2007

Inside, the apartment was quiet. Outside, a few cars drove past. Moonlight filtered in through the curtains casting a silvery wash of light over the living room. The air conditioner clicked on and cool air flowed out.

"WILSON!"

Wilson gasped, jerked upright and winced as pain shot through his back.

"WILSON!" House shouted again.

Wilson growled low in this throat. Throwing back the sheet and blanket that covered him, he swung his feet off the couch. This was now the fifth time House woke him since he went to sleep. He got up and stomped down the hallway to House's bedroom. He flung the door open and stood in the doorway scowling, his feet planted wide and his fists clenched.

"What?" he snarled. "What do you want now?"

House sat in bed with the pillows propped up behind his back. He looked at Wilson over the top of his reading glasses and closed the book he'd been reading.

"I'm bored," House told him. "Bring the television in here."

Wilson spun on his heel. A few minutes later the front door opened and then slammed closed.

"Wilson?" House called out. He reached for the phone and dialed a number. "'Lo?" Reilly answered.

"Wilson ran away."

"No, he didn't. But he will if you don't stop waking him up," she yawned. "I will, too, if you don't start sleeping at night like all the other normal people."

"I'm bored," he whined.

"Read a book."

"I did. I asked Wilson to bring the TV in here and he left."

"Oh, Jesus, Greg," Reilly sighed. "You have only been out of the hospital for two days and already you're causing mischief and mayhem."

"Come over and we'll watch TV together," he told her. "Just like we did when we were in college."

"I can't leave the girls."

"Bring them."

"No. They're asleep like you should be. James probably went to the all-night pharmacy to get you some sleeping pills."

"The Vicodin helped me sleep," he replied.

"Well, you're the one who refused any pain meds," she reminded him. "Which makes me think you rattled your brains when you got shot."

"I'm not in much pain. Besides, they wouldn't give me any of the really cool drugs."

"Poor you."

"Do you really think Wilson went to score me some drugs?"

"Well, he is your dealer, right?" she laughed.

"Seriously, come over," he replied all teasing gone from his voice.

"Do you want to come stay here?" she asked.

"What if I want to have a sleepover with Cameron?"

She sighed. "There's a guest room downstairs with an attached bathroom. And I had most of the house sound proofed before we moved in. Teenage girls can get noisy and rowdy and Mama needs her sleep."

"Come get me," he begged.

"No," she said firmly. "Allison can bring you over when she gets there in the morning. Or later this morning," she amended.

"Fine," House told her.

"I'm going to hang up," she told him.

"Thank you," he said softly and sincerely.

"You belong to me," she reminded him and then hung up.

House sat staring at the phone. The dial tone droned and he clicked it off. He set it on his night stand and carefully got out of bed. He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub. While the tub filled with hot water, he stripped his t-shirt and pajama bottoms off. He gripped the pipe leading up to the shower head and carefully got into the tub. Once the water reached his chest, he leaned forward and shut it off. Then he laid back and let the hot water relax his tense muscles. A few minutes later, he heard the front door open and close. Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. Wilson walked into the bathroom carrying a pharmacy bag. He held it up and then put it on the sink.

"Sleeping pills," he told House. "Take one and go to sleep."

"I called Reilly."

"House, you can't keep calling her every time you get bored," Wilson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm going to stay at her house until I can go back to work. You're free after tonight."

Wilson closed his eyes and House could see color begin to flood his cheeks.

"Why didn't you say you wanted to stay with her?" he asked through clenched teeth.

House splashed some water up onto his shoulders. "Didn't know I wanted to until tonight. Besides, she's nicer than you."

Wilson shook his head and went back out to the living room.

House stayed with Reilly and her daughters for ten weeks. She rearranged her schedule at the hospital so that she was home with him during the day while Cameron was with him at night. Reilly made him do his physical therapy each day. They all went for a walk every evening after dinner before she left for the hospital. House enjoyed the leisurely strolls as the sun slowly made its way down to the horizon. He got to know Sarah and Jenny and discovered that he actually liked them. They were both so much like Reilly that he found it easy to talk to them. They also played video games with him and he helped them with their homework. They enjoyed having Cameron with them at night. They didn't seem bothered by the fact she slept in House's room.

One morning in early September, House returned to work. Thanks to the daily physical therapy, he learned to compensate for the missing muscle in his right leg. For the first time in years, he walked into the hospital without his cane. He wore a dark blue suit, crisp white shirt and comfortable black loafers. His hair was neatly combed and his beard trimmed. The lack of pain smoothed his face and he nodded at people as he made his way to the elevator.

When he arrived on the fourth floor, he exited the elevator and stopped. He could see the sunlight streaming in from the Diagnostics conference room. Shadows moved across the floor and staff members gave him curious looks as they passed him. His breathing quickened, his heart started to pound, and he felt light headed. Reaching back, he gripped the edges of the elevator for support. Lowering his head, he tried to control his breathing. He heard footsteps hurrying toward him. Reilly's hands gently touched his waist. Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. He could see each freckle on her fair skin. He could count each dark eyelash and see the subtle makeup she wore. The scent of citrus tickled his nose. He breathed in her scent and felt his breathing and heart rate slow.

"You okay?" she breathed and he could smell the minty scent of her toothpaste.

He nodded and stood up straight. She released him and he let go of the elevator. She stepped to one side and they walked toward the conference room. Kutner, Volakis, and Cameron looked up when they walked in.

"Morning, House," Volakis said.

"CB," House replied. "Have you gutted Wilson and implanted your eggs in his carcass yet?"

She smiled thinly. "I thought I'd do that this weekend."

"Hey!" Kutner smiled. "You look great. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," House responded. He looked at the whiteboard. Two patient's names along with their symptoms were written neatly on it. He walked over and picked up one of the files on table.

"Let's start with Yoga Girl and then move on to Brain Cancer Guy," he told them. Reilly and Cameron exchanged a smile. "I saw that," he remarked.

They all sat down at the table and picked up Caryn's file.

"Caryn was doing an inverted yoga pose and collapsed. X-rays show no spinal injury and she's hot," Volakis told him.

House looked up, smiled and pointed at her. "Nice try, CB. But I will not be sucked into your dark vortex of evil." He closed the file. "Redo all her tests. I want to know if the problem is in her spine or her limbs. Do an EMG." Sitting down, he picked up another file and began reading it. Kutner got up and walked out of the room.

"Brain Cancer Guy tried to kill himself by driving his wheelchair into a pool." he muttered.

"Welcome back," Wilson said as he walked in. House flicked a glance at him and went back to reading the file.

"He's got fluid in his lungs," House commented as Wilson walked over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Probably water from the pool," Wilson commented and took a sip of his coffee.

"Give him an O2 mask," House ordered. "And set him up for surgery. His leg muscles have atrophied. His tendons are probably shortened from disuse causing severe pain. Tendon surgery will make him more comfortable." He looked at Reilly. "You wanna do that?"

"Sure," she told him. She nodded at Volakis who got up and left to get everything set up.

"Comfortable?" Wilson asked. "You want to make him comfortable? Who are you and what did you do with House?"

House closed the file and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not acting like myself because I want to make a patient comfortable?"

"Well," Wilson replied. "Yeah. You've never cared about anyone's comfort before."

"Maybe I've changed."

"No you haven't."

House shrugged and got up to pour some coffee into his red mug. He added a generous amount of sugar and Cameron handed him a coffee stirrer. He stirred the steaming brew and took a sip. He looked over at the area where he landed when he was shot. There was no blood stain.

"Cuddy had the carpet replaced last month," she told him.

"Good," he told her and walked toward his office.

Wilson and Cameron exchanged a look and then turned toward Reilly.

"I'll go talk to him," she told them.

She walked into his office and closed the blinds then locked the doors. House looked up at her in surprise. She crossed the office and sank down in his lounger. He leaned his elbows on his desk.

"They send you in here to find out why I suddenly care whether a patient is comfortable?" he asked.

She nodded.

"But you're not going to do that."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I'm going to take a nap for about an hour and then we'll go back out there and tell them you really have changed."

"Works for me," he told her and turned back to his Sudoku puzzle on his computer.

By the end of the day, House diagnosed Caryn with scurvy but still wasn't any closer to a diagnosis on Richard, the patient with brain cancer. He went home to his apartment and changed into running clothes. Picking up his iPod and keys, he went for a run. Soon, he was nearing the university and was drenched in sweat. He saw a fountain and jumped into it dousing himself with water. As the cool water flowed over him, he stood still. He splashed out of the fountain and ran toward Cuddy's house. He climbed up a trellis and onto her roof. Once he found her bedroom window, he knocked on it. A light flooded the room and he watched Cuddy get out of bed and walk over to the window. Her hair was tousled, her face was free of makeup and she wore a pale blue nightgown. The light shone through the thin fabric of her gown outlining her body. House was immediately reminded of that night at the party in college. An image of her writing in pleasure and moaning his name flashed through his head. Heat rose in him as she opened the window and leaned out.

"What?" she asked sleepily. "And why are you wet?"

"Figured out what's wrong with Brain Cancer Guy," he told her. "Circumventricular system sends cytokines, releasing the early stages of the immune response but CDOS releases prostaglandins that reset the hypothalamic set point upward, unless it's countered by antipyretic therapy. The suicide attempt was not a suicide attempt; he drove that wheelchair into the pool because he couldn't regulate his body temperature. He had hypothalamic dysregulation."

"And you figured this out…"

"By jumping in the university fountain. I can cure him. He just needs cortisol."

"That is not a diagnosis," she told him. "That is a hunch. I'm not letting you treat him based on a hunch." She started to close the window.

"I can cure him!"

"Cortisol does not regenerate brain tissue," she snapped.

"He's got Addison's disease," House told her. "If the scar tissue on his hypothalamus is resting against the pituitary, the adrenals would shut down."

"You're high," she laughed incredulously.

He shook his head. "No. I haven't taken any drugs since I was released from the hospital."

She leaned out the window and looked him in the eye. "This is as high as you get. You get to solve a massive medical puzzle with a simple injection. Go home, House. We've discussed this already. You've made him comfortable. His temperature is normal. I'm not going to risk a lawsuit because you jumped in the water."

He grabbed her hand. "There is no risk. If I'm wrong, no big deal. If I'm right, he gets his life back."

She pulled her hand free. "Go home, House." She shut the window, walked back to her bed, got in it and turned off the light.

House shook his head and climbed down off her roof. Slowly he made his way home.

The next morning, Cuddy called Wilson into her office. "Has House talked to you?" she asked.

"No, why?"

She sighed. "He came to my house last night, well actually he climbed on my roof, and said his patient has Addison's. All he needs is a shot of cortisol and he'll be able to function again."

"He needs to learn to understand the word no," Wilson told her. "He's going to end up killing a patient."

Cuddy shook her head. "What if he's right? He's right so often."

"And what if he's not? How did he come to the conclusion the patient has Addison's?"

"Apparently he went for a run last night, got hot and jumped in the university fountain to cool off," she told him.

"So, he has no medical basis for this diagnosis?" Wilson asked. "Did he run tests?"

Cuddy shook her head. "No."

"You were right to tell him no," Wilson told her.

"Explain to me again why you aren't giving him the cortisol." Reilly said. She and House were sitting in his office. Sunlight slanted through the window and fell across her face illuminating the frown lines between her dark brows. House concentrated on the Sudoku puzzle on his computer.

"Cuddy said no," he responded. He shrugged. "She was right to say no. I have no medical basis for the diagnosis."

"So, we test him!"

"Just give it up, Reilly. I have. I discharged him. He's leaving now."

She stood up and shoved her hands into the pockets of the black pants she wore. "This is bullshit," she told him and left his office