House said nothing. He just tugged on the tie.

"No."

"You have a mean streak you know that?"

"I do. You have told me many times. Mostly when I took the last slice of pizza."

"Do you want to come while I take the patient's history?"

"Oh yeah. That will inspire confidence."

"It's just that you know your not allowed to go wandering on your own… and if I leave?"

"I know, I know. I am grounded by order of mom." He brushed her off. "Go. I'll listen to TV until you come back with the info."

He swiveled round and put his feet up on top of a now completely useless medical journal he had been reading last week and pretended to go sleep. He'd give her five minutes and then make a break for it. He was sick of people looking at him like he was some sort of 'cripple'. Looking out for him. Fuck it: was there one metaphor in the English language that didn't involve the optic nerve. He was over being molly coddled. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. He could feel them staring. And it wasn't fair because he couldn't glare back. He'd always thought his ice cold stare was one of his best features. Good for scaring interns and silly young women.

Speaking of which, Cameron should be far far away over the puppy dog rainbow by now. Hopefully she might meet a hungry Rotweiller. Time to escape. House grabbed his cane and keeping one hand in front of him carefully made for the office door.

Me and Steve McQueen, the two best escapers in the land he thought as he tried to turn the handle. He jiggled it a few times, but nothing. His heart sank. Those bastards. He limped over to the other door. It was the same. There was one final chance they might not have thought of – the balcony. But it was locked too.

Furious he snatched up the phone. "It's my life. It's my leg and it's my eyesight," he said without preamble when it answered.

Cuddy paused. "Actually it's not. Not at the moment."

"What do you mean?" he said darkly.

"I pulled some strings. Doctor Martin released you against medical advice, into Wilson's care… because you made him your proxy." She paused before continuing. "We didn't tell you. We thought it would be best."

House said nothing. He just slammed down the phone.

"Thanks Ernie, you are a marvel. I don't know how the door got stuck," said House smoothly.

"No problem Doctor House. It just looked like it accidentally got locked."

House stared convincingly in Ernie's direction and smiled. "Imagine that."

Ernie left and House was hot on his heels through the door. Pointlessly he 'looked' both ways down the corridor, randomly picked a direction and started off only to run into something big, soft, squishy and Wilson shaped.

He tried to bolt in the other direction, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"House… you're…"

"No damnit," he yelled as he broke free and limped a few more steps up the corridor. He had no idea where he was now, but rage was driving him on. "You're feeling guilty and you are being overprotective," he spat into the void. "I don't need you watching over me 24 hours a day making sure I don't get into trouble. I am a big boy. I can take of myself."

That hit home. "Fine then," yelled Wilson. "Go it alone."

"Thank you for your permission Mr Jimmy," hissed House as he strode away.

Wilson winced as House walked straight into a wall.

House stumbled back a few steps and would have fallen except Wilson was there, his arms around him, holding him up.

He pushed Wilson away and regained his footing, but then, after a moment, a small begrudging 'thanks' escaped his lips.

"Come one, let's get back to your office."

House looked suspicious.

"You aren't going to lock me in again?"

Wilson started. House was still angry, but sounded like such a little boy, pleading almost. He smiled. "No, but you're still confined to quarters until Cuddy stops being mad. How long did she say you were grounded for?"

House sighed. Life just wasn't fair. "Something about until hell freezes over."

"Well are you going to guess?"

"No, I don't feel like it today."

"Not even if I give you a hint?"

"Nah, it's OK. I'm sure it's nice."

A lot can happen in twelve hours.

In twelve hours you can go from being relatively happy to miserable. In twelve hours you can let your best friend down.

Every night he imagined it. Waking up alone, disorientated, cold, in agony… crawling around, bumping into sharp corners. Crying out for help. No one answering.

And where were you Jimmy boy? Where were you?