Sorry this took so long! This picks up from the end of the last chapter. Next chapter already in the works, should be up soon :)

"…RING…"House reached out to grab the phone, wincing as the pain in his newly punctured hand finally crept into his muddled brain.

"Yeah," House answered, not sure he wanted to deal with who could possibly be on the other end, but he desperately needed food so he knew he would have to talk to someone eventually.

"House?" Wilson's voice became unmistakably apparent to House as he sat back trying to rack his brain for a response.

"No this is Ben Dover…you must have reached me by mistake." House replied not masking his voice in the least. He didn't have the energy for this; there was nothing House wanted to hear from his friend, nor anything he wanted to say.

"House, stop." Wilson angrily answered.

"How did you find me?" House requested. He was not going to play this game, not going to give in to Wilson's nagging lectures, not this time.

"What does that matter, I found you. I knew you would abandon your mess, you always do." Wilson let out forcefully, not afraid to get to the point. Their friendship had never been about censorship, always about the ultimate truth.

"Great Mom, thanks for calling me to tell me I've lived up to your expectations, now if you will excuse me I have a couple ladies here that are about to start making—"

"House cut the crap. What the hell did you do?"

House rubbed his leg. He didn't have a clever enough retort. The last two blurry days had been filled with nothing but that question, nothing but flashes of her. "Well since I didn't do anything directly to you I suppose I don't have to answer your question." House wanted nothing more than to evade this question. It was too soon, he needed more time to process. More time to clear her out of his every waking thought.

"Besides you injuring my arm with your insane stunt, you also shattered the love of your life, for the last time House."

"What do you care? This isn't your relationship, for once in your life stay out of my business."

"It's hard to stay out of it when I'm the one left to pick up the pieces for you."

"No one asked you too!" House was pissed, the last thing he needed was a failed attempt at a guilt trip.

"Cuddy, asked me too." Wilson replied, his voice sounded cold and distant to House, something he hadn't felt from him friend since Amber's death.

"What do you mean?" House wasn't sure he wanted this answered, afraid of what he had ultimately caused.

"I mean she's gone House, she left the hospital."

House's breath caught in his chest. This couldn't be, she wouldn't leave, just like that? She was too stubborn for that. She would want to take a stand, make his life a living hell…

"You've finally done it. I'm not sure I thought it was possible for you to destroy the love of your life so completely to shreds like you've achieved. Dealing with your anger like a fourteen year old instead of facing up to how you feel and for once in your asinine life have a conversation like a—"

"Stop!" House interrupted, not bearing to hear more of his tirade. He rubbed his leg, the pain so overwhelming to him he couldn't think straight."Wilson please—"House started to say, the words coming out of his mouth without even processing them. He could hear his voice hitch; feel his throat closing up…aching. It surprised him. Shocked him back into the sober world he had once again chosen to become detached from.

Wilson didn't know what he heard, only aware that he had hit a point with House, had actually broken through to his emotionally stunted best friend. "Look House—"

"She left, is she coming back?" House cleared his throat choking back the lump in his throat, pushing it aside like he was so accustom too.

"She didn't know, but she asked me to replace her…she officially took a year off, then she has to decide what she wants."

"Great, so she will wallow in her home for a year? That's a brilliant idea. She will go crazy and be back at the hospital in a month."

"You think you have it all figured out House. That the great Dr. House with his crystal ball knows all of us better than we know ourselves. This time it isn't fixable, but I don't think you ever intended it to be. She hurt you more than you will ever allow yourself to feel. The problem is, if you had given yourself a chance to try and truly feel ANYTHING in your miserable life, you would have never lost her in the first place! The really sad thing is you never fought to win her back, to really think about what she was saying and maybe, just maybe listen to her. Yes she gave up, but you did nothing to quell her fears, you only proved her right!"

House was quiet. He wanted to hang up, it would be simpler. It was better than the alternative; better than having to hear this truth. "You're right… but I proved her right only because she expected me to from the beginning, she never gave me a chance." House said this more to himself then to Wilson, he leaned forward sitting on the side of the bed, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

Wilson was quiet, slowly processing his words; hearing more sadness from House than he had ever heard over the course of their friendship. It was shocking, Wilson knew right away his friend was clean, there was no mistaking it, "House, why don't you come back, we can talk about this in person. I am your boss now so—"

"You mean Cuddy didn't report me to the board, the police?"

"No she didn't press charges…she said she couldn't."

This surprised House, sure that she would make him pay for damaging her home and ruining her cozy date. He was scared of the quiet, he had pushed her too far, she didn't care enough to play their cat and mouse game anymore. 'We're good, just like this. You push my buttons, I push yours'

"Until it's too far…" House thought out loud, unaware he was responding to his own internal thought, a fond memory.

"What?" Wilson asked worried about the state of mind his friend might be trapped in. He needed to get him home.

Suddenly it hit him, "She actually left didn't she?" House spoke quietly, already knowing he was right.

"Yes, she left the hospital, I already tol—"

"No…she left town."

Wilson was silent. He wasn't ready to reveal that part of the puzzle to his damaged friend, wanting to save that for after he came home; knowing the impact it would have. "…Yes, she took Rachel and left the country. She's taking the year to travel…" Wilson stopped talking, he couldn't sugar-coat this, it was what it was, and House did what he did. The only thing left was to try and move forward.

"Well thank you Wilson for calling to catch me up with all the town gossip." House sarcastically responded. He brought the phone with him as he began to pack his things, he needed to get home; wherever she was he would uncover eventually, but he needed to be back in New Jersey to have any hope of finding out more. "You sure know how to bring joy into my life."

"House shut up, I can hear you zipping a bag up. You're coming back, that's all that matters. You certainly have a lot to clean up."

"Wilson shut up." House mocked, "What I had left to clean-up, thought it necessary to leave to country to get away from me. I'm pretty sure that mess is dead and buried for good." House wasn't going to mention he was still going to try. After feeling her in his dream just minutes before, he could think of nothing else but finding some glimmer of a path back to her. Now that she had left the country made it near impossible…but he was going to try, he had too.

"She'll be back House. It's only a year…but you can't go backwards."

"I'm well aware." House hung up, he would be back soon, Wilson's analysis could wait till his head wasn't about to fall off his body. He was near delirium. Sober was not working for him, the pain was almost unbearable. It was like he was feeling everything all at once; it was one of the most excruciating moments in his life…but he had to push through it.

House rummaged around the room basically just throwing things off the ground into his bags. He had packed in a hurry to get out of the country in the first place; he would do the same in returning home. He bent down carefully to pick up his wallet, noting how broken his body felt just performing that simple maneuver. He noticed it sticking out before he even realized what it was. The picture that he had taken of her on Halloween, she was right when she accused him that day of already knowing his secret. Cuddy was Sleeping Beauty; he remembered that night crystal clear…she was so beautiful. It was a work party. House of course went for the free food, but he immediately forgot that when he saw her; noticing her as soon as she walked in…like he always had. She was consistently the sexiest women in any room she entered, and it was truly the case that night…but she was also angry with him, he remembered that too. He wanted to kick himself for pissing her off earlier that day, knowing that she probably wouldn't give him the time of day because of her fury.

House pulled the picture out of the place in his wallet he had so secretly tucked it away in years ago. It was wrinkled at the edges but her face was still there. It was a candid picture, a profile shot of her standing amongst many others, but it was her smile. The way it made him feel when she smiled like that…another affect she had on him he had never admitted to her. It was a few weeks later after that party he noticed the photo of her, it was tacked to a bulletin board in the nurse's lounge. He was actually hiding in the nurse's lounge to avoid Cuddy for clinic hours, and stealing food from the nurses. House saw the picture and knew he had to take it, without thinking he grabbed it and put it in his pocket. When he turned around she was standing there, but she never mention the picture, just started to ramble on about some hospital inspection. He was never sure if she caught the innocent moment she had walked into.

House absentmindedly rubbed his finger over her face in the photo, when he realized his motion he stopped himself, frowning inwardly at his emotional bursts he had experienced over the last two days. He put the photo back into his wallet, but not before recalling her again that night in his photographic memory. She had talked to him, he was wrong in his assumption. He remembered studying her; watching her from afar talking to some idiot he knew wanted nothing more than to get her dress off. Once she reached for her second glass of wine he made his move, knowing this was his window before she became too tipsy or stayed too sober too give him a chance. He would never forget their conversation that night, once she saw him she immediately ignored her former suitor, it was a moment that did not go unnoticed by him. She pretended to be angry still at first but House knew better, she was open, flirtatious even, at the time it turned out to be too much for House and he never took the chance to ask her to dance…another regret.

House sat down on the bed, winded from the whirlwind of emotions; loving nothing more but too push them away like he was so accustom too in the past. He wanted his pills. House massaged his leg knowing that he had to accept it, the vicodin couldn't win again; he wanted her more. This was his last chance, it was all or nothing. He was going back to undo what he so vehemently accomplished, too mend their shattered hearts. All that was left to do now was to find a way back in…a way back to her.