Chapter 18

"Dr. House?"

The hand on his shoulder was gentle but insistent.

He was sure he'd only fallen asleep five minutes ago.

"Huh?"

The flight attendant smiled at him. "The back of your seat needs to be in the upright position for landing. We're approaching Seattle now."

Apparently, he had slept longer than five minutes.

At first, he had thought he wouldn't survive the flight without bashing someone's head in. That someone most likely being one of the idiot freshmen seated right in front of him. Or both of them. He had picked a window seat in the hope of avoiding someone climbing over him every half-hour. Instead, he was rewarded with inane chatter about shopping and guys they fancied – at a level which ensured the whole plane was able to listen. They were every passenger's nightmare. Or maybe only House's because he seemed the only one inclined to do something. Everyone else rolled their eyes but remained silent.

When the Nightmare Twins didn't lower the volume after a relatively polite request to tone things down a bit, he'd had a word with a flight attendant to see if there were any free seats on the plane. But his half-hearted attempt at flirting with her fell flat; the answer was negative. The information was conveyed with a smile but the answer was still no.

So he'd sat there sipping a coffee and wished he had something stronger than milk to add to it. At the very least, it would have improved the coffee. An attempt to distract himself with the in-flight program had proved futile. It wasn't just the volume. The longer he had to listen to those girls, the more he was convinced they were sharing a brain.

Eventually, House had stood up, squeezed past his neighbor, stumped down the aisle and loomed over the flight attendant with the nice smile.

"You either move them or me - or I won't be held accountable for my actions. I swear, every judge would accept what I'm about to do as justifiable self-defense."

The woman's eyes went wide, and he could see her hesitate for a fraction of a second. Theoretically, she should raise the alarm now because he had uttered a threat. But House was confident that she wouldn't. He didn't fancy starting his new life as a terrorist suspect. He didn't think he would have to because she had seen him hobble down the aisle twice, once when he boarded and now when he had come up to her. His leg still bothered him more than usual, even though the swelling around his knee had receded considerably by now. He leaned on his cane a bit more openly, sighed and then looked down at the floor. A couple of deep breaths, and then he said, "seriously, you need to do something. I can't take this all the way to Seattle."

"Sir, if you go back to your seat, I'll see what I can do."

She had a much softer smile for him when he looked up. One that he knew well. But, for once, he didn't mind seeing it because it boded well. As long as he got a seat away from the Nightmare Twins he didn't care.

Biting back a comeback to her pity was rewarded with a seat in business class.

Definitely worth it, he had thought when he stretched his legs and ordered a drink. There was no question that he'd be stiff and in pain anyway after this flight. But another drink – he'd already had one earlier at the airport where Mark had dropped him off early – and an extra dose of Vicodin would hopefully help him get some sleep.

And now he sat in his relatively comfortable and, more importantly, quiet seat, his seat back upright as requested and watched the approach into Seattle-Tacoma.

Even though the light was fading fast, he could see a whole lot more green down there than when he'd left. Or maybe he just hadn't paid much attention then because he was too wound up about his impending trip. Maybe spring had finally arrived.

On take-off from Newark, he had felt a surprising sense of relief. Leaving the east coast, what had served as his home for so long, shouldn't have been easy. And it hadn't been. He hadn't exactly packed his bags one day and left. Considering what he – and especially Wilson – had been through over the last two or three years, it had been quite an arduous and painful parting. But leaving today had felt like a final leave-taking; a chapter closed.

Retracing the flight's progress on the screen now, it occurred to him that he couldn't have moved further away from his old life bar leaving the country altogether. Wilson had brought them here but he hadn't exactly objected. Wilson's cancer aside, he wondered if they both hadn't run as far as they could.

This was as good a place as any and better than many. As with almost everything in life, you got used to a place. You settled. He had settled in the literal sense of the word. But not settled for less. More, he hoped, but that remained to be seen. He remembered Rosalyn Mercer saying she wished he'd turn over a new leaf and wondered if that's what awaited him down there. He definitely had options, maybe more than ever before in his life. But then, change itself meant nothing. For it to be good change he would actually have to do something.

After they had landed, House grabbed his jacket. He'd worn his damaged leather jacket on the flight because it was too bulky to fit into his small bag which he'd checked in rather than carried onto the plane. Something rustled in one of the pockets. He pulled out his boarding pass and a small card fell out. It simply said 'Matt Davies – musician' and listed his contact details. He turned it over and found a note scrawled on the back.

Look me up if you ever feel like jamming again.

Yes, he definitely had options. House grinned to himself.

But first, homewards.


When House arrived at their apartment he found Wilson at the kitchen counter. Some wildlife documentary was on TV. Wilson looked like he had just come home from work – he was still neatly dressed with his tie thrown back over his shoulder while he was making dinner. He didn't turn around although there was no way he could've missed the sound of the door.

There was a pile of vegetables on the chopping board. Right now he would even eat one of Wilson's healthy stir-fries without a single complaint. It didn't look enough for two, though, since he hadn't told Wilson that he was coming back today. But House knew he would find the refrigerator fully stocked. He could always make himself a sandwich. Which would be a poor alternative if he could have proper, home-cooked food instead.

House paused a moment to inhale the smells.

If this was the life he was returning to, then that was pretty okay with him.

It was good to be back.

"Looks like you need to add some meat to the mix."

"No, I don't." Wilson still hadn't turned around. "I stopped eating meat while you were away."

That was the end of House's dream of a juicy ham sandwich. He would have to do some shopping tomorrow.

"I leave you alone for two weeks, and your mental health goes downhill fast. Tell me you're kidding."

"Nope." Wilson's voice didn't sound as if he were trying to wind House up.

"Suit yourself." House stole a slice of sweet pepper just to annoy Wilson.

He didn't take the bait.

"What happened to the bike?" he wanted to know instead.

So news hadn't travelled cross-country yet. He silently thanked Stacy for not telling Wilson what state he'd been in when he arrived in Short Hills.

"Do you want the long story or the short story?" House dropped his bag at the door to his bedroom.

Wilson paused for a long moment. His shoulders slowly rose and fell with his breath. He finally turned around and eyed House up and down, taking in his tired posture and the tear in his jacket.

He looked as drained as House felt. There were dark smudges under his eyes. But above those, his eyes sparkled.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked in reply to House's question.

"Yup."

I am now.