A/N: Read author's note at bottom.

Disclaimer: Not mine

(Takes place after Episode "Three Stories" (tells students about infarction)

Wilson's POV

House told his story. House told his very private, very painful, very real story, to a group of strangers nonetheless. I think it's the most I've ever heard him talk in five years. The students don't appreciate the knowledge he shared with them the same way Cuddy and I do. Foreman, Chase, and Cameron simply sat flabbergasted…and ashamed. I could see it in their eyes.

And now I stand just behind the wall, before all the offices start. I don't know how long I've been standing here. I don't know what to say to him. We've talked about it every now and then…but he never really openly discussed this with me. I mean for crying out loud we're guys! Guys don't share feelings, we don't talk about this sort of stuff, especially House.

"How long you planning on standing there?" House's yelling brought me back to reality.

I mentally cringed unsure of how long House knew of my presence. I stepped out from behind the wall and made my way to the familiar dark office. The ducklings had long been gone, not wanting to stick around for a very awkward chat. Surprisingly, even Cameron chose to leave instead of question.

"How'd you know I was there?" I asked plopping down on the couch.

"I could see your shadow. You aren't very good at hide and seek," House said sarcastically, continuing to play with his yoyo.

"Oh," I clasped my hands together nervously. "So…that was an interesting class you were teaching." I started.

"Yeah, well tell the idiot who is supposed to be teaching that class to quit drinking out of a lead cup, maybe he would be there more often."

"I think the kids appreciated you coming in and talking to them," I offered.

"That kid with the glasses reminded me of Chase."

"The one who came looking for you?" I asked trying to remember the faces.

"That one…with a little Foreman on the side. Thought he was all that and a bag of chips."

"He was pretty smart," I said, though I knew I wasting my breath.

"Yeah, he'd only kill all three patients in all three scenarios."

"I thought the golf patient was pretty interesting," I started, grabbing for House's oversized tennis ball.

"I don't care," House said his eyes focused on the ground.

"You going to treat Stacey's husband?" I asked curiously.

"Please don't tell me you're here to talk about my feelings," House said disgusted. "Next thing you know you're going to be asking me which tampon feels the best."

"Well I've been told that Tampax Pearls are pretty comfortable," I said playing along.

"What? Do you and Cameron go shopping with each other?"

I rolled my eyes. There were so many words that I wanted to say. But I couldn't because I know House wouldn't answer them. I needed to word everything properly. There's some sort of delicate balance to it.

"You never ever really told me everything about the infarction."

House caught his yoyo in his hand and held it. His eyes scanned the room unsurely before finally landing on an invisible spot besides my shoes.

"You were there. I didn't think you needed any explanation."

"You never told me you felt dead." I added.

"Now why would I tell you that?" House asked coolly.

"House. I was there. I mean I saw your pain, at times I felt it, but I never knew that it was so overwhelming that you just felt dead."

"No. I said that the patient felt dead and had visions. We're not even talking about me here." He growled out.

"Right. The golf guy," I said sarcastically. "Listen House I'm not the ducklings, or Lisa. It's me you're talking to." I reassured.

"Can you leave it alone?" He asked quietly.

"Can you?" I countered.

House's head dropped, his eyes focused on a spot besides his own shoes now. The atmosphere was so tense someone could have come in and cut through it with a machete knife. I didn't know what to say, and I hated myself for it. How can I consider myself his best friend when I couldn't even say anything?

"Did you eat?" I decided to say.

House shook his head following my lead. "Chinese take out?"

"What else is there?" I asked standing from my spot on the couch.

I watched Greg turn off the two lamps before grabbing his cane and heading towards the door. Sometimes I couldn't stand to see the cane. I knew him before he had it. I knew him when he wasn't snark, or rude, or depressed. Sometimes I wished that I could have that friend back. Sometimes I wish that he could just be the person who he used to be.

He's totally different now. I can't even remember the last time I've ever heard him laugh. It's sad that since before that week five years ago I've never heard my best friend truly laugh like he didn't have a care in the world. So many things have changed since then. Pain was his life. Pain controlled his life. It was disgusting. He no longer had any control of his life even if he wished he had.

We sat around the familiar table with different white boxes strewn on top of it. A glass of scotch replaced the normal coke he used to have all those years ago. We were watching the game, though now watching at all. In all honesty I didn't even know who was playing right now. A quick glance at the TV told me it was a baseball game from the 80's playing on ESPN classic.

"Damn it. I hate the cubs," House said taking a gulp while watching some player run the bases.

"Would you get mad at me if I start asking you questions again?" I sighed throwing down the empty container on the table, chopsticks still in my own hand.

"I'd get mad if you interrupted this game yes," House warned.

"Too bad," I said shutting the TV off.

"HEY!" House said standing up and hopping over to the set, turning it back on.

"House you've watched this game twice already!" I said taking a stab in the dark.

"I like this game," House stated.

"Fine," I resigned.

House gave a small triumphant smirk before going back to blankly staring at the TV.

"Do you feel dead inside?" I asked.

"If I say yes can I finish watching the game in peace?" House asked putting the TV on mute shooting me a glare.

"House…" I said unsurely. When he didn't look at me I put a hand on his shoulder. "Greg…please?"

He gave a big sigh brushing my hand off his shoulder roughly. But he did turn off the damn television. Once again an awkward silence fell upon the room, as he stared at me daring me to continue.

"What? What do you want me to say? Oh, I'm so in touch with my feelings. Sometimes I feel like killing myself because it all hurts so much!" House said dramatically.

I bit my lip unsurely. Actually I was quite good at deciphering that sentence. "I can help you. I am your friend remember?"

"Oh God Wilson. Sometimes I wonder who's more pathetic, you or Cameron."

"Why? Because we care about you? Because we're worried about you?" I said defensively.

"No! Because you both are pathetic, and both feel the need to fix me!" He snapped.

"I want my friend back!" I yelled. "Do you think the infarction just hurt you? I watched you slowly transform Greg. Me. I was the one who was there for it. But you can tell a room full of kids the story, some of it I never even heard before, but you can't tell me?" I asked indecorously.

I felt my own heart racing for some reason. This was pathetic. I was being an idiot for even attempting to have this conversation with him. House took a gulp of his scotch. His eyes darted everywhere but towards me. I could see his jaw was tight as he tried to comprehend what to say next.

Finally he nodded quietly. "Ok." He whispered so low that I thought I had imagined it.

He said nothing more. And I gave a loud sigh as I ran my fingers through my hair. "Listen, believe it or not I worry about you sometimes." I said standing up from the couch. "I'm going home."

"Yeah," he stood as well making his way towards the piano.

He started playing a simple melody, the tune flowing freely as his fingers gracefully danced over the keys. The song slow and sad, as with most of what he writes. Vulnerability the very definition of the music, but he doesn't soften the melody. He doesn't manipulate it to be anything more upbeat. Instead he lets it play out, slowly dying out as he lifted his fingers up, away from the keys.

"You're still here," he stated looking up at me.

The beauty of the music had mesmerized me. I was standing awkwardly with my hand on the door handle, paralyzed in the position until the music had subsided.

"When am I never?"

"You're back to talking about feelings again aren't you? I swear Jimmy if I didn't know any better you're taking lessons from Cameron."

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. "Good night." I heard him mutter some sort of good bye but it got even more muffled by the sound of the door closing.

And here I am. Back on square one, though I supposed I never left it to begin with. It's funny how fucked up this friendship is. I don't know if he sees it, but I certainly do. And I don't know how to get through to him either. But then again we're talking House here. There is no longer any Greg. He was a different person. Greg was my friend, my buddy who could laugh, and say a joke to make anyone laugh. Greg was my friend who was smart and he knew it. But Greg was also modest. He was shy and compassionate, and loveable, and everything he isn't right now. House is just a replacement of Greg. No. I would agree with House. The patient is dead.

A/N: It's a one shot, but if it gets enough reviews it can turn into something more. I hope you guys like it. It's different, and there's no slash if I do decide to continue. It's just a very strong House/Wilson friendship thing. So tell me what you think. I'm writing this by the way on my brand new computer. 

Thanks for those who read it, but decided not to review. I forgive you. Review please. It would be very much appreciated.

-Liz (4.23.07)