AN: Hello. I am new to the House, MD fandom. Please be nice to me. Criticism is my best friend! Gimme gimme!

Disclaimer: I do not own the character House or anything else that Fox owns that I might want to own but don't.

Motivation

"You're worried."

House, who was previously staring out at the TV, turned to Wilson, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I'm sorry--were you trying to analyze me?"

Wilson sighed, looking down at the floor. "You're not sure of what you need to do--if this was any other patient you'd be all gung-ho about what needed to be done. You're too hesitant."

"Great--I get yelled at for being too brazen, and now I'm getting lectured for being cautious," House turned his attention back to the TV. "Leave me alone, I'm trying to think."

"House--if he dies it's not your fault," Wilson said earnestly. "But if you're just going to sit there and do nothing--"

"There's not a damn thing I can do, Wilson," House responded, getting out of his chair, using his cane to get steady as he reached into his pocket for Vicodin.

"Then do something about it! Go back to the house--anything that gets your mind moving--you still have time, House."

House remained silent, now staring at the ground. "Why did you come here? To lecture me on how to do my job? At least I don't screw my patients."

Wilson looked away from House. "Please--can we not have this conversation again?" he asked. "Look, I'm just worried about you. I'm the only friend you have-- I want to do what I can to help you. If lecturing you on how to deal with your patient motivates you to do your job and find out what's wrong--and fix it--instead of watching you patient die, I'm going to lecture you," Wilson stated, placing his hands on his hips. "You made Foreman better--that man that's lying in that bed needs you to perform at your best. Think of him as a stranger--anything that'll get you taking risks again."

"I don't want to take risks--not on my father," House muttered.

"So you're going to run away? If you're not going to do anything, you should just tell him that, so he knows his son isn't going to even try to save his life. What about your mother, House? Do you really want her to be alone?"

"I'm not running away!" House growled, pushing past Wilson.

"Then what're you doing?" Wilson asked, sounding exasperated. "Are you going to tell your father that there's nothing left you can do? Or are you going to keep lying to him, telling him that you'll find out what's wrong?"

House stopped storming away, his hand on the door, ready to push it open. "All humans lie, Wilson. It's in our nature."

"So--you're going to do the human thing? You're actually going to lie to him? He's your father, House--"

"He's also just another patient," House muttered, pushing open the door, limping away from his office towards the direction of his patient.

Wilson stood there, his mouth hanging slightly open before he closed it, a small smile crossing his face. He shook his head, still smiling as he walked out of House's office, and headed towards his own. He had his own patients to attend to, after all.