Five years - chapter two

[snark_bait]

Title: Five years
Author: snark-bait
Rating: Adult
Character/Paring: House/Cameron
Summary: House leaves prison after being convicted on drug offences, Cameron helps him readjust to his new life.
Spoilers: If you haven’t seen season 3 it's one big spoiler, but I'm going from 'Finding Judas' and just skipping very far ahead from there.
Chapter: 2

Beta'd by phineyj



Chapter two

House felt a definite pang of homecoming as Cameron drove them into Princeton, and he would have enjoyed the feeling had it not been mixed in with the onset of profound anxiety. His left hand tapped nervously against his leg as he took in the recognizable sights around him. He was seeing it as if for the first time but it was also familiar to him, like he’d been here yesterday.

It was just after eleven by the time they’d got into Princeton and neither of them had eaten any breakfast, so Cameron suggested they got something.

Returning to this place had robbed House of any appetite he might have had left, but then Cameron asked him, if he could eat anything in the world right now what would it be? He knew the answer; there had been occasions of longing for things he couldn’t have. When it came to food his particular weakness was pancakes.

And it just so happened that she knew a great little place.

They picked a booth by the window. The noise and the bustle inside the restaurant was a strange sort of comfort; kids and moms, busy stressed out waitresses with gnawed pencils stuck behind their ears. He found the gentle sound of women chattering to be another strange comfort after being cramped in a confined space with a group of men. It was all very odd and he felt a little overwhelmed by it all; he felt discomfited that something so ordinary could feel so alien to him. It was just a restaurant.

He’d been reluctant to pick anything off the menu when they’d first arrived, but once the smell of the blueberry pancakes had hit him, his stomach had purred into life and had okayed the idea of trying a few. Once he’d started he’d easily polished off all his and the ones Cameron hadn’t been able to finish.

When he was done he sat back in his seat and placed a hand on his stomach, “I feel sick,” he huffed. “But it’s a good kind of sick.”

“It’s nice to see you’ve got your appetite back.” Cameron said, eyeing his empty plate. She took a sip of her orange juice and then decided to find herself a serious look and centre it on him.

“Cuddy wants to see you later, if you’re up to it?”

House shrugged again, “Fine with me.”

He did need to talk to her about something, and today actually suited him; he was also very relieved that the name she’d mentioned had been Cuddy’s and not Wilson’s.

“I’ll tell her to meet us back at my place later then, shall I?”

House nodded and then nudged a sole blueberry that sat beside his plate with his finger before flicking it at her; it hit her on the chin. Her look remained blank and unimpressed and it made him smile.

“You know, I have to say you’ve really matured over these past few years,” she said flatly.

“Thank you,” House said, just before her screwed up napkin bounced off his head.

“If you’re not sure what you want to do, maybe we should go to the mall and get you some bare essentials,” Cameron suggested.

House found it ironic that Cameron, someone who’d once been nothing more than a hopelessly optimistic employee, was now the person trying to gently guide him toward normality again. He could barely find the words he needed to keep up. Nodding and shrugging. He just didn’t know what he was supposed to do now.

He felt like he’d been stripped of his identity, and he found himself unsure as to which parts he wanted to reclaim and which parts he was going to leave buried.

The mall was a good idea; all of the stuff that hadn’t been sold when he’d gone to prison was in storage. It wasn’t a lot: records and books mainly, it had made sense to sell his guitars and his piano. It had been a tough decision to make at the time but storing it all just wouldn’t have been practical.

His lawyer had the key and the address of the storage place; House didn’t really want to see him today. The only flaw in Cameron’s plan was the fact that his credit card had expired around three years previously. He needed to visit the bank with some ID and get a new one, but he really didn’t feel like dealing with a suit today either. Getting asked awkward questions regarding why it had taken him so long to get a new card, was not something he wanted to do right now.

“I need to go to the bank before I go anywhere, but I’m not really in the mood for that today,” House said.

“I can lend you the money until tomorrow,” Cameron offered, before finishing her orange juice.

He shook his head dismissively; he didn’t want to borrow anything from anyone, and Cameron had already done more than enough to help him.

“What’s wrong? You used to borrow money off people all the time,” Cameron said flippantly.

“Used to,” House said heavily. “I don’t need help, I can sort myself out.” The fact that he was going to be crashing at her place until he got things sorted, negated his words slightly, but he said them anyway, out of frustration.

“I know, that’s why you’ll give it me back when you’ve been to the bank,” she replied simply. “You need to get out of that suit and I don’t think any of my clothes are going to fit you.”

This was awful; he was relying on a single mother for the simplest of things and it was sapping him of whatever dignity he had left. But she was right, he did need to get out of this thing, if only so he could bundle it up and burn it somewhere.

“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “But I’ll go to the bank tomorrow.”

~

They decided to separate once at the mall, Cameron needed to pick something up she’d ordered for Daniel. From the moment they’d entered the place, House was aware of how badly the prolonged isolation from other people had affected his ability to function in a social situation.

It was obvious to him he had a big problem here; it was evident now that this might have been a bit of a mistake. He felt anxious and edgy; he couldn’t stop sizing people up as they walked past him.

When Cameron left it was easier to deal with because he didn’t have the added pressure of trying to pretend he was okay. He just wanted to get what he needed and get out as soon as possible.

He didn’t try anything on in any of the clothes stores; he just grabbed the nearest stuff he could find. He found a couple pairs of jeans that looked like they’d fit, two T-shirts and a shirt, some boxers, some sneakers (Nikes) and decided that would do for now.

After a short journey around the jazz and blues section at the music store, he had a handful of CDs and he figured that was all he needed for today. He still managed to get back before Cameron returned with her one item. He was silently willing her to hurry up as he stood outside the bookstore they’d agreed to meet at.

He was searching the modest crowds of people for Cameron when something caught his eye a few stores down. A stunning baby grand piano sat at the front of a large shop that sold musical instruments. It was white and polished and threw up an immaculate shine as the lights hit it.

He hadn’t touched the keys of a piano in such a long time and he found himself slowly drawn over until he was stood beside it. Everything about it was intoxicating, making him yearn for something he hadn’t realized he was hungry for.

He bunched all his shopping bags together in one hand then played an E with his free one, it was perfectly tuned. He felt a funny feeling in his chest as the sound resonated up at him, something and nothing, it came and went.

He would have to get used to this sort of thing, it was going to happen a lot over the next few weeks. Every time he saw a nice motorbike or turned a TV on and didn’t recognize one show, he was going to be reminded of the lost time and how idle his life had been.

A salesman appeared out of nowhere beside him; he was a short, jolly looking man wearing a shirt lined with horrible grey stripes and a tie that was far too dark to make the combination easy on the eyes.

“You play?” he asked House cheerfully.

House looked down at him and shook his head at the question. “Not in a long time.”

“Well, it’s never too late to start again, is it? Do you teach at one of the campuses?”

House shook his head again; with the beard and the suit he had a great burnt out professor look going on. He needed to change that.

“No, I just got out of prison actually,” he said, truthfully.

The guy barked out a laugh and grinned at him like he’d cracked a joke; the grin stayed for a few seconds then disappeared with remarkable speed as he realized House wasn’t joking around. He became serious, and cleared his throat noisily.

“Oh, right,” he said, and then let out a nervous laugh, before smoothing his grey tie down the front of his shirt with his hand.

“If you need anything I’ll be over by the violas,” he said quickly, and then he retreated to the other side of the store.

House had to smile to himself; he was still pretty good at timing a really inappropriate response, although that sort of reaction was another thing he was going to have to get used to.

“Did you get everything you need?” Cameron asked when he wandered back to the meeting spot to find her waiting for him.

“Yeah, can we get out of here?” he said, scanning around for the nearest exit.

She gave him a curious stare, “Sure, are you all right?”

“Fine,” he replied, lying and not really caring if it was blatant that he was, he was just relieved that they could finally get out of here.

~

Cameron had a place in South Brunswick; it looked like a nice safe neighborhood; sycamore trees with dappled trunks clogged the sidewalks, and there were endless leaves littering the streets.

Her home was modest but cozy. He knew when she’d split from her husband she’d wanted to get her own place, somewhere she and Daniel could call their own and start again. He understood, he’d felt the same way when Stacy had left. A shared home just wasn’t the same when one half of its personality disappeared.

Cameron showed House to her spare room and gave him some time to get changed and unpacked, not that he had a lot.

He dumped the suit and put on a pair of jeans, his Nikes and a red T-shirt before surveying himself in the mirror. Visually he looked closer to his old self, a little thinner and a little older. The change of clothes didn’t do much to help him find his missing personality; inside he still felt like his soul had been neutered from his being.

He looked at the cane on the bed and wondered if it would help to go back to using it; his leg was a lot stronger now, but the cane represented a fragment of his old self. He thought about it for a few moments, and then left the room, leaving it on the bed. He went into the kitchen where Cameron was making them some coffee.

“Cuddy is going to finish early and come over. By the time she gets here it’ll be time to pick Danny up from school anyway, so I’ll take him to the park and give you guys some privacy,” Cameron said.

“Thanks,” House said, taking the cup of coffee from her as she handed it over, “For everything,” he added, unsure as to whether she’d believe his sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” Cameron said.

~

Cameron had already left to pick her son up from school when Cuddy arrived. She smiled warmly at House when he opened the door to let her in.

“What the hell is that on your face?” she asked, sliding the back of her hand up and down his cheek. Again, he tensed up a little with the contact; she pulled her hand away and scrutinized him.

“I get it,” House said, shaking his head. “No one likes the beard, point taken.”

He was going to leave it like that for a while on a point of principle, because he liked it.

“How are the twins?” House asked lightly, glancing at where Cuddy’s breasts should have been on display; unfortunately she was wearing a dark winter jacket that covered her cleavage.

“They’re glad you’re home, they’ve missed your attention,” Cuddy said, humoring him.

“Can they come out to play?”

“Not right now,” she said seriously, shooting him a look that said, nothing has changed has it? But this was all surface bullshit and they both knew it; they both knew underneath a lot had changed.

They went into the kitchen and Cuddy started making herself a coffee.

“I’ve had inspection guy from hell following me around all day,” she said with a sigh. “After a forty minute lecture about why exactly we need to be more vigilant about our magnet safety, concerning the MRI, I was ready for a stiff drink.”

“I suppose the fact that I shot it one time doesn’t look too good on the records,” House offered.

Cuddy smiled at the memory, “It didn’t come up, thankfully.”

House smiled then stared out into the yard, watching the wind push the seat of the swing set forward; he scratched his cheek, absently aware of the jibes about his facial fluff.

“Cameron’s gone to pick Daniel up, said she’d be back in an hour or so.”

“He’s a great kid, you’ll like him,” Cuddy said.

“Yeah: it does make me wonder why she has a kid now but you don’t?”

He turned and watched her make her drink; she pulled open the fridge door and took out some cream for her coffee. The familiarity she had with Cameron’s home suggested she’d probably been here a few times on baby-sitting duties.

“Things didn’t exactly plan out,” Cuddy said, in a slow measured tone.

“I’m sorry,” House said quietly.

She smiled thinly, and leaned against the work surface behind her.

“Don’t be; the hospital has always been my baby, and the excess energy goes into spoiling Daniel like rotten.”

House suspected the reason Cameron and Cuddy had forged a stronger friendship had more than a little to do with his incarceration and how it had come about, but he didn’t bring it up.

“Well, if you still need sperm,” House held his arms out to the side, “Five years…got plenty saved up.”

A mildly distasteful look spread across her face, probably just for old times’ sake, “You’re still sick.”

“Yes I am,” he agreed.

And there it was. He’d been waiting for it, waiting for the seriousness to assert itself in her features once again. She looked away from him. There was something in her eyes these days, whenever she stared at him. It had first appeared when she’d visited him on the prison medical wing, it had been there every subsequent visit, and it was still there now, sitting behind every look and every expression.

House knew it was an unspoken acknowledgment of something he didn’t want to address but knew he had to, he had to raise the subject and bury it to move on.

“Why so guilty, Cuddy?” House said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why can’t you look me in the eye for more than a few seconds? Are you ashamed of me?”

She seemed a little hurt at his question, “No, of course not.”

“Then what gives?”

He was finding this so hard but he needed to at least try and discuss things, if only so he could help her to draw a line under something he’d had to draw a line under a long time ago.

One thing he couldn’t do though was look her in the eyes as he did it, so he turned and stared into the yard again.

“You know, I’ve always found it strange Redfield called you at the hospital,” he began, shifting his weight so he could lean on the sink a little because his leg was starting to throb; he hadn’t taken anything for it today.

“I can’t imagine for one second that making phone calls to inmates’ friends and families when they get roughed up is in his job description, so why the hell did he call you?”

“Because I asked him to,” Cuddy admitted. “I know his wife, known her since college; she’s an attending at Jersey State hospital. I met him at a fundraiser and asked him to keep me posted on how you were doing.”

House scratched his face and willed himself to keep going; if he lost his nerve now, he knew he’d never be willing to come back to the subject again.

“So he called you and told you what happened?”

“Yeah,” Cuddy admitted. House took a deep breath and continued to scratch the bristles on his chin.

“He told you everything?”

There was a pause before Cuddy spoke again; when she did her voice was smaller.

“Yeah, he told me everything; he told me what really happened.”

House nodded slowly and cleared his throat, his mouth had dried out and he was feeling a little bit lightheaded because his heart seemed to have doubled its beats.

“I thought so.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then House heard Cuddy shift and stand a little bit closer to him.

“House…I’m so sorry,” Cuddy began; he turned and looked at her.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

“We let you down.”

“I let myself down; getting sent to that place was nobody’s fault but my own. But, if you really want to help me get some sort of normality in my life again,” he stopped and wondered how to put his words across so she’d understand.

“I can’t face that look in your eye every time I see you.”

Cuddy held his gaze for a few moments and then she backed up slowly and leaned on the counter again.

“Did you tell anyone else?” House asked, turning away from her again.

“No.”

“I can tell Cameron doesn’t know, but,” he cleared his throat again, “Wilson?”

“I haven’t told anybody,” Cuddy assured him.

“Why not?”

“Wilson spent a long time blaming himself over what happened, when I found out,” she stopped and took a deep breath. “I couldn’t put that on him too, I couldn’t do that to him.”

Yeah, poor Wilson, House thought bitterly.

“He’s been through so much, I’m sure,” House snapped, a sudden anger coming out of nowhere. He didn’t want to feel like this still, but he couldn’t seem to control it.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Cuddy replied.

House closed his eyes and rubbed his face, “I know. I just need you to try and forget it, because when you’ve got that look in your eyes, I know what you’re thinking and it just reminds me…” House stopped again, he was getting uncomfortable and wondered why he’d even tried to have this conversation in the first place.

“Do you understand?” he asked, turning to look at her again.

Cuddy stared at the floor for a few moments, and thought about his words.

“I won’t mention it again. If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t bring it up.”

“Okay, good,” House said. He then eased away from the sink and they went into the living room.

~

Cameron was sitting on an old wooden bench in the children’s play area. She had her legs crossed and her hands stuffed into her pockets trying to conserve some heat because it was so chilly outside today. Her son didn’t care about the temperature though; he’d spotted one of his friends from school, Simon, a chubby little boy with wispy blond hair and a very cheeky face. They were chasing each other up, down and around a climbing frame.

She’d just finished speaking with Jack on her cell phone. He’d used the pretence that he’d forgotten what time he was supposed to be picking Danny up on Friday, to call her. She knew what he was really looking for, a pat on the head for taking Danny to school.

‘Dropped him off on time, no problems,’ he’d bragged. When they’d been together he’d used the very same tone after he’d cleaned a few dishes without being asked. It was a ‘Tell me how good I am’ sort of thing and it irritated the hell out of her. He never seemed to factor in that she did it every day. She had to get him up, get him dressed, fed, to school, do a full day’s work then rush off to collect him from the after school club.

She knew he cared for Daniel a great deal; it was obvious to anyone that knew Jack that he loved his son like his life depended on it. What Jack didn’t love was all the messy stuff in between. The visits to the dentist, the trips to the mall for a new school uniform, the check up visits with the pediatrician.

Jack loved his son, but only as long as he fit neatly into his life for two hours, a trip to the park, spoil him silly then back to mom for all the boring stuff, bathing him getting him ready for bed, because that was mom stuff. Fathers didn’t do that sort of thing, even if mommy happened to be a busy doctor who worked long hours at a Princeton teaching hospital.

Cameron had neglected to mention that House was going to be staying with them for a few days; she just wasn’t in the mood for the nasty argument that would kick off because of it. It was none of his business. She hadn’t even mentioned where she’d been that morning; he’d have refused to help her out if he’d known why she needed that favor.

Her cell phone started buzzing in her pocket; she fished it out reluctantly because it meant one of her hands had to leave the snug confines of her coat pocket.

It was Wilson.

“Hey, how’d it go?” he asked, tone light, but she knew it was forced. She imagined him sitting in his office chewing his bottom lip and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Everything went fine. He’s at my place with Cuddy, figured I’d give them an hour to themselves.”

Cameron glanced over at her son; he and his friend were in the middle of the play area standing either side of a big dirty puddle. She watched as his friend dipped the toe of his sneaker into the murky water, then flicked some at Danny, who giggled and attempted to do the same thing.

“Daniel,” she said in a sing-songy voice that said, ‘excuse me young man, don’t even think about it.’ He looked around at her and she shook her head, he retracted his foot quickly.

“Are you going to come around and see him?” Cameron asked.

“You think I’d get through the door?” Wilson replied, uncertainly.

“I don’t know,” Cameron pondered softly, “I can ask him when I get back, if you want?”

“No,” Wilson said quickly. “It’s probably a good idea to let him settle into everything.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Is he…okay?”

She thought about the question, she really wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, Wilson. I think he will be, but I also think it’s going to take some time.”

“Yeah,’ Wilson agreed softly, “Well, say hi for me.”

She felt really sorry for him, and suspected there wasn’t a day that had gone by where he didn’t think about House, and what had happened. It was obvious he blamed himself.

“I will do,” Cameron said just as her son’s friend leaped into the puddle and covered Danny in muddy water.

“Oh crap, I gotta go.”

Wilson laughed lightly, “Say hi to Danny for me too.”

“I will, right after I throttle him, goodbye.”

She hung up and headed over to her son because he was now kicking water at the other boy; she looked around for his mother, but couldn’t see her.

“Hey, come here,” he noticed her approaching and giggled excitedly before trying to run away, but she caught onto his hood then tackled him into her arms; they both laughed as he wriggled to get free.

“You are a little monster,” she growled playfully, before kissing his cheek.

“Simon did it,” he defended himself.

She looked at the other boy who was racing over to his mother; she’d finally appeared beside the swing set. She looked annoyed at the state of Simon and then exchanged a knowing look with Cameron.

~

When Cameron returned home Daniel ran over to Cuddy and dive bombed her on the sofa.

“Hey Danny,” Cuddy said, pulling him into a more comfortable position on her lap.

“Why are your jeans wet?” she asked, looking down at him.

“He decided to have a fight with a puddle and lost,” Cameron informed her.

“There’s a boy at my school who eats worms,” Daniel said loudly.

“Oh no,” Cuddy replied, pulling a suitable face, “That’s horrible.”

“I know,” Daniel agreed.

“Daniel, this is House, are you going to say hi?” Cameron said. Daniel looked over at him, smiled bashfully then placed his head against Cuddy’s arm and turned away from him.

“Don’t be shy,” Cameron said, coming around the sofa and sitting next to them.

“I think it’s your wild man of the woods look, he thinks you’re Sasquatch.” Cuddy said.

“Hey Daniel,” House said politely.

A muffled “Hello,” came back.

“How did the safety inspection go?” Cameron asked.

“Like the headache I knew it was going to be,” Cuddy replied.

~

House watched Daniel clamber across the sofa from Cuddy to Cameron. He was a slight boy with fine features. His hair was the same color as Cameron’s but his eyes were a paler blue; his floppy fringe ended just above his eyes. .

“I should probably get going, are you going to come in, we’ll talk job ideas?” Cuddy asked House

“I’ll think about it,” House said.

“Yeah, you do that for a few days, then come in and we’ll talk about job ideas,” Cuddy said, giving him an arrogant smile.

“Okay,” House said with irritation, suggesting he was just about done with the lectures and insults for today.

When Cuddy left, Cameron handed House the TV remote and went into the kitchen to make them all something to eat. She’d apologized for not being able to suggest something interesting to do that evening because obviously she had Daniel to consider, but House didn’t mind at all. Sitting in front of a TV drinking beer was a damn sight more exciting than anything he’d done in a long time.

It took the kid about twenty minutes to drop the shy act and wander over to the sofa where House was sitting, flicking through TV channels. Daniel stood beside him and tapped him on the leg, and House looked down at him.

“Shall we watch cartoons?” Daniel suggested, politely.

“Sure,” House replied, flicking the channels until he came to something suitably animated. A few seconds later the little hand tapped him on the leg again and Daniel held up a chunky metal toy car.

“This is a robot,” he said happily.

House took it from him and held the toy up, “Looks kind of like a car to me,” he replied suspiciously.

“But it turns into a robot,” Daniel assured him.

‘Right,” House said. Daniel nodded and then started watching the TV. House started fiddling with the toy. Ten minutes later he was still fiddling with impossibly small pieces of sliding metal, determined to turn the thing into a robot; it did look a bit more like one, but he marveled at how a child of four was supposed to work out this mean feat of complex engineering.

Cameron came into the room and handed Daniel a carton of juice. He took it without letting his eyes leave the TV screen.

“I see you’ve agreed on something to watch,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“He wanted the weather channel, but couldn’t quite wrestle the remote off me,” House replied. Cameron headed back into the kitchen and House got up and followed her in.

“Have you called Jack yet?” House asked.

“Not yet, I will.”

“You should,” House nagged, he didn’t want the guy turning up unannounced and finding him here.

Cameron pulled open a cupboard; inside it was stuffed with kids’ cereal, chips and cookies. She pulled out some olive oil and closed the door.

“Nothing he says is going to change things.”

“He blames me for what happened,” House said warily, leaning against the counter beside her.

“No, he doesn’t, trust me.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” House said.

“Because you think you’re right and never back down?” Cameron replied, as she turned the stove on. “Wilson called me before,” she said then.

House’s jaw line tensed involuntarily and he looked away from her, “And?”

“He wanted to know how you were,” Cameron offered. “You know, if you do go back to the hospital, you and he are going to see it each other. There’s no way around that.”

“If I go back to the hospital,” House said.

~

The iridescent numbers on the clock beside the bed read 3:13 but House hadn’t been able to sleep a wink yet. The weather outside had turned nasty and heavy rain and wind was now pounding at the windows. It didn’t really bother him but it wasn’t exactly the soundtrack to a peaceful night’s sleep either. He’d been feeling tired since the early evening but he’d forced himself to stay up later than nine purely on principle, because that was the time lights out would have been at the prison.

The evening had been a fairly quiet and uneventful one. Daniel had decided House was potential buddy material after he’d transformed his car into a robot for him, ‘Much faster than mom could do it.’

When Daniel had gone to bed, Cameron had spent the rest of the evening filling him in on the changes at the hospital since he’d been gone. She hadn’t had time to mention everything on her visits. She had mentioned that Dr Aaron Rittberg was now the Head of Diagnostic Medicine at the hospital but she’d never really gone into any detail about him.

House could vaguely remember Rittberg from way back, he definitely had form. House was also pretty sure that Cuddy wouldn’t have hired a complete idiot to replace him after everything that had happened. He figured she’d have wanted the department head running Diagnostic Medicine to be a calm, gentle soul, after what he’d put her through.

After he’d sunk a few beers House had relaxed enough to ask a few uncomplicated questions about Wilson. Had he remarried? Nope, and he didn’t at present have a girlfriend. Was he still Head of Oncology? Yep, nothing much had changed there. That had done him for the time being, he’d steered the conversation away again and Cameron had let him drop the subject.

Typically, the minute he’d turned in and gone to bed, his worn out brain had whirred into life. The day’s events had left him feeling very unsettled. He was worried and anxious about what he was going to do next.

What the hell was his next move going to be? He had no idea. There would be a job at the hospital if he wanted it, but he wasn’t sure he did and the insinuation that it was his only option had been grating on him all day. He knew his choices were limited but after having his every move controlled by the state for five years, he was going to make damn sure his choices were his own from now on.

The slow dull ache in his leg had been building into a crescendo all day; he hadn’t taken a thing and hadn’t wanted to ask Cameron for anything because of the looks and the conversations it would raise. So he’d stuck it out; even in prison he’d been given Tylenol on a fairly regular basis, not that it had done much good. So he found it ironic that his first day of freedom had been spent entirely drug free.

His pain management and what he was going to use now was another big question, too big to think about tonight while his mind was crammed full of a dozen other concerns.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax but he was so tense it was almost impossible

Whatever he thought about and whatever popped into his mind, it just led him back to the one place he didn’t want to think about. It was his point of reference now, and had been for five years. So in the end, out of frustrated tiredness he just gave in and let his mind replay whatever it wanted.

~ ~ ~
House was in the small exercise yard, sitting on the floor and bouncing a rubber ball off the wall. He got to spend an hour a day in here. It was about the length and width of a backyard swimming pool, and contained nothing more than a basketball net on the far wall.

Non-violent inmates sometimes doubled up, two at a time. Today Preedy had paired him up with a guy he’d never seen before; he was a stocky but short black guy, with a shaved head and the suggestion of a moustache over his top lip. He was sitting at the other end of the yard, spinning the basketball on his finger.

“Could you stop that?” the kid said. House looked over at him but carried on tossing his small rubber ball.

“Why? I’m exercising,” House replied.

“It’s annoying,” he replied.

“Good.”

“Good?” the kid repeated back.

“If it’s annoying you, it’s got to be annoying him,” House said, nodding at Preedy who was sitting on the other side of the locked gate, reading what appeared to be a hunting magazine.

“Keep it up: my youngest just discovered Abba and plays Dancing Queen repeatedly whenever I’m in the house; this by comparison is not annoying,” Preedy said calmly without looking up from his magazine. So, House thought, he had serious competition.

“Is your youngest a boy? Because I think raising a gay son would be a tough thing for you, with all your rage issues and stuff,” House mused.

“Little girl. Shut up and toss your ball,” Preedy said, keeping his tone bored and trying to remain unprovoked. House looked over at the kid again, he didn’t think they’d met before but he looked kind of familiar to him.

“Have we met?” House asked.

The ball spun from the kid’s finger; he caught it before it hit the floor and looked over at House, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You live in Princeton?”

“Trenton.”

House started tossing his ball again. “Why are you in protective custody?”

“None of your business,” the kid replied irritably.

House pulled a face, “Sorry, just making conversation.”

House continued to stare at him; it was starting to bug him now, and he realized his voice sounded familiar too.

“You in Gen pop last year?” House asked.

The kid stood up and threw the basketball at the floor a few times, “No, I only been here, ‘bout two months, got moved from Bay Side in Jersey. Why are you in protective custody?”

“Pissed off a drug dealing gang banger, you know, the usual.”

The kid looked a little bemused by this information, “He threatened to kill you?”

House looked away and threw the ball again, “Something like that.”

“House could piss off a God-fearing grandmother of three,” Preedy interjected.

House was about to retort, but then it hit him like a ton of bricks, his eyebrows slid down and a knowing little smile appeared on his face. He knew who this guy was.

“I used to work in Princeton,” House said carefully, holding onto his ball for a few moments.

“Fascinating,” the kid said, then he came around to the front of the net and threw the ball up; it hit the rim and bounced back at him.

“I was a doctor,” House said.

“Yeah, right,” he replied, as he caught the ball.

“Preedy?”

“As scary as it is, it’s true,” Preedy said.

House smiled at the kid, who suddenly seemed more interested in what he was saying, he tucked the ball underneath his arm and stared at House.

“At the teaching hospital,” House added lightly.

“Princeton Plainsboro teaching hospital?”

House sat up a little and rubbed his thigh a few times. His daily prescription of Tylenol was doing sweet fuck all to ease the pain out of his leg, as usual. “Yeah. You’re Eric Foreman’s brother, aren’t you?”

The kid swallowed and let the ball fall away from him, “How’d you know that?”

“I used to work with him.”

“With my brother?”

“I was his boss. Sort of saved his life too, but yeah I worked with him,”

“I wanna go back to my cell,” the kid said suddenly.

“You got half an hour yet, stay and chat,” House said.

The kid shot him a dirty look and stood by the gate, “If you’re a friend of my brother’s, then you must be an asshole.”

“I never said I was his friend,” House said, frowning at him. “But I am an asshole.”

The kid tapped his hand against the gate, “I want go back to my cell, now.”

Preedy slapped his magazine down on the floor, stood up and reached for his keys.

“You must be great at parties” Preedy said to House, as he led the kid away,

~

“You are never going to guess who I bumped into the other day,” House said animatedly.

“You’re right, I’m not,” Cameron replied, easing back in her seat and folding her arms.

House frowned at her, “Well, that’s no fun.”

She’d been fifteen minutes late for the visit, House found it to be so typical that when he actually had some gossip, he had minimal time to talk about it.

“No offence, House, but you’re the only person I know who’s currently serving time in prison.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, you know this guy,” House looked away from her in thought, “well, sort of.”

“Who is it?”

“Foreman’s brother,” House said happily.

“Really?” Cameron said surprised, “I never even knew he was in prison.”

“Me neither,” House replied. “That’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all year.”

Cameron shook her head slightly, “He kept that one quiet,” she said to herself.

“Yeah,” House agreed.

“Although it’s not the sort of thing you go bragging about, is it?” Cameron said thoughtfully, then she seemed to realize how it might have sounded, House didn’t take offence.

“You mean my prison stories aren’t going to get me any action when I get out? What a bummer.”

A thin smile appeared on her face, but House had noticed she wasn’t quite herself today, seemed like she had something on her mind, and she hadn't explained why she’d been late.

“You seem happier than I’ve seen you in ages,” Cameron said.

“Foreman’s little brother is on my wing, we can wile away the time talking about how much we hate him.”

“You hate Foreman?” Cameron asked, frowning.

“No, but if I pretend to, his brother might tell me why he does,”

House noticed Preedy start his little walk around the room. Cameron followed House's line of vision.

“What is it with you two?”

“He’s the guard on my wing, and he’s an asshole,” House said quietly, he looked over at her briefly, “I know, someone in a position of authority over me and I don’t get along with him; shocking isn’t it?”

House let his eyes drift back to Preedy as he wandered the room.

“So, he’s the prison equivalent of Cuddy?” Cameron said lightly.

“Cuddy didn’t lock me in the basement and beat the crap out of me when I did something wrong,” House said bitterly. The words came out before he had time to catch them. He glanced quickly back at Cameron; he could tell the comment had worried her.

“Joke,” he said quickly, eyebrows rising. But even he knew it had sounded more like a recovery than a quip. Cameron looked over at Preedy and they both fell silent for a few moments. House definitely needed to shift the conversation elsewhere now.

“Are you all right?” House enquired; she was definitely quieter than usual. “Because you shouldn’t feel obliged to come, you know, if you have other things,” he offered.

“No, it’s not that,” Cameron said quickly, shaking her head. “You have enough problems of your own, I’m not here to dump all mine onto you.”

“Well, as you’ve noticed I’m uncharacteristically buoyant today, why don’t you try me?”

She considered his words for a moment and then gave it a shot, “Jack and I had a fight, nothing major,” she admitted, shaking her head as if to dismiss the whole thing. “Which I can appreciate you don’t want to hear about.”

“Well, you’ve had all my gossip, nothing else to talk about. What’d he do?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You just think you’re right, that he’s not damaged enough for me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you were thinking it,” Cameron accused.

He snorted and rolled his eyes at her, “I give up, I can’t win.”

“He wants me to give up work and look after Danny full time; I told him no way, we got into a huge argument…” Cameron paused for a moment, “Does it make me a bad mother because I don’t want to be a housewife?”

House shrugged, “I don’t think so, think it makes you normal, although he seems to be stuck in the fifties.”

She laughed a little, “I’m sorry, it’s nothing, it’ll blow over.”

“Men huh?” House said dramatically before rolling his eyes. Cameron smiled at him.

“I’ve got to go soon, sorry I was late,” Cameron said, then seemingly remembering something she reached into her jacket and pulled an object out of the inside pocket.

“Wilson wanted me to give you this,” she said, and pushed a small envelope toward him. House looked down at the letter. His features pulled tight, and he hung his head a little. “I don’t want it.”

“Can’t you at least take it, and think about reading it?”

“No point,” he said, leaning away from it as if it was having a physical effect on him.

“Well, could you at least take it and then throw it in the trash, at least then I can say I gave it to you?”

~

When House was led back onto the wing, he noticed Foreman’s brother was pacing his cell angrily as Preedy led House to his own cell; House was the last person on a row of eight on the small wing. Foreman’s brother was two cells down; he glanced in at the kid as he passed.

“You really know that guy’s brother?” Preedy said when they’d cleared his cell.

“Yeah, why?”

“I think he’s got girl trouble, been dumped, cheated on or something,” Preedy informed him quietly.

Preedy stopped and fiddled with the keys on his belt until he had them off. He unlocked the gate to his cell. Preedy loved scandal, if there was something going on in someone’s personal life, he’d be the one to ask about it. House didn’t think the man had a particularly high IQ, but his inbuilt, highly sensitive bullshit detector made up for his lack of brains.

So Foreman’s bro had been jilted; boring. The only thing that said really to House was that he wasn’t a lifer or doing a long stretch, not if he was only just having girl trouble. It wasn’t something that concerned House greatly. Why Foreman had neglected to mention his brother’s existence was of far more interest to him.

Preedy swiped the candy bar Cameron had placed in House’s top pocket as an apology for being late out of it before he un-cuffed him, earning him a seriously dirty look.

House entered his cell and looked down. He had the letter Wilson had given her in his right hand; he stared at it for a few moments before placing it on his small desk, unopened.

Preedy reappeared a few moments later; pulling up a chair he sat facing House’s cell and began eating his chocolate.

“That’s going straight on your ass and seeing as it’s already the size of a small republic, you’d better give it back.”

“Let’s call it penance for your one man crusade to irritate the crap out of me.”

“Or, let’s call it stealing,” House said distastefully.

House found the ball he'd swiped from the exercise yard and tossed it at the cement above the bars, trying to ignore the stupid letter that was calling to him to open. He hadn’t heard a thing from Wilson in over two years; there had been stuff from him in the mail before but House had always refused to take anything that looked like it had his handwriting on.

He was pretty sure there was nothing in it that would change his mind about things, although he suspected Wilson would have written some girly heartfelt stuff that probably would be amusing to read. He tossed the ball again, throwing it almost angrily and it veered too low with the effort. Flying straight towards Preedy, it smacked him on his chubby little chin.

“Oops,” House said. “That was an accident, before you get all pissy.”

Preedy observed him for a few moments, then reached down onto the floor grabbed the ball and and waved it at him. “Mine now.”

“Don’t be such a baby, gimme.”

Preedy shook his head and placed the small rubber ball in his top pocket.

“I tell you what, if you can be quiet for one hour, I’ll give it you back.”

House thought about it; he didn’t want to give anything to the other man, but the ball was a tool of annoyance on a much larger scale than not saying anything for an hour, House got up slowly, grabbed the letter and lay on his bed.

He held it up in front of his face, and stared at his name on the front. He wondered what Wilson wanted to say after all this time? (Very simple, just open it and find out). That idea made his stomach turn over. Every time he thought about Wilson the same awkward mixed feelings hit him. In rehab he’d been advised to write down a list of names of people he’d wronged in his life. He’d never done it but he had considered that Wilson’s name needed to be on such a list if he ever wrote one.

The reason he hadn’t? As far as he was concerned, Wilson’s wrong was just as bad. Had he deserved to have five years of his life stolen because he forged a few prescriptions and taken a swing at Chase? He didn’t think so. He’d done a lot of stupid things and he had his regrets, sticking a thermometer up a cop’s ass being the biggest, but he just didn’t see how he deserved this.

The strength of feeling this simple piece of paper in his hands had dragged up, made his head ache. Wilson was a deceitful, treacherous, disloyal, son-of-a-bitch, why should he ever apologize and why should he read what he had to say now?

The therapist on the rehab wing had been into dramatic silences, letting things hang in the air a while, letting him answer his own questions, reflection time, making him take on himself and his own stubbornness. But he’d never really found any answers. And he’d never quite been able to forgive his friend. Wilson had given him over to Tritter to save his own skin.

for a smart man you’ve done a lot of stupid things - Those had been Tritter’s final words to House as he’d been led from the courtroom. He’d felt it like a punch to his gut. The slight satisfied smile Tritter had shown him as he’d passed by was burned onto the back of his retinas. That image had been eating him from the inside out and he didn’t want to think about it any more.

Preedy’s hand snaked through the bars and took the letter from his hands. House looked up at him then got up.

“Hey, give it back,” he said seriously, frowning at the other man..

“I won, you talked,” Preedy said childishly.

“I don’t give a crap, gimme,” he motioned with his hand.

Preedy looked at it, and then flipped it over. “Love letter?”

“Yeah, from your wife.” House held his hand through through the bars, toward the other man. Preedy looked at the letter, then at House.

“Nothing bothers you,” he waved the letter from side to side. “But this does?”

House was getting frustrated now; it was so easy to get riled in this place, simply out of monotony. He retracted his arm and sat back down.

“Why haven’t you opened it?” Preedy asked.

House wasn’t playing any more games with this idiot. He lay down so he didn’t have to look at him. “None of your business,” House said irritably.

“Let’s see, we have the chick that visits once a month, and then there is the one who always insults Dave at the gate for staring at her cleavage. Seems you got another friend you never told me about? You’ve been holding out on me.”

House folded his arms, he desperately wanted to tell the man to go and fuck himself, but he couldn’t.

“Just one, but don’t worry, he won’t be coming to visit,” he forced out.

“Why not?” Preedy enquired. It was a fair question, with a simple answer.

“Because he’s the reason I’m stuck in here with you,” House said quietly.

Preedy stopped talking for a few seconds, which was a miracle, really, seeing as he had the conversational upper hand.

“Someone else forged those prescriptions?” he then said. House closed his eyes and desperately wished the guy would go away. What a stupid fat asshole.

“Want me to open it for you?”

“Do what the hell you want,” House said shakily.

“You know what your problem is? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

“No, what my problem is, is you,” House retorted.

A few seconds later the letter appeared beside his head and he grabbed it back.

“Can you go pick on someone else for a bit now?” House said, tossing the letter toward the end of the bed.

“Yeah, you’re no fun when you’re pouting,” Preedy said softly.

~

House had almost dozed off when the commotion started.

It was coming from a few cells down. Preedy marched past and told whoever was causing the trouble to calm down; there was a loud sound like something being thrown and then Preedy’s tone of voice changed.

“Hey,” he barked loudly, it unnerved House how quickly the man could shift gears from placid to fuming in a second. “Calm down right now, or you’re going to segregation.”

House couldn’t quite tell what the kid said next, but judging from the way Preedy marched back past shaking his head and mumbling something about how ‘this sort of shit’ always seemed to happen on a Friday, he reckoned on it being something along the lines of ‘Go forth and multiply,’ but not so polite.

House sat up and folded his arms, sensing things were about to kick off in a big way. Preedy returned about ten minutes later with two other guards; they were dressed like the bastard children of Darth Vader and Robocop in all their riot gear.

Preedy was clutching a canister of pepper spray in his left hand; whoever was kicking off was about to have a very bad day. The other guys on the wing started to cheer and shout. Preedy gave the guy one more warning, and then House heard a loud spurt and the guy cry out, before cussing and making an even louder commotion.

Unfortunately for House, because he was so close and because Preedy was a heavy handed Neanderthal, soon enough some of the gas had found its way into his cell. He could hear the guy in the cell next door coughing violently.

“Fucking asshole,” House spat, as his eyes welled up and he started coughing, his lungs suddenly on fire. Preedy appeared in front of his cell.

“What did I do?” House said acidly, rubbing his eyes, Preedy who had a gas mask on, placed his hands on his hips and glared in at him.

“Don’t start,” Preedy barked. House caught the blur of Foreman’s brother being dragged past with his eyes tight shut. His eyes were streaming with water and his nose was running; obviously he’d been hit squarely in the face.

“Three one second bursts my ass; it’s not whipped cream you dick,” House barked at Preedy, then he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as the pepper spray got to work on his respiratory system and his chest tightened up.

“One more word out of you and you can go cool off in seg too,” Preedy said, his voice airless and choked because of the mask he was wearing.

House wasn’t listening; he was deeply irritated by the fact that his face was on fire. “Shouldn’t you have to go on a course teaching you how to use that stuff, you fucking idiot?”

House heard Preedy sigh; it sounded dull and foggy, and then he was pulling his keys from his belt. He opened House’s cell and stepped in.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” House said angrily, he managed to hold his eyes open long enough to glare at Preedy as he grabbed him by is shoulders. Tears were streaming down his own face and he could barely see a thing as he was led off to the segregation block.

~

Segregation was cooler, that was one thing; at least down here it was fresh enough to get some air. But he could barely open his eyes.

Foreman’s brother was making a powerful noise, pounding and kicking on his cell door. It would last a few seconds, then there would be a bout of coughing and spluttering before it would start up again. The whole experience was giving House a throbbing headache. He was surrounded by complete and utter fools.

He slipped down and sat in the corner of the cell, intermittently rubbing his eyes and wiping his nose as he coughed his lungs up. The stuff was really starting to irritate him, his nose and eyes itched like crazy and he felt like he was going to scratch his eyes out. His face was burning all over.

Preedy was such a numbskull, but letting the anger build, however unfair this was, was not good for his current situation. House recognized the more worked up he got, the worse his breathing became.

Eventually the loudness of the bad-tempered complaints from next door waned and it turned into something nearer to crying. “You’ve fucking blinded me,” Foreman’s brother wailed.

House knew the more worked up the kid got, the worse effect the spray would have on his breathing too. He himself was trying to remain calm; he still couldn’t quite get enough air, so he figured it would be much worse for the kid.

“Hey…” House shouted, then he realized he didn’t know his name. “…Foreman, you’re not blind, the effects will wear off in about half an hour,” House assured him, but Preedy had definitely used excessive force, it probably would last longer.

“You don’t know that,” the kid shouted miserably.

“You’ll be fine, it irritates the hell out of your eyes, but you’ll be able to see again so stop freaking out, you’re giving me a headache.”

The door to the cell opened a few minutes later. His eyes stung like a bitch as the light from outside hit them, everything was still a haze but he could tell himself the effects were lessening.

“I’m Dr Sanders, are you all right?” he heard someone say.

House nodded, tried to squint up and see, but he couldn’t. His eyes were so sore and painful it was easier just to keep them shut. He then felt two hands on his face, easing his eyes open carefully.

“The effects will wear off soon; I’m just going to run some water into your eyes, all right? That’s all.”

House grabbed the bottle off him, “I’ll do it myself; the kid next door needs your help, not me.”

~

Two nights later, the sound of metal tapping against metal far too closely to House’s head made him open his eyes. House blinked a few times then looked up; Preedy was tapping his night stick on a bar directly behind his head.

“What?” House asked tiredly, squinting up at him when he shone a torch in his face.

“We don’t like each other,” Preedy stated coolly. House sat up so he could move out of the beam of light and propped himself up in bed on one arm.

“You woke me up to tell me that? Thanks, but I figured it out a while back.”

“I’ll admit you irritate the crap out of me,” Preedy continued. He distractedly peered away from House’s cell down the corridor, then looked back at him.

“You don’t know when to shut the hell up and, I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’m betting that’s what landed you in here.”

Great, House thought, a midnight lecture. He yawned loudly. “Preedy, have you been drinking?”

Preedy ignored him. “Get up, go stand by the wall.”

House, finally, got a sickly nervous feeling in his stomach and wracked his brains for what he might have done to piss the man off, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything. Not that he’d done recently, anyway.

“Don’t look so worried, I just need to talk to you about something,” Preedy said calmly.

House sat up further and observed him suspiciously.

“Can’t we talk in the morning,” his eyes slid to the side briefly. “When there are more witnesses around?”

“Just get up,” Preedy ordered.

House finally did, just to appease him, standing unsurely by the side of his bed.

“Just so you know, whatever you tell me to do with your night stick, I’m not putting it in my mouth,” House quipped, a tasteless joke to try and keep some sort of control over the situation.

“Don’t be so disgusting, go and stand over there,” Preedy said disagreeably, then nodded at the corner of the cell and reached for his keys. House’s heart was starting to pound inside his chest.

Preedy came in and stood in between House and the gate.

“You’re a doctor,” he stated flatly.

House screwed up his face and shook his head. “No, I’m a prisoner, I was a doctor, but then the man took my medical license away.”

“You know what I mean.” Preedy said frustratedly, desperately trying not to let House rile him.

Preedy looked away from him; it was strange, this big lumbering idiot who was twice as wide as he was and a few inches taller, suddenly looked so small and childlike; it unnerved House.

“My little girl is sick, and her pediatrician doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, they done all these tests and, they got nothing. They keep fobbing me off with all these excuses. Now, I know you used to be a really shit hot doctor, your case was in the papers, I read up on you.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually attempting this,” House said, unenthusiastically.

Preedy tilted his head to the side, “I know we don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

House snorted. “Right, that’s how you describe beating the crap out of me.”

Preedy looked away from him, “That was a long time ago,” he said quietly.

“Doesn’t feel so long ago to me,” House said sullenly.

“You took a swing at one of my boys, he’d been on the job two days, and you scared the fuck out of him,” Preedy argued strongly.

It was House’s turn to drop his gaze to the floor. “I don’t remember.”

“No, I bet you don’t. You were high as a kite. I’m surprised you remember anything at all from that first year, drugged out of your mind,” Preedy took a breath; aware they were getting off track.

“I’m not proud about how I handled that, but you were out of line, and I’ve gotten to know you better since then; you’re not like most of the junkies in here.”

House let out a short, humorless laugh, “Riiight, it’s okay to beat up ordinary junkies, but junkies who went to med school, bad idea. I wish I’d have known that sooner.”

“Maybe I’m harsher on you than everyone else, but it’s only because you’ve got a smart mouth. I need things to run smoothly and if you start riling people up, you have to go to segregation. I’d do it to any smart ass that tried to cause trouble on my wing because he was bored, so don’t take it personally,”

“Too late,” House said.

“What I’m saying…what I’m offering is, if you look at her file I’ll back off. If you break the rules you go to segregation, end of story, but I’m willing to relax and turn a blind ear to that stupid mouth of yours if you do this for me.”

House, wondered if he was playing on words or mixing his metaphors up; either option was likely.

“No,” House said point-blank. He couldn’t believe the asshole was even attempting this.

“Get insurance, take her to a specialist but don’t try and make it my problem,” he said coldly.

“That’s it? Flat out no?” Preedy said, seemingly surprised by House’s response.

“I can’t help you.”