Note 1 : I did do quite some research on the final diagnosis (won't spoil it ) but that obviously doesn't mean all my medical info/terminology is right. I'm especially unsure about the blood sugar .
(European norm values and US norm values differ due to different meters /units being used ).

Note 2 : Editted the chapter for layout so it's easier to read, and there were two spelling mistakes.
The rest is exactly the same as it was - august 2006.
Thanks for reviewing !

"Conviction"

"House, are you ready?"

Wilson stood by the door demonstratively glancing at his watch, impatiently waiting for House to get his coat.
He hated having to tell House to hurry up but they were really running late this morning.

House grumbled something from across the room as he grabbed the brown paper bag labeled "take mine again and die" off the counter and made his way to the closet to grab his coat.

House limped down the steps as Wilson locked the door and quickly caught up.

"We'll take your car today", House said.

"You OK? ", asked Wilson as they drove off.

"Yes," House replied, and then added: "I tripped last night, we should stop the pranks".

Wilson realized the morning ritual had taken House longer than usual, and where inside he normally would go about with both hands free, he had had his cane by his side ever since he had chased Wilson out of the bathroom so he could shower.
Him moving the furniture around so House wouldn't have a clear path to the bathroom in the dark had been the payback for House painting his toenails cherry red, and filling his shoes with yoghurt thus ruining perfect Italian leather.
But where the fall from the sewn through cane had resulted in House being humored and respecting him more,
this fall apparently had had a different outcome.

"I didn't mean…what happened?"
Guilt flashed across Wilson's face.

Morning rush's traffic was chaotic and busy and Wilson needed to concentrate on the road – for a while they drove in silence.
When they stopped for a red sign House cleared his throat.

"I landed on the wrong leg".

Wilson was about to worriedly ask something but House quickly said :
"I'm fine, just didn't sleep very well and don't feel like driving. That's all – green light, step on it"

No matter how much he'd want to rub in the guilt, he thought it best to leave out the 5 minutes he had spent sprawled on the floor in agony, because then Wilson would want to do all sorts of tests just to make sure he was OK.
House knew this was just the normal result of a normal fall, stiff muscles, a bit more pain; he'd be back to normal in a few days.

Wilson took a right turn and briefly looked at House.

He thought of how different their lives once had been.

House had been different, no matter how much he denied it, the infarction had changed him.
Of course it had.

If the given of a functioning body, a body you could rely on, one that you didn't have to take into account with
everything you planned, one your mind didn't constantly have to battle – if that given,
that certainty suddenly was taken out of the equation what else could you do but adapt and change?

Not because you wanted to, but because you were forced to.

House had always used sports and music to wind down from a busy day at work.

He had always been very athletic and Wilson knew he'd been playing all sorts of sports when he was growing up.
It was probably the only time House felt comfortable in the midst of a group of fellow human beings.
He even tried to get Wilson to go running with him one time, not jogging, running.

Now only the music was left, and no matter how much aggression you put into jamming the keys Wilson knew House missed it.
Being able to just walk, run, make your body move fast on its own accord.

He'd seen the look on House's face as they watched a game on TV, or on the rare occasion House stood on the sidelines of a field watching other people play.

Wilson knew that even though he was his best - his only - friend,
House still did not want him to be around when he was in more pain than he could deal with.