A/N: This is the final chapter and it's back to Wilson's point of view.


Wilson put down the beer he was carrying and fished out his keys from his jacket pocket. He debated for a moment whether he should use his key to House's apartment. House was playing the piano and Wilson tried to work out what kind of mood he was in by the type of music he could hear. It seemed to him as if House was just randomly pressing the keys, tapping out his thoughts in Morse Code.

Wilson eventually made the decision to return the keys to his pocket. It seemed too familiar, waltzing into House's apartment as if everything was fine between them. He knocked on the door and the playing stopped abruptly. He then heard the padding of feet which was punctuated by the tip of House's cane rhythmically hitting the wooden floor. Wilson picked up the beer and took a deep breath as he waited for the door to open. The thought of not turning up had crossed his mind briefly, but it really was never an option. House would have found him sooner or later.

The door finally opened. House actually looked surprised to see him standing there, but it was quickly glossed over by a curt, "You're late."

"Yeah, sorry." Wilson replied as House took a step back so that he could walk into the living room. House had done that so many times in the past, but this time it felt strange, different. Wilson glanced around the living room. He noticed the half-empty glass and the open amber container on the piano. A single tablet lay next to the glass and Wilson wondered if he had interrupted House from taking it.

House placed his cane on the floor and sat on the couch as Wilson put the beers in the kitchen. He returned to the couch with two opened bottles. He took a gulp from his and set the bottles on the coffee table in front of him. He took his jacket off and joined House on the couch. As he sank into the soft leather, he felt himself relax a little.

"You're not going to Cuddy's dinner party." House said, glancing at the small clock in the corner of the room and then at Wilson. It had been obvious as soon as he had seen Wilson at the door dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt.

"No." Wilson replied. He stared at the two bottles on the coffee table and wondered if House expected some sort of an apology from him.

"What about whatsherface?" Under other circumstances Wilson would've made a light-hearted remark about House not bothering to remember details like a person's name. But instead he just shrugged his shoulders.

"It wasn't working. It didn't work." Wilson said quickly. He assumed that House would be unwilling to talk about it any further. Especially since the conversation would be about how Wilson was feeling.

"I could've told you that." House said as he reached out and grabbed his beer from the table.

"You did. And I yelled at you for it." It was Wilson's way of saying that House was right. They sat in silence for a few minutes and Wilson wished that everything between them would go back to normal. He wanted House to switch the television on or go back to playing the piano for a while. But House didn't make any attempt to move from where he was sitting.

"Your first marriage was around the time your brother left." House suddenly began. Wilson did his best to hide his surprise at House wanting to talk about it. He let his head fall back against the couch and gazed up at the ceiling. Wilson quickly decided that if House was actually willing to discuss it, then he would feed his curiosity. He didn't think he would ever get another chance.

"A few months after, yeah." Wilson confirmed.

"Why did you marry her?" House asked. Wilson could see House staring at him from the corner of his eye. As the response formed in Wilson's mind it somehow didn't sound a good enough explanation, even to him.

"I loved her. My family loved her too." Wilson recalled the memory of his mother telling him how happy she was on his wedding day.

"So you were the good son. The one who spent all his time working to be a brilliant doctor instead of partying and hanging out with the 'wrong' people. The one who married the kind, sweet girl. The son that kept his family together." Wilson was surprised to hear softness in House's voice. The scathing, critical tone that he normally used wasn't there.

"Everything you said is true." Wilson admitted. "But it wasn't about not disappointing my parents."

"Not entirely. She was a distraction, for you, for your parents. You didn't have to worry about what other people thought if you were too busy pretending your family was perfect."

"Maybe." Wilson said softly. "But I didn't realise that at the time."

"But you're still so wrapped up in how everyone sees you. Why do you care what they think?" House continued, genuinely interested in what Wilson would say.

Wilson knew that was the one thing that held him back. He always thought about the respectable image he projected to others even while he did things that contradicted it, especially his friendship with House which often undermined the fa├žade he had carefully created.

"I should be more like you, you mean." Wilson retorted. He secretly admired House's ability to confound people's expectations. He had freedom Wilson could only dream of. But Wilson doubted himself; his intelligence and his ability to make a real difference. He thought that he might have been like House in some ways, but in that particular way he was the complete opposite.

"You should try it sometime. You'd stop yourself sleeping with women you aren't interested in." The usual half-mocking tone returned to the conversation as House spoke. Wilson felt more at ease as he continued to tell House the things that he hadn't wanted to admit to anyone else.

"I can't show people what I'm really like, House." Wilson confessed. "They wouldn't like what they see."

"I know you." House said quietly. "I should've asked why a long time ago." House took a long drink of his beer so he couldn't see Wilson's reaction. Wilson was completely surprised and turned his head in House's direction. It sounded to him as if House was apologising, as near as he would ever get to actually saying sorry.

"But I wouldn't have been able to give you the answer." Wilson eventually replied.

"Kate. You said it didn't work." House said suddenly changing the subject once again.

"I just wanted to feel a connection with someone. But I know it isn't enough to reach out to the first person that comes along."

"So what are you gonna do now?" House's voice was calm and steady as he spoke, but Wilson could see the mixture of nervousness and hope on House's face.

'I know you' echoed in Wilson's mind. House was the one person that he was completely truthful with. The only person who saw beyond his charming smile and didn't think he was a nice person.

"House." Wilson said gently. He waited patiently for House to return his gaze. He saw the answer shining from House's luminous eyes. The connection he had longed to feel was there. He didn't feel lost any longer.

Wilson took the beer bottle from House's fingers and put it back on the coffee table along with his. He then turned his body to face House and leaned forward and pressed his lips against House's. Wilson felt House relax against him as long, slender fingers raked through his hair and pulled him closer still. Wilson instantly felt it was right that he was sharing a kiss with House. There was no uncertainty, only relief and joy that they had finally reached that point.

As they eventually broke apart Wilson gazed at House and saw him smiling brightly at him. Wilson returned the smile and thought that maybe they had both had enough of being miserable. Perhaps they could now try being happy together.

The End.