Gregory House tried stepping forward, his balance unsteady as he kept a tight grip of the bars on either side of him. Stacy watched from behind the glass, twisting her tiny cross between her fingertips. The physiotherapist, Andy, stayed a little in front of House with a kind expression on his face.

"You're doing great," He said.

House looked up at him. "Don't patronize me," He muttered sourly. "I'm doing crappy, and you know it."

Andy sighed. "I'm not patronizing you, Greg, you're doing brilliantly. Try taking another step."

House looked up and saw Stacy looking back at him. Gingerly, he tried putting his right leg forward. He shook for a moment then fell, holding on to the bars. The physiotherapist grabbed a bottle of pills and placed a tiny vicodin in House's palm. House stared at it for a moment.

"No drugs," He said softly.

"They'll help you. It's okay, doses are monitored."

House weighed the pill in his hand for another moment, then realised that the pain in his leg was unbearable. He tipped it into his mouth and drank some water.

"Let's try again," Andy said, placing his hands under House's arms and helping him stand up straight. "Visualise the healing."

"Don't start with that crap," House said. "Or I won't come back."

"Greg, it is important that you see yourself walking again."

"I can do that at home." He snapped. He looked up at Stacy. "Close those blinds."

Wilson saw Stacy at the end of the corridor. Ignoring the file in his hand, he went up to see her. She was staring blankly through the window at House trying desperately to walk.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Stacy shook her head.

"He's going to be in pain, that's for certain, but don't blame yourself," He said.

"I'm not blaming myself," Stacy snapped. "I know I made the right choice. It's just, he blames me."

"He's trying to shove everyone out of his life. He thinks that if he can't do the rehab, then he'll be a disappointment. And how can you be a disappointment if nobody cares about you?" Wilson said. "I've seen it in cancer patients."

"But he hasn't got cancer," She replied.

"I know, but it's basically the same process. House is trying to let you go in the nicest way possible."

"Why are you here anyway?" Stacy asked.

"I'm here for a consult, and I knew House would be here today." Wilson replied. "Are you okay?" He repeated

"We had a fight," Stacy said. "…This morning, before coming in. And it was about nothing."

"You guys never fight, and when you do it's usually about something," Wilson said, confused.

Andy, House's physiotherapist saw Wilson and Stacy looking in. House gave him a nod and he quickly closed the blinds. Stacy sighed and sat down on one of the hospital chairs.

"It was about nothing," She repeated. "We had a fight about what time we should set our alarms at, to wake up."

Wilson frowned. "You had a fight about that?"

Stacy nodded. "He's pushing me out of his life."

"He's testing you. He wants to see if you really do love him."

"Well it's a stupid way of doing it." She said. "He knows I love him."

"Yeah, he knows, he just doesn't believe it."

"What an ass," Stacy muttered.

"You lived with him for nearly 5 years, you should know."

"You've known him longer." She replied.

"Only a little," Wilson replied, he folded his arms, sighing gently. "Cuddy is offering him a job as a departmental head of diagnostic medicine."

"He'd like that," Stacy whispered.

"I know, that's why I asked her for it." The oncologist said. "She owes me a favour."

Stacy looked up at him, her eyes filled with blotchy tears. "Thank you, James."

Wilson nodded. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and hugged her. Timidly, she hugged back.