Author's Note: Wilson, Stacy, Cuddy, Cameron, and House do not belong to me. Dave Matthews owns Some Devil.

One last kiss

One only

Then I'll let you go

The night was late and, like all nights, bore down upon people in blinding darkness. The men and women still lurking about Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital stashed away their pain in the quiet of the night with only the stars as their witnesses. There was the man who didn't want to go home to his wife, for he loved women more than he loved the thought of marriage. There was the woman who sat next to her very ill husband thinking of the path not taken with a certain doctor. There was another woman sitting in her office wondering about life and why the night found her locked inside her office with a bottle of Chardonnay and dying roses. Another woman sat contemplating her penchant for falling in love with men who needed to be "fixed". And then there was the final man, a catalyst in his own right, who sat in his own office, reflecting on the fading yellow pictures from a photo booth. The night hid these sad creatures from the punishing light of day as each one contemplated the blows that had been dealt to them. Tomorrow, they all feared, would appear in the east too soon.

Hard for you

I've fallen

But you can't break my fall

I'm broken

Don't break me

When I hit the ground

Dr. James Wilson, the brilliant oncologist, took a page from Dr. House's playbook. He sat alone in a room titled "Exam Room #3". With a tongue depressor in his right hand and a cup of cotton balls in the other, he was attempting to launch said cotton balls into the garbage can. He was reclining back on the table, which made it slightly harder than it seemed. So far, a good number of the white puffs lay scattered on the ground, collecting like snow in the winter. Some had made it to their target in the garbage can, but Wilson never admitted to having much talent in this area. He usually left those things up to House.

He sighed and put another cotton ball on the tongue depressor and flicked it. This one landed in the can, and Wilson let himself smile. His date had called three hours ago and cancelled on him. It was excellent that he wasn't a practicing religious man. If he were, he'd burn in Hell for various sins committed. Wilson's two lives, when juxtaposed, were startling contrasts to one another. He was the nice, comforting doctor with the pretty wife. Then he was the smooth talker, the cheater, the adulterer…the man whose friendship with House didn't seem so odd if it was his second character one was looking at closely.

The next cotton ball missed and he thought about Allison Cameron. She was pretty, he conceded, but she was House's. It was a wonder House had not tried to offload her on to his best friend. Even if Wilson was married, sinning was much more fun than being a saint. So, he watched her beauty from afar, thinking that if House screwed things up so miserably with her and if he finally got a divorce from Juliet that Cameron might accept a date with him. It was far-fetched, he knew, but a man could hope.

There were no lights on in the room and he liked it better that way. Angels dwelled in the light and the shady characters like him cowered in the dark. He, so good in the light, was so bad in the dark. He squirreled away his pain in an empty exam room in an empty hospital. He confessed his sins to tongue depressors and cotton balls. The floor, covered with cotton, reminded him of snowy days and purity and all the things people thought he was, but he really wasn't. He reached for another cotton ball.

When he reached into the container, he felt only the plastic bottom. With a sigh, he flicked the tongue depressor into the garbage can. Unless he could find something to do, he would have to go home tonight. He cringed at the thought and decided to find something productive to do. Maybe House was up for a game of cards…