A/N- Oh my God! It's the LAST chapter! It's so shocking, and so sad that I had to finish this... I've had this chapter written for a while now, but everytime I've gone to upload it, something's gone wrong. So, to cut a long, very monotonousstory into five words, sorry it took so long! I hope I still have some readers left after making everyone wait so long... but anyway. Sorry again!

I also want to take this opportunity to thank all my reviewers, for all of my stories, really. I keep meaning to send Review Replies and to thank people, but for some reason I never remember to. But I'd just really like to make my appreciation known now to those who took the time to stop and review, particularly IceStar4621 and HouseFreak, who reviewed pretty much every chapter of this story. Thanks a lot for all your kind and wonderfulwords!

Oh, and also, a note about this particular chapter: I wrote this before I first saw Wilson telling House about his divorce (which aired only a few weeks ago in Australia). I was gonna change it, but then I thought I'd just leave it cos I like it and the way it works out(did I mention my modesty?). This last chapter ties everything back into the first chapter. A nice, lovely circular ending!

Thanks again, and enjoy! Oh, and please review... I'll love you forever, and even attempt to reply to you!

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KEY:

BI – Before Infarction

I – The period of House's Infarction, from the start of his symptoms to the end of the operation Stacy authorised (in the current storyline, this was about six years ago)

AI – After Infarction

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SIX YEARS AI

Gregory House groaned as he carefully rolled over, trying to block out the insistent knocking on his door.

"I'm not home!" he yelled. "Go terrorize someone else, I don't care!"

He got no answer, and the knocking persisted. Growling, he levered himself out of bed and grabbed his cane, performing a mixture of staggering and limping to reach the door. Who the hell would come over at six a.m. on a—

He yanked open the door, and there stood James Wilson, decked out in a suit.

"Whatta you want?" House demanded, blinking in the early sunlight.

"Wanna come for a run?" James asked, grinning.

House blinked and slowly looked down at his cane, before focusing back on Wilson's face. "You've finally flipped. Or didn't you notice this wooden thing I've been carrying around for the past five years? And not because I need the extra wood."

"I was joking. I'm giving you a lift to work.

"It's six a.m.! I'm supposed to be asleep."

"I'm also," Wilson presented a plastic container, "feeding you."

House snapped to attention. "Are those…?"

"Macadamia nut pancakes, yes. But only if you come with. That's the deal."

House pondered for all of a second. "I'll be right out. Even though I'm supposed to be asleep."

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"Mmph… Wiwson, veef are the beft pancakfs in the world!" House said through a full mouth.

Wilson smiled. "You say that every time you have them. And every time, they taste exactly the same." He reclined easily on the familiar park bench, staring at the sky while House shovelled the food into his mouth. "It's such a nice day. It's a shame we have to spend it at the hospital," he commented.

"Well, let's not go. We'll be rebels and cut class!"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we can go to the mall and go really wild, get tattoos and nipple piercings."

"I'm serious!" House wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Let's go somewhere, be boys, steal stuff, bunk off…"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I can't. I'm in this profession called medicine, and I have dying patients to tend to."

He waved his hand dismissively. "There are other oncologists."

"I have three appointments, two checkups and two hours of clinic duty today. That I know of. Plus a whole bunch of paperwork. I can't just leave!"

Greg's mouth became a straight line and he stood up, tossing the empty plastic container on his friend's lap. "Fine. Since you're so eager to go to work, let's just go." He hobbled a few steps before Wilson sighed.

"Wait, Greg…"

House paused. Calling him by his first name. Interesting. He slowly rotated and gave him a pointed look.

"Look," Wilson said, running his hands through his hair, "this… coming here. It wasn't just for you. I need… it was for me, too."

"And here I was thinking that you cared."

"I do, I just…" he rubbed his neck. "Look, don't worry about it. It's fine."

House rolled his eyes and sat back down. "Okay. In exactly four minutes I'm getting up and leaving. Until then it's free time." He leant his chin on the handle of his cane and gazed at James expectantly.

He sighed again and stared at the ground. "You know how things on the home-front haven't been too crash hot?"

House squeezed his eyes shut. "I can feel us moving into some very unmanly territory, here."

"Look, if you don't want to hear about it, just say it, and I'll—"

"Shut up and keep talking." He cocked his head. "A contradiction. But you know what I mean."

"I do," Wilson said softly. "And that's Julie's problem with me."

"Oh." House studied him. "You two are getting a divorce."

He held his head in his hands. "I am so screwed up. Three marriages, all failed. How stupid can I be? I must be the most screwed up guy on the planet."

"No, that would be me."

Wilson snorted and sat back, refusing to look at him. "I think I'm fair competition."

They sat in silence for a few moments and a pretty blonde clad in not much at all jogged past. Both gazes remained on the clouds.

"Do you… I mean, are you…" House awkwardly attempted to express some sort of sympathetic emotion, but failed miserably. Instead, he said the only thing he could think of. "I've got a couch."

Wilson looked at him gratefully. "Thanks."

"When… how soon will you be needing it?"

Wilson stood and picked up the container, waiting for House to join him. They began strolling back to the car.

"Stat," Wilson joked lamely.

House nodded. "Fine… Hmm… a bachelor's pad…" he said, seriousness rapidly becoming playfulness.

Wilson groaned. "Oh no…"

"Do you think he'll charge us less if we order bulk?" he asked thoughtfully.

"What? Who?"

"What do you mean, 'who'? The pimp I use! Who else is there?"

"House, I do not want a hooker anywhere near me."

House pouted. "Spoilsport. You always ruin my fun… you couldn't keep up, anyway."

Wilson raised an eyebrow and critically eyed his friend. "I think I'm fair competition."

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And that's it! The end! I hope everyone enjoyed this, because I sure enjoyed writing it. I'm so sad it's over! (sob)... My next project I'm working on is using the House Fic50 prompts, and I've already done about 30, so... only 20 more to go (Hey, I can count...). Yay! Until then, I don't know how much I'll be posting... whatever. I may end up slipping something in sometime soon! I need the (hopefully good) reviews to keep my ego healthy.

Again, a HUGE thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! Love to all!