She paused at door 608, leaning her head against the frame for just a second. Then, with a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "You aren't going back to Princeton tomorrow."

He glared at the wall, but at least he was sitting up this time. "Yes I am. That balding quack told me."

"Doctor Myers told you that this morning. He decided this afternoon that it'd be best if you could stay with him and Dr. Randall for a while."

Finally he looked at her, albeit incredulously. "Right. That just occurred to him. Anyway I don't need to stay in the hospital anymore, so the logical place for me to go would be my apartment. Which is in Princeton."

"Logical, except for the switching doctors," she reminded him.

"I am a doctor, therefore I know that isn't a problem. Stop bullshitting me. What, you think I've formed some kind of bond with those two that's accelerating my progress?''

"No," she said, then paused. "But I do think there's something at home that will hinder it."

He snorted derisively. "What would you know about anything back at Princeton-Plainsboro? I doubt Foreman's keeping you in the loop, and if you knew anything, you'd know Dumb and Dumber are long gone."

"I don't know exactly what's going on there, but I know what's going on here. This morning was like a smack in the face, House. A week of acting almost civil, then suddenly, you won't even speak to me. And I was pissed." She stopped a moment, choosing her next words. "But I know you." Hopefully that won't scare him. "There had to be a reason for you to act like that - at first I thought you were in more pain physically. Then Doctor Myers told me you were going home."

"You don't know anything about me," he muttered, glaring at the sheets.

"You're wrong." This wasn't going well. "Here's what's going to happen, House. You're going to stay in Boston for another two weeks. Then your doctors will re-evaluate whether you're ready to go home."

"What are you trying to do? I know you're not serious - they wouldn't keep me in this hospital for two more weeks. I don't need to be here; my therapy can be done with a clinic visit a day."

"I didn't say you're staying in the hospital. There's an apartment a few blocks from here."

"I shouldn't even have to point out the idiocy of that idea. Getting an apartment for two weeks, while still paying for my Princeton one?"

She braced herself for his reaction. "No rent. I have an extra bedroom."

Silence reigned for a moment as his facial features appeared to be debating on how to arrange themselves. Settling for scornful disbelief, he said, "Me. Stay with you. As if that would ever work."

"It'd be easy for you to get back and forth for physical therapy. I won't be bugging you; I'm here all day anyway. What's so hard about it?"

"Don't want to be kept up all night by you and KSA?"

She gave him a look. "For the millionth time, it's not like that. Seriously, this will help you get better faster."

"You think Faulkner is a better hospital than Princeton-Plainsboro?"

"Debatable, but that's not the point. Patients heal faster when they can focus on their recovery. You need to get to where you can handle going home and resolving whatever issue sent you here in the first place. That won't happen while you're still hurting this much."

"So I'm going to stay with you until the pain goes away and I face my problems? Don't be an idiot, Thirteen. I'm going home." He was more vehement now.

"No." Not angry but certainly firm. She waited, unperturbed by his analytical gaze. "I'm not an idiot. I know that before the accident, you were in pain. And dealing with issues has never been your strong suit. But you're a doctor too. You know that with injuries like this, half the battle is mental. So my professional opinion is that sending you back to a stressful environment, with all the outside influences that obviously affected you before, would be a severe setback to your recovery."

"I don't need you to protect me from my own life," he snapped, "especially when you have no idea what it is you're doing."

"The reason I don't know is because you won't tell me!"

She immediately regretted her words when he drew back as if he'd been slapped. His eyes shut in a wince, and he rubbed his forehead, looking almost confused. "Get out." His voice was so quiet she tried to ignore it. "Out," he said again, and she saw the conflict in his face when he glanced up. "Just give me a few minutes."

Perplexed, silent, she left. Once in the hall, she found herself at a loss as to where to go, so she settled for pacing the corridor. As usual, 5:00 p.m. was a lull in the activity, just before the bustle of evening visitors and dinner carts hit. House, of course, would have no evening visitor except her. A person alone in the hospital is the saddest thing in the world, even if it is House. She felt foolish admitting it, as a doctor, but she had a strange fear of hospitals. It was difficult for her to be completely at ease - so many people dying. So many people being saved, too, she reminded herself. This hospital has its heroes, too. You just don't see them in action as much as with House at Princeton-Plainsboro.

Her mind wandered to Stephen. His shift ended at five, but he told her he'd wait for her to finish talking with House. As much as she hesitated to admit it, especially with House's recent allegations, she was relying heavily on his steady support in this tumultuous situation. He was just so easy to talk to: always listening and offering information, never pushing her toward a path of action. Maybe he'll want to go get dinner again tonight. I could use the company.

Suddenly House's voice echoed in her head. "Just make sure you tell Knight in Shining Armor that." Could there be something to his comments? House had no idea how to deal with human emotion, but that didn't stem from an inability to interpret them. She'd always known he was strangely perceptive...but that doesn't mean he knows anything about me and Stephen. We're just friends. Neither of us has ever given any sign of wanting more than that. I'm not being naive here, am I?

"Dammit." Determined to keep her thoughts on mute, she decided she'd given House enough time. Knocking lightly, she pushed the door open and found him staring pensively at the ceiling.

He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but she knew if he was going to agree to the idea, it would be easier for him if he didn't have to say it. "Any argument you come up with, I've already addressed. It'll be fine, House."

"I do have a job to get back to, you know," he grumbled, and she felt like cheering. Resorting to that flimsy argument meant he was accepting the idea.

"And I also know you can find a way out of it. Sick days, vacation days, some kind of excuse."

"Ground rules," he began firmly. "You don't comment on my Vicodin, diet, sleep habits, or anything else. Not even a 'look.' When I say leave me alone, you do it. That said, you should know I sleep whenever I goddamn want to, not necessarily when the rotation of the planet says I do. So before at least noon, no loud music, slamming doors, hair dryers, et cetera."

She smiled, not even remotely bothered by him setting rules for her house. "I think I can live with those. And I just have one to add - you go to all of your physical therapy sessions."

"Not like I'll have anything else to do," he conceded.

Wincing at the thought of a bored House turned loose, she amended, "and you at least try not to wreak havoc on my apartment?"

He smirked mischievously. "No promises there."

"Well, what did I expect?" She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Are you okay with staying here tonight? Won't try to run away or anything?"

"Yeah." He was suddenly more serious. "Thirteen, I won't try to run away."

"Good," she said, catching his eye. She understood the words for what they were - his own roundabout, hidden way of saying "thank you."

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