"Ghosts of the Past"

Chapter One – "An Ill Wind Blows"

By: purpleu

"House, are you ready to come out yet?"

"No; what's the rush?" Foreman rolled his eyes.

"Some of us have other work to do," he replied.

"Besides," Tom said. "How long does it take to put an exam gown on?"

"I'm not putting one on." Foreman, Tom, and Wilson all looked at each other then turned to Lydia. At House's request the four of them were there in the radiology area waiting for him to come out and get the ultrasound test on his leg started. Even though this was House's idea, he clearly still had reservations.

"I'll go talk to him," Lydia said. She stepped around a partition, went down a short hall and stood in front of House's changing cubicle. "Hon, it's me." There was no answer. "Greg?" Suddenly the curtain moved aside and her boyfriend stood before her. He had on the t-shirt he came into the hospital with that morning, his boxers, his socks…and his sneakers.

"I suppose you're here to drag me off to the torture chamber," House said. "This booth isn't very private nor is it soundproof, but care to honor a last request?" Lydia gave House a quick kiss.

"That's all you get for now; you know I'll be massaging your leg later to make it feel better."

"Among other parts of my body," he said with a slight grin. Lydia shook her head.

"Come on, E.L.F.; get changed and let's get this show on the road. Eric and James have a meeting today with a family that's making a donation to the hospital because you saved their daughter's life. You don't have to go because you're having the test done, but they can't be late."

"I'm not Evil, certainly not Little as you well know, nor a Fiend; I'm just warm for your form," House said moving his eyebrows up and down lecherously. "And I have my pants off; that's as much of a show as they're going to get," House said gesturing with his head toward the testing room. "Where Foreman is going to be putting his hand is degrading enough."

"You can't go in with your sneakers on; they shouldn't go up on the exam table, and you don't need them to walk around in there. Behave yourself; take them and your socks off and put the non-skid hospital socks on. If you want to be a nudge and leave your shirt on, just put a gown over it so it looks like you're trying to cooperate," Lydia said. "It's loose enough so they can access your arm if they need to."

"Why would I want to give them the false impression that I'm cooperating? They know me better than that." said House as he sat down on the bench provided for patients to use while prepping for a test. Lydia sighed.

"Greg, if you don't want to do this right now, if you're not ready…it's OK," Lydia said gently. "You only told me about this on Saturday; now it's Thursday. For the number of years you've been putting this off, it's an awfully fast turn-around." House shook his head.

"It's been rattling around in my brain on and off since I got out of Mayfield," he said as he kicked his sneakers off. "I'd keep thinking that maybe there was a chance of…something…but then I'd tell myself I was an idiot and put it out of my head." House pulled off his socks and dropped them on the floor; Lydia knelt down, tucked them into his sneakers and handed him the plastic-wrapped hospital socks. "Then you popped back into my life and I considered the possibilities again." House looked at Lydia as she knelt on one knee next to the bench. "Unfortunately among those possibilities is the chance that there's nothing to be done, and I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life; and so is anyone else who chooses to hang around me."

"And among the other possibilities are doing something to help you feel better; Tom working on different exercises, using different medicines. Or an operation." House shot her a disapproving look. "No answer is going to be easy," Lydia said as House put on the hospital socks and stood up. "But we'll handle it." Lydia handed him a gown. House closed his eyes as he put it on; we'll handle it. Unlike other attempts he had made to cope with his handicap, this time he had support; a support he felt he could trust. Fool though I may be for thinking that, House said to himself, it's about time I tried. He picked up his cane, stepped into the hallway, and headed toward the testing room. He hesitated at the partition; Lydia, who had been walking right behind him, took his hand.

"I've got what I suggested to you in my pocket," Lydia said hesitantly patting the left side of her sweat jacket. House looked away from her and made a face.

"Thanks, but I'm not going to need it." He stepped around the partition, and into the testing area.

"Well, look who's here," Tom said. "Had trouble figuring out the difference between the left and right socks?"

"No, had trouble figuring out if all of the morons in the room knew the difference between a left and right leg," House answered, referring to the scans Cuddy obviously misread fifteen years ago.

"We know the difference, House," Foreman said. "And just to make sure nothing goes wrong, we have four sets of eyes checking on everything."

"Five," House corrected, pointing at his own.

"Five. We already have the monitor connected to the ultrasound set up so you can see it from the table," noted Foreman. "And one that's going to have the 3-D image I made from your prior MRI. It's the best we can do, short of you doing the test on yourself."

"I could if given the opportunity," House half-muttered. He looked to his left; Wilson was at the console logging House in for the test. Lydia was about to say something when her phone buzzed.

"It's Annie; what's she doing up so early?" she asked.

"She's having trouble sleeping," Wilson said while not taking his eyes off the screen. "And her first student is at eight-thirty." Lydia nodded, and stepped away as she answered the call.

"He's all set," Wilson said rising from the chair and taking his cane. Even though it was assumed his need for it would be temporary, Annie purchased a beautiful rosewood cane with scrolls carved into it for her boyfriend. It wasn't as flashy as House's piano cane or his flame cane, but in Annie's opinion, it was Wilson; subtle and classic. He passed Foreman and Tom as they headed to the console; House waited for him to come over, but Wilson stood several feet away.

"I'm not contagious," House said, aiming the comment at his friend. "And I've had all my shots." Wilson didn't respond. House looked away, confused. "OK, I give up; what did I do to earn the silent treatment?"

"Nothing," Wilson replied quietly. "I'm just not looking forward to this." House frowned.

"Upstaging me, are you? I think I'm the one who shouldn't be pleased with this scenario. An ultrasound is classified as non-invasive, but by the time this is over, I'm going to want to re-write that definition." Wilson's expression didn't change. "You feeling OK?"

"I'm fine." Wilson let out a deep sigh. "I know that this test is probably going to prove that…I should have believed you when you told me about the sort of pain you were in. Taking the amount and kind of drugs you did, trying…anything for relief. Those weren't the actions of someone just looking to get attention…they were the moves of a desperate man. I should've believed you…and I'm sorry I didn't most of the time."

"I have a multitude of ways to get attention if I want it," House said. "And that's without utilizing my now disposed of little black book." He looked at Wilson. "We been over this to infinity and beyond; even if you had believed me, what good would it have done?"

"I could have encouraged you to find out what the hell was causing you that kind of agony," Wilson said. "Instead, I…spent my time trying to figure out how to outsmart you to prove you were wrong about the pain; it seemed like if your mind was sufficiently occupied, your leg didn't hurt as much. Psychosomatic rather than physical." Wilson looked at House. "I was trying to help."

"Your intentions were good, but your methods sucked," House said as he leaned against the wall. "And attempting to outsmart me is always a dangerous endeavor. At this point, the real cause of my pain isn't the goons who did this," he said indicating his leg. "Or anyone thinking I was trying to pull a fast one. It's the two people who didn't trust my judgment when it came to medicine that gives me the biggest pain." Wilson shook his head.

"House…don't; don't dwell on what Cuddy and Stacy did. Their intentions were as good as mine, I'm sure. You can't fix the past." House stared down at the floor.

"You're right; you can't. Which is why I have to drag it around with me every second of every day as a reminder of that."

"House, you want to take a look at the 3-D image Foreman created to use as a guide?" Tom called out.

"Yeah." House made his way to the console; he saw the image was also on the second monitor over by the exam table. Lydia had finished her call and came over to Wilson.

"Annie will be home a bit early today; her last student cancelled on her. She said she'll call you when she's done." Wilson nodded as he watched House talk to Tom and Foreman. "How's he doing?" she asked quietly.

"Right now, he's in the mind-set that Cuddy and Stacy are the source of the problem with his leg," Wilson said. "I guess he's thinking that if Cuddy had looked at the scans more carefully and Stacy had trusted his judgment, he wouldn't be in this position."

"He's been bouncing back and forth the past two days between the idea that the surgeons who did this to him were crazed, vicious bastards and the idea that Cuddy and Stacy were out to get him."

"What?" Wilson said in shock. "Why the hell would he think that they were out to get him?"

"I don't know," Lydia said folding her arms. "He had more than a few drinks in him when he said that to me. Luckily, I convinced him not to have anything other than a beer at dinner last night; I probably shouldn't have let him have that."

"Don't worry," said Wilson reassuringly. "Even using the contrast, one beer at dinner isn't going to do any harm." House, Foreman and Tom moved away from the console.

"Let's get this going," House said as he approached the exam table.

"You want the step stool?" Tom asked. House looked over his shoulder and glared at him as he stood with his back to the table

"Just yesterday, you told me I had the most upper body strength of any of your patients, and now you're wimping me down by offering me a step stool?" House backed up and with his hands on either side of his body, placed them on the table. "Are the wheels locked?" he asked looking at Lydia. She quickly moved around to all four wheels.

"Locked and loaded," she confirmed. Using only his arms and upper body, House got up onto the exam table.

"Nicely done," Wilson said. "Except with your long legs, the table's below your butt to start with, so it's not really very impressive." House caught sight of the gleam in Wilson's eyes; he knew his friend was trying to lighten the mood.

"When's the last time you did one leg, one arm push-ups?" House inquired.

"It's…not part of my current rehab program," Wilson said hesitantly.

"Let me re-phrase that; when did you ever do a one leg…"

"Ok, enough machismo for one day," Tom said laughing. "We all know how tough you are House." Lying down on the table, House gave no answer to his therapist; he reached behind his head and tried to readjust the pillow.

"Got another of these around or something that passes for it? I'm too flat to see the monitors properly," he complained. Lydia went to the supply cabinet and pulled out a blanket. She folded it several times and placed it under the regular pillow.

"Better?' she asked. House nodded. "Do you want a blanket for your lower legs or torso?"

"No; I'm probably going to be sweating before too long." Lydia stepped back and positioned herself next to the head of the table on the right; she could see the monitors as clearly as House did, but wasn't in Foreman's way. Wilson came and stood a few steps behind her so he could also see the screens.

"Here we go," Foreman said, squeezing gel onto the head of the ultrasound wand. "Starting with the inguinal artery and vein…" Foreman manipulated the wand on House's upper inner thigh till he got a clear picture on the monitor. "Looks good, nice blood flow. Save an image of that," he said tapping some keys attached to the control panel of the ultrasound machine. Lydia had the feeling Foreman was doing the narrative out loud for her benefit; while she had been present at ultrasounds before, this was going to be the first time she was seeing one with the type of complications House was going to present.

"Watch where you put that thing," House growled as he jumped at Foreman's placement of the wand. "Or else my girlfriend will beat you up. She has a vested interest in keeping that part of my anatomy functioning."

"That wasn't the wand," Foreman said.

"Maybe next time you should take your watch off," Tom suggested.

"Whatever it was, get down to where it'll do some good," directed House. Foreman silently chuckled as he moved the instrument around on House's leg, glancing at the 3-D image for guidance. "So, there's some small, healthy muscle that can be seen coming down from the inguinal canal." Foreman took an image again. Wilson stepped forward to get a better look at the monitor; he was glad there was something good found right at the beginning of the test. He knew the good luck couldn't last for long. Wilson, Lydia and Tom noticed that House was becoming a little restless; he kept moving his head around and wincing. Foreman saw it too.

"Sorry, House; I've moved onto your scar," he noted.

"Didn't need you to tell me that," House said. Lydia didn't know if it was the lighting or not, but she thought her boyfriend was starting to look a little pale. She turned her attention to the screen; the image was very fuzzy, very foggy looking. Perhaps it's my untrained eyes, she thought to herself. Lydia noticed Foreman was squinting, narrowing his eyes and watching the screen very intently; Tom was doing the same

"This is like trying to navigate your way around London," Foreman said, his eyes darting back and forth between the MRI 3-D image and the one the ultrasound was giving him. He pressed down harder on the leg, trying to get angle where something could be more discernable. Lydia saw the look on House's face; as much as it eased things a little when either one of them massaged his leg in the scar area, having the hard wand roll over it had quite the opposite effect.

"DAMN! Are you enjoying this?" House said sarcastically to Foreman. "It sure as hell feels like you are."

"I feel like a damn freaking rookie at the moment," Foreman said putting more gel on the wand so it would slide more easily.

"It feels like that to me, too." House winced and curled his hand into a fist so he wouldn't reach down for his thigh and get in Foreman's way. House felt Lydia put her hand on top of his, but he wouldn't look at her. Between the pain and trying to discern something on the monitors, he was in no mood to play nice. He had taken all his medicine before leaving the house this morning since it wouldn't interfere with any contrast to be used to obtain a clearer picture; but having the scar area assaulted like this, was a pain unlike any other. Foreman had continued to press in and turn the viewing instrument every way he could; no matter what he did, no clearer image revealed itself.

"House, you want to take a break?" Tom asked. House didn't answer at first.

"You need to use contrast. Micro bubbles," he finally said looking at Foreman. Lydia looked puzzled as Foreman nodded his agreement with House.

"It's the only way we're going to see anything. I'll call the pharmacy and have them bring it down." Foreman took a paper towel, wiped the gel from House's leg and took off his gloves. He gave Tom a quick look as he left to make the call.

"I've heard of using micro bubbles as contrast but how exactly does it work?" Lydia asked.

"Simplest explanation is that they provide the best echo or bounce back of the ultrasound waves. The difference between the gasses in the bubbles and the surrounding soft tissue is immense, so they help give the best picture," House said as he reached for his leg. "They're also small and uniform in size, one to four micrometers."

"So it will be administered to you the same way regular dye contrast would be; through an IV in your arm." said Lydia.

"Yep. And when you get to medical school I'm sure you'll learn all about it," House said giving her a slight smile.

"Or I could go look it up on the internet and you could tell me all the parts they got wrong."

"Always go directly to an expert; and the best one at that," Tom said nodding toward House. Wilson had stepped away; he now came back with some paper towels in his hands.

"I noticed you're sweating," he said to House. "Thought you'd want to dry off."

"Thanks," House said as he took the paper from Wilson.

"Do you need some water, Hon?" Lydia offered.

"No." House looked at Tom. "Must be a rat's nest in there if Foreman couldn't even get an image. Either that or he's more out of practice than I thought."

"House, sitting on your butt behind a desk all day doesn't exactly give you a chance to practice the medical part of medicine," Wilson said ruefully. "It's not a good place for a real doctor to be." House knew Wilson hated the lack of contact with patients in his temporary administrative position. That dislike had only gotten worse since he came back after the shooting and the discovery of his cancer.

"He still knows how to do an ultrasound," House said starting to rub his leg. "He's taking great pleasure in it at my expense."

"I'm going to go pick up the contrast from pharmacy; they're telling me it'll be half an hour before they can get it down here," Foreman said sounding disgusted as he walked back over to the group. "I didn't even bother to ask what the hang up could be at this hour of the morning; I don't want to know."

"You wouldn't think there could be anything causing a delay this early in the day," Lydia said looking at her watch. "It's not even seven yet."

"Don't remind me that we could all be home sleeping right now," Foreman said rubbing his eyes.

"It's my interrupted sleep I'm most concerned about," House said as he sat up. "Not that I slept last night."

"You're the one who wanted to do the test so damn early," Tom said.

"Yeah, because I didn't want an audience," House replied.

"Good morning!" House looked over his left shoulder; he winced and turned his head away from the door as Thirteen, Chase and Taub entered the room.

"'You can't always get what you want,'" Wilson began to quietly sing. House glanced over his right shoulder.

"I can't even get what I need," House said. "Which would be my 'friend' not making smart-assed musical notations." Wilson said nothing, but smiled as he walked away from the table.

"So, are you done already?" Chase asked looking confused.

"Barely begun," Foreman replied. "As soon as I got to the scar, it became a blotchy mess; couldn't clearly make things out. We'd just be guessing and there's no point in that; we're here, we might as well get it right. House wants to use micro bubbles to get a better view."

"Why don't you toddle along and pick the stuff up? Or else it will be half an hour that I'm waiting," House noted. Foreman nodded, and headed out of the room. House turned to his team. "What are you doing here? Don't you have some Petrie dishes to cultivate? Or traffic to play in?"

"We came to see how you're doing," Thirteen said. House looked at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes.

"Where are your glasses?" Thirteen sighed.

"They're in my pocketbook."

"Great place for them," said House sharply. "I bet they're having a blast memorizing your debit card and reading the instructions on your preferred method of monthly feminine protection." He gestured toward the monitors. "The screens are going to look blurry to you whether they are or not."

"I see OK at this distance," Thirteen said. "I'm not going upstairs to get them. You're not getting rid of us that easily."

"You're here because you're worried about House," Tom said. "We all are, but I think…"

"They can stay," House said cutting him off. "Doctor/patient confidentiality is going to be non-existent around here; that's a gimme." He saw Taub craning his neck to get a better look at his leg. "It's not anything you haven't already seen. It hasn't changed since all of you laid me bare when I came in after the Jenga tower collapsed."

"Actually, other than making sure that the scar hadn't been compromised in any way, we paid very little attention to it," Taub noted. "You had plenty of other injuries that we concerned ourselves with. I…I just thought that when you get the test results…if you're going to consider any kind of surgery as an option, you're going to need a reconstructive plastic surgeon."

"And if I want a good one I know where to look; the Yellow Pages has lots of them listed," House responded.

"I'm not trying to push anything," Taub said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to offer some help." House closed his eyes and dropped his head. He hated looking down at his scar; no scar was ever pretty, but his was always raw and angry. Perhaps given the circumstance under which the surgery had been performed and who performed it, that assessment was correct. Taub would be the best candidate to do the work if House ever decided that he would subject himself to surgery again. He knew he could trust Taub…trust his whole team for that matter.

"You can look." Taub and everyone else the room just stared at House; they couldn't believe what he said. Taub slowly came around to the right side of the table and grabbed a pair of exam gloves out of the box on the nearby counter. Part of the exam gown was covering the scar; Taub moved it up carefully. House watched his face as the area was revealed. Taub's mouth fell open in shock.

"They…they didn't even try to finish this properly! They didn't even make an attempt to fake it! This…this looks horrific!" he said shaking his head.

"I think that was the general intention," House said dourly. "Should send them a note congratulating them in their accomplishment."

"House, a four-year-old could have done a better job!" Taub exclaimed.

"Is Elise busy?" asked House as he looked at Lydia. She and Wilson were the least taken back by the scar; they each had seen it many times.

"House, is it OK if I touch it? I'm guessing with how hard Foreman's had to push to try and do the ultrasound, it's already bothering you," Taub said. "I don't want to make it worse."

"That'd be impossible at this point," House said. He gestured with his hand for Taub to go ahead. Taub gently prodded along the edges of the scar, and going in a circular motion worked his hand to the center, all the while shaking his head.

"Taub, if House…by some miracle…ever decides to have an operation on his leg, can you do…something…with it?" asked Wilson. "Or…"

"It really depends on what is or isn't underneath there," Taub said frowning. "I'm assuming there's going to be vascular and nerve reconstruction needed…" He spread his hands apart. "I don't want to say any more until we see the ultrasound." He looked at House. "I'm making assumptions; a bad idea, I know." House stared down at his leg; for the briefest moment he was willing to consider anything to get rid of the damn scar. To have it look like his left leg, to not see that pathetic look of sympathy in Lydia's eyes when she ran her hand over it, to feel like a normal man again…for a nanosecond, he was willing to do anything. House shook his head to clear his thoughts; he turned to Chase. "Get me set up for the contrast so Foreman can start it as soon as he gets back." Taub took off the exam gloves and tossed them in the collection container. Chase came around, got the needed items out to get House's veins set up to accept an IV. Chase worked quickly and efficiently, and in no time the IV hook up was in place in House's arm.

"Found out what the hold-up was with pharmacy," Foreman said when he came back into the room a few minutes later. "One staff member is in the ER with their mother who was brought in with a heart attack and the other had a fender bender on their way into work; they'll be here in a little while."

"Well, at least they both have very good excuses," Lydia said. "I was afraid that the answer was going to be that the department was understaffed."

"We've managed with what we have so far; if we can get through the next quarter without making cuts, I'll be happy," Foreman said. "Not that the increased claim settlements from the insurance department haven't helped tremendously," he said giving Lydia a smile. He opened the bag of contrast and inserted the needle into the receptacle on the IV line in House's arm. Adjusting the pillow/blanket combination under his head, House laid back down. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as they all looked at each other, except for House; he had closed his eyes, trying to shut the world out.

"Lydia, are the kids all set with their Halloween costumes?" Thirteen finally asked. It was an appropriate question and was effective at getting the conversation rolling again.

"Yes, they're all ready. Ben is going as a doctor with Greg as his patient; Elise is going as a music teacher," she said turning to look at Wilson.

"Annie is giving her a bunch of sheet music on a clipboard to make it easier to carry," Wilson said smiling. "House got her a kazoo and Lydia found a sweatshirt that says 'Without music, life would B-flat.'"

"That's adorable," Chase said. "What about Tommy and Shelly?" he asked Tom.

"They're both going as zombies," Tom said with a shrug. House's eyes opened.

"Why can't your kids be that cool and fun?" he asked turning to look at Lydia. He saw that she was trying not to laugh.

"I'm not answering that," she said laughing more with each passing second. House looked at her like she was crazy; then dawning recognition took over.

"Zombie axe cane," they said together. Tom looked confused; he had never been told about all of House's hallucinations. House team however, knew nearly all of it and started to laugh along with Lydia.

"I'll explain it at the next poker game," House said to Tom. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. "Let's do this," he said to Foreman. Donning gloves again, Foreman put gel back on the wand.

"The inguinal artery and vein were clear with good blood flow; there's even some good small muscle seen," Foreman said to the team to bring them up to speed. "Now let's see what the bubbles show us." He moved the wand back on to House's scar; even though he didn't have to press as hard as he did earlier, House was still clearly uncomfortable. "What the…" There was an audible gasp as the shoddy workmanship of the surgeons became apparent on the screen.

"They literally just hacked away at things," Chase said dumbfounded.

"That isn't surgery; it's butchery," Tom said. He kicked a nearby stool. "Sons-of-Bitches!"

"Careful or you'll fall on your ass," House said. "That's my trick lately." He turned his attention back to the screen as he noticed everyone was staring at it, and not with good looks on their faces.

"Foreman, what's bursting the bubbles?" Thirteen asked. Foreman moved the wand around to several different positions trying to get the image in clearly.

"Crap!" Chase said when they could finally see what was causing the bubbles to pop.

"Foreman, are those…swabs…left in there?" Tom asked, not believing what he was seeing.

"Yeah," Foreman replied quietly. "I'm afraid they are."

"So on top of being vicious and deliberately maiming Greg's leg, they forgot swabs in there, too," Lydia said sounding angry, her voice quivering. "What idiotic bastards!"

"Worse than you think," House said tersely. "They didn't 'forget' them. What happens when swabs or sponges are left in a patient?"

"A chronic low-grade infection," Lydia answered after a moment.

"Right; low grade doesn't show up on any blood work, it never really makes you feel sick," noted House. "But it does…"

"Obstruct the healing of surrounding tissue by causing chronic inflammation," said Lydia. She was stunned; she turned her head away from House having promised herself she would not cry in front of him.

"Bingo. They did just what Tom said when he first looked at the old post-op scans; they made sure I'd never heal and would only get worse."

"Look," Foreman said nodding to the screen. "The scar tissue came together and organized itself through surrounding tissue."

"I'm willing to bet the 'surgeon,'" Taub said shaking his head. "Manipulated the nerve endings for maximum scarring. They probably have knots on the ends of them. An operation would be the only way to confirm that and get a true idea of the damage, but…this paints a grim picture." House continued to watch the monitors, not making eye contact with anyone.

"I had a pretty good idea of what they did, of how bad things were in there. I knew what I was feeling," House said almost mesmerized by the images. He became aware of the others staring at him; his mind clicked back into drive. "Beginning to get an idea of why I needed the amount of medicine I took?" he asked bitterly.

"That's why you kept needing more and more Vicodin and were willing to try anything for relief," Tom said. The true state of what House was living with was becoming more and more apparent to Tom. Having dealt with so much with his own leg amputations, he knew first-hand just how strong House had been for all these years. "Your body needed higher and higher levels because the degeneration of nerves and tissue just kept getting worse and worse. No matter how much you took, it was never enough."

"House, you could have used stronger painkillers," Wilson said. "You didn't need to suffer like that."

"I tried; you know what happened," he replied. "My mind produced enough mush to make breakfast for all the patients in this place; I was lucky I remembered how to drive from my place to here each day." He sat up and reached behind him for the blanket that he had used as an extra pillow. Using it to wipe the gel off from his leg, he hopped down from the table, and retrieved his cane from against the wall where Lydia had rested it

"You could have taken a leave of absence, found out what was up with your leg and then done something about it," Foreman said as House started to walk away.

"Really? Because it seemed to me, I only had two options; trust people to help me, which we all know how well that turned out," House said pointing down at his leg. "Or learn to live with the pain; whatever it did to me, whatever kind of person it made me into…and let the cases we dealt with occupy and distract my mind enough to keep me going. If I thought a viable opportunity came up to help in some way, I took a chance on it."

"Which is why you had the hallucination about the mice regenerating muscle with that experimental drug," Chase said. House nodded.

"And why I hallucinated trying it on myself."

"Your deepest wishes and fears are brought out in a medically induced coma," Thirteen said. "It's both amazing and frightening when you look back on it after you come out of it."

"If you come out of it," Chase noted.

"How the hell did you survive after Mayfield?" Tom asked. "There is no way ibuprofen was enough."

"A lot of really good booze," House replied.

"No, your liver is in good shape and your stomach isn't eaten up either."

"Prilosec became available over the counter; I ate them like candy," House said turning to leave again so as to avoid the discussion.

"You've been sucking it up, just dealing with intense, agonizing pain. How…" Tom asked. House closed his eyes. It was only his respect and like for Tom that allowed him to respond.

"I had some additional distractions in recent times," he said looking at Lydia. "That, and the changes you made in my meds; the Celebrex, Lyrica…they've made a big difference. I'm still in agonizing pain, every minute of every day, but I have better things to think about now."

"House, that kind of pain has caused heart attacks in some people," Thirteen said. "You were playing Russian roulette; you could have died."

"Obviously I didn't," he replied. "I'm leaving it there and moving on."

"Does moving on include actually considering surgery now?" Chase asked. "Not in the immediate future, but as an option? House, you can't leave your leg like this."

"I said I was moving forward, not planning on literally being a lamb to the slaughter," House said angrily.

"Well, if you already had an idea of what your leg was like, why confirm it with the ultrasound? Why do the test if you're not going to even consider doing something about it?" Foreman asked. House had reached his breaking point. He roughly grabbed Lydia by her left arm to move it out of his way; he thrust his hand into her sweat jacket pocket and pulled something out. House threw it onto the exam table as he looked at the floor.

"Meet you out by the front doors," he said to Lydia as he left to get changed back into his clothes. Wilson moved over to Lydia.

"Are you OK?" he whispered. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead just nodded her head and said nothing. Thirteen stepped over to the exam table; she picked up the item House threw on it. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.

"What is it?" Foreman asked. She held the item up; it was the photoshopped picture Lydia made of herself, House, the kids, Blythe and Thomas.

"I told Greg I was bringing that with me in case he needed encouragement," Lydia said taking the picture from Thirteen. Wilson pointed to the far end of the room and motioned for everyone to follow him away from the changing area. "He told me he wants to do this for us," Lydia continued in a hushed tone. "But when we talked over the weekend, he said he wanted to do it for himself, too. He and Thomas opened the letters that Blythe left for them; the main focus of his letter was not the family history, but her begging him to get something done about his leg. She said…it was turning him into John House; not that he had ever been disrespectful or nasty to his mother, but she figured out from things he said, and times when she talked to James, just what he was going through. That's why she made the bequest to the Wounded Warriors project. She knew they've started to work with wounds of every nature, no matter what their origin, civilian or military. She hoped with how well known he was, that they would accept him into a study group that could help him." Lydia took a deep breath. "Now after seeing the proof right before him…of how brutal, how horribly he was attacked…he probably can't help but to wonder why? Did I really deserve this? Am I worth that little as a person?" They heard a door slam; Chase went into the changing area to make sure House had left.

"No one deserves what these bastards did to him," Tom said grimly. "This was the surgical equivalent of taking him out into a dark alley and beating him with a baseball bat. They already knew he was in a vulnerable position because of the infarction. They just took advantage of that."

"It's no wonder he became a drug addict," Taub said.

"NO! Damn it, you're doctors…you're several steps above me! You know the difference between a drug addict and someone with a drug dependency!" Tom looked around at everyone. "If an addict takes Vicodin or Oxycontin, and they have no pain, they'll fly higher than a kite! They'll be falling asleep in their food! That's what an opiate does to you if you're not taking them for true pain. And you'll keep on taking them to keep the opiate receptors in your brain filled; that's an addict. Now with the amount of Vicodin you guys watched House down on a daily basis, did it ever stop him from functioning, from doing his job?"

"No," Wilson said. "The only time he had problems with keeping a clear head is when he was in severe pain. And of course when he was hallucinating and went down the rabbit hole."

"Yeah, but at least he found a cute bunny at the end," Tom said pointing to Lydia. Everyone laughed as she twitched her nose like a rabbit.

"Seriously, guys; Vicodin, no matter how strong the dose, would never get rid of pain caused by that," Tom said pointing at the image of House's leg on the screen. "But it did lessen the pain enough to manage to deal with it; he became dependent on the drug to give him relief. Lydia…you take Flonase and Claratin, right? What would happen if you didn't take it for several days?"

"I would…become badly congested and have a massive sinus headache," she replied.

"Right, so you are dependent on the pills and spray to help you live a normal, pain-free life. Look," Tom said running his hand through his hair. "I know I'm preaching to the choir; I know you all know this stuff. But for so many years it was assumed House was an addict; he knows he's not. And to have people around you who should know better…your colleagues…call you an addict, it cuts right through you. I went through it too when my legs were amputated in the car accident; I know where House is coming from."

"I hate to say it, I think Greg has been able to deal with the pain thanks to John House. One time, Greg built a model rocket and he set it up in his backyard to shoot it off. It was a windy day, so Greg had trouble lighting the fuse; when he finally did, the wind blew the rocket over. He miscalculated the time he had to set the rocket upright and it exploded in his hands. He wasn't badly hurt, just a lot of burn marks all over his upper body. Blythe wanted to take him to the doctor, but John refused. He was more upset that the shirt Greg was wearing got ruined than he was about how his son felt. He told Greg to deal with it, and not to embarrass him by telling anyone what had happened. That's what a real man does." Wilson saw that Lydia had tears in her eyes that quickly started to fall down her cheeks. He gave her a hug, trying to comfort her.

"He'll come around eventually, Lydia. You and the kids mean too much to him; and I know he wouldn't want to disappoint his mother, even if she's no longer here. She was…an absolutely amazing woman and…I think he got plenty of strength from her, too. I still can't believe the donation she made to the children's cancer unit here."

"She looked at you as a second son," Lydia said looking at Wilson. "I know she felt you protected Greg in so many ways." She continued to cry. "I'm sorry, but looking at those pictures of Greg…it reminds me of other…pictures…" Lydia looked over at Tom.

"Annie after the attack," he said. "Those…those were very hard to look at, too."

"And it's so similar in a way to Greg; Annie's pregnancy wouldn't be of any concern if those bastards didn't slice her lower abdomen open the way they did and cause so much damage. They did it just to be cruel. With Greg…those so-called doctors changed his life from the second they cut open his leg; he never was the same again." Lydia buried her head in Wilson's shoulder.

"Hey, come on; take it easy. Who knows why any of these things happened? They just did and we have to accept them," Wilson said as he rubbed Lydia's back. "All I know is I am finally marrying the love of my life and we're having a baby to boot. And I'm going to get to see my best friend in a Halloween costume taking two kids trick-or-treating. That…" Wilson said laughing. "That is something I never thought I'd see." Lydia started laughing, too, as did everyone else in the room.

"His idea of a costume as Ben's 'patient' is just to walk around with his cane, or so he says," said Lydia as she wiped her eyes. "But I know Greg's a bit more creative than that; he'll come up with something special."

"Don't mean to break this up," Foreman said. "But we've got to clean this up and make room for the paying customers."

"I need to stop in my office and grab the back-up on some recent payments that came in; I think the insurance companies more than short changed us on a few cases and I want to review them while I'm home to see about resubmitting the claims."

"Maybe have House look them over with you," Foreman suggested. "It's not exactly a case, but it will keep his mind occupied."

"Oh, give me a break," Tom said. "Lydia has much better ways of keeping House 'occupied.'"

"I swear, you're as bad as he is," Lydia said giving her friend a playful swat. Tom gave Lydia a kiss on top of her head.

"Take it easy, kid. I have to go do an evaluation on a new patient. If you need anything, call me. Take care, all! See you tomorrow night!"

"Lydia, are sure it's OK that we still come to the party tomorrow night?" Chase asked. "I have a feeling that House is still going to be in a bit of a snit after we pushed the subject of an operation a little too much."

"Actually, the worse thing you could do would be not to come; I think he would feel abandoned," Lydia said. The team looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

"We'll be there," Foreman said.

"Thank you," Lydia said coming over to give him a hug. "Thank you for doing the test for Greg."

"I'm sorry that his worst fears were realized. He…" Foreman hesitated. "He's pulled some really out of line stunts in the past, did and said thing that were beyond cringe worthy. Then again, if I had to deal with what he's got going on…I probably wouldn't even get out of bed in the morning."

"Face it; we've all got stories about House that are less than thrilling, but I don't think any of us could handle pain like that on a day to day basis," Taub said. "Not without going a little crazy."

"House's specialty is going a little crazy," Chase said. "Well…a lot crazy." Lydia laughed.

"Thank you all again," she said hugging Taub, Chase and Thirteen. "I'll see you around here tomorrow morning." She turned and looked at Wilson.

"I'm going to take the elevator up with you," Wilson said. "I want to talk to him." Lydia nodded and they headed out and down the hall to the elevator.

"Lydia!" She turned to see Thirteen running down the hall toward them.

"I forgot to mention that I'm going into New York City tomorrow with Slick. We'll be back in plenty of time for the party, but I wanted to know what we could bring."

"Slick already said he was bringing some beer, and Greg picked some up yesterday, so we're good there. Tom and Marianne have sodas, cider and other drinks that are kid appropriate. Annie and I have the food covered; and the kids are helping me finish the graveyard cake tonight." Thirteen shook her head.

"A graveyard cake? You are so freakin' creative it's amazing!" she said laughing. "Well, I know we'll be near Chelsea Market and they have a great wine vault. I'll pick up a bottle or two."

"So…you and Slick are going into Manhattan together," Wilson said with a suspicious tone in his voice. Lydia had a curious look in her eyes as she turned to Thirteen.

"OMG! No wonder you two can put up with House; you're as bad as he is!" Thirteen rolled her eyes. "OK, Slick is going to let everyone in on what the deal is tomorrow at the party. It's the first time all of us have been together since things developed…other than Blythe's funeral. So be patient and you'll find out what's going on."

"Maybe I should tell Greg what you just said; it'll drive him crazy and keep his mind busy trying to figure it out," Lydia said.

"Nah," Wilson replied. "He's already most of the way there." Lydia laughed.

"Well, I want to get the things I need out of my office and go check on him. Slick stopped by yesterday and I'm pretty sure Greg hit him up for a few cigarettes; he's probably finished them all by now."

"Can't say that I'd blame him," Thirteen replied. "See you tomorrow night." Thirteen turned back to radiology while Lydia and Wilson headed to the elevators. When they reached them, Wilson let out a deep sigh as he pushed the call button.

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked.

"Seeing real pictures of the damage done to House's leg just rattled the hell out of me. And thinking about Annie on top of it…don't," Wilson said seeing Lydia was about to say something. "Don't apologize. You were right to make the comparison between the two of them. I'm…just nervous about Annie right now; we actually wound up calling the obstetrician and going over to his office last night."

"Why? What's going on?" The elevator car arrived; Lydia and Wilson stepped into it.

"As it turns out nothing's wrong, really," Wilson said signaling for the main lobby. "It's just that she's been getting so much back pain, and then two days ago….she started getting morning sickness again after it had stopped for almost a month. The thing that sent us running for the doctor was she was having a fluttering feeling across her stomach. It's way too early to feel the baby moving and it'd be dangerous if it was Braxton-Hicks contractions…"

"So what did the doctor say?" Lydia said cutting Wilson off. She wanted to hear what was going on with her best friend. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out to the lobby.

"He said the back injuries she received in the attack years ago may be rearing their ugly heads. What happened during the mugging…she wasn't thrown to the ground, but she went down hard enough. Now put the pregnancy on top of it…"

"I'm guessing the morning sickness is just the continuation of new hormones blossoming in her body; some women are nauseous their entire pregnancy," noted Lydia making a face.

"Yeah, that's what the doc said. And the fluttering…was probably just a nerve twitching," Wilson said laughing. "I felt foolish rushing over there like that…I'm a doctor for God's sake!"

"But better to be safe than sorry," Lydia said feeling relieved as they walked forward into the lobby proper. "I'm going to get the files I need; Greg's standing over by the front window." Wilson followed Lydia's gaze and saw House leaning on the wall, watching the comings and goings in the reception area.

"I'm surprised he's not sitting down somewhere considering what his leg must feel like right now," Wilson said.

"He probably wants to stay on his feet so he can make a quick exit if he needs to. I'll meet you over there," she said as she headed to her office. Wilson stared at House for a moment then reluctantly started to make his way over to him. The first few words would be the hardest.

"Hey…how are you doing?" Wilson asked as he came and stood in front of his friend. House stared off just to Wilson's left.

"No worse than usual," House answered in a flat voice.

"In other words you feel like absolute crap. I would too if someone messed with my hip the way your leg was messed with." House finally made eye contact with his friend.

"My leg feels like its usual miserable self; what hurts right now is my mind. It's one thing to have low expectations for an event; it's another to have those expectations fulfilled." House looked down at the floor. "What we saw is about what I imagined, but…I hoped for once that I was wrong." House's expression showed a defeated attitude that he never showed anyone with the exception of Wilson and Lydia on rare occasions. But now here he was wearing his physical, mental and emotional pain on his sleeve; the examination of his leg knocked House back on his ass. It broke Wilson's heart to see his friend this way.

"I know…you don't want to talk right now about any of this, but when you do…just remember there's some wings and pizza with our names on it over at Gino's." Wilson swore that for the briefest moment the corners of House's mouth turned upward.

"I'll keep that in mind," House said looking to his right. He saw Lydia talking to a guy in a dark suit; House recognized him as one of the board members.

"How upset is Lydia?" he asked Wilson.

"Well, she was floored like the rest of us when we saw…"

"No, you moron!" House said in an annoyed voice. "How upset is she about the way I grabbed her arm?"

"Oh…oh that." Wilson shrugged. "She didn't say anything. I think she was…startled like the rest of us; but no…she made no comment." House nodded as Lydia walked over to them.

"OK, I'm all set; I've got what I need to see how to get some more money for the hospital," she said patting her messenger bag.

"I think after we get this check and do lunch with the Prestons, I'm going to bring some work home, too. I want to keep an eye on Annie. Oh, almost forgot to show you these; they're from last night." Wilson started to fiddle with his phone; he now turned it around to reveal a sonogram image.

"Look at that cutie!" Lydia squealed. "It's sucking its thumb already!"

"Songbird wasn't due for a doctor's appointment for a couple of weeks; why were you there last night?" Wilson filled House in about the concerns for Annie and the baby, but reassured him that everything was OK with them both.

"Why didn't you say something?" House asked as he looked at the image and managed a faint smile.

"I knew the test was on your mind; I didn't want to burden you with anything else," Wilson said as he took his phone back.

"Do us a favor; anytime an issue arises that concerns little Wilannie Junior…let us know. I'm not in the mood for any surprises." House looked away. "And I see the kid is like its dad; sucking up already."

"You could say that the little one is cute," Lydia reprimanded.

"No I can't; the quality of cuteness can't be determined until after it's born. And if it looks like Wilson…" The two friends locked eyes; just the fact that House was busting his chops let Wilson know his friend was going to be OK.

"I've got to get going; I want to try and get some work done before this meeting." Wilson gave Lydia a hug, then turned to House. "See you at home later." He held his hand up for a fist pump which House returned.

"Thanks for holding my hand today," House yelled out across the lobby as his friend walked away. Wilson stopped, paused for a moment, and then looked over his shoulder with a smile.

"Any time, House."