A/N: Because somewhere, at sometime, someone is going to write this fanfiction, and I don't want to be accused of stealing someone's idea. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of this mental rough draft I've had in my mind for months. Yes, I was inspired by "Son of a Coma Guy". No, this has nothing to do with medicgirl's "The Fall of Saint Jimmy" and if there are any similarities, I am terribly sorry. I literally spent hours on this website looking for a fanfiction similar to the one I am about to write. A friend warned me not to use this title, because it will attract "Supernatural" fans. I've never seen an episode, so I haven't a clue what that means. I also read something about this show today that completely made me go into hyperventilation mode and I decided that I needed to start right away .I'm only starting this today because, like I said, I'm tired of waiting. And if I don't do it now...well, then I wont do it for a while. So please, fasten your seatbelts...and enjoy the ride.

DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to David Shore.


"With the hallucinations, it could mean neurological sym---"

"Get a head CT and send the results to radiology."

Like the ever-faithful interns they were, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase filed out of the office to perform the non-unique test for the non-un-common patient, which was defiantly going to be marked as a non-case. House was bored, and when House was bored, he needed a distraction. He needed to be entertained. If not that--he needed to entertain the un-entertained. A smirk played on his lips as he thought of visiting a particular, and most-like busy oncologist. He opened the glass door that led to the balcony. One leap over the toddler wall and he was on the other side.

House barged his way into Dr. Wilson's office to find his friend deep in conversation.

"And how long ago did these people report the sightings?"

If House's life had been a movie, James Wilson would've defiantly won an Oscar for his intense performance. Edge of seat. Elbows propped on his desk. Left hand dearly clutching his cell phone, and a stern look on his face. As if he were begging for each and every word from this unknown person on the other line, yet obscenely terrified of hearing the next words...House was subconsciously reminded of Colin Farrell in "Phone Booth".

"No...yes, I understand, but---" Wilson's eyes briefly met House's as he began to sit down opposite him. Acknowledgement of my presence. Very cute, Wilson. "--Yes, its full-time...yes, of course..." House began thumping his cane on the carpet floor, when Wilson's eyes shot right up at him again, this time in warning. House squinted back at the younger man, but stopped thumping nonetheless." I can do it...yes, I'm sure...within the week...yes...alright, you have my number. Thank you so much...you too. Bye."...Wait for the cell-phone shut...SNAP! ...and here we go.

The SNAP! immediately was followed by a long drawn-out moan from Wilson, shutting his eyes with the palms of his hands. House waiting until after he finished surfing his hands through his hair over and over again, then finally began once his head was propped up by his hand--looking down, clearly in frustration.

"So...you're ordering full-time now, huh? Be careful, those babes are alot of money. They'll suck you dry, and I mean that both metaphorically and literally." When Wilson didn't respond to his normal dose of sarcasm (and these days, he usually retorted back with an equal amount) he clicked his tongue, and just went straight for the gold. "Who was it?"

At first, Wilson didn't seem to hear him. But a second glance told him that he was trying to calm his shaky breathing, and collect himself. Whatever it was, it was most defiantly not about a patient. Moments later, he looked up at House.

"The FBI, they...they confirmed sightings of my brother."

House drew in a breath of air, almost in relief, but held it...

"Is he...alright?"

"Yeah, he's alright...they want me to go and...well, basically. take him in, 'confirm' him, I don't know, something..." with that, Wilson quickly stood from his chair, in pursuit of the door. House stood up, too.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Wilson was mere centimeters from the doorknob as he turned to House.

"Talk to Cuddy"


"I need a few days off," he said, hurriedly. House was confused.

"You told me that you last saw your brother---"

"He's in California," he swiftly replied, almost angrily. This shut House up. "So..I'm apparently going to have to drive all the way over there and...and meet him. Its not exactly going to take just my lunch break now, is it?" the door was closed just as House was about to pursue. Naturally, he stepped out of the office, in pursuit of a fleeting Wilson.

"You said drive" House stated loudly, catching up with Wilson. But Wilson did not stop. "Security's beefed up on planes nowadays, Jimmy. I mean, I know 9/11 was a tragic event, but you gotta learn to---" Wilson suddenly turned around to face House.

"House! Stop it! Can you just---just stop it!? The last thing I need right now is you trailing behind me with most pointless comments a person can ever think of!" With that, he spun back around, onward to Cuddy's office. He was obviously in distress. Scared, even. Any other day, Wilson would've explained the situation to House first, and House was quiet aware of that. But he didn't even seem to want to explain anything to House this time. The situation was obviously more intense then he first thought. Three thumps with his cane, two pills popped into his mouth, then he quietly made his way back to his own office.

Wilson never took vacation days, so it was no surprise that Cuddy, without an argument, let him have the week off. His head was spinning. It had been 11 years since he last saw his brother, and their parting wasn't well. Wilson can clearly remember yelling at his older brother, making him feel guilty that he was suppose to be the person Wilson looked up to, and not the other way around. They weren't suppose to be that family. The broken one, the one that people gossip about while shopping for groceries.

But they were, and it was too late to change things around.

He returned to his office, deciding that the rest of his day was going to be spent making phone calls to cancel appointments for the upcoming days. But they all went by in a blur. He was barely thinking about the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Sylar, but I'm going to have to cancel", "Mr. Leonard, please excuse me, but..." "I'm sorry for all the trouble, Miss Myers..."...none of these conversations could erase "Mr. Wilson, we have confirmed sighting reports of your brother..."

It was nearing dark once he finished his last phone call. He figured he'd skip dinner, get straight to bed, and head for the road around noon tomorrow. It was going to be a long week. Just after shutting down his computer, his office door opened. No surprises to see House standing in the threshold. Wilson sighed. Sooner or later, he was going to have to put up with House's curiosity. House closed the door behind him.

"So. When are we leaving?" he asked brightfully, almost with a smile. Wilson stared at him for a few seconds, lost.

"Uh...I'm leaving tomor---"

"--We're" House corrected. Wilson dropped his arms at his side.

"What is this? Some kind of trick of the mind? You keep saying the plural version of what I say, and I'll eventually catch on?"

House closed his mouth, and swished around the trapped air inside.

"Cuddy...gave me the week off"

Without delay, Wilson bursted out laughing. This wasn't the laugh House liked, though. This was the ironic one. The "You-Better-Be-Joking-With-Me-Or-So-Help-Me-God" laugh.

"Ahaha...No. No, no, no, no." he said, still chuckling.

"My leg's going to have to disagree with your little vacation! There's no other way"

"No, House! This is---this is crazy! You're not coming with me!"

"Yes I am"

"No, you are not"

"Yes I am"

"No you're not"

"Do you want to keep playing this game, Wilson? C'mon. You're going to need the emotional support that nobody except your bestest bestest friend can give you. Plus, I'm already packed!"

"Did you---drug Cuddy into saying yes about this?"

"She agrees with me!"

"House! I'm driving across the country! I can hardly handle that, what about you? And your leg?"

"So? Just write me two extra prescriptions"

"Your team is--"

"--Sitting on their asses all day, doing CTs and writing boring lab reports"

"But what if---"

House rolled his eyes. Wilson was looking for any excuse for him to back out of it. He should've known him better.

"--What if you just shut up and accept that I'm coming with you?"

Wilson turned around, muttering something that House couldn't hear, but he caught the words" car" "crazy" and "pill-popping". He had a playful smile when he turned back around, an almost reluctant one. House knew he was on board. Wilson tried to meet his eyes, but the smile wouldn't leave. House could tell that Wilson was torn between annoyance and anticipation.

"Pick me up in the morning, Jimmy. Don't worry, I've packed snacks, and mad-libs and everything!" House said with his sarcastic voice. He closed the door behind him, leaving a frozen Wilson rooted to the spot.

Wilson could almost swear that AC/DC was across the hall, holding some kind of charity concert for the hospital. Because "Highway to Hell" was screaming in his ears.

A/N: Reviews, please!