House walked to his bedroom door and knocked on it to let her know that the coast was clear. She had obviously been standing right behind the door as she opened it immediately.

"I could not hear what he said, but Dr. Wilson sounded angry at you," she said.

"That is nothing new," House shrugged. "He gets angry at me on regular basis. You have nothing to worry about, he didn't realise that you were here. Though I think you had better take that cab now, just in case. If I take you to the hospital, someone might see us and that would not be a good idea."

"So I heard right when I thought he said something about you having company?" she asked.

"Yes, he saw the coffee mugs in the kitchen. But that's ok; there were no nametags on them." House had to bend down and rub his leg again. The Vicodin was kicking in, but he still had a cramp or two to work out. "I am curious about one thing, though."

"What?" she asked.

"Why me?" House looked puzzled. "You don't need to answer if you don't want to, but I am curious. I can understand what brought you here, but why here, why me? Why not James? You've known him longer, he was there with you all through Andie's illness, he would definitely have helped you this way too – in fact, I would have thought my acceptance was by no means as certain. So why me?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I wasn't really thinking last night, just following my instincts. I have to think about it, but I believe something about you made me trust you more."

"Strange," House mused. "I would have thought most would see Wilson as the more trustworthy of the two of us."

"Maybe, but as I said I need to think about it. I would like to know, too, because I don't know if I'm ashamed of myself, or if I even should be," she bit her lip in indecision. "This is not typical behaviour for me, and yet you have been strangely ... I don't know ... respectful to me. But I do know that I don't want anyone else to know about this."

"This is nobody else's business in any way," House agreed. "I'm not telling anyone; never fear."

"I didn't think you would," she said. "Though thank you for reassuring me on that point. But you are right, it's better that I take a cab. I'll pay you back when I get my purse."

"You better send the money to me here, just in case," House advised.

"Yes, again you are right," she smiled ruefully. "I'm not very good at intrigue or anything like this."

They made ready to go, House called the cab and as soon as it arrived he escorted her to it, before leaving on his bike for the breakfast meeting with his mother.

House had not driven even quite three miles of the way when he saw Soo walking towards the hospital, looking miserable. His first thought was to drive on, but he found himself braking to a stop – all the while cursing the person or power or whatever that had all of a sudden filled him with the milk of human kindness! Though he did tell himself that Soo was his to torment for the time being and nobody else was allowed to make her miserable.

"What are you doing here?" House asked, startling Soo. "I thought I made it clear I wanted you waiting for me when I get to work today."

"Dr. House!" Soo exclaimed. "Ugh.. I'm trying to avoid my Mother," she then confessed. House looked around in an exaggerated manner.

"You are doing a great job, then! I cannot see hide nor hair of her."

"I meant that I spent the night with friends instead of my rooms," Soo explained. "I got a lift there and forgot to make sure I had the bus fare back."

"Fine," House sounded exasperated. "I'll give you a lift. I'm meeting my Mother first, so you can take a message to Foreman. I need fresh MRI of your Father's leg waiting for me when I get to work." He tossed the helmet to Soo and waited for her to climb on his bike – which she did, though she was stunned speechless.

--------

Having deposited Soo at the Hospital entrance House went on to have breakfast with his parents and Wilson. Blythe did her best to make it a pleasant enough occasion, but with Wilson glaring at House at every opportunity and John trying to be fatherly it was not easy. Nobody came to blows, however, so in a way it was a success – though mainly the success was due to House ignoring most of what the other men said or did and just concentrating on his food.

After the breakfast Blythe insisted that she wanted a lift on House's bike to the hospital; as it was just a couple of hundred yards, House agreed. Wilson and John walked as they had parked the car in the PPTH parking lot. As they were walking towards the hospital after parking House's bike – again in the handicap space – Blythe turned to House to apologize once more for the morning.

"I told him to phone you," Blythe said. "I am truly sorry for having put you in a difficult position."

"It's ok, Mother," House said. "It wasn't your fault. And in fact most mornings there would have been no problem."

"Murphy's law," Blythe agreed. "How is she, anyway?"

"Who?" House asked warily. He knew it was too much to expect that his mother hadn't figured out that he had had company when they arrived, but surely that was all she could have guessed.

"Andie's mother," Blythe answered showing once again how well he could read her son's mind.

"I cannot say," House said cautiously. He knew denial was pointless, but he still didn't want to admit anything outright, not after his promise that morning.

"Yes, you are right," Blythe admitted. "It really is not your place to answer for her. I have to ask her myself if I want to know."

"Mother..." House started but didn't know how to go on from there.

"Don't worry, son," Blythe reassured him. "I'm not judging. It is not my place to tell anyone how to cope with a loss like hers."

"Thank you," was all House said, and they closed the subject.

Once they reached the hospital they waited for John and Wilson to catch up with them and then they all walked in together. Once inside Wilson said curtly his goodbyes and left to go into his own office. House turned to walk to Cuddy's office ready to ask for the injection he felt he needed now more than ever before. Blythe and John followed him for part of the way as the therapist Blythe was about to see was in the same direction.

"You really don't know how lucky you are," John said to his son, making House grind his teeth together with an effort to keep silent. "This is a fine hospital you work in and the people here do their best to accommodate you and your surliness. You really should be more appreciative of all they are willing to do for you. You have so much."

"I'm not so sure you have the faintest idea of my haves and have nots!" House growled.

"I really don't know what more do you want!" John stared at his son in incomprehension. "That infarction or whatever it was you had in your leg could have killed you. But instead of being grateful to Stacy for saving your life you drove her away. You are alive, you have a well-paying job – there are millions who would trade places with you in a heartbeat! You just don't know how truly lucky you are."

"Yeah, I'm not-dead! How bloody lucky do you think that makes me," House was on the verge of loosing control.

"You are much more than just not-dead," John insisted. "If you just stopped wallowing in self-pity you could see the life you really have!"

"And if you stopped blinding yourself with self-righteousness you might be able to see further than your own nose," House's voice was not loud but it was vicious. "You never did understand anything that was outside your narrow perception. You think that Stacy saved my life? That this, what I have now is anything even resembling a life? The only thing I am is not-dead! And I would hell of a rather be dead than this. And I had a chance to be just that: dead. No pain, no begging for bloody pain-medication from stupid idiots who think I must be an addict for needing it, nobody telling me that it is all in my head, no waking up in the middle of the night to near unbearable agony, no pacing the corridors of this hospital in a vain attempt to ease the hell this leg is putting me through. I could be dead! But I'm not, because my bloody girlfriend and my bloody doctor got their heads together and decided to extract their pound of flesh from me, for whatever debt they decided I owed them. They didn't have the guts to respect me and my wishes. They decided that they knew better than I what kind of a life I would be able to live with. And once they had screwed me up but good, one of them left, all the while patting herself on the back for having at least saved my life and the other one buried her head in the sand refusing to see the true results of her handiwork. Yeah, I'm just so bloody lucky for being not-dead!"

John House stared stunned at his son. Blythe reached out with her hand, but House turned away abruptly towards Cuddy's door only to stop short at the sight of Cuddy standing there, pale and stunned. She had obviously heard every hissed word that House had thrown at his father. House looked at her for about a heartbeat, but then he just walked to face her.

"I need that injection," House said quietly, and then he walked past her into her office. Cuddy followed him in after a moment.

-------

Cuddy had not said a single word while giving him the injection. House was glad of that; he did not want to talk especially not of his outburst to his father. He wished he had been able to hold it all inside; he had not wanted to reveal something like that to his mother. He could convince anyone else – including Cuddy – that the outburst had been just that: an outburst provoked by pain and his Father's persistent prodding. His mother was the only one he knew would have seen the truth in his words. But it was out. Not recalling any of the words. The best he could hope was to make his mother believe that those were his sentiments only on his bad days – hopefully she wouldn't ask how often he had those bad days!

House limped to his office. He was still careful though the morphine was working and the pain was almost gone for the moment. When he got there he found Wilson sitting in his chair. He stood in the doorway considering for a moment to ask Foreman and Chase to get Wilson out of there, but then he decided against it. Better to have this out now.

"Not that you care, but Andie's mother is ok," Wilson started. "She came back this morning to get her purse. Cameron spoke with her."

"Why wouldn't I care?" House asked. "I'm glad she is fine."

"You don't care about anyone but yourself," Wilson sneered as best he could. "Andie died yesterday and the very same night you ... I cannot even say it. You couldn't respect Andie's memory even for a few hours!"

"How would my abstaining made any difference?" House asked mildly. "It would not have brought her back. It would not have lessened anyone's grief. And I don't think last night disrespected Andie in any way. Don't forget, we are talking about the girl who got Chase to kiss her! You yourself told me I ought to follow her example more."

"Don't; don't even think of comparing that kiss to what you did last night!" Wilson was furious.

"Why not?" House asked. "She didn't crawl into her grave before she had to. And she most certainly didn't want anyone else to do that either. She enjoyed life when she could. I don't think denying life is any way to respect her memory."

"You are just making excuses for the inexcusable," Wilson huffed. "I can't believe you can think what you did was ok in any way! How can you think taking advantage of someone like that is acceptable?"

House got worried; surely Wilson could not know who it had been. Blythe would never have told anyone – but she had guessed. And it was possible that Andie's mother had let something slip while talking with Cameron. Also Cameron was the one person who might have recognised the shirt even after it was ironed.

"What kind of advantage have I now taken and of whom?" House decided to make a straight question. Guessing would probably just get him into deeper hot water.

"Don't try that," Wilson shook his head sadly at House. "You were seen."

"And who might have seen me?" House tried to stall for time still.

"Bloody near everybody!" Wilson yelled finally. "Were you out of your mind to bring her right to the front door? Didn't you have any regard for her reputation? Have you any idea what this is going to do to her position in this hospital? Let alone the problems you causing Cuddy. You are the doctor who is taking care of her Father! And she has her father's medical proxy – which, by the way, is something her mother disapproves of as she thinks you have too much influence on her daughter!"

"Soo?" House stared at Wilson. "You are talking about Soo! What on earth gave you the idea that she was the woman in my flat this morning?"

"Don't try to deny it," Wilson insisted. "Her mother couldn't locate her last night and this morning she came to work on your bike!"

"So I gave her a lift? How does that prove that she spent the night with me? Sometimes, you know, a lift is just a lift." House wondered – somewhat relieved, though. Wilson was still in the dark.

"So you are really saying that it was not Soo, in your flat this morning?" Wilson started cautiously to believe his friend.

"Yes, that is what I'm saying," House confirmed. "And I really feel insulted that you could think something like that of me."

"Look House, I'm sorry," Wilson said deflated. "I didn't mean to leap to conclusions, but it fit. It just fit! I'm sorry if I was wrong. I still think you were wrong in getting company for the night, but if it wasn't Soo – or any other medical student, then I'm sorry."

"No, it was not Soo," House growled – refusing to let Wilson see how revealed he actually was. "Nor was it anyone else I needed to manipulate or coerce or blackmail or seduce in any other nefarious method to grace my bed. Happy? Only I have work to do. Foreman ought to have some fresh MRI's for me to see."

"Yeah, yeah," Wilson looked down on the floor in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Fine," House told him. "Next time don't be so eager to leap into conclusions."