When House entered the lobby the following day, Wilson and Amber were not far behind. As he moved to retrieve the file calling his name, he didn't slow down, and he didn't look at them. But he could hear them.
"Wow!" Wilson said. "Look at this. Decades later, and it's...it's the same."
"The patients are different."
Wilson's laugh pained House's desolate heart. He was making a face as he lumbered through, and those familiar with his temperament were quick to move out of his way. Arriving at his office, and frankly tired of hearing their imaginary voices, he pushed the door open with a little too much force—ripping it clean off the hinges, interrupting himself. He forced a smile at his frightened fellows. "Got a case," he said again. He tossed the file onto the table, hooked his cane over his arm and tried to lean the door against the wall.
"Is...everything okay?" Cameron asked falteringly.
"Yes!" he barked.
Now Taub spoke. "Is this one of those times you say it is when it's not—"
"Just read the damn file!"
While Taub slid the papers closer and picked them up, Dr. Lim gaped at the other doctors; unaccustomed to House's brash personality. "Patient presented with a fever, tachyarrhythmia, joint pain, fatigue, and a rash on his...extra toe."
"Of course," Wilson said. "I die and things get interesting."
The team, along with Chase and Cameron, were sitting quietly at the table. House spun and looked at Taub. "See, this is one of those times you go do that technical, doctory stuff."
They stood up and began leaving the office. Coming up last, Cameron spoke gently. "Do we need to talk?"
"Nope. I'm fine."
"I really doubt that." She moved past him and his eyes followed her along the glass wall.
Behind him, a light feminine giggle got his attention. "You're getting better."
"And you're easily impressed! Is that why you dated Wilson?" House stepped slowly away from the leaning door, hands outstretched. When it seemed like the door was leaning securely, he unhooked his cane and touched the rubber bottom to the carpet. He lowered his head, staring at the broken hinges. His free hand moved to the bottle in his pocket. He threw the pills down his throat and glowered at his hallucinations as he headed to his outer office. Looking ahead, he made a face when he saw that Amber and Wilson were there waiting for him.
Reaching for the remote control, he kicked his feet up. "If you can't get me a tangible snack that I can eat, don't talk." He turned on the TV and was met with the cruel lyrics of It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. He muted the commercial and stared grumpily at the screen.
