Holding her end of the bargain, Cameron did return to work the next day. It was weird being back after being gone for about a week, while it wasn't a long period of time, she was hoping that nobody would assume that her time away and House's weren't connected. Well, technically, it was. Cameron quit because House was gone, but it wasn't like they did anything together except for that disastrous date that they had. House was surprisingly too awkward for his own good and he refused to answer to go into further detail about how and why he got demoted since he didn't have those answers. Cameron did promise that she'd keep it a secret from the rest of the team since they weren't aware of these changes yet. Cuddy and Wilson were trying to keep it under the table for now, and somehow Vogler hasn't opened his mouth yet so they needed to try to keep him away from the team. Cameron was holding up her end of the deal, she wasn't going to speak a word about this, as it wasn't her place to, but she knew deep down that things weren't going to be the same for the team.

Cameron was standing in front of the coffee maker in the conference room when the door opened. Foreman and Chase stopped in the doorway, not sure if they were seeing what they thought they were seeing. Cameron? But she quit, didn't she?

When she turned around, she stared at them as they did to her. Were they going to say anything? Or were they going to stop and stare all day?

"Hi?" Cameron said, a small tugged at the corner of her lips. "Or… good morning?"

"What're you doing here?" Foreman finally asked with a smile on his face. He wasn't happy that she left, especially because of the circumstances.

"We thought you quit," Chase added with a smile of his own.

"I work here," Cameron responded, happy with the response she was receiving with being back. In the back of her mind, she was worried they would be mad at her for leaving in the first place. "House was practically begging for me to come back."

"Really?"

"Mhm…." Was all Cameron could say without going into too much detail about how he was able to get her to return back to work after all of this.

"Where the hell has he been?" Chase asked, sitting in his usual spot around the conference table. "Nobody could get a hold of him for a while."

"Thought he finally got fired," Foreman said with a small scoff.

"Sorry to disappoint you," House grumbled from the doorway, causing the Ducklings to jump. "Nice to hear what you really want." He was holding a file, but not handing it over to them as he typically did. "All of you go to the clinic."

"Clinic?"

"House…." Cameron didn't sign up to come back just to go to the clinic. She really had to bite her tongue on this one. Deep down she wanted to challenge him, tell him that he didn't have the authority to send them to the clinic, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"I don't have any patients for you."

The Ducklings watched as he opened the file, walked to the whiteboard, and wrote down symptoms without saying another word to them. He didn't need them. He didn't need to work with a team; House wanted to show Vogler and Cuddy why he was given his own department in the first place. Before House had been given a team, he was able to cure a patient on his own in about a few days or up to a week; even before Vogler, Cuddy knew that the amount of time he was putting into this was costing more than it should, and he had a waiting list a mile long. Now they were able to push at least three patients in the same time frame. It was only a matter of time before they went to complain to Cuddy that he was making them do his clinic work.

"I'm sure there's a bunch of patients with sore throats that we can't do anything about waiting for you in the clinic," House said, not looking away from the whiteboard.

"Yeah? And let you have all the fun?" Foreman said sarcastically. "We're a team, House-"

"And I told you guys to go to the clinic. What's so hard about that? Or is diagnosing a cough too hard for you?"

"Let's just go…." Cameron urged quietly.

House was clearly in a bad mood and she could understand why, but that didn't mean he had to treat them like they were beneath him like he did with other doctors. Obviously, he was doing it as a way to reflect on the situation. He didn't have to be such a jerk about it. House could be blunt, that much was true, no matter how harsh he could be. Being a jerk? That was new. He could be purposely annoying and push people's buttons, but that was his limit from what the Ducklings have seen so far.

Foreman wanted to snap back at him for talking down to him like that; he went to med school just like he did. He could even argue that he put in more work through school than House did. Unlike him, Foreman didn't have a free pass through all of his schooling. He had to work hard to earn cash and take out loans, and even then he survived on nothing. That poor college student era wasn't the best period of Foreman's life, in fact, petty theft was common for him to get food. Any unlocked cars were free game for him. He couldn't imagine House struggling at all at any point of his life, and he had the nerve to talk down to him? Deciding that he was the bigger person, Foreman let out a frustrated breath before turning and leaving the conference room with Chase.

"That wasn't nice, House," Cameron said quietly, not wanting to confront him fully. He knew there were times he didn't understand what he said could be seen as rude, but this was not one of those times, but she wanted to believe that it was.

"I don't care…. Go to the clinic."

"This isn't what I agreed to when I came back-"

"Then quit. You don't seem to have a problem with that."

Cameron scoffed, not saying a word before turning and following the others. She wasn't going to quit, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of his words getting to her, though they did hurt. Why would he go through the trouble of agreeing to her terms just to tell her to quit again? She knew the demotion thing was getting under his skin, but she didn't think it would turn him into this. Something else was bothering him. There had to be.

This wasn't House.

House had been staring at the whiteboard for almost two hours when he decided he needed to get up and go see the patient in question. Fever, headache, fatigue. That could be anything. If these were the only problems presented then why did the patient get forwarded to him? Either something hasn't been charted or they were being lazy and didn't want to deal with them. At this rate, he might as well go work in the clinic. Maybe he could send- no. He had nobody to send since he burned bridges with the team today, that, and he didn't want to admit that he needed help to nobody in particular except his own mind. What was worse? Seeing a patient in person, or having to admit he needed the team?

Goddammit.

Grabbing the file, House made his way out of his office, grumbling under his breath that he had to willingly go to see a patient. Almost as if that was his job, right? It was any wonder he was still employed for that reason alone. As soon as he stepped out, of course, he bumped right into Vogler, who he had managed to avoid the entire time he had been back. Literally bumped into him. Spilling his coffee over his suit.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

House held his breath, even though he hated Vogler's guts, the last thing he wanted was to get on his bad side. Well, more than he already was.

"Dammit!" Vogler hissed, the hot coffee soaking through his shirt.

"Ah… sorry," House apologized sheepishly. "Well, on the bright side you're able to afford a new one, right?" That comment earned a glare from Vogler, which was fair. "Bad joke."

"Open your damn eyes, House!" Vogler snapped at him, causing House to flinch at the tone he used against him. It almost reminded him of the way his father would yell at him over the smallest things. "Are you a complete idiot?!"

A part of House wanted to shut down, and another part of him wanted to snap back at him for treating him like that. It was an accident, he should have been paying more attention when leaving his office, but it didn't warrant this. Out of all the things Vogler has put him through, this was the most petty and he refused to be someone for him to step on. While House was busy trying to keep his mouth shut, he didn't notice that Cuddy had witnessed the entire thing as it took everything in himself to not snap back.

"I'm sure it was an accident," Cuddy said suddenly, putting her hands on House's shoulders, moving him aside so he wasn't the target of Vogler's verbal assault. "He didn't mean it," she continued, not sure how else to smooth this over. "Did you?"

The way Cuddy was talking to him made House feel like he was being talked down to, almost like he was a misbehaving child. He had only been back for a couple of days, and honestly, the last thing he wanted was for Vogler to be on his case again. Why couldn't he just go away? Everything had been better before he came along.

"No…." House mumbled, biting the inside of his cheek so the comments he wanted to say didn't slip out. He wasn't able to do anything but keep his eyes on the ground.

"Let's talk in the office, I'm sure Dr. House has a case he needs to get back to," Cuddy continued, looking at House to silently tell him to get out of here while she smoothed the situation over.

Once the door to Cuddy's office was closed, she let out a small sigh, waiting for whatever insults Vogler had towards House to come flowing out. It didn't take much for him to go on about him. It didn't seem to matter to him that House was one of the hospital's best doctors, all he could see were dollar signs, and since House and the department were costing more than they were spending, of course, Vogler had a problem with it.

"I'm sorry about your suit," Cuddy started, sitting behind her desk. "Send us the bill-"

"And cost us more money?" Vogler interrupted.

She sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.

"He's a good doctor. A great one, in fact. He's cured patients when other doctors had nothing else to go off from. I wish you could-"

"What's going on between you and House?" He questioned, sitting back in the chair he was in across from her desk. He was trying to uncover anything based on the expression on Cuddy's face based on his question. "Family, perhaps?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is that why he gets a free pass to do whatever he wants? Because you're family?"

"What? No," Cuddy said, shaking her head at the absurd question.

Was it actually absurd though? Cuddy thought of House as her own son and taking care of him as if he were. She covered her favouritism up by claiming the reason she kept him around was because of how great of a doctor he was. Which he is, but if anyone else were to act up this way they'd already be out the door. To a point, House realized this and even saw Cuddy as a mother figure since he didn't have a steady figure in his life, and he did use this to his advantage.

"Then what is it? Do you let all your doctors run around the hospital doing whatever they want? Maybe that's why your hospital was in the red before I came along."

Now it was Cuddy's turn to keep her mouth shut. Even though she had to put on this mask to show that she didn't hate Vogler's guts, it was getting difficult with each passing day. It was like he was trying to be hated around here and it wasn't just her and House, the Board was starting to get irritated with him too. If he wanted to donate his money to be able to help further the treatment of patients, then why was he holding it so close to his chest? Easy. He wanted to control something, even though he already owned a small handful of companies.

"No," Cuddy said firmly, not going to allow Vogler to get under her skin like this. "Like I've been saying, House is a gifted doctor. He may have some… interesting qualities, but he gets the job down and saves the patient. That's what we're here for."

"And you need funding in order to save patients, correct?"

Cuddy tried to hide her scowl, not knowing what else to say.

"… He's a little rough around the edges, but we're working on it-"

"And how long is that supposed to take? Before or after he wastes the hospital's money?"

"He's not wasting money."

"The department isn't needed. The lawsuits are stacking up to the ceiling, and you want to tell me he's not wasting money?

"It's a process. He's getting better."

"Last I heard he refuses to see patients, what type of doctor does that?"

"…he's getting better."

House groaned, resting his head against the door frame outside the patient's room, not wanting to go in there. All patients did was lie to him, so what was the point of asking them anything? Why did he have to do it? Maybe he should have kept one of them with him and sent only two to work in the clinic. Lesson learned though he was sure he already burned a bridge with Cameron on her first day back. Great. He was hurting, it wasn't his fault he was acting this way, and he 'tried' telling them that, but nobody was listening to him.

He began to pace a bit, only to stop when he felt the pain in his leg again. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his thigh while trying to piece together the symptoms of the patient in his mind. Fever. Headache. Fatigue. Yeah, that really narrows it down, not like a lot of illnesses have those exact same symptoms. What was that supposed to tell him?

Glancing up, he saw Wilson walking down the hallway. House mumbled under his breath, forcing himself to go into the patient's room. He didn't have enough time to prepare himself, so he had to dig back into the file he had been scanning through most of this morning.

Name: Daniel Carter

Age: 42

Occupation: Architect

Medical History: Hypertension, history of migraines, no known allergies

Family History: Father died of a stroke at 50, the mother has rheumatoid arthritis

Medications: Lisinopril (for hypertension), occasional ibuprofen for migraines

Social History: Married, two children, non-smoker, occasional alcohol use

Seems like nothing great to go off from. House would think this was something that warrants a clinical visit, not wasting his time.

Now the patient and his family were staring at House, not knowing who he was. Now he had to talk.

"He comes back to work and immediately treats us like dirt," Chase grumbled to himself, slamming the microwave door shut.

"And seeking drugs," Foreman added with a scoff.

Cameron's eyes widen. Did she hear him right? Drug-seeking? House was many things, but a junkie wasn't one of them.

"Surely not," Cameron said.

"Asking for strong painkillers isn't something normal people would do," Foreman stated, causing Cameron to roll her eyes. "Not explaining why he needed them also isn't normal."

"That's not something he'd do."

"Well, he did," Chase said.

Cameron was about to ask another question, but immediately shut up when the conference room door opened. They didn't even have to turn around to feel House's presence. He was still tense, but not as tense as he was this morning.

"Find anything interesting in the sea of coughs and runny noses?" House asked dryly as he sat down, acting as though his attitude this morning never happened. "What?"

"You were being a dick this morning," Foreman said, hoping that the others would jump in here so he wouldn't get singled out.

"Alright, I admit I was a little rude." House leaned back, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy.

"More than rude. You were a complete ass," Chase couldn't help but add in.

House was waiting for Cameron to chime in, but she remained silent, only listening to the attack on their 'boss.' As they were having their back and forth, Chase was focused on making his lunch, and Foreman was busy reading the file of the patient that he snatched away from House. When Cameron looked up from staring at her hands, she was the first one to notice. House didn't even seem to notice.

"Your nose is… bleeding…." Cameron told him softly. "House."

It looked like House was about to make a sarcastic remark, but before he could, he lifted his fingers up to his face just as the other two turned around. Pulling his hand away, there were blood droplets on his fingertips. The room suddenly felt airtight; something like that had never happened before, and the way House was acting about it was strange to them. Instead of getting up to clean themselves up, House touched at the blood again before looking extremely inconvenienced.

"God. It's probably a bad omen," House joked before finally standing up and grabbing a tissue. The door opened again with Cuddy standing in the doorway giving House a glare. "Told you."

"I need to talk to you," Cuddy said sternly, not wanting to hear anything from him right now.

"Uh…." House tossed the tissue away before grabbing another one. "Keep working on them," he told the Ducklings, motioning towards his patient file.

"Oh? The patient you could do on your own?" Foreman said with a smirk.

"Take it or leave it."

When House made his way to Cuddy's office, he was confused as to why the lights were off. He swore that Cuddy just grabbed him so they could talk, which usually meant that she needed him in her office. On top of that, she never turned her lights off until she went home for the night.

"I knew this was a bad omen," House said as he entered the office, flickering the lights on.

Wilson.

"House," he began carefully, watching House carefully and wanting to speak before House decided to bail before they could speak. "Look, I know you're upset, but trust me, this wasn't my idea."

House let out a bitter scoff, pulling the bloody tissue away to glance at Wilson.

"Yeah, sure. Just conveniently stepping in to play hero after Vogler throws me under the bus. You must feel so noble."

Wilson sighed, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. He knew that House was going to react badly to this, that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. Wilson didn't expect to see how deeply betrayed House was feeling, causing his stomach to twist.

"I'm not trying to replace you," Wilson insisted in a soft tone to try to keep House leveled. "You think I wanted this? The last thing I wanted was to be caught in the middle of Vogler's game. I took the position because Cuddy and I both thought you rather me be in the position than anyone else." Wilson shook his head. "At least I'm not going to dismantle your team… or your career."

Even through Wilson's explanation, though it made sense, House couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flickered with resentment. A small, dim light in his brain knew that Wilson wasn't trying to hurt him, but god it was hard to see through the clouds of his own pride.

"Oh, please. Don't act like you're doing me a favour. Vogler wants to humiliate me, and congratulations, you're his new favourite puppet. How does that feel?"

Wilson flinched. House could be a dick, but he was able to hold himself back from really shoving a knife where it hurts. That wasn't even him trying. Wilson had to find his way around this minefield so he could show House that his intentions were true.

"You know me better than that, House," he said in a quiet yet firm tone. "If anyone else took this spot, you'd be out of here completely. I'm trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" House's voice broke slightly, almost looking vulnerable, but it was quickly overturned with irritation. "You're patronizing me. Treating me like a kid who can't handle things."

"No, I'm not." Wilson stepped closer, trying to get his point across House's thick skull. "You're so busy fighting with everyone that you're missing the point. Vogler wants you gone. I took this role to keep you here, not drive you away."

House remained silent, staring at the tissue he was holding as he was unable to meet Wilson's eyes. The logic was sound, but emotionally he couldn't separate Wilson's actions from Vogler's intentions. This whole thing was fucked, and he wished he could go back in time and prevent Vogler from even setting eyes on this place.

"You think you're doing the right thing…." House mumbled, staring off not knowing how he could explain this. "But you have no idea how it feels."

"Then tell me."

House scoffed, finally dropping the tissue into the trash bin. He still had no idea how he had gotten a bloody nose in the first place, he hadn't had one since he was a kid.

Bad omen.

"I'm not telling you shit. You don't…." House trailed off. He was so used to telling people that they didn't understand him, that Wilson was the only one who could piece together his jumbled thoughts. If anyone understood him it was Wilson. "… get it." House huffed.

Wilson took note of the way House hesitated; it was something that told him more than House would let on. This entire situation was ridiculous, he never thought he would be here, trying to convince House that he wouldn't do anything to hurt him but here they were. House rarely let anyone in, so Wilson knew how much of an honour it was to be this close to him. It took a lot of time and dedication to get this far, yet it was so easy to break this trust.

"You're right," Wilson said quietly, trying to think of what to say now. "I can't fully get it if you don't explain it to me. I'm trying to help you…. Just… for once, let me help." The way House was refusing to say anything, refusing to look at him told Wilson that he was getting somewhere and he had small wiggle room here. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be, but I'm not your enemy."

"I've pushed you away and you still seem to care. How bold," House grumbled after a moment of silence. He grunted quietly, feeling the pain in his thigh again. "I also assume you heard about the painkillers? Totally blown out of proportion, by the way."

Wilson sighed, the air switching from concern to disappointment. Not at House, but at the situation.

"Yeah, I heard," he said. "Foreman told me. He was worried."

House scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Right. Of course. Can't let the reckless child doctor get his hands on anything stronger than Tylenol, right?"

Wilson ignored the jab, focusing on what House wasn't saying. Noticing the way House's body tensed up, the way he subtly shifted his weight, his fingers twitching slightly. He was in pain.

"You're not reckless, House. Just stubborn." Wilson moved forward, grabbing House's shoulders and moving him so he could sit in the chair across from Cuddy's desk. "You're in pain and refusing to deal with it properly."

"And how do I 'deal with it properly'? Mediation? Yoga? Or just sit around and hope it goes away on its own?" House's voice was laced with sarcasm, but sarcasm only hid the pain underneath it all. "I don't need help if that's what you're getting at."

"If you don't need help, then why are you telling me about it?"

Once again, House was silent, though it lasted longer than any other time he was stewing in his thoughts. He knew exactly why he told Wilson. Wilson fixes him. Wilson was always there for him even though House was stupid enough to push him away.

"I hate you," he finally mumbled, the tension finally leaving his shoulders as if he was slowly becoming comfortable with him again.

Suddenly House's face scrunched up in pain. His leg had been hurting him today, but it was a dull sensation, this felt like he was being stabbed. Wilson watched as House breathed out sharply, leaning forward in the chair to find any sort of relief. He was immediately at House's side, kneeling down next to him so he could get a better look at whatever was bothering him.

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked, his voice threading with concern.

House let out a breath through gritted teeth, gripping the armrest of the chair until his knuckles turned white like it was the only thing holding him down.

"Gee, I dunno, Wilson. Maybe it's the massive amount of pain I've been in for the past month?" Though the sharpness was there, House's tone was a bit weaker.

Wilson watched for a moment, trying to figure out what to do from here. House should've come to him about this sooner so they could have run some tests, but they both knew that would never have happened. He was too stubborn. House grunted at the blinding pain that now radiated down to his knee. Yeah, Wilson could ask for more details, but he knew he would get nothing in return besides snide remarks and sarcasm.

"I'm getting you an MRI."

House wanted to fight, argue, hell, he even wanted to scream from the pain he was in, but did his best to keep it to himself. This was humiliating. The first time they'd spoken to each other in a week and Wilson was already trying to help him. Whatever, he didn't need help, no matter how true it was. House tried standing up, but the moment he put any weight on his right leg it caused him to crumble to the ground. Thankfully Wilson was hypervigilant, catching House halfway down to settle him carefully on the floor.

"Fuck…." House mumbled, trying to massage the pain out from his thigh, though he couldn't tell if it was making it better or worse. His breathing became uneven, he was turning pale, and had beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"I'm calling Cuddy."

"No!" He said, grabbing Wilson's wrist suddenly. "I don't need a babysitter," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I definitely don't need Cuddy bitching in my ear, let alone Vogler always glued to her side."

"Listen-"

"No you listen," House snapped, his voice tight with pain. "This is humiliating enough as it is without her coming in here telling me what to do like I'm some resident screwing up their first diagnosis. If you want to help, you take me. No Cuddy."

Wilson stared at him, seeing that he was hanging on by a thread, trying his best to keep himself collected. His pain and pride were fighting against each other. This was a huge moment of vulnerability, one that Wilson rarely saw with House. Dammit.

"Fine…. But if this gets worse, I am calling her."

House gave him a weak, lopsided smirk.

"Knew I could count on you, Jimmy."