sorry, Cuddy," he says, taking off.

We watch as he retreats. "Why don't you step into my office?" I suggest. "We'll get you feeling better in no time."

"Fine," she seethes. "Don't go to the clinic. See if I care."

"Well, I guess I should make up some of my hours, but if you insist, I suppose there's nothing I can do," I say, already wondering what to do with myself. My next great medical mystery can't be far off, and I've got to make sure I'm rested and ready. "Thanks, boss."

"Anytime," she mutters, but I hear the smile in her voice.

(Theme music swells in the background) Voila! Another completed selection of house-of-insanity goodness. And now for a few closing remarks.

Here is my last official bid for reviews (for this story, anyway). If you've read and have anything you want to say, do it! Live a life with no regrets, because it would suck if one day you thought, "Gee, I really wish I had reviewed that story," and then got run over by a bus or something. So…review! Say anything you have on your mind, whether it have something to do with the style, or tense, or dialogue, or character development – I'll devour any praise or advice you have on anything!

I've come to the conclusion that I need a beta. Not so much for grammar, spelling, or punctuation, maybe, but I know that sometimes I tend to get out of character, or make weird transitions, or other commit other errors that aren't that easy to catch or fix. I have another story in mind (not a medical mystery, so none of that knowledge will be necessary), and I'd really love to get someone's thoughts on it before I release the chapters. I've started writing it already, but it'll probably be a month or two before I'll need opinions or post anything. If anyone would be willing to edit, please let me know!

I think that's it.

As always, thanks for reading! Keep it real. :) Until next time, house-of-insanity.