A/N: We have finally reached the end of this Journey. I really like Dr. Swan a lot. so maybe in the future, I will continue to write in this Universe that I completely altered. Maybe She will find out that HOuse is alive and kicking somewhere. but since he is supposed to be dead he comes to Storybrooke to live a normal... ish life. IDK. It's kicking around there. Let me know what you think. Enjoy this final chapter. - S.K.

The Funeral

I found myself in a room that resembled a chapel, although it lacked religious symbols or decorations, which was quite fitting for House, a man who had little patience for the sanctimonious. I stood there, flanked by Regina and Henry, amidst a gathering of old colleagues and acquaintances. The room had a somber air, and at one end, a stained-glass window in muted colors drew the attention of those in attendance. It was framed by drapes with four large swags, and on either side of the window stood marble stands with grand red and white flower arrangements. An urn sat on a table in front of the flowers on one side, and on the other, a portrait of House himself. It was all very tasteful, an irony not lost on me, as House would have loathed this kind of decorum.

I was grappling with the reason I was here, given that I had seen the fire in which they claimed House had died. I had been there with him, trapped in that burning building. I had tried to save him, or at least offer comfort in his final moments. I had fallen asleep beside my now-wife, and I had been transported back to New Jersey, to a dreamscape so vivid it was almost real.

In that dreamscape, I found House lying on the floor of the burning building, resigned to his fate, a man who had given up on life. I realized that I couldn't simply tell him to get up; it wasn't going to work. The first words he spoke to me were that he was already in hell. It was a challenging situation, and I needed to guide him through the labyrinth of his own existence. I assured him that it was okay to let go, to seek rest, and I lay beside him, offering my presence.

As House delved deeper into the puzzle of his existence, there was a moment he struggled to understand. It was the key to his decision. "You're not symmetrical," he finally realized, and I knew we were making progress.

I prodded him further, "What's your point? That you cared about him more than you cared about yourself? You cared about the puzzle more than you cared about yourself."

He shook his head and turned to face me, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. It felt like time was running out. "If I kept it to myself, then it would just be a puzzle. But I opened my mouth because I thought it was more."

I couldn't afford to dawdle any longer, as he was close to running out of time. "You're afraid of this decision, and you're trying to argue until fate takes it out of your hands. You're taking the cowardly way out, and worse, you're too cowardly to admit that you're taking the cowardly way out."

He looked deep into my eyes and, after a pause, admitted, "You're right." It was the breakthrough I had been hoping for. He got up, and I watched him walk away, feeling a sense of relief as he moved towards his own resolution. I was certain he was safe. But then I woke up to the sound of an explosion, and my world came crashing down.

Back in the gray room, I sat among the mourners, gazing at a framed picture of House. Eulogies flowed, each attempting to capture the essence of the man. They painted a picture that felt somewhat removed from the House I had known and interacted with. The eulogies glossed over his complexities and contradictions, focusing instead on his medical brilliance.

Dr. Wilson, House's closest friend and confidant, was the last to speak. He approached the podium after me. We embraced tightly, sharing a moment of connection that lifted our spirits, as if House were present in that room with us. When we separated, I made my way back to Regina and Henry, who were also in attendance. Regina was giving Dr. Hadley, who appeared to be in remarkably better health, an intense look. She was clearly not pleased with something, but I wasn't entirely sure what.

Wilson began his eulogy, stating, "He was my friend." He paused, looking at the gathered mourners, his eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions. "The thing you have to… remember — the thing you can't forget is that Gregory House saved lives." There was a pause, and it seemed like he was going to leave it at that. Then he continued, "He was a healer. And in the end…" He paused again, his voice filled with a sense of finality. He scrutinized his notes and then suddenly, as if making a decision, he crumpled them in his hands.

"House was an ass," Wilson declared, causing a collective gasp in the room. He wasn't mincing words. "He mocked anyone—patients, co-workers, his dwindling friends—anyone who didn't measure up to his insane ideals of integrity. He claimed to be on some heroic quest for truth, but the truth is, he was a bitter jerk who liked making people miserable." Wilson's anger and sadness were palpable. "And he proved that by dying selfishly, numbed by narcotics, without a thought of anyone. A betrayal of everyone who cared about him."

At that moment, a phone began to ring, interrupting the eulogy. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as the mourners glanced around. Nolan checked his phone, thinking it might be his. "Phone," Wilson stated with irritation. The phone continued to ring, not silenced by anyone in the room. "Oh, come on. This is a funeral. Just get it." Wilson grew more frustrated. The phone rang two more times, and Foreman began to reach for his phone. But then Wilson realized that it was his phone that was ringing.

He flipped the phone open and read a text. The expression on his face changed, and he muttered, "This isn't my phone." He left the podium abruptly, leaving the room in shock. The rest of us were left bewildered, not knowing how to react. Wilson had departed so swiftly that the room was left in a state of uncertainty. But finally, this chapter of my life was over.

"I don't know Emma, but from what everyone said. You did talk to him in the dream realm." Regina muttered.

"Right?" I answered. "And I swore I saw him walk out of the back door."

"I guess, unless he shows up in Storybrooke one day you will never know." Regina said I nodded and ushered my family to a reception, that no one wanted to be at. Wilson didn't even go.

The interactions at the reception continued, and I introduced Regina to my former colleagues. When I introduced her to Forman, Regina greeted him warmly, acknowledging the positive things she had heard about him. Forman reciprocated with a friendly smile.

Dr. Hadley, also known as Remy, approached me and shared a shy hug. Her presence seemed to create a bit of unease, especially for Regina, who struggled to hide her discomfort. Henry, our son, observed the room, trying not to pay too much attention to the tension between his mom and Remy.

I introduced Remy to Regina, and Regina's Queenly demeanor was palpable, hinting at the history between Remy and me. Remy, however, didn't appear intimidated in the least. Instead, she gave a brilliant smile, emphasizing that their past was just that—history.

Regina was clearly not pleased with the situation, and she grumbled about the need to let go of the past. Remy, in a rather pointed manner, suggested that I should be more concerned about Robert. I noticed Robert approaching us, "Robert, this is Regina my wife, and our son Henry." I said.

"The son?" he questioned. I nodded. even though he had never met Henry before, and he seemed more interested in our son than acknowledging Regina.

I placed my hand on Regina's to provide comfort and reassurance. I wanted her to know that she had me now, and there was no reason to be concerned about my past connections.

Soon after, the reception came to a close, and I guided my family back home. The chapter in my life that had been House's enigmatic presence was finally over. It was time to focus on the present, my family, and the life I had built in Storybrooke. Despite the unresolved mysteries surrounding House's fate, we had to move forward.

The funeral had marked the end of a significant chapter, and we were now headed toward a new beginning,

End