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Wilson appeared in House's office after the chaos subsided from Clarence's return to prison. A bottle sat on the desk, nowhere near full, but not quite empty.

"Three sheets to the wind again?" he asked.

"Just one," House said. "Give me time." House drank. "Did you want something?"

"If you offered me a drink, I wouldn't say no," Wilson said as he went into the conference room to grab House's red mug. "It's a good idea, the golden rule."

"Uh... love thy neighbor?"

"That one works, too," Wilson said, smiling directly at his friend. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'never drink alone.'"

"Judaism has many strange and wonderful facets," House said slyly.

Wilson emptied the bottle into his cup and settled into House's comfortable chair. "How come you never have any ice? Every floor of this building has an ice machine."

"No girly drinks for me," House said. "I drink like a man."

"Since when is ice girly? " Wilson asked, swirling the cup in his hand. "Since when do men drink paint thinner?"

"That," House said as Wilson wrinkled his nose, "is high-test rum, eighty-five percent ethanol, the breakfast of champions. You're a real lightweight." House used his good leg and his cane to wheel his chair around the desk. He stopped next to Wilson and lifted his legs onto the stool with a bit of difficulty.

"I'll have you know that I'm a hundred eighty five pounds of solid..." Wilson wanted to drink for emphasis, but his eyes began to water, and he choked a little on the fumes. "OK, I'm a really cheap date."

"I'll keep that in mind." House reached over and playfully punched his friend. "Your pal Stacy played us both," he said semi-seriously.

Wilson lifted his cup and drank again; it went down easier this time. He understood that House would explain if he wanted to. If not, they would be quiet for a while. He propped one of his legs next to House's, and he waited.

"I assume she told you about the encounter we had in the hall yesterday morning," House said. "That whole business about trust..."

"...In which you told her you couldn't be trusted, which was stupid, but..."

"...I asked if I could trust her, and she bamboozled me."

"She works for the hospital, she was doing her job."

"Which interfered with me doing my job!" House said. "You know, that life saving thing?"

"And that's what led to you sitting in your office, bamboozling yourself," Wilson said.

"Very funny, but no," House said, swallowing the rest of his rum. "She's got you convinced that I want her back, and I don't."

Wilson turned to look at House, very curious.

"I treated her husband. I saved him; it's done. I wish she'd go home, or at least stay the hell out of my way," House said.

Wilson rolled his eyes and took another drink. "You don't really expect me to believe that."

"I don't do follow up," House said. "I wish I could change the past, I'm human..." He noticed that Wilson was still looking at him. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to hear you admit it."

They sat quietly for a time. Wilson swallowed the rest of his drink and set his cup on the floor. The ceramic absorbed the impact of the hard floor with a dull thud.

"I don't want her back," House said. "I can't trust her."

"Trust is important."

"I don't want her back." House glanced to the side. His companion was slouched down in the chair, head rolled over to one side, eyes closed, arms dangling. Wilson seemed very relaxed. "I can't change the past."

House let his arm drape over the side of his chair as he leaned all the way back. His knuckles bumped against Wilson's hand.

"I believe you," Wilson said.

"We're all out of booze," House said. "So I can't offer you another drink."

"That's fine," Wilson said, yawning. "That's not why I stopped by."

House looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Why did you?"

"Don't remember," Wilson admitted.

"Cool how that worked out, huh?"

Wilson simply smiled. "I'm getting you an ice bucket for your next birthday."