I had some ideas for this, but not the ambition to start it. I finally got around to it and will keep up with it the best I can. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of House

Chapter 1

Drip, drip, drip. The sound of rain hitting the roof of the old stone building was surprisingly irritating. Every speck of water released from the sky pried House further away from the arms of sleep. Not that he'd slept much at all in this place. The beds were not comfortable, and the dead silence of the building made him feel like he was living in a crypt sometimes. The staff was adequate enough. They did their job without getting too involved, which was what he preferred. Nor did he prefer mingling with the other patients, most of which, in his opinion, were more screwed up than him. There were the real whack jobs, like the guy who saw killer chocolate sprinkles when he closed his eyes in response to his ridiculous obsession about his weight. Then there were the guys who needed to be in a maximum security prison, not an asylum. One such man had told House he was going to "mess him up" because of the color of his eyes. House wasn't entirely sure, but he was pretty sure a man displaying Hitler-like mannerisms was a threat to the other patients, and should not have been allowed to partake in group therapy.

Group therapy. Probably one of the most horrible experiences of his life. Admitting defeat, feigning compassion, and the enforcement of religion, all in one sitting.

Thus was Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. Even the name was uninviting. He had to admit, the place had helped him. They had managed to get him to take control of his narcotic addiction, although it had taken a long four months for him to be considered "stable", mentally and physically. He didn't feel different. He could detect no changes in himself, other than that he no longer saw dead people or carried around an orange pill bottle. The pain was still there, a dull ache that was always present. He had no desire to start attending church, reading to orphaned kids, or talking with Wilson about feelings.

All he wanted to do was go back to work and start solving the puzzles no one else could solve again. He wanted to sleep in his own bed. He wanted to see his team and mess with their heads. He wanted to invite Wilson out to lunch to make him pay for it. There were of course, things he did not want to return to. People's questions and stares. Clinic duty. Paperwork. Being around Vicodin and not being allowed to consume any. The explanation he was sure Cuddy was expecting.

It wasn't his fault she'd made her way into his hallucinations. She was always around him, so it was only logical. And she was hot, so...

The excuses were lame. But the truth was fragile and dangerous at the same time, a painful combination. The one thing he had learned from his stay was to avoid pain. Drip, drip, drip.

---

House watched through the heavy doors as Wilson signed his release forms in the lobby. The young secretary kept pushing papers at him that needed his signature. House was buzzing with anxiety upon seeing Wilson. His friend looked exactly like he remembered him, and it was insanely comforting. He hadn't seen anyone in four months. Visitation was allowed, of course, but House had requested not to see anyone until his release. He did not want Wilson or Cuddy to see him in his dark hour. House saw the secretary hand Wilson his file. His friend smiled at the young blonde, who motioned towards the door. Wilson had to wait outside in the parking lot, and House would be escorted to the front door, in case someone tried to make a run for it. The security guard smiled at him. He was big guy, probably in his mid-twenties. The place was keen on hiring young people, apparently. He allowed House to lead the way, removing the deadbolts from the heavy door that separated the interior of the hospital from the lobby and front entrance. The patients used other doors to access the fenced outdoor grounds. The lobby lead directly to the outside world, and it was the second time House had stepped through it. He made his way to the door. The secretary smiled at him and wished him luck as he passed by. Another heavy bolted door was the only thing standing between him and everyday life. The guard unlocked it, shaking his hand and wishing him all the best before shutting the door and locking it again. House looked back at the building that had been his prison for the last four months. It looked cold, as it had on the first day.

House breathed breathed in the September air as he made his way down the steps. He'd been outside plenty of times during his stay, but being outside without being under the watchful eye of caretakers felt entirely different. Wilson was standing by his Volvo, in the empty parking lot, smiling broadly. House felt the corners of his lips twitch up, too. It really was good seeing his friend again. He reached the car and stood for a moment, before Wilson embraced him. Normally, House would have shied away from the gesture, but he let himself sink into the warm hug of his friend. Wilson smelled like the hospital and his apartment, not the cold and metallic smell of the asylum.

Wilson patted House on the shoulder as he put his things into the trunk. "What kind of torture did they put you through? I never thought you would let me hug you."

"You don't even know what kind of unspeakable horror they inflicted on me," House replied, and launched into the discussion of his stay as the two doctors made the trip back to Princeton. He told his friend about the other patients and the the general treatments he'd received, but left out the details of the suffering he had been through and ache he had felt for home.

"So, is the hospital a paragon of chaos without its wise genius?" House asked, loving how quickly his wit had returned to him.

Wilson laughed. "Of course."

"How's my team?" House inquired.

"They miss you."

"I'm sure. Who wouldn't miss a boss who has no regard for your opinion and bashes the idea of career advancement?"

"The kind of people who actually keep a job in your department. And Cuddy has refused to give them a case since they broke into a patient's home, so they're getting pretty sick of clinic-"

"They broke into someone's house?" House cut in.

"Looking for drugs. Patient refused to admit to using, they were sure she was lying because it explained everything, they broke in, alarm went off, neighbor called the police, Cuddy had to bail them out."

House laughed merrily. "I've taught them well," he said, feeling a rush of pride for the three idiots he worked with. "I would have paid to see her bailing them out."

"She wasn't too thrilled," Wilson agreed, smiling.

"How is she?" House asked seriously.

"She's fine. The hospital got a grant for a new pediatrics wing, so she's been busy with that. And she got Rachel into preschool."

"Isn't she only nine months old?" House asked.

"She wanted to make sure she got a spot," Wilson replied. They both burst out laughing.

Wilson stopped laughing, and his voice took on a serious tone. "I think she really missed you."

House looked out the window. He pictured Cuddy, sitting in her office, wearing a low cut top and pencil skirt. He tried to imagine the flicker of annoyance that flashed in her eyes when she saw him replaced with wistfulness. "Yes. I would miss someone who intentionally pisses me off and has creepy hallucinations about me, too."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Okay. So, did you miss her?"

The question caught House off guard. He thought about the occasional moments when their arguing temporarily disappeared and the softer side of their odd friendship was present. Sometimes he thought there may have been more to the way she looked at him, but since his hallucination about her, confirmed it was only him being lustful. Cuddy was perfectly happy without him, and she continued to give him more than he deserved by looking out for him. Still, he thought of her as a friend. A friend who he'd missed.

"Yes, I missed her screaming at me."

"I'll translate that into yes, since that was a pretty sorry comeback."

House sighed in defeat. "Good to see you again, Wilson."

"Nice to have you back."

---

House arrived to work the next day, feeling refreshed. He'd forgotten what sleeping on a decent mattress felt like. According to Wilson, no one knew he was coming in today. He'd told Cuddy and House's team that he was home, but not when he'd be back. House felt the eyes of everyone in the hospital shift to him as he walked in. The atrium was silent. Jesus. You'd think I'd just confessed to murder, he thought to himself. Everybody was staring at him. Doctors, nurses, interns, janitors, and people who didn't even work at the hospital. He quickly retreated to the elevator after punching in. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he made his way to the his department, letting people think what they wanted. Hell if he cared. He hadn't cared what they thought before leaving, and wasn't going to start now.

He saw Taub, Thirteen, and Foreman mulling around the differential room, probably putting off going down to the clinic. Thirteen had made coffee, and handed a cup to each of her colleagues. They weren't looking at the hall, so they didn't see House approach. He smiled involuntarily as he opened the door- he'd missed this.

The three doctors looked up and happy smiles and grins appeared on their faces as they saw their scruffy boss and relief from clinic duty. Taub and Foreman patted him on on the shoulder and Thirteen kissed his cheek.

"Daddy heard about how naughty you were while he was away," House said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was supposed to drink decaf, but really didn't give a damn. "Better get to the clinic before Cuddy comes looking for you."

"But you're back, so we can take a case now," Thirteen pointed out.

"It's my first day back on the job. I'm not going to spend it working. Now, run along."

The three younger doctors left the room, relieved to have House back, and to see that he hadn't changed. They had been worried about what detox may have done to his ability to practice, and what affect that fact would have had on him.

House entered his office, were stacks of paper and folders had accumulated. He checked his email, and had 138 messages in his inbox. He sighed. No point in tackling that today. He could probably get Cameron to do it for him, actually. He wondered about Cameron for a moment. He knew she and Chase had gotten married while he was gone, and wondered how it was working out. The two were a good match- ethical, blond, and naïve. Their kids would have sappy personalities and great hair. He'd have to go track them down later to check in.

There was another person he had to check in with. He had mixed feelings about going down to see Cuddy. He wanted to see her and the look of surprise she would get when she saw him, but didn't want to talk about what had happened before he left. The curiosity won, and House made his way through the hospital and sea of stares to Cuddy's office. He saw her sitting at her desk through the glass windows, his hand on the doorknob. She was wearing a gray sweater and matching skirt, both clinging to her and proudly boasting the fact that she was indeed female. The afternoon sun was playing on her dark hair, and House stood still for a moment. He'd forgotten how attractive she was. He remembered the feel of her soft hands on his face as he realized the horror and seriousness of his situation, and the irony. Yeah, she's really just your boss, he told himself.

He opened the door, and she looked up from her work as she heard the sound. The sight of him took her by surprise. He looked exactly the same, but completely different at the same time. She knew it was just the lack of drugs in his system, but there seemed to be a different light in his eyes. A smile was playing on his lips, and she found herself grinning in response. It was good to see him barging into her office again. He limped over and sat on the edge of her desk, her desk from med school that he had managed to bring out of storage and into her new office. She got up and embraced him, and expected him to slip out of her grasp or cop a feel, betting more on the latter. Instead, he hugged her back, the warm sweater soft on his fingertips and her hair soft on his cheeks. The hug really wasn't enough for either of them, but they both were too hesitant to make that fact known.

They ended the embrace, and since he was sitting, House had an eye-level view of her bosom.

"I missed you guys," he said, needing to fill the heaviness of the moment with sarcasm.

Cuddy laughed and walked back around her desk to sit down. "Still an ass," she said.

"What did you expect? The misanthropic drug addict to come back back a nice Christian boy?"

She laughed again. "No. Anyway, I'm sure you've heard about your team's mishap."

He smiled proudly and nodded.

"I'll tell Cameron to keep an eye out for interesting cases in the ER."

"No need. I'm off to harass her myself."

"Making the rounds?"

"Yep," he answered, getting up before she could ask about his time at Mayfield, or even worse, the hallucinations. "I'll see you when I need some 'risky' test approved."

"House, wait." Cuddy got up and grabbed his arm.

"Yes, boss?" House hoped his nervousness wasn't detectable.

"You're not going to tell me about it?" Her gentle gray eyes were locked on his.

"Nothing to tell," he lied.

"We don't have to talk about it now. Maybe over coffee later?"

He looked down at her. Her face was calm and composed, willing him to give into her. She wanted to know. She needed him to talk to her.

"Sure." He turned to leave.

"House." She grabbed his hand to stop him.

He turned back around.

"I missed you," she told him.

"I know," he said quietly, turning the doorknob to leave.