A/N:This is my 2017 NaNoWriMo story, beta'd by the lovely Hughville :)

Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin...

Disclaimer: I don't own House or Wilson. Loon Lake is a real place and everyone else in this story is either made up, or their names have been changed. Only I know for sure ;)

Chapter 1

House tossed his bag onto the back of his bike and took one last look around. Helena, Montana, where he'd stayed since Wilson's death, had been a great place to clear his head. He might have settled there had it not been for an overly inquisitive doctor who asked too many questions.

It was time to move on to another city. Hell, even Canada seemed like a good idea. He had the proper documents to leave the country. Crossing the border by land would be much easier than by air, or so he was told by the man who created his new identity and forged the documents. He had to hand it to Wilson. That man had friends in low places and he called in many favors until the end.

Now, with Wilson in his final resting place near his parents, and everything taken care of, House had nothing else to do but keep going.

He didn't really have a destination in mind, but he knew he wanted to visit Banff and Jasper, and then move on towards British Columbia. He heard of some lakes with good fishing there.

He and Wilson discovered the enjoyment of fishing when they realized there wasn't much else to do when staying in a small town. If the locals knew anything, it was where the good fishing was and which lures were the best.

"What do you want?" House asked as he set his hook and let it drop into the water.

"I think they said something about the black flys working better lately. I'll use that," Wilson said as he handed his rod to House.

House put the hook on and handed the rod back to his friend.

"Damn! Why is this thing so heavy?" Wilson muttered as he balanced the rod across his lap.

"It has leaded line. Let it go out about four colors and then lock it."

"What do the colors signify, again?"

"Every color is ten feet. The guy said they were biting about forty feet down. And it's hot. When it's hot, the fish go deeper."

"That actually makes sense. Fish are smart. That's why they're in schools."

House guffawed and threw his empty sandwich wrapper at Wilson. "I think the morphine has done something to your brain."

"Probably."

"You look kinda pale today."

"I'm alright," Wilson said with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's a nice day, and I'm sick of being sick."

"Fresh air will help."

"Yeah, I already feel better."

"Good."

They sat in silence for awhile. House sat at the stern, steering the outboard motor while his rod sat in a holder. Once he made sure the boat was heading straight, he opened the small cooler and took out a beer, tossing a bottle of water to Wilson.

"Gotta stay hydrated."

"Yeah, yeah," Wilson sighed as he twisted off the cap and took a long sip. Truth be told, he was exhausted, but the lake seemed so calm and inviting, he had to get outside. Being inside all day only served to depress him, and when he was depressed, so was House. He didn't want that for his friend. God knew that House had been at his beck and call for weeks since his health started to fail. It wasn't fair to keep him from doing other things too. He knew fishing wasn't exactly House's cup of tea, but he did it anyway, for Wilson.

House sat in his seat and studied his friend closely when he knew he wasn't looking. He'd definitely lost weight and gotten frail very quickly. So he was surprised when Wilson suggested they go fishing. Unsure what to get, House went to the local sporting goods store and bought a couple of rods and reels, based on what the sales guy suggested. Wilson laughed when his friend came in with several bags consisting of not only fishing gear, but hats and vests as well.

"They saw you coming," Wilson laughed.

House grinned at the memory as he tossed more clothes into his bag. He tried not to think too much about his friend. It was hard though, when things constantly reminded him of Wilson.

He learned of remote places with small communities where he could keep to himself and nobody would bother him. Canadians were quiet and polite, after all. They'd be less likely to pry into his affairs. That's what he kept telling himself, anyway.

A week later he found himself in the town of Kamloops, B.C., and he was lost. Sitting at the bar in a diner, he called the server over. "Where is there good fishing near here?"

"You're in the central interior, buddy. There's lakes all over the place with fish in em."

"Yeah but where would you go?"

"Me? Loon Lake. Great fishing, nice resorts, good people." He grabbed a brochure from a rack and slapped it down in front of House. "Here ya go."

"Evergreen Resort?" House asked as he opened it.

"Yep. Nicest cabins I've seen. It's quiet up there right now so you should be able to get a cabin on the lake. Tell em Dan sent ya."

"How far is it?"

"About an hour and a half west of here. Get on the 97, go through Cache Creek then in about forty kilometres, take the Loon Lake Road turnoff. There's a big sign so you can't miss it. It's another fifteen minutes up the road from there, first resort at the south end of the lake."

"Sounds good. Thanks."

"No worries. Good luck."

House left the diner and was getting on his bike when a fire engine red Corvette convertible sitting outside caught his eye. He cocked his head to one side and stared at it for a minute. It reminded him of his and Wilson's joyride months ago. Something about it drew him to cross the road and take a closer look.

"It's not new," the salesman said as he approached. "But it only has ten thousand clicks on it. Hardly driven."

"Why did the owner give it up?"

"They were moving to a place where this kind of car wouldn't be practical. Mind you, it's not all that practical here either, but in good weather, it's bitchin.'

House chuckled. "Do you do trade-ins?"

"On what?"

House pointed to his motorcycle across the street. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Let's go to my office."

Two hours later, House peeled out of the lot in the Corvette, top open, and headed to the nearest grocery store to stock up. After getting what he felt was enough food for a few weeks, cigars and booze, he made his way to Loon Lake.

He was surprised that it was as easy to get to as Dan said, and he particularly enjoyed the long, winding road leading up to it. It was a hot day, the sky was clear and he had the road all to himself. He also noticed a sign at the community center advertising a Sunday Pancake Breakfast and made a mental note to check that out.

He pulled up in front of the Evergreen Resort store and went inside to the cold air conditioned shop. There were shelves with food, coolers, apparel with the Evergreen Resort logo, and a wall full of rods and reels.

"Hi," the girl behind the counter said. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. "That's a hot car. Is it yours?"

"Yep."

"It's sexy," she grinned. "Checking in?"

"Dan sent me. Aren't you a little young to be running a resort?"

The girl smiled at him and rested her forearms on the desk in a relaxed pose. Her V-necked shirt gave him ample view of her cleavage, which, even though she was young, impressed him. "Not at all. So, do you want a campsite or a cabin?"

"What do you have available?" he grinned.

"It's pretty quiet right now. We just opened for the season a few weeks ago. We have older cabins over there on the hill. They're more rustic, no hot water. Or there are our newer ones lakeside."

He nodded. "I'll take one of those. Doesn't have to be big and I like rustic, so surprise me."

She looked at the board on the wall and selected a key for cabin twelve. "This is one of our older cabins but it's been renovated and has its own dock. Will you be wanting a boat?"

"Yeah, and I'll need a rod."

"My dad is more the authority on that. If you want to go get settled in, he'll be back in an hour."

"That'll work. What's your name?"

"Kelly."

"Do I need to give a deposit or anything?"

"No. You settle up when you leave." She grabbed a form and started filling it out. "I'll need your ID for your fishing license. How long do you want it for?"

"What are my options?" he asked.

"Eight days is fifty if you're not from here, annual is eighty."

House shrugged. "Might as well go for annual then."

"If you're planning to stay longer than a week you might as well."

House dug his wallet out of his bag and gave her his driver's license, along with his credit card. The name on the card read Gregory John Holmes. Kelly looked at the ID, then back up at him, liking what she saw, and smiled again as she continued to fill out the paperwork for his license. "Sign here, and then keep it with you when you're fishing. They do come and check from time to time."

"They?"

"Game warden, fisheries people, you know?"

"Gotcha."

She handed him the key to the cabin. "Just go all the way to the end of the path to cabin twelve. Have a great time, Mr. Holmes."

"You can call me Greg."

"Okay...Greg. Come back later and my dad should be here. He'll get your boat, too."

"Great."

He returned to the main road and parked next to the log cabin with its red roof and porch. There was even a large pile of firewood sitting nearby which made him smile. He always liked a wood burning fireplace. The cabin was clean and the first thing House did was sit out on the patio watching the people on the lake. He put his feet up on the railing, lit a cigar and enjoyed the quiet.

He could see clear across the lake and admired the large cabin on the other side. It stood alone amongst the trees and appeared to have a pontoon boat tied to the dock. There was also a ladder on the dock he assumed was for swimming.

As he sat, he watched the other boats on the lake. It was a calm afternoon and there were a lot of people fishing. However, there were clouds approaching and he wondered if they'd simply pass by or open up and rain.

He tapped the ashes of his cigar into an ashtray as he returned his attention to the cabin on the other side of the lake. There were others, of course, but that one looked bigger and newer than them. It was also hidden further back from the trees. He cocked his head to one side and wondered who would want to live over there. Electricity and plumbing had to be an issue. And since it was boat access only, he doubted it would be insured.

A man came walking down the path toward his cabin so House put out his cigar and stood.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Ron. Kelly said you were looking to get some fishing gear?"

"Yeah. And a boat."

"Cool. Well, follow me up to the store and we'll get you set up."

"I'll be right there." House grabbed the key and locked up before following Ron to the store.

He looked at the various rods and reels and chose something similar to what he and Wilson used back in Montana.

"What kind of boat do you need?" Ron asked.

"One with a motor," House said with a smirk.

"Okay, well, we have lots of those, the price is thirty bucks per day or you can rent by the week, which is cheaper if you're planning to stay."

"By the week should be good. I'm not sure how long I'll be here. I'm kind of just passing through."

"Well, thanks for choosing us."

"Dan sent me," House told him.

Ron's face lit up. "Ah, good ol' Dan. I might've known. He has a cabin further on down the lake."

"Ah."

"Yeah, so maybe you'll get a fishing buddy next time he's up this way. Need anything else?" Ron asked.

"No, I think this pretty much covers it."

"Let's head down to the dock and get you that boat. It's a nice night. You should throw a line in."

"I might."

Ron made sure the boat was full of gas. "This should last you awhile, depending on how much you go out. When it gets down to the quarter mark, come back for a fill-up."

"Will do."

House climbed in with his bag of stuff and headed back to his cabin. Getting in wasn't too hard but climbing out seemed more of a challenge, since the boat was unsteady. He'd definitely need his cane to help him in the future.

When he and Wilson skipped down, House underwent muscle regeneration therapy on his leg. It was a success for the most part, but it was still healing and sometimes made him unsteady on his feet.

"You okay there?" a voice called out.

House looked around and saw a girl standing on the dock next to his.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he called back with a wave. He glanced at the somewhat steep embankment that lead back up to his cabin and grimaced. Damnit. He'd definitely need his cane.

However, it wasn't as steep as it looked and he was able to make it up without too much trouble.

"Cane my ass," he muttered to himself as he let himself into the cabin and stowed his gear to the side.

It was getting close to dinner time and his stomach growled. There was a small propane BBQ sitting on a cement block so he grabbed some of the pre-made burger patties he bought and threw them on the grill.

"Smells good, buddy," his neighbor called to him from the next cabin. House raised his beer bottle in salute and kept on grilling. When they were done, he ate on the patio and had a bag of chips.

Ron was right. It was a nice evening and he'd be stupid to waste it. Once he cleaned up from dinner, he decided to take the boat for a spin down the lake and see what's what. He had no idea how long the lake was or what was nearby but he intended to find out.

He kept to the middle of the lake and zipped along, looking at everything. There were a lot of resorts with similar cabins, some made of wood, and others made of logs. There were also some massive homes along the water. On the other side were some log homes, all of them with their own boat docked. Some looked occupied and some empty. Someone was having a campfire and it smelled amazing. He took a deep breath in, taking in the sights and smells of the lake. Fish were jumping, people could be heard laughing and for the first time in weeks, House felt good. Alive. He knew he chose the right place to stay, and he knew he could easily spend the summer there. And why not? Nobody knew he was in hiding. Nobody seemed to care where he came from or what his story was. Since it was a resort, people would come and go. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone recognizing him, for it was unlikely anyone had ever heard of him, let alone knew much about the medical field.

The sun was starting to go down and the air got cooler. With that in mind, he turned the boat around and headed back to his cabin. A fire sounded like a good idea, but it wasn't time to head in yet. He poured himself a glass of Scotch, grabbed another cigar and sat on the patio to watch the sky go dark. He was sure the stars above would be spectacular. Being so far away from the big city he was sure to see plenty. He almost wished he had a telescope.

It was so quiet that he could hear other people sitting on their patios talking. If he listened closely, he could catch snippets of their conversation. At one of the campsites they were having a sing-song around a fire. It reminded him that he had his acoustic guitar. Perhaps one night he'd join them.