Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Summary: Wilson goes to the funeral. The fellows are not happy to see him.

A/N: Okay, I'm still here. A lot of people asked for a scene where Wilson get's what he deserves. So here you go. Also, since I started this before Birthmarks, House's dad is still alive. It just felt mean to leave poor Blythe House all alone.

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Wilson approached the funeral home slowly, almost afraid of his reception. Cuddy had told him he probably wouldn't be welcome, but he couldn't bring himself to stay away. He owed it to House. He slipped into the funeral home a few minutes late and snuck into the last row. He could see House's parents sitting up front. Blythe was crying softly while John sat ramrod straight.

Cuddy was behind them, staring off into space. Foreman, Chase, and Cameron sat next to her. Foreman was looking worriedly at Cuddy while Cameron leaned on Chase, tears flowing down her face.

Kutner sat on the other side of the room, with a young woman Wilson assumed was his girlfriend. Taub and his wife sat next to Kutner. Wilson was surprised to see Thirteen in the company of a young woman, sitting behind Taub. Others from the hospital were there; House may not have been well-liked, but he was well-respected.

Wilson's eyes flowed over everyone else, his eyes freezing on the man sitting a few rows ahead of him. Detective Tritter had come to House's funeral? Probably come to make sure the other man was really dead. Still, he came? House really could command respect. Even from those who hated him.

The ceremony went on, but Wilson ignored it, focusing on the casket. He couldn't believe that it held the best friend he'd ever had. He'd screwed up, and it had cost House his life. The casket was open, and Wilson dreaded walking up there to pay his respects. He couldn't see the face of the man he'd spent the better part of his life with, but it was there when he closed his eyes. And for the life of him, House could only recall the last time he'd seen his best friend. When he'd walked out on him in his office.

He knew there must have been smiles at some point, but all he could see was the hurt and disappointment on House's face as he'd walked away. He'd give anything to be able to remember House's smile.

It wasn't until the pallbearers stood to carry out the casket that he was noticed. Foreman and Chase stood up, along with John, Kutner, and Taub. Wilson watched in silence as a few more men stood up as well. Chase caught sight of him and froze, staring at him.

Foreman followed his gaze first before shaking his head in disgust and leading Chase back to the casket. Taub and Kutner turned to see what they were looking at and spotted him as well. They merely stared for a moment before heading back to the casket.

Wilson hung his head in shame. He wasn't welcome here. He'd skip the graveyard service. As they carried the casket out, Blythe turned to talk to Cuddy and spotted him in the back. She smiled, standing and walking to him. She, at least, seemed happy to see him. "James," she whispered, hugging him, "It's so good to see you."

Wilson hugged her back, "I'm so sorry, Blythe."

Blythe's smile remained frozen in place, "I don't blame you, James. It was about time you did something for you. He died on his terms. I think he would have liked that."

Wilson didn't know what to say, "If there's anything I can..."

"You're coming to the grave site, yes?" She pulled away. "I'll see you there. She allowed Cuddy to lead her out of the room. Cuddy gave him a nod as they passed.

Wilson sighed, now he would have to go. Resigning himself to his fate, he left the funeral home and headed for his car.

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The graveyard service was nice and simple. Wilson kept himself on the edges of the crowd, not venturing too close. While Blythe was happy to see him, nearly everyone else was either sending him dirty looks or looking at him in confusion. He didn't know which was worse: that they didn't want him here or that they couldn't understand why he'd come.

When the service was over, the mourners began to mingle. Wilson tried to sneak away, but was stopped by Chase. "Hello, Wilson," he greeted softly.

Wilson sighed, "Chase."

"You've got some nerve, showing up here." Chase was angry. "Couldn't bring yourself to come to the hospital when it mattered, could you?"

Wilson looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I'm here at House's mother's request. I'm leaving now."

Chase nodded, "Walking away is what you're good at, isn't it?"

"Please. He was a drug addict who pushed everyone away. Why are you surprised that he pushed too far? He always had to push things until they broke." Wilson knew it was his fault, but he'd be damned if he let someone else tell him that.

Chase's eyes narrowed, "You blamed him for Amber's death. And you couldn't handle it. He begged for you."

Before Wilson could defend himself; before he'd even registered it was coming, Chase's fist connected with his lip. Wilson stumbled back, his hand automatically going to his mouth, unsurprised to taste blood.

Foreman and Taub grabbed Chase's arms. Foreman turned to Wilson, "I suggest you leave, Wilson."

Wilson nodded, "Leaving now," he assured. Still fingering his busted lip, he left the graveyard. The pain in his lip was expected; the tears falling down his cheeks weren't.

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