House stood on his balcony absently throwing sunflower seeds over the side. Wilson stepped out of his office and looked over the side also, staying quietly on his side of the short wall. He saw House was aiming for an empty flowerpot three stories down and grinned inwardly. "Keeping busy I see."
"That's why I have a dedicated team. They can even read! The dark one offered me a new car every month. I'd have to start them with a screwdriver though."
Wilson sighed and decided to make House just a bit more annoyed. "About the treatments."
House turned to him suddenly and pierced Wilson with his eyes. "Have you ever been on a deserted island? And the helicopter comes to save you, drops you back off at home, then picks you up and leaves you back on the island?"
Wilson looked taken back at the comment. "Well, no. I get the metaphor though."
House turned back to look out over the campus. "The window of hope has no way of staying open. It's torture to think 'Maybe this time the treatment will work'. I don't want to keep hoping and being crushed when it doesn't stick."
"Then you go back in a couple months and get it done again."
House closed his eyes and Wilson's heart went out to him. He, of course, knew exactly what House was trying to say. The treatment was addictive and sometimes dangerous. House knew what he was up against with it, and chose, for once, the safe route of how things had always been. "Check out my patient, will you? Just for fun." And he turned to go back inside. Wilson bowed his head in defeat.