"House… I've got some very bad news."

House was silent, afraid to speak, unsure of what type of news Wilson might have for him. As menacing as Wilson was being at the moment, House didn't want to take any chances of angering him any further. He just watched Wilson's face, silently waiting for the younger man to explain.

"Your mother called. House… it's your father…"

Not my father…

"He's… he's passed away. I'm so sorry, House. He's dead."

House wasn't quite sure what he felt at that unexpected announcement. There was a certain amount of regret – a sort of wistful, not-quite-sorrow at what might have been between him and the man who'd been married to his mother – as well as a surreal feeling, as if this was nothing more than a strange, unsettling dream. After so long without contact with the outside world, the people he'd known before seemed like characters from a story.

"I'm so sorry, House," Wilson repeated, his voice trembling slightly.

House felt a vindictive sense of satisfaction that Wilson seemed thrown by the situation, unsure of what to say or how to conduct himself. There was concern and uncertainty in his gaze, as he waited for House's reaction to the news.

"Good," House muttered. "Maybe my mother will actually have a life for the few years he didn't get the chance to suck dry."

"House!" Wilson's tone was only mildly rebuking, but House couldn't help but flinch slightly, tensing in preparation for some form of physical punishment. "Regardless of what you thought of the man, he was still your father…"

He wasn't, House knew; but he also knew better than to argue with Wilson at the moment.

"Maybe you're not sorry he's dead, but you should still show a little compassion and respect, if only for your mother's sake."

House frowned, puzzled by that remark. What difference did it make to his mother how he behaved, when she wasn't there to see it anyway? And wouldn't it be much more disrespectful and hurtful to her for her only son not to attend her husband's funeral? He dared not voice those thoughts aloud, however, for fear of how Wilson might react to what he would certainly perceive as an attempt at trickery and manipulation.

House tried to focus on Wilson's disapproving words, reminding himself that the other man was still speaking.

"…the way you really feel, you'd better try not to let that attitude show at the funeral…"

House's chest tightened with unease, his attention immediately arrested by Wilson's unexpected words. He looked up sharply at the face of his captor, searching Wilson's calm gaze with obvious surprise.

"What?" Wilson asked, sounding a little impatient.

House phrased his response with caution, careful to keep his voice subdued and non-confrontational. "We're… going to the funeral?"

"Well, of course we're going to the funeral." Wilson sounded stunned by the idea that they might not. "House, you can't just not show up for your own father's funeral. Even if you don't really care for yourself, you should at least be there to show support for your mother."

House's mind was racing as he tried to process the huge implications of this unexpected development. He was going to be allowed back into contact with his family and what passed for friends in his life at the moment. He was going to have a chance to communicate with someone besides Wilson – maybe even a chance to communicate the horrific situation in which he had found himself.

But… not if Wilson got suspicious and decided not to let him go.

House decided that a little reverse psychology was in order, as insurance.

"I don't want to go," he muttered, looking away with a heavy sigh.

Wilson frowned, initially suspicious – as House had expected. "You don't?"

"I hated the man, Wilson. Why would I want to go celebrate the life of an abusive, egotistical maniac who lived like nobody's opinions mattered but his and everyone but him was a pathetic, worthless idiot?"

Wilson shrugged, a smile of affectionate amusement on his lips. "So… I should stop buying you birthday presents, then?"

House forced a smile that would have come naturally under other circumstances. As it was, the occasional flashes of the old Wilson that came to the surface only served as a disturbing reminder that the man who had once been his best friend was definitely not okay.

"Wilson," House persisted, his voice soft and what he hoped passed for intimate and confiding, "you have no idea what he was like… the things he did. To me, and my mom. To anyone unfortunate enough to disagree with him and not hide it, in fact. I'm glad he's gone, and I'd honestly rather not waste another moment on him."

Wilson was quiet for a moment, considering, and House had an awful moment in which he thought that perhaps he had been a little too convincing, and Wilson would relent and change his mind about going.

"I understand how you feel about this, House…" Wilson conceded in a gentle, patient tone, and House's heart skipped a beat, a sick sensation coming over him.

No, oh no… shit…

"…but you need to go. You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't. Maybe not right away, but eventually." Wilson paused, letting out a heavy sigh of resignation before adding, "This is a really good example of why I have to take care of you like this, House. You need to trust me to make the right decision for you on this, because you're clearly not going to make it yourself."

House was quiet, cautious, his eyes locked onto Wilson's as he nodded slowly and answered with soft submission. "Okay."

"You'll stay close to me while we're there… behave yourself and act normally in front of everyone, and don't say anything about our arrangement… and everything will be just fine."

House nodded again, accepting Wilson's terms without question.

He knew that complete submission was likely the only way he would get a chance to escape.

"If you give me any trouble while we're there, House… if you start trying to get away, or to tell people things that are none of their business… then, things won't go so well." Wilson's tone remained calm and certain as he touched the gun in his waistband and continued, "Anyone you tell about this, I'll have to get rid of, in order to protect you. I… don't want to have to kill anyone, but… I'll do whatever I have to do to protect you, House."

House's stomach lurched at the thought of his mother or other innocents being harmed because of a miscalculation or reckless risk on his part. He shook his head slowly, swallowing hard, struggling over the words as he answered Wilson.

"Okay. I-I understand." He glanced with dread toward the weapon tucked into the waist of Wilson's pants, then met Wilson's eyes again. "Whatever you think is best."

*********************************

Cuddy glanced away from the paperwork she was filling out as a date in red on her desk calendar caught her attention. She drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she read the note over and over again, caught in the midst of indecision.

John House's funeral. 2:00pm.

I need to see him… to see for myself that he's all right. I have to be sure.

She frowned, mentally berating herself for her selfishness.

This isn't about what I need. It's about what House needs. Not to mention his poor mother. I didn't even know Colonel House, and I've only met his wife a couple of times. They'd wonder what I was doing there. It's not like I have a real reason… besides House.

She'd spent so much time lately thinking about him, wondering where he was and how he was doing, that she wasn't sure she could keep herself away from what might be her only chance to see him anytime soon. She shook her head as she returned to her work, trying to busy herself enough to remove her thoughts from her ex-employee.

I would definitely get some odd looks if I show up at the funeral… but it might be worth it. I'm not going to get any peace of mind until I see him. I don't really have a choice… I just have to make sure he's okay…

*****************************

"Now, be sure that you stay close to me at all times. I want you within hearing distance; if at any time you're not, I'm gonna start worrying. Is that clear?"

House nodded silently, struggling to focus on Wilson's words over the overwhelming sights and sounds that filled his senses through the car windows. After so long with so little to engage his senses, it was almost too much. His head was beginning to ache, and he was finding it very difficult to focus.

Of course, his concentration issues might have had something to do with the sedatives Wilson had administered to him right before they left the house.

"House," Wilson snapped, a warning note in his voice. "Is that clear?"

"Y-yes," House responded, quiet and subdued. "Stay close to you."

"If anyone suggests that you go off alone with them, you'll need to make a polite excuse and stay with me," Wilson continued. "If you do anything otherwise, I'll assume it's because you're looking for a way to tell them our secrets, and I'll be forced to take care of them. Got it?"

House nodded hurriedly; he was listening this time. "I won't," he assured Wilson. "I swear, I'll stay with you."

"Good." Wilson's tone was stern as he asked, "What's your story again? Where have you been these last few months?"

House struggled to focus enough to retell the story as he and Wilson had rehearsed it. He stared at the dashboard in front of him, his words halting and hesitant.

"I've been… somewhere private, recovering from the accident and taking some time to myself. To… clear my head and all. And… I'd rather not tell anyone where that place is. Now, more than ever, I need some distance from… from everything. If anyone wants to get a message to me, they can talk to you about it, until I'm ready to… to go public again."

Wilson was silent for a long time, and House was tense and anxious, wondering what he'd gotten wrong as he waited for his response. Wilson parked the car in the parking lot outside the funeral home, then turned in his seat to face House more fully, accidentally – or maybe not-so-accidentally – revealing the gun tucked into his slacks, covered by his jacket under normal conditions.

House flinched, swallowing convulsively as Wilson edged nearer to him, reaching out a gentle hand to rest on his arm. He braced himself for punishment, mentally cursing the sedatives that dulled his memory and kept him from remembering every detail of the story Wilson had taught him.

Then, Wilson smiled, and a quiver of released tension and terror shook through House with the relief of knowing that he hadn't messed up so badly after all.

"Very good, House," Wilson declared softly. "That's perfect. Just… calm down a little. Try not to sound so freaked out. You've got the story down perfectly. Just stick to it, and everything's going to be just fine."

House nodded, too overwhelmed with mingled relief and anxiety over what was to come in the next couple of hours to trust his own voice. He took several deep breaths, struggling to control the violent shaking of his hands as Wilson opened his door and got out, stopping at the trunk to retrieve House's cane before going around the car to open House's door for him.

House didn't dare make a move unless Wilson told him to, for fear that Wilson might think he was trying something.

Wilson opened his door and took his arm, helping him to his feet, though he didn't really need the help. Once House was on his feet, Wilson pushed him gently back against the side of the car, a cool smile on his lips as he pressed forward into House's space. House drew in his breath sharply in alarm, his eyes submissively downcast, intensely aware of the scrutiny of Wilson's intent gaze on his face.

"You ready for this?" Wilson asked in a tone that was gentle but laced with warning.

House nodded, his breath quickening with fear.

"Shhh," Wilson soothed him, running a hand lightly up and down his arm. "It's gonna be fine. You just do as you're told and everything will be just fine. All right?"

House nodded again, trying to steady his trembling hands and slow his breathing.

"Okay, then," Wilson concluded, releasing House and stepping back so he could move away from the car, pressing House's cane into his hand. "This is it. Here we go."