When House finally returned home on Sunday night, weary from the drive but otherwise not in bad shape, he dropped his overnight bag on his bed and then carefully placed the sheathed sword on the floor, leaning it up against the armoire. He'd have to find a place of honor for this treasure. He didn't want to hide it away in a closet the way he'd done with John's relics. He wanted to look at it often, as Andy had suggested, because seeing it made him feel good. Seeing it made him feel valued, proud, and full of affection for his new-found family. Maybe he'd hang it on the living room wall, next to his prized guitars, he thought. Yes, that might be an appropriate place for it.

He'd spoken to Wilson during one of his breaks on the drive, telling him about Andy's gift, and now his cell was again chiming out Wilson's ringtone. Such a worrywart, House thought – Wilson was so predictable.

He answered the call and said, "Yes, I got home in one piece. You can stop worrying. I just walked in, in fact. Haven't even had the chance to sit down yet."

"Feeling okay?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah. I mean, not great, but not as bad as I did when I got to Newton."

House walked into the living room and plopped onto the couch.

"Did you remember to bring the sword into the apartment?" Wilson asked. "You can't leave something that valuable in your car."

"Yes, of course. I'm debating where to put it. I wanna hang it up in the living room. Do you think it should go next to the guitars or over the fireplace?"

"Actually, it probably should go in your safe deposit box."

"I know it's worth a lot, but I don't wanna do that, Wilson. I want it where I can see it."

"But where you can see it, everyone else can too. You don't want it to get stolen."

"Who's 'everyone else'? You're the only one who ever comes over here, and I think I can trust you."

"What about workmen – I mean, you sometimes have to call a plumber, an electrician, a piano tuner – no?"

"Jeez. Okay, I'll take it down and hide it if a stranger's gonna be here for any reason. Happy now?"

"Sounds doable. I just know this gift means a lot to you, House, and I'd hate to see anything happen to it."

"How do you know it means a lot to me? I didn't actually say that when we were talking before."

"I could tell, just from the sound of your voice. You sounded, I don't know, different, somehow, when you told me about it."

"Different from what?"

"From your usual cynical, snide tone of voice. Andy's really gotten to you, hasn't he?"

"God, nothing gets past you, does it?"

"That's what happens when you've been best friends with someone for over twenty years."

"So, what do you want me to say? You want me to tell you that Andy's a real mensch, in your parlance? That I was nearly moved to tears when he gave me the sword? That he's the father I never thought I'd have, with an uncanny ability to understand how my mind works and capable of an unbelievable amount of forgiveness and compassion? Is that what you want me to say?"

"Only if it's the truth."

"And what do you think?"

"I think it's the truth. Why can't you just admit it?"

"Oh, what the hell. Who am I kidding? I love the old guy, Wilson. I can't help it."

"Why shouldn't you love him? There's nothing wrong with admitting that, House."

"My mom loves him too. In fact, I bet she probably never stopped loving him, even through all those years of marriage to another man."

"Then I'd say there's obviously something there to love."

"So why do I feel so, I don't know, ambivalent about it?"

"You're probably scared."

"Of what?"

"Of losing him. He won't be around forever."

"None of us will."

"Yeah, but people you've loved in the past have left, and maybe somewhere in the back of your mind you don't expect him to stick around either."

"It's not the same thing. Stacy and Cuddy both had good reasons for leaving me."

"Right. And maybe you think Andy will still discover good reasons too, but I doubt it. He's already aware of the worst thing you've ever done, and, as you said, he's been understanding and forgiving about it. And then there's me."

"What about you?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I've never given up on you, House, and I never will. I'm proof that not every relationship in your life is doomed to end in rejection or failure."

"You're a sap, Wilson."

"Yes, but an astute sap. I know whereof I speak, my friend."

"Andy called me brave. Can you believe that? That's what he said when he gave me the sword."

"He's right. You are."

"Leaving the scene of a crime and escaping to a tropical island was brave?"

"No, but coming back to face the music was. Surviving nearly a year in prison was. And even beyond that, in your case, I think just getting up each morning and going to work is brave. I don't think I could do it if I were you."

"You don't know that."

"No. Thankfully I've never been tested in that way. But what other people would or wouldn't do is irrelevant. You're the one who's done it. You're still here, still going at it every day - slaying the dragons of death and disease with swords in both hands, no matter how you're feeling."

"You're the sappiest of saps, Wilson."

"Yes, but you love that about me. I dare you to deny it."

"You know how many people have told me they can't believe we're friends? They can't believe that the kind, saintly Dr. James Wilson would have anything to do with someone as nasty as me."

"They obviously don't know you the way I do. They only know the churlish character you've chosen to play."

"For the longest time I convinced myself I really was that guy – that I couldn't help being antagonistic and pushing everyone away. Really I was just trying so damn hard to avoid caring about anything or anyone, because I always believed, from my experience, that when you care too much it's a recipe for disaster."

"And now?"

"Now maybe I can just be myself."

"Don't get too nice too fast, House. Your team might think you have a neurological disorder."

House chuckled. "That would be fun to watch, actually."

"Also, I think I'd miss your snark if it faded too much into the background."

"Never fear. The snark will survive."

"Good to know."

"I'm beat, Wilson. See you at work tomorrow."

"Sure. Get a good night's sleep."

"You too. And thanks, Wilson."

"For what?"

"Just for being you. 'Night."

"'Night, House."

House put the phone down and then looked around the room, scanning the living room walls. He got up and went into the bedroom, taking the sword from the floor and bringing it back into the living room. He held it up to see how it looked in several spots, and then rested it lengthwise on the mantle above the fireplace. He could take his time deciding exactly where to hang it. He walked over to the piano, sat down, and started playing a bluesy improv, beginning in a minor key and then eventually morphing into a major key. Periodically he glanced up and saw the sword on the mantle. The music and the sight of the sword filled him with serenity. Maybe Wilson was right. Maybe the world wasn't such a cold, cruel place. Maybe it was worth taking a risk to believe in people – at least a select few people who'd proven themselves to him. He looked at the sword again, and thought of Andy and Colleen, of his mother, and of Wilson. Whatever was to come, for all of them, he knew he could count on them. He trusted in them now. He smiled as he played, and dared to hope for a brighter future.

(Author's Note: Well, dear readers, we're at the end of this saga. I never expected it to go 30 chapters when I started it, and I think stories should have a beginning, middle, and end, so this is it. I'll probably write more House fics based on whatever canon gives us for the last few episodes of this memorable series, but this particular alternate reality [which I fully realize was a more uplifting journey for House than what the show is likely to provide] is over for now. Thanks for reading, and for all the kind reviews.)