From that day on Wilson continued knocking at the door every time he would visit House and every time he found his friend opening up the door, Wilson had a hard time holding back a wide grin of joy. House probably didn't even know just how glad it made Wilson to see him standing again. He never really had lost hope in House. No. He knew him far too long already, he knew how stubborn he could be, but he also knew what all he was capable of, if he only really wanted to. And once again he had proved himself. Proved himself in front of the world.

Yet, Wilson knew that it couldn't stay like this forever. Sure, House secretly was practicing to walk with the cane, but pacing up and down his own living room couldn't be all he was doing on the long run. After all, he sure wanted to walk further than twice through the living room one day. He never would be able to go hiking again or on a long stroll through town, but Wilson now really saw the possibility of House being able to live a relatively normal life again. Do the grocery shopping on his own. Be able to spend a night out with Wilson again. Maybe even return to work, for Wilson knew work at the hospital was House's deep down passion.

"What about we go for a walk. ", Wilson so asked a few days later, when they were both sitting on the couch watching TV. House just shooting him a frown in return,
"Yeah, why don't we go for a run in the park? ", he said mockingly, making Wilson roll his eyes a bit.
"Come on, just down the street to that public bench and back. ", Wilson said, followed by tilting his head a bit,
"I'll give you twenty bucks if you do it."
"And where am I supposed to spend it? If you haven't noticed, I don't have any stores inside my apartment. ", House returned.
"Well, you also won't be able to go to any, if you don't start practicing a bit more. Or can't you do it? ", Wilson said, still completely calm, House's look alone enough for him to know his friend had just swallowed the bait. Perfect.

"Sure I can do it.", House said and about five minutes later the two men were heading down the pavement. Slowly, but steadily. Wilson making sure to keep close to House's side, who still was a bit wobbly on his feet, from time to time starting to drift towards the right, but always catching himself again, before Wilson really had to interfere. Granted, the distance obviously still was pretty long and hard for House to handle. His limp growing harder and harder, his legs more and more stiff the further they walked, as well as he became remarkably slower about halfway to the public bench on the other end of the block. For a moment Wilson almost wanted to suggest for them to turn around and go back, maybe it still had been to early. Yet, the determined look in House's face kept him from doing so.
And what seemed to be an eternity later, they actually had made it to the bench, where House immediately took a seat, while flinching to himself, his hand soon starting to rub at his sore thigh.

"Isn't it a bit cold to sit down? ", Wilson just said, to which House shot him another frown.
"You're welcome to carry me back. " House muttered, to which Wilson returned by heaving another breath, before sitting down beside his friend.
They probably were quite a curious sight. Two men sitting on a bench, one just wearing his pyjamas underneath his coat. Well, whatever.
They kept sitting on the bench for quite a while, not really needing to talk to know what was on the other's mind. After a while, however, they had to return to House's place. Which proved itself to be an even longer journey, for House obviously had reached his personal limit by the time they finally were back.
He didn't even wait for Wilson, who was closing the door and getting out of his coat, but immediately limped for the couch, where he let himself fall onto the cushions and about the very same moment already fell asleep from exhaustion.
Wilson just took a seat on the nearby armchair, watching his friend. This defiantly had been very hard for him, but still he had done it. Wilson heaved a deep breath, while smiling to himself gladly.

The following week they continued heading for the bench and back again every day. However, just like he had feared it would happen, House soon enough grew impatient. Obviously he wasn't making enough process for his personal liking. Also Wilson pointing out that this was only natural, not to mention House had skipped a lot of steps in pt didn't help.
He soon enough returned to his usual behaviour, whenever things didn't go just the way he wanted them to, he grew frustrated and started to protest.

It was a long, rocky road ahead of House, but he wouldn't be getting any better if he simply stopped, just because he didn't see any success right away. Wilson knew this sort of behaviour from his own patients. They wanted to see progress straight away, not wanting to wait and keep trying until they had passed the hardest part. However, Wilson knew House never would be able to be decently mobile again, would he not keep working and training his leg. All Wilson needed, was to find something that hopefully would help House get pass this hardest part. And he did.

"I brought you something.", Wilson said, sitting down on the armchair, while House took a seat on the couch after having opened Wilson the door as per usual.
"Another cane? That won't make me walk up and down the street again, either. It's pointless and hurts far too much. I've had enough of it.", House returned, however the same time tilting his head in a bit of a curious gesture.
"No. I brought you this. ", Wilson reached into his pocket, drawing out an orange little bottle of pills, handing it to House, who cocked a brow at Wilson, before reading the label.
Just for both of his brows to shoot up,
"Vicodin? You're bringing me opioids? You wanna drug me?"
"Yes. And no.", Wilson returned, heaving a sigh, "There are good experiences with Vicodin and patients with chronic pain issues."

"Yeah, but that doesn't answer my original question. " House cocked his head,
"There's also a good history of Vicodin and addicts."
"Oh, come on, House. Don't be childish now. You never had any problems with drugs before. Neither in taking nor prescribing them. ", Wilson returned, sounding a bit frustrated. The decision already had been hard enough; House wasn't making it any easier like that.
"Yeah, but you had. Which makes me wonder, why are you getting me Vicodin? ", House countered, giving Wilson a questioning look.

"I just want you to life your live again. I don't want to see you sitting around here all day. I want you to go out again. I want you to be your annoying, brilliant, exciting self again and that's impossible, if you're stuck in here. If you take the Vicodin, it'll take away most of the pain in your leg and you'll be able to continue training it and at some point you won't need the Vicodin any longer and by then the pain might just be like a bad, sore leg. Something you can deal with. So you can live again. So it can be like it used to be again.", Wilson spoke, his tone becoming almost pleading at the end, even though he didn't even mean for it to.

House just continued looking at him for a long moment, until finally it was his turn to heave a deep breath,
"It'll never be like it used to be again. ", he spoke in a solemn tone.
Yet, the same time popping open the bottle and dropping one of the pills into his palm.
"I know. ", was all Wilson said, with a little nod.
With that, House reached for a glass of water placed on the coffee table and in a swift move downed the pill with a gulp of it, followed by returning his glance to Wilson in a way that said, 'Happy now?' Wilson merely forcing a little smile onto his face. Hopefully he had done the right thing.