"You're hallucinating," Chase insisted. "It's this or a straitjacket."

Knowing he couldn't outrun a child, House relented and got out of the truck; but felt compelled to make a final statement. "Hallucinations are not always indicative of psychosis."

"No...but, you are."

House smiled sardonically at him as he shut the car door, and the trio began crossing the wet parking lot. Expecting to hear House grumble, they were not disappointed—but they were surprised about his topic of choice. "Chase," he began. "Before Wilson told us he had cancer, was there any indication he was sick?"

"Uh, no. Not to my knowledge."

"Not to mine, either. Except his trip to Arizona." In the silence, he looked over and caught two identical looks of confusion. "It's the sunniest place on earth! All those extra UV rays probably gave him cancer."

"House. You're diagnosing the dead. Again."

"It could have been preventable."

"And yet, it wasn't prevented. He got cancer, and he was terminal. That's the diagnosis. Don't torture yourself. Because A.), then millions of people are out of a job, and B.), there's no puzzle to solve. You won't get any satisfaction from it."

"I'll get peace."

"For how long?"

"Oh my God! You're right! There's no point to living!" House said sarcastically, as they approached the hospital. The doors whooshed open and they stepped into the brightly lit lobby, where his analytical grumbles continued. "Those two cigars he smoked, wouldn't have affected his thymus. And we can rule out genetics, obesity, and Beckwith-Wiedemann syndrome; no -coma, -noma or -toma."

"You're driving me crazy," Chase muttered.

"And I think we would have noticed the symptoms for Wiskott-Aldrich," House continued.

"We would have noticed, and yet you're asking me."

"Doesn't hurt anyone to get a differential diagnosis. Except all the times I hurt someone."

"You spent more time with him than I did."

"And I'm more observant. And apparently more caring."

Chase was scoffing at him as Kayla went up to the front desk. "Hi. I'd like my friend to get an MRI; he's hallucinating."

"Take a number."

"Take a number?" House asked, suddenly distracted from his differential. "That's your attitude when it comes to..." He stopped as Kayla handed him a strip of paper with a number on it. "Oh. Well, where's the forms? Where's the highly insulting word exchange? That's my favorite part!"

"Let's just go sit down," Kayla said, and went to the chairs. Chase and House joined her, but the latter stared off in the distance, absent-mindedly turning his cane; the bottom of it never leaving the floor.

"House," Chase said. "Please just let it slide. It won't do you any good to agonize over Wilson."

"Not what I was agonizing over." He raised his eyebrows at him and turned his head, only to find himself being examined by Kayla. He made a face as she began searching under his hair. "What's happening?"

"I'm looking for an injury."

"I'm fine. I had my head covered."

"I was talking about when you banged your head. Do you remember doing that?"

He pushed away her exploring hands. "I never banged my head. Even if I had... Some soreness, maybe a lump, maybe loss of consciousness. But it certainly wouldn't induce—"

"Psychosis?"

"Give him a break," Chase said, "He was psychotic long before tonight."

"Thank you," House answered.

"Why would you lie?"

"I don't remember. Oh, yes," he added, rolling his eyes. "That's right. I was hallucinating."

"How long has this been going on?" Chase asked.

"What are you, a doctor?"

Chase unflinchingly returned his grumpy stare. "I'm the head of diagnostics."

House made a face at him as another patient's number was called. She vacated her seat and walked past theirs, and House found himself quelling the automatic urge to stick out his cane. He didn't know her, and he didn't have the privilege of being a doctor to hate her; so this confused him. He turned in his seat to watch her leave unharmed. "Just since Lester got arrested."

Kayla looked at him then, crossing her legs. "How come you don't forget my name?"

House's eyes met hers and the waiting room was quiet; the peace only broken by the creak of the chair as Chase got to his feet. "I'm, uh, gonna go see if this hospital has a vending machine," he muttered, and made a fast escape.

Kayla brushed back her hair, and House examined the waiting room. Finally he spoke.

"You shouldn't go home."

"If Logan gets out—"

"He's not getting out," House growled.

Kayla stared into his looming eyes, then turned her head as her own began to tear.

"Your place isn't safe," House said simply.

Kayla nodded and looked down as she repetitively zipped and unzipped a pocket on her purse. Her thoughts kept circling back to Logan. She imagined him sitting on his cot, or looking out between the bars. Thinking of her. They were supposed to be in the fight together.

All she knew was how tired she was of running.

"I suppose I can stay with my sister," she murmured. "Yeah, she'll understand."

"Great. And I will be in New Jersey."

They were quiet again, maintaining eye contact until House's number was called. Without saying a word, he stood up and limped after the radiologist down the hallway; leaving Kayla to sit in the waiting room alone.

Upon reentering the waiting room, House saw that Chase had preceded him back. He stopped in front of the chair he had occupied, and sighed, looking a little perplexed. "I have to wait two weeks for the results," he announced. "And since no doctor is going to tell me over the phone..."

"You have to stay here," Chase finished.

"Which brings me to my question. Uh, how much does it cost here to renew my passport?"

"One-twenty." Kayla frowned at him. "When does it expire?"

House shrugged. "Eight years ago."

"Yeah, right, you never would've gotten past the border," Chase snorted. "The BSOs would have been all over you."

"Who says I dealt with a BSO?"

Kayla stood up and spoke quickly and quietly, anxiously lingering close to him. "Greg, there are police officers on my tail."

"Oh, that's okay. Your gas pedal works, right? Full tank, no flats?"

"Greg," she said fretted.

Then his face broke out in a sudden grin. "Relax," he said. "I renewed my passport last year."

Kayla sighed in exasperation and moved past him as Chase got to his feet, saying, "I'm surprised you even have a Canadian passport. Thought you hated it here."

"I also hated my patients. Still went to work."

"And avoided your patients."

"I avoided the Canadians," House pointed out, as they walked past the receptionist looking on in bewilderment. "Well, seeing as how neither of us are going home, how about you go on that camping trip with us?"

Chase scoffed. "Excuse me, I don't need to wait for test results... And I have a job."

"So I'm taking you to the border tonight, and you in two weeks?" Kayla asked. "You know, I have work, too."

"No, it's okay. It's nothing, I can take a cab," Chase told her.

"And I guess I can find someone to mug," House replied. "You know, so I can cross the border within the next two years."

"I don't mind making one trip." Kayla paused, and in the glare of the street lamps they could see how worried she was. "I can't bring you to my sister's."

"I know a place."

"Great. You're on your own. Kayla—take care," he said, shaking her hand. He changed course, digging out his phone.

Kayla turned to House, putting her hands in her pockets. "This place. Is it far?"

"Yeah. I should be there in about...three days."

"I'll drop you off. But then I have to go."

House nodded and they began retracing their steps to her truck.

Following his directions, Kayla soon angled close to the sidewalk and came to a stop. To the right side of the car, a rustic wood cabin stood sentinel on an overgrown hill; partially obscured by a weeping willow. Wooden steps had been constructed in the grass; the tops of them covered in gravel. "Well, this is me," House said.

"I come here sometimes with Logan." Kayla smiled. And started to unbuckle.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see it."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Why not?"

"You, me, together. Alone. Safe. Things might get...comfortable."

Kayla ignored him, grinning innocently as she got out of the car. Gritting his teeth in displeasure, House hurried to exit the vehicle and enter her path. "Kayla," he said. "Please. You said you'd have to go."

"Oh, I can spare a minute. I don't know when I'll be here next."

"Two weeks."

He groaned in frustration as she continued up to the cabin. And pushed open the door. She went still. The whole world seemed to go still. Her hand inadvertently returned to her side.

House sighed, stepping up beside her. "I'd like you to meet Wilson."