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Dr. Gregory House woke up feeling very strange. He knew there was something different, but his sleep-fogged mind couldn’t figure out what it was. He stretched his arms out and swung his legs over the side of the bed. That’s when he realized what was different. The overwhelming, all-consuming need for his Vicodin was gone. And, there was absolutely no pain in his leg.
House stood quickly – without the use of his cane – and pulled off the sweat pants he had slept in. He stared down at the muscles in his thighs. The complete and perfect muscles in both
thighs. He sat back down on the bed in shock. It was medically impossible for muscles to grow back; more so if the growth was overnight. He dressed as fast as he could, which he learned was quite fast, and rushed out the door.
Cuddy stared at him in shock, not even bothering to get on his case about being nearly two hours late to work. Foreman, Cameron, and Chase rushed to accomplish all of the tests he ordered for himself. Even Wilson was forced to stop and stare for long moments. All tests came back with the same results. He was, overnight, a perfectly healthy middle-aged man. No addictions, no medical (or non-medical) substance flowing through his bloodstream, and two perfect, if well-used, legs. It was a miracle.EIGHT HOURS EARLIER
Stacey swirled her finger along the edge of the glass. The kind young woman across from her looked at her with sympathy. She had just spilled the whole story of her relationship with one Gregory House, and she wasn’t sure how the woman would react. She had admitted that she had
loved the man, but that his attitude and rejection had forced all kind feelings about him from her mind.
“Don’t you just wish that he would just die,” the woman finally put in.
“Not really. I think the absolute worst punishment for House would be to lose his excuse to be cruel. I wish his handicap and his addictions would disappear forever!”