As he watched House walk out of the lecture hall, Wilson felt a nearly suffocating lump in his throat, but simultaneously a weird sense of relief. He knew that reliving the infarction must have been an incredibly hard thing for House to do, yet he hoped that somehow it might also be therapeutic, a catharsis of sorts.

One thing he knew for certain – he had to find House, right now, and not leave him alone to dwell on the events of the morning.

House was stretched out on the lounger in his office, legs up, eyes closed, ipod in his ears, as Wilson entered. Wilson tapped his shoulder, and House glanced up at him and pulled the ipod out.

"Hey", Wilson said, "Let's go get some lunch."

"I don't know. I kind of feel like just staying in here for a while."

Wilson understood immediately why House might want to hide out after his very public truth-telling.

"We don't have to go to the caf. Let's get out of here and go someplace else," Wilson suggested.

House nodded, and the two of them left.

Once they were settled in their favorite booth at a local diner, Wilson looked House in the eye and marveled at what he'd just witnessed.

"That was… that was pretty amazing."

"Yeah, I suppose. I don't know what possessed me to…"

"Yes, you do. It was seeing her again, wasn't it? It brought everything back."

"Yeah – like it was yesterday."

"Couldn't have been easy for you."

"It wasn't. It was… I don't really know how to describe it."

"Like ripping your heart out and stomping on it?"

"Pretty much. You think they all knew who I was talking about?"

"Not all of them. The smart ones, though, yeah. You could've heard a pin drop in there for the last half hour of it."

"Why did you ask that question?" House squinted at Wilson as if trying to solve a riddle.

"Because you've never talked about that part of it, even to me, and it fascinates me. I mean, God, House, you've come closer to death than just about anyone I know -- who's lived to talk about it, at least. We're all gonna face it someday, and I just wondered what the experience was really like."

"Well, sorry my answer wasn't more enlightening. But it's the truth. All I felt at that moment was emptiness – a sick feeling that it was just a damn waste for my life to be cut short by such a stupid mistake – ultimately my stupid mistake."

"Come on. It wasn't your fault. How could someone in that kind of pain be expected to think clearly enough to diagnose himself? Even you. It was their fault, not yours. I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"You came as soon as you could. And it's not like you could've changed anything."

"I could've talked to Stacy face to face. I could've at least helped both of you make a decision."

"I know what your opinion would've been, and that advice, I didn't want her to hear."

"You're so sure, huh? I might've told her to wait, at least through the coma, to see how you were doing before going ahead with the debridement."

"No – you would've tried to convince both of us that amputation was the best course."

"Maybe – I can't look back now and say I wouldn't have. You might've been much better off making that decision."

"You know why I didn't."

"Yeah, of course. You were pissed at the botched diagnosis and wanted to fight to keep the leg as long as possible."

"Sure -- but it was more than that. I could tell, from the way it felt, that the muscle death extended far up. I knew if I agreed to it they'd wind up taking the whole damn thing, up to the hip, and then I'd probably never be able to use a prosthetic."

"You couldn't know that for sure, especially back then."

"I knew it. Just like I still know it now."

"It still might've been worth doing." House glared at him. "Okay, I'll drop it. I don't wanna have our usual argument about this – not today."

House nodded, grateful that Wilson was backing off that particular discussion. "So, after Cameron barged in and gave those clueless kids the diagnosis, I assume she ran to all of you to blab about my confessional?"

"Well, yeah – but I'm glad she did. All she said was, 'You guys will be interested in House's lecture.' Nothing specific, at least not that I heard. Nothing emotional. But when it was over, all three of them were speechless."

"I hope they don't look at me differently now. That's the last thing I want."

"If they look at you differently, it'll only be with more respect."

"You think?"

"Are you kidding? Of course. Respect and awe, I think – at least on Cameron's part."

"What about Cuddy? Did you see her afterward?"

"Yeah, just in passing. She gave me that look. You know that look, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"That mournful, guilty look she gets sometimes when she remembers what happened."

"Really? I've never seen that."

"Boy, she's good. I guess she never lets you see it. This morning might have been nearly as hard for her as it was for you."

"I don't want her feeling guilty, not anymore."

"Just Stacy, right?"

"No comment. But you'll be happy to hear that I've agreed to treat her husband."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction."

"I'm not so sure. But I've got no choice -- it's what I do."

"Yeah, and you're still here to do it, maybe because of her."

A flash of anger passed over House's face. "Jimmy, enough."

"Sorry. Sometimes I just don't know when to shut up."

"You and me both." House stared down at the table for a long moment, and then finally brought his eyes back up to Wilson. "Look, thanks for lunch, and for getting me outta there, and for, you know…"

"Any time, pal."