House made his way out of the hospital, and hailed a cab. Even as he rattled his address off to the driver, it still all seemed surreal. He stared blankly out the window as the scenery went by, and almost felt guilty, just stepping back into his old life this way. He shook his head. No more feeling guilty. This was a fresh start and he was going to take full advantage of it.

He turned the key in the door, opening the door slowly, as if he expected something to be waiting on the other side. Feeling around on the wall, he flipped on the light switch, scanning the room with his eyes. Satisfied that this was really happening, he tossed his overnight bag on the floor and limped over to throw himself on the couch. It was as uncomfortable as he remembered, but it was home.

After about five minutes of sitting there, he realized that the silence was killing him. Fumbling around in the drawer, he finally came across the remote. He began flipping through the channels and then grumbled.

"Basic cable? Wilson, you cheap bastard ."

Eventually settling on an infomercial, he stretched out on the couch, falling in to a deep sleep.

[*][*][*][*][*]

Over the next week, House had settled into a comfortable routine, giving Foreman grief, insulting Chase, and working on the latest medical mystery. The ankle bracelet had been gone for a few days, but he still found himself at home by 9 pm each night. The only place he allowed himself to stop, was a hole in the wall diner not far from his apartment. He found that he preferred it to eating at home, alone.

Today, though, he had some place that he had to be. The medical conference. He was sitting in his office, searching the internet for information on Thirteen's presentation, but couldn't find anything.

"You ready?" Chase asked, throwing his coat on as he poked his head into House's office.

"Yeah. " House answered, closing his laptop and coming around the desk.

When they walked through the doors of the lecture hall, they found that the place was packed. House glanced at the list of speakers, and noticed a couple of pretty big names there. It was obvious that Thirteen's presentation was probably going to get lost in the shuffle. Considering what little information he had found on the internet, he couldn't help but wonder how she had even gotten a spot at the conference at all. He was going to make sure that it was memorable.

"We better find a seat." Chase said. "It's getting rather crowded."

"You go. I'm staying back here."

"In the back? You don't want her to see you?"

"Oh she's going to see me." House said, smirking in only a way that he could. "Go find a spot. This is going to be good."

Chase nodded and smiled, and then walked down the aisle towards the front. He had missed this. One thing about House, he loved a good prank. PPTH had been so boring the last couple of years, so much so that he had actually thought about leaving. But with House returning to his old self, it was sure to get interesting.

House sat in the back row, keeping his head down so as not to attract attention. He adjusted his ipod and put in his headphones, having no intention of listening to anyone but Thirteen. They were all there for the attention, hoping for funding for their research, even if they wouldn't admit it, and that was part of the reason he hated conferences so much. That, and the fact that they were just damn boring.

Finally it was time for Thirteen to take her turn at the podium. He shut off the ipod, shoving it in his pocket. He found himself anxious to see her, to see her condition.

She strode on to the stage looking confident as ever. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her for any sign of a stiff gait, but there was nothing. She looked older, and even thinner if that was possible. Her hair was darker, but she still had the same brightness in her eyes, the same smile.

He listened as she introduced herself, starting with a brief history of her brother's condition. Not smart, he thought. The doctors there would largely discount anything she had to say, due to her own personal connection to it. And he agreed with them. She was talking about a combination of existing drugs, mixed with certain animal cell injections, and herbal extracts that she intentionally didn't call out by name. He shook his head. She was going the Steve McQueen route, - didn't she know how that worked out for him?

Never once did she mention that she was one of her own test subjects. That seemed odd to him. If she was going to bring her brother and the family history into it, why not admit that she was testing on herself? She kept referring to the small sample group of patients, with one showing "miraculous results".

"And in conclusion, I think that these therapies have the potential to halt, if not reverse the effects of the disease. At the very least, I believe that it at least warrants further investigation by the medical community. "

There should have been a question and answer period, but Thirteen waited through an awkward silence. The audience shifted uncomfortably in their seats, as if they just wanted this to be over. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He stood up, groaning quietly as he tried to stretch his stiff leg. He waited, to see if she would notice him standing in the aisle, but she didn't. Instead, she thanked the audience and gathered her papers, preparing to leave the stage.

"Dr. Hadley!" he called out, as he made his way down the aisle, his limp greatly exaggerated.

She stopped in her tracks, almost dropping the papers in her hand. She knew that voice, but, it couldn't be. She turned her head , slowly raising her eyes, as if she was afraid of seeing a ghost. There were a lot of hushed whispers behind him, as some people recognized who he was.

When her eyes finally met with his, her breath caught in her throat, and she went completely pale. A slight smile crossed her face as she regained her composure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Yes?"

"Have you considered the other effects of this witch doctor remedy of yours? " he asked gruffly. " Most specifically, the delay of patients in receiving actual medical care?"

"Surely doctor, you know there is no cure for Huntington's disease, not here or anywhere."

"But there are treatments that can make patients more comfortable."

"I've found that patients would rather live comfortably than die comfortably." She stated simply.

"And I'm sure they are very appreciative, right up until that point when they realize they wasted precious time, and money on this so called treatment."

"Maybe we she be discussing whatever drugs you've been taking, doctor? They seem to have had a miraculous effect on you. Care to share?"

House smirked.

"Touche'"

There was a silence as they stared at each other, oblivious to the fact that all eyes were on them. Eventually they heard the clearing of throats, and it brought them out of the trance.

"Maybe we could continue this conversation outside?" she offered, gesturing to the off stage area.

Not waiting for an answer, she composed herself quickly and headed off to the right of the stage, disappearing through a doorway to an adjoining auditorium. He followed quickly, wondering if he had gone too far. A lot of time had passed, and he wasn't sure what her reaction would be. Maybe challenging her in front of an audience like this wasn't the right move, but he couldn't help himself. He was so relieved to see her standing there that he struggled to find the right words. He almost fell over when she moved forward, giving him a brief hug.

"I think one of us has some explaining to do." She said, taking a step back.

"It's a long story."

"I'm sure. You know , I had my suspicions when Wilson decided to leave right after your death. But he seemed so pissed at you…."

"I did it for him." House said, looking down. "No, I take that back, I did it for me, too. I needed to find a way to spend his last few months with him."

Suddenly, a thought dawned on her and her eyes widened.

"House, Does Cuddy know?"

"Uh…."

"She doesn't, does she? Because she never mentioned it, not once."

"You've talked to her? Recently?"

"Yeah….she's the one who pulled some strings and got me a spot here."

"And she didn't mention me at all." He whispered quietly

"Well, we only communicated through email, phone service was almost non-existent where I was. Maybe she just assumed that I knew."

"I really don't think that's it."

"Oh my God, House, you probably don't know, she was in a horrible accident awhile back. Her sister was killed, and…."

"I'm aware." Was all he said.

There was a moment of silence, and he decided it was time to change the subject.

"I hate to admit it, but you look… good. A result of your hocus pocus medicine?"

"No, see, that's the ironic thing, House…."

Suddenly a woman came bursting through the door, her body language a clear indication of her anger. She immediately made a beeline for House, coming in between them and slapping him hard, across the face.

"Angela, wait!" Thirteen called out.

House lifted a hand to his jaw, trying to rub out the stinging feeling. He looked her over carefully, immediately noticing her long dark hair and searing blue eyes. She was wearing a white blouse, with a black pencil skirt and high heels.

"I suppose I deserved that." He commented. "But not from you."

"Remy, how can you be standing here talking to this asshole! He stood out there and ridiculed you in front of everyone in that audience!"

House scoffed.

"On the contrary…..Angela , is it? Nobody out there gave a damn about her presentation. They listened politely, but they would have walked out of here and never given it a second thought. Now, because of me, they are going to remember it. They're already talking about it. So, you see, you should be thanking me, not bitch slapping me."

Angela stared at him incredulously.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Actually, he's right." Thirteen interrupted. "Angela Watson… meet Dr. Greg House."