A/N - Yeah, it's been a long time but here's another chapter of this one! I had it half done on my hard drive for years so decided to finish it off and post it in case anyone was still interested :) I'm rewatching season 8 now on the LJ house_rewind comm - so there may or may not be future chapters covering the other episodes.

In our last chapter we left Adams hanging in a net trap set by Wilson (sorry Adams - I didn't mean it to be for three years!), and Wilson owing a Board member a favour for coming to House's rescue.

Wilson sipped his tea from a china cup and ate one of the delicate home baked cookies. Cranberry and pistachio if he wasn't mistaken.

"These are very good, Mrs Doolin."

He'd been invited to tea at the house of one of the hospital Board members, the elderly lady who had intervened on House's behalf at his disciplinary hearing and saved him from receiving another twenty lashes on top of the ones Wilson had already administered in private.

"I'm glad you like them, James. I hope Gregory has recovered somewhat from his beating?"

"He's fine, Mrs Doolin."

"You need to keep a better eye on the dear boy, first going to prison, and then this... unsavoury incident." She smiled indulgently. House had diagnosed a cousin of hers some ten years ago and she had never forgotten it, she'd been a good ally to Wilson ever since. He had been counting on her intervening during the hearing, and had arranged for her to be one of the board members attending.

"I will, Mrs Doolin. Thank you for your help at the hearing."

"You're welcome, dear. Have another cup of tea."

Wilson had another cup of tea, another couple of cookies and talked about some other hospital matters with her and then excused himself to return to work. She saw him to the door and then placed a hand on his arm.

"Oh James, that charming young Australian that came before? Perhaps he would like to visit again?" She smiled. "Such a lovely young man."

Wilson grinned and patted her hand. "Of course, Mrs Doolin, Chase would be honoured to join you. On Saturday?"

"That will be fine, I have some new... things to show him."

Foreman sat down at the conference table and placed a patient folder in front of House.

"Your new case."

House stared at it, without making a move to take it. "And you're here because...?"

"You're down a team member. Adams called in sick."

"No stamina, these young people. Hanging about the office all night and they think they can't work."

"I don't care about Adams," Foreman said. "I do care that you think you can get away with any sort of crap you want. So I'm supervising you on this case. Put a foot wrong and you can go back to that prison."

House yawned. "Same old threat, we both know you aren't going to do that. Park!" Park jumped a little in her seat at his shout. "Pass that file to me. I don't want to get Foreman cooties from handling it."

Park stared between House and Foreman with wide eyes and then gingerly handed it over. House leaned back in his chair and idly leafed through it. "When Foreman worked for me he always thought that if he was running the Department he'd do a better job than me. He thinks this is his big chance to show me that he's more than just a fancy stuffed vest. Give a man a little power and it goes right to his dick."

The fellows were looking between House and Foreman as if they were at a particularly compelling tennis match. Park looked terrified, Chase amused and Taub was doing his best to project complete boredom.

"You notice though that Foreman's only a big man when I'm wearing a collar and a prison shirt."

"You deserve to be wearing both those things, and nothing would please me more than to see you rot in prison for the rest of your life."

House threw the file back on the table. "You need me more than I need you. So get the fuck out of my department and let me get on with my job." He turned to the fellows. "Go and test Alzheimer man. And don't do whatever it is Foreman tells you to do."

The fellows left as quickly as they could and Foreman was left alone with House.

"You're just making yourself look bad, you know." House tipped his head back, surveying his 'boss'. "I'm two steps ahead of you all the time. Call off the war and I'll stay the fuck out of your way and we'll both be happy."

Foreman's fist was balled up by his side. He put one hand on the chair House was sitting on and leaned forward, his breath hot on House's face.

"House, lunch!" Both men turned to see Wilson standing in the doorway. He looked calmly at House, ignoring Foreman for the moment. "Go and wait for me at our table."

House stood up quickly, gathering up his cane. He left without another word. When he was out of earshot Wilson turned back to Foreman.

"House is my responsibility, I discipline him, I control him. Do I make myself clear this time? I won't keep repeating it for you."

Foreman folded his arms over his chest. "I'm the Dean of this hospital. House works for me."

Wilson shook his head. "No, he doesn't. He didn't work for Cuddy and he doesn't work for you. He works because he has to, he has no choice. It's his gift, and his curse - he's driven to diagnose, he can't not do it. He's a tool you can point in the right direction but he's not yours. He allows me to control him because he needs someone to, but he will never allow that someone to be you. The sooner you realise that the easier your life will be and the more the hospital will benefit from his unique abilities." Wilson handed over a piece of paper he'd been carrying. "House's parole officer is going to contact you about allowing House to leave the hospital, and removing the collar. You'll agree to it."

Foreman laughed. "Like hell I will."

"You'll agree to it or you'll lose your position here and House will still be freed. Your choice." Wilson walked out without giving Foreman a chance to reply.

"About time you got here. They wanted to give me scraps."

House was sitting at their usual table reading some sort of comic book. From this table Wilson could keep an eye on the whole cafeteria. It was amazing what you could learn about people when they were relaxed and eating. He put down the fully laden tray he'd just procured for them. There were two drinks, but only one plate.

"I believe that was part of Foreman's conditions for your being here. That you were to eat whatever was left over." He pushed a chocolate milkshake over to House. "I won't make you eat their scraps, but you can eat mine."

He took up his sandwich, ignoring House's pout. He'd been keeping House well fed, but it didn't hurt to remind him just who was in charge here.

"What did you want to talk to Foreman about?"

"I'm arranging to have you released from some of the conditions of your parole."

House stopped his noisy slurping of his milkshake and stared at him. "Foreman will never agree to that."

"I've told you before. Leave Foreman to me. Please don't aggravate him further in the next day or two. If he loses too much face he's going to double down and make the situation impossible. In fact if you could arrange for some sort of win for him on this case that would help him see this as the correct choice."

House shrugged. "I already know what's up with the patient. Foreman wants to get all up and involved with this case. I'll lead him to the diagnosis - let him think it's all him. That should do it. I'll have to get Chase and probably Taub to keep their mouths shut but neither of the idiot newbies will get there before him."

"Good. If everything goes to plan you will be able to leave the hospital, and get rid of that -" he waved his hand at the orange control collar that sat around House's neck. Wilson had never liked the colour.

"Thanks," House said, his tone sincere for once. He ducked his head and looked away.

"You're welcome." Wilson picked up half of his sandwich and handed it to him. House took it happily and began eating.

Foreman regarded the people he was video conferencing with, and resisted the urge to throw something through the screen. The couple were a major donor to the hospital, but they were threatening to pull out because of the hospital's fall down the ranking tables. It stuck in his craw to have to give the credit for the hospital's previous success to the diagnostics program - and to promise that things would be better now that it was up and running again.

It was the reason he'd pulled strings to get House released early. He'd hoped that the conditions of his parole would intimidate and humiliate the man enough that he wouldn't be a problem for Foreman to control. So far that plan had been a complete failure, because the only trump card that Foreman had - sending House back to prison - was one he wasn't willing to play, and House knew it.

The elderly donor couple were still droning on, and Foreman was thinking up random acts of violence he could use against them when Foreman saw it - the diagnosis for House's patient. It was clear as day. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. It wasn't often that he could reach a diagnosis before House. Maybe the time in prison had addled the man's brain.

As quickly as he could he got rid of the donors and then he hurried off to present his diagnosis to House. He wanted to see the man's expression when Foreman solved the case before him. He might have to give in to Wilson on the question of House's parole conditions, but he could have this victory.

"It was Reye's syndrome." House was sprawled on Wilson's office couch, feet up on the coffee table and a satisfied smile on his face. "I thought the guy was going to die before Foreman came up with the answer. Then you would have had to come up with another plan to soothe his ego."

Wilson sat down next to him and lit up a cigar. He puffed a few times and then handed it to House.

"So why do you want to get me out of this," House indicated his collar. "I thought you liked having me confined to the hospital, and at your mercy."

"It had its attractions," Wilson said smoothly, taking the cigar back. "But I have other plans that require a bit more freedom for you. And that collar, and the shirt, are not aesthetically pleasing to me."

There was a quiet knock on the door and a technician entered tools in hand.

"I have orders to take off a correction collar." She looked at House, taking in the 'prisoner' shirt he still wore and the bright orange collar around his neck. "This the one?" The question was directed to Wilson.

"Yes. On your knees, House."

House pushed up off the couch and knelt on the floor, his head down so the technician could get at the fastening on the collar.

It only took a few seconds and he felt the pressure of the thing releasing. He went to get up but Wilson put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down.

"You've got my special order?" He was talking to the technician, not to House. House shifted nervously, wondering what the 'special order' was.

"Yes. Should I fit it now?"

"Go ahead."

House felt something being put around his throat and fastened at the back of his throat.

"Hey!" He'd only just gotten rid of one collar, he didn't want another one.

Wilson quieted him with a hand in his hair, promising pain if he misbehaved. "Quiet, House. Let her finish her work." House felt cool fingers on the back of his neck, adjusting the fastening.

"Okay, that's a good fit. This is the remote, Doctor Wilson. It works the same as the other one but without the proximity restrictions. So he can leave the hospital if you want," the technician explained as she handed over an electronic object to Wilson. He took it, running his fingers over the surface.

"Thank you, you may leave."

House heard the door open and shut. Wilson came around in front of him and knelt down to touch the collar around his neck.

"It's black. Looks much better than the orange one."

House reached up to touch it, feeling leather under his fingers instead of the plastic of the previous collar. "Why..."

"So you don't forget who you are, and who you belong to, and go and do something stupid again that takes you away from me for over a year. Because I like how it looks on you." Wilson stood up and motioned for House to get to his feet. "You're free to leave the hospital and go back to your apartment. You don't have to wear that shirt anymore and you can eat when and where you want. The collar isn't a Corrections department one and only I will have the control. Foreman can't use it to hurt you now."

As he talked he was working to strip the coarse denim prison shirt off House. When he was finished he went to the closet in his office and brought out a t-shirt.

"I had Chase pick this up for you from your apartment. Put it on. "

House pulled it over his head, his fingers brushing against the collar in resignation.

"I can go back to my apartment tonight?" He asked. He hadn't been back to the place since his arrest, but he knew that Wilson had seen to its upkeep.

Wilson smiled. "No, I'm taking you to mine tonight. It's been a long time. We've got a lot to catch up on." He came closer and stroked the black collar around House's neck. "And I need to test this. You had too much freedom before. That was why you got into trouble. This time I'll be keeping you on a much shorter leash. The time for training wheels is over."