Epilogue – some time later
He lost his janitorial job when he got thrown into solitary so now he sits in a craft class, with nineteen other hardened criminals and a couple of well meaning, if somewhat nervous looking social workers. It's not that he wants to do craft really, but it's something to do to pass the time. Attending classes, and participating in activities, can earn him 'good' time and maybe there'll be a few days knocked off his sentence. Maybe.
He sits as far away from the other men as he can, and still be part of the class.
He works on his project; it's a bracelet, made up of small beads. It's a stupid thing, nothing important but he concentrates on it fully, glad that he has something to do. He wishes he had his glasses, that would make things easier, but he perseveres and finally he has the thing done. He holds it in his hand, not sure what to do with it next. He's not exactly the bracelet wearing type.
"That's very nice," one of the social workers comes over and admires it, much as she probably admires her preschool kid's finger paintings. He slips the bracelet over his right wrist and stares at her, not acknowledging her comment. She looks uneasy and quickly leaves and he relaxes again. He goes to take it off again and then looks down at it.
Thirty little beads around a plain string. A reminder of what he's done and where he's been. He rubs his hand over it, turning it around on his wrist. It's stupid, a Wilson type of thing to do, keeping it, like it's some sort of souvenir from a dying patient. He doesn't take it off.
He stands up and leaves the class, walks back through the rec room and limps up the stairs to his assigned tier, makes his way along it, ignoring the open doors to the other cells, the chatter and posturing of the inmates. He enters his cell and lies down on the bunk.
Just another day in prison.
"Simpson was wrong again. The lungs are still dying and my patient is running out of time," Wilson reports, standing in Foreman's office. "Vanessa needs those lungs, and they only have another 16 hours of life left. We're at a dead end." He takes a deep breath and looks Foreman straight in the eye. "We need him."
Foreman nods, this is what he's been looking for, and the situation couldn't be more urgent – or more tailor made for House.
He picks up his phone and arranges to get a judge out of bed. When he hangs up he starts putting on his jacket. He's got some miles to travel tonight, and some fast talking to do.
"I'll go and get him," he tells Wilson. "House will be able to figure it out."
"He has to, for everyone's sake," Wilson says.
After Foreman leaves Wilson returns to his patient and waits for House to come home.
A/N - And that's it! Thanks again to everyone who has read and commented, all your comments are very much appreciated :)