Epilogue
Crossing the foyer with purpose, Dr. James Wilson slowed as his eyes fell upon the jacketed figure of Greg House, all ready for his lunch break. As the latter fussed with a chart, the former rolled his eyes and approached. "I was under the impression that you had no need of charts and other such medical hum-drum," he commented.
House glanced up at his approach. "It turns out Cuddy's still sore about the confrontation the other day in front of my patient's mother."
"Uh huh…speaking of which, who won?"
Handing the completed chart to the nurse at the station, House headed for the double doors. "Well, she thinks she has because I'm filling out the charts, but I haven't written anything medical on them to date so…it's up in the air at this point. But I'd say I'm in the lead."
Wilson blinked and sighed, following his friend to the door. "I meant your patient. Who won the war?"
As they drew close enough to it, the door flung open for them seemingly of it's own accord. Startled, the two doctors looked up to see Aiden Gray standing at the street curb, light glinting in his icy blue eyes. As gentle breeze tossed his white, light blonde hair about, he smiled. A moderately worn maroon Buick pulled up to the curb, and the young man disappeared inside it with one last backward glance.
Wilson and House left the building and stood, watching the car melt into the traffic. Glancing at the diagnostician, Wilson ventured, "I take it he won the war."
House smiled. "Yeah. He did."
He continued on down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, leaving Wilson to stare after him. At long last, the oncologist muttered, "There's something I'm missing." But even as he followed after his friend, Wilson pushed any hope of discovering the missing piece from his mind. The case was closed, and the war was over.
The white peacock had finally made it to the island.