House arrived home late Sunday night very tired after a long day at the science museum with Cuddy, Rachel, Sharon and Hannah followed by dinner at Mr. Bartley's Burger Cottage, where all the burgers have clever names including those of political figures and famous local celebrities. House, of course couldn't resist ordering "The Viagra", described as a burger which "rises to the occasion" made with blue cheese dressing, bacon, lettuce, and tomato. Cuddy practically slithered under the table with embarrassment when Rachel, who always enjoyed mimicking House's actions, asked the waiter rather loudly if she could have a Viagra too.

Rachel had taken House's departure the hardest. When Cuddy had gotten her little girl ready to drop off at Sharon's so she could get House to the airport for his late flight, Rachel broke down in tears begging to go with them. It was then followed by a heartbreaking and pitiful scene at the terminal when Rachel latched on to House's good leg promising she'd be good if he stayed. The ticket agent was so moved that she told House to take a few extra moments with Rachel, that the plane was only a quarter full and could wait a few more moments before departing. A grateful House sat down and talked with Rachel and told her that he had to get back to Princeton but that he would be back for good in just one week. He even gave her his phone number so she could call him anytime, after looking up at a teary-eyed Cuddy who nodded her head in approval. Then he did something he did not expect to do as it was not in his nature. He pulled the little girl into his arms and hugged her. Cuddy wiped her eyes as she watched the scene in front of her. She watched as Rachel whispered something in his ear and he nodded gently before he let go.

When House said goodbye to Cuddy, he stood in front of her, a lump in his throat, not knowing what to say to make her feel better. They were both tired of the distance, tired of the trips back and forth. They just wanted to get the move over with and finally be together. Cuddy read in his eyes the promise of his return and gave him a faint smile and reached a hand to his face and caressed his scruff. House closed his eyes and leaned into her touch as he so often did. They stood there a moment, letting touch speak for them until Cuddy ran her hands down his chest, patting him gently to let him know it was time. When he opened his eyes, he nodded, gently clasped both her hands, and then let them go. He turned around and boarded the plane, not looking back. He couldn't look back, it just hurt too much.

Upon his return to the hospital, House had been kept busy, bombarded with tasks that needed completion before his departure. He spent Monday wrapping up discharge summaries and dictation for insurance billing then worked with Chase to refer patients who had recently requested their services to other hospitals, as well as other departmental administrative duties.

House was forced to cancel both his therapy sessions on Tuesday in order to attend a mandatory meeting with Human Resources to do his exit paperwork and give a lengthy presentation to the Board on the state of the Diagnostics department and how he and Stevens had planned to close it down. He hated cancelling therapy sessions with both Nolan and Vince had been what kept his pain in check. Stevens assured him that he could take the time he needed on Wednesday to attend his sessions.

On Wednesday morning, House surprised everyone when he walked into the hospital before eight o'clock. As usual he sneered at Nurse Jeffrey and the others who thumbed their noses at him. They'd never liked him before and much less so after he'd run off their beloved boss. Though word had spread that he and Cuddy were back together and that he was leaving the hospital and moving in with her, the attitudes of many had never changed. House didn't care either; he never put much stock in what they thought of him from the beginning.

He got off the elevator on the fourth floor intending to drop off his backpack in his office and head straight to physical therapy. He definitely needed the PT as he hadn't realized how much time he'd spent on his feet since returning from Boston and when he woke up that morning the breakthrough pain hit him, not severe but enough to remind him of the reason for his sessions.

When he entered the conference room, he found Adams and Park buried in stacks of files at the conference table and boxes littering the floor. Flat boxes were stacked along the wall. Chase was busy making coffee.

"Morning sunshines," he said, with mock cheeriness as he limped past them.

"Yeah, right," Adams groaned.

"What's up with you?" He asked.

"These case files...are...a mess," she whined.

"Remind me why we have to copy this stuff?" Park asked.

"Because I'm the boss and I say so," he replied. Park huffed at his reply. Actually, House really needed those files. He'd asked Stevens if he could copy several case files for use in the journal article he was writing. Stevens gave the green light knowing that whatever House would write would most certainly benefit the reputation of the hospital even if they no longer had a Diagnostics department.

Looking around, House asked, "Where's Taub?"

"Interview at Princeton General," Chase replied as he put the pot of coffee on to brew.

"No kidding," House said, nonchalantly. He hadn't kept up much with what his fellows were doing in the last week or so, especially since there were no cases and he knew they would be actively searching for other work.

"Nope. It's his second actually," Chase replied, following him into his office. "First one was Friday. Where have you been?" He joked.

"As you know...my mind has been elsewhere," he said, leaning his cane against the desk and taking a seat in his chair. So how did things go Friday night?" He put his feet up on the desk and crossed them at the ankles.

"Well, as you know," Chase replied with a grin. "I was taken completely by surprise."

"Does that bother you?"

"Not in the least."

"So..."

"It's a sweet deal, of course I'm taking it."

House leaned back with his hands behind his head and a smile of satisfaction. "You nervous?" He asked.

"A bit. Look, it's one thing to be your fellow all these years and follow you but it's another thing to take over a department."

"You're not taking over; you're starting a new department from scratch, just like what I did here. Big difference. You don't have any shoes to fill but your own."

Chase nodded. He had a point. "I can't thank you enough for recommending me."

"It's nothing."

Chase scoffed. "It's a lot." And it was. He was in awe that the man he'd always respected but at times loathed had become one of the most important people in his life. He knew House better than most; they had shared a similar upbringing in regards to their relationships with their fathers. They shared a similar passion for medicine and also a past history of failed relationships.

"You can owe me," House said.

Chase nodded with a laugh.

"By the way, when are you moving?"

"I'm already on it. Dr. Baker has sent me a list of places for rent and I've already checked a few of them out online. I could probably wrap things up and be there in a few weeks."

"Would you mind seeing to any loose ends here when I leave?"

"Sure, I don't think we have much left, do we?"

"No. You'd think that it'd be more difficult to close down a department that's been around this long."

"Things have gone rather smoothly," Chase replied. "But I'll do it, no problem. I can call you if there are any problems."

"I shouldn't say this but since you're doing me a favor...I can come back here and help if it's anything disastrous."

"I doubt that's necessary but I'll let Stevens know."

"Thanks."

"Listen...I figured you'd need some boxes here and at home so I asked the janitor to bring some up." Chase motioned to the wall of the outer conference room where the flattened boxes were stacked that House had seen earlier. "I packed up quite a bit already out there but I figured you'd want to take care of things in here."

"Stevens letting you take anything?"

"Lot of stuff the hospital won't ever use but I'll need them."

Just then, Adams strolled past Chase with a huge stack of mail she tossed onto House's desk.

"Hey," he yelled as she walked out. "Didn't you forget something?"

"Not my job anymore," she said as she turned around and stomped out.

"Hey I'm still your boss and as long as I'm here I'll continue to make your lives hell," he called after her.

"Yeah, yeah," she yelled back, completely ignoring him, which made him smirk. He grinned at her smartass behavior. Opening his mail had been the thankless job that Adams had inherited when Chase became team leader. Chase of course had inherited it from Thirteen who inherited it from Cameron. House knew that Adams thought she was relegated to do it because she was female but the truth was, House thought she was enough of a bleeding heart where she would read the letters and referral requests carefully and decide which ones to consider for treatment. Cuddy had chastised him one time about having Cameron-his only female fellow act as his secretary but the truth was that Cameron was the person best suited to talk with the potential patients, screen them and write the letters accepting or denying requests for help.

Chase chuckled at the interaction. "Listen, I'm going to help them. If you need anything let me know."

House nodded without saying a word and leaned forward in his chair, rifling through his mail, most of which he tossed in the trash can, unopened. He came across a light blue envelope with a return address in New York. It felt like there was card board inside so he opened it and pulled out a three-by-five color photo of a baby wrapped in a onesie. On the back was the name Garrett Benjamin Hodges. There was a piece of paper with it which he unfolded and read:

Dr. House,

This is my newest pride and joy. He was born about a month after I saw you. He was seven pounds, six ounces and not a single complication, thank God. I wanted you to have this picture because though you will deny it, you were an important part of this miracle. You helped me when I was at the lowest point in my life. You didn't intend to help, but you did. You helped me stand up and face my pain and fight to not let it take over my life. All I can do is say "thank you" for helping me ease my pain. I hope someday you will be able to find a way to ease yours too...so you can be happy.

Warmest regards,

Eve

House read the letter twice and picked up the picture and scrutinized it carefully. He had to admit, the baby was adorable. Small tufts of blonde hair and blue eyes like his mother. House never expected to hear from Eve again when she and her husband left his office months earlier. It was hard to believe that she had gone from college student and rape victim, pregnant with an STD to wife and mother to a newborn and obviously very happy. As he fingered the picture, his door opened.

"Hey, you hungry?" Wilson asked. "Figured we could grab a bagel and some coffee in the cafeteria."

"Actually I'm supposed to be headed to therapy." House tossed the picture and letter on the desk.

"Whatcha got there?" He asked as he approached House's desk. He picked up the picture and stared at it inquisitively.

"Yours?" He asked, facetiously.

"Ha ha," House replied. "Remember Eve? The rape patient from way back who came to see me a few months ago?"

Wilson looked at the picture again. "Wow, that's hers huh? Good for her. Cute kid."

"He's okay."

"Oh come on House, all babies are cute."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah till they grow up and become annoying oncologists."

"Hey...watch it...some oncologists buy their best friends lunch nearly every day for the past fifteen years."

House held up his hands. "Okay fine, most are annoying, you are not. You are just...you."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You got anything planned after therapy? Are you going to see Nolan?"

House rubbed his thigh vigorously. Wilson could tell it hurt more than usual. "Yeah, Stevens told me I could take a few hours this afternoon. I'll come back here and finish up afterwards."

Wilson knew House's leg was bothering him more over the last few days. "You want me to drive you?"

Nearly three hours later, House was settled comfortably in the passenger seat of Wilson's car as Wilson drove them to Philadelphia. Wilson had insisted on driving House to Philadelphia and immediately cancelled the only appointment he'd had that afternoon, packed up his laptop to do some work. While Wilson listened to talk radio, House sat back with his eyes closed and relaxed. It had been a tough but good physical therapy session. Though tired from the workout he was a bit invigorated and in much better spirits than he had been earlier that morning. The workouts released endorphins which had the tendency to relax him.

When House started physical rehab at Mayfield, he realized just how out of shape he'd been. It was frustrating for him because he'd been athletic nearly his entire life up until the infarction. Years of limping and using a cane had taken its toll on his strength and his posture and it was difficult reversing the damage though his therapists assured him that with dedication and hard work it was possible. When he left Mayfield he'd continued physical therapy but not as often and then during his relationship with Cuddy he'd hardly gone at all. Of course afterwards, it was nonexistent and the abuse he heaped on himself physically and emotionally undid early all the good he'd achieved in the preceding two years, including decreasing his tolerance for pain and increasing his need for painkillers and other unsafe and unhealthy distractions.

House liked Vince's upfront no-holds barred approach to therapy. Vince had always worked him hard but in the end it was worth it. In their earlier session, they'd begun with stretching, followed by heavy repetitions on the nautilus machines for the upper body which worked the arm, shoulder, upper and lower back muscles. House did this without complaint for he liked the way his upper body strength had returned to where it was before his infarction. After some more stretching he'd done light abdominals and leg exercises with fewer repetitions at lower weights. He liked to work his left leg as hard as he could to make up for the lack of strength in the right. When it came to his right leg, Vince helped him work it, maximizing every functioning muscle in the leg in an effort to make up for what he was missing.

After the weights, he stretched again and Vince stuck him in the pool for some laps. House loved the pool; the zero gravity effect did wonders for his leg. In the pool he felt strong and vibrant as he raced from one end to the other attempting to beat his own speed record every time. Of course, Vince told him the point of the therapy wasn't speed, but strength and agility.

To round things out House received a massage from a young, newly engaged therapist named Kristen. House of course, hearing of her engagement, took every opportunity to give her advice on how not to let her fiancée screw up their relationship. Later she'd thrown a towel at him and told him to hit the hot tub, which he did, gladly.

Though the weather was cold outside, there wasn't a cloud in the sky over the premises of the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital and so Wilson opted to sit outside at one of the picnic tables with his laptop catching up on his work email while House spent some quality time with Nolan.

House sat in the big recliner twirling his cane updating Nolan on the latest events in his life and his upcoming relocation to Boston. He'd talked openly for some time and then just became quiet, for no reason. Nolan watched him intently as he twirled his cane with one hand and rubbed his thigh with the other.

"How bad does it hurt?" The psychiatrist finally asked.

"Not much, really."

"I take it therapy went well?"

"He kicked my ass. Made me swim double laps in the pool just because I'm leaving."

"Swimming is great therapy."

"Yeah."

"You and Dr. Cuddy should think about getting a pool."

"One thing at a time, I'm not even moved in yet."

"So how's that going?"

"Tomorrow's my last day at work. I'm nearly finished with closing up things there. Signed all the paperwork, taken care of all the benefits stuff."

"So, nothing left."

"Not much."

"Speaking of therapy, what will you do for PT once you get to Boston? Have you found a replacement?"

"Actually yeah. That reminds me." House reached down into his backpack and took out a blue folder and tossed it to Nolan."

"What's this?" He asked.

House nodded toward the documents. "Just read...especially if I'm paying for the time," he snarked.

Nolan smiled read through the materials and nodded his head, apparently in agreement with whatever he was reading. He flipped through some more papers and then shuffled them and closed the folder.

"Greg, this is impressive and this could not have worked out better for you. Mass General has one of the best new Pain Medicine and Pain Management Rehab programs on the east coast."

"Try in the country," House countered.

Nolan nodded. "Indeed. This," he tapped the folder with a finger. "Is very good news."

"Impressive isn't it?"

"I'll say. You'll be in excellent hands." Nolan was thrilled for House. That program was just what he needed.

"They take an individual approach, they don't force all patients into a few types of programs. It's tailored specifically to the patient's needs. This means they're going to work with me to develop the right plan for me."

Nolan opened the folder again and took out the sheet on top. "It says here their goal is to help you return to the highest level of function and independence possible, while improving the overall quality of life-physically, emotionally and socially."

"Yep. Combo of therapies like OTC's, prescription pain meds, antidepressants, heat and cold treatments, physical and occupational therapy, exercise, local electrical stimulation, nerve blocks, psychotherapy, stress management, relaxation, hypnosis, biofeedback, etc."

"I'm very proud of you."

"I wouldn't be so hasty."

Nolan leaned forward. "Why's that?"

House stared absentmindedly at the wall. "Some days I really want a Vicodin. Just one."

"That's to be expected. Of course you just want to alleviate your pain. Vicodin is the easy answer and yet you choose not to go that route. Instead you're working your ass off to alleviate your pain without taking those pills. The question is...why? What keeps you from giving in?"

House twirled his cane while he pondered his answer.

"I won't be able to just take one. It starts with one to ease the pain and then it's more than one and then...after that...however many I take...it'd never be enough."

"Is that the only reason?"

"No." He had several reasons, two of which were in Boston. "I've worked hard to get to this point. I don't want to start over. I know that all the shit I've gone through to date won't matter if I get hooked on them again. I don't want to go through that shit again."

"Starting over is hard but it's not impossible."

"I just don't want to. I'm doing everything now that I should've done years ago. If I'd done it then, I wouldn't be doing it now. I don't want to have to start over. Not if I can help it."

Nolan appreciated House's honesty. "That's a good attitude, Greg. You'll have roadblocks, setbacks and you might even relapse but you don't have to be afraid of it. Just know that things will happen which will test your resolve and you deal with them as they come. You have a support system when you need it and it is constant. Count on it, rely on it, use it."

"I know," he sighed softly. Then he added, "I spent so many years trying to save this fucking thing." He touched his leg gently with his cane. "I nearly lost everything because of it."

"Your pain has always been more than just physical."

"True but if it weren't for the physical, the rest probably would've been a little more bearable."

"Perhaps, but you'll never know and its useless and unproductive to speculate on it."

House sighed loudly. He knew Nolan was right. He'd often told people that focusing on their past was a useless waste of time. But he knew that his leg had just made it harder for him to deal with the other pain, it distracted him from it, pushed it pushed himself up from the chair and limped over to the window and looked out thoughtfully. He noted it was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. He watched the patients who walked among the grounds. He noted a man sitting alone on a bench and it reminded him of a time when that was him sitting there.

After a few minutes, Nolan asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Just reminiscing," he said. He half-turned to Nolan and pointed out the window. "The one in the wool cap and pajamas playing cards...that used to be me. Is he crazy too?"

"Greg, you were never crazy. You hallucinated due to an overdose of Vicodin in your system combined with brain injuries that never healed properly."

He laughed mockingly at Nolan but didn't turn around. "So you don't think that the all my dysfunction is a sign of being even a little mentally ill?"

Nolan shook his head adamantly. "No. There's no such thing as a little mentally ill Greg. Either you are or you aren't. Mental illness is a condition which disrupts your thinking, feeling, mood, and your ability to relate to others and daily functioning. It's a medical condition..."

"Don't give me the clinical definition," he groaned. "I know the signs. Depression, schizophrenia, bipolar, OCD, panic disorder, PTSD, borderline personality disorder, blah, blah, blah."

"It's true that you've had to deal with depression and PTSD but we've identified the causes and you've worked very hard to manage and treat it. You've made amazing progress by making positive changes in your life to deal with your pain. Mental illness is about not being of sound mind. You are without a doubt, of sound mind."

House seemed to accept that answer. Perhaps it was never even a question. Nolan thought it was just another piece of the puzzle of his life that he was putting in its proper place before moving on. He watched the diagnostician twirl his cane and knew his mind was churning. He sat back waiting for House to speak. Finally, he did.

"When I left Boston the other night, Rachel had a hard time with it. She cried and she...held on to me." House recalled the moment vividly when he hugged the little girl and her tears soaked the front of his tee shirt that she had grabbed tightly with her little hands. He also recalled her whispering in his ear. Remembering what she said both scared him and melted his heart. He hadn't talked about it with anyone, not yet. It was something just between them.

Nolan sat back with raised eyebrows. "Well, of course she doesn't want you to go Greg, she's very attached to you but you already knew that. And you...are very attached to her."

"It's hard not to be. She's a great kid." House leaned against the windowsill. "If you would've told me years ago this would've been my life..."

"I know. But it is your life."

"What if there are things she needs that I can't give her?"

Nolan scoffed. "If you mean Rachel, I can't imagine anything she needs that you can't give her."

"I can't teach her how to ride a bike. I can't play sports with her. What if she gets hurt and I can't get to her fast enough?"

Nolan wasn't surprised to hear those things from House. He'd always been his own worst enemy and playing up the worst about himself instead of the best.

"It's not a big deal Greg. Dr. Cuddy can help you teach her to ride a bike. And when it comes to sports, there's more to it than actually playing. You can coach her and teach her good sportsmanship, be there to cheer her on, celebrate when she wins and be a shoulder when she loses. So you can't play most sports because of your leg but there are still physical activities you can do like throwing a ball or swimming. You still bowl right?"

House nodded.

"Okay there you go. Be creative Greg, don't limit yourself. Find things you can do together. And as to her getting hurt...first of all she'll be living in a house with two very capable doctors and second, you of all people should know that when you really have to do something, you find a way. There's no sense worrying about what might happen. If it happens, you deal with it. Don't let what might happen keep you from living your life."

House looked down; both his hands were firmly clasped on his cane which he tapped on the floor.

"You're not convinced."

"Have you met me?" He asked, attempting to deflect.

"Greg," he said softly. "Rachel is a bright little girl with her whole life ahead of her. There's so much you can teach her, so much she can learn from you. You have this wealth of knowledge and experience and you can pass that on to her. Children are like balls of clay, they need to be molded into the right shape. You do that through being the kind of influence and role model she needs in her life. There is no doubt that with you and Dr. Cuddy raising her, Rachel will be a remarkable child."

"She already is," House replied softly.

Nolan knew from the way House pursed his lips and tapped his cane like he did when he was in deep thought that he'd gotten through to him. He decided to try one more thing to send his point home.

"Greg, the life...the happiness that you thought had eluded you your entire life has now embraced you. It's going to have its share of ups and downs but that's the way life is. Those girls need you, you need them. That's all that matters. Figure out the rest as you go along."

Finally House looked up and asked, "So you really think I can do it?"

Nolan grinned. "You're already doing it."