A/N - Oops, posted chap 3 twice, so here's chap 4.

It's five in the morning, and he's been tossing and turning all night. Usually I'm leaving right about now. I can't stand to leave before morning, but it's getting close to the point where if I don't leave now, I'm going to wind up waking up here, which is exactly what I don't want. I don't want him to see me in the mornings. Because I don't want him to know.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he stills, breathing slow and even. I slowly, carefully remove his arm from my chest, sad at the loss of warmth, and I make my way out of the bed, and slowly to the desk, it's something to lean on, since my cane's all the way across the room.

I grab my shorts, and slide them on, with a bit of difficulty. My leg's not quite cooperating yet. The jeans are up by the headboard, and I smirk, wondering how exactly they'd made it to there. I take them too, and pause over his face, before dropping a kiss to his lips. "Goodbye." I murmur, same as every morning when I leave. "See you later."

I'm leaning against the desk chair as I pull my pants up, staring at the door. If I turn around to look at him, I won't want to go. No, I've said my goodbyes. Right now, I just need to get my pants on and go home, shower, and go to work. "House-" the word freezes me in the spot, pants half up. He's awake. Was he this whole time? Did he wake up when I said goodbye?

I regain my composure enough to pull my pants up, and zipper them. "Good morning." I reply, still not turning to face him.

"House, I'm sick of this. This isn't working." Suddenly the chair becomes my only lifeline, because I feel as though my legs have gone out from under me. This was it, the moment that I knew would happen, but I never wanted it to happen like this.

This is the part that always comes, it's an accepted part of every relationship. A painful, hated part, but an accepted one nonetheless. All good things had to come to an end, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. I can feel the bile rising in my throat, but I swallow it down, feeling the burn. No, I won't do this here. I can wait until I walk out of the room, the hallway is outside, facing the courtyard. I'll wait until I get out and he can't see me, and puke outside.

I didn't even realize he had started talking again. "Sick of shitty hotel rooms, and avoiding each other all day. I'm sick of trying to remember which Wilson I'm supposed to be, the one that shows up with pizza and beer, and lets you steal chips, or the one that's here, whimpeing and begging for more. I'm sick of what we have House. I want-I need something. I need for this to end, or I need more, but what we have, it's not working."

And again, I'm glad to be hanging on to the chair, because what he's asking for-this was it. He was asking for more. He's asking for the one thing I can give him, and for some strange reason, it's making me panic. What if what he wants isn't what I can give him? What if all I can give is not enough? I turn back around, and he's pulling his shorts back on. "Wilson-" I pause, refusing to let my voice betray me. I refuse to give him anything that could be used againt me at a later date. "What you want-I'm no good at it."

I didn't want to tell him that yes, I wanted it too, desperately. That I needed more. Instead I just reached out for him, a rough palm against a smooth cheek, and he jerks away, as though burned. But I won't let him get away this easily-I won't let him hurt me this easily. So I keep my hand there, refusing to move it. "Don't." He whispers, and I'm about to let it go, leave, anything to get away from this conversation, one that's going to change things, and the only thing I can think of is that this is going to make things worse, because I can never give him what he wants, because he's always wanted what he couldn't have. "I don't want this to be the last-"

He doesn't even need to finish, but the thought's so absurd that I laugh. And he meets my gaze for the first time this morning, and I can see the fear in it. The pain. He thinks I'm leaving, that this is it. No, I'm not going to be the one walking out. I know it will happen, but I know it's going to be him leaving. Because that's just the way things are. He cheats, he leaves. But I'm not going to be the one to leave him. "What do you want?"

"You." I fight to not show the effect that that one word has on me. It's a long, deep breath to keep my composure together, because I am not going to become emotional.

"Thank god, I was expecting chocolates and mushy valentines." I smirk, the wall is back up, because I'm not going to show him just how far behind my defenses he is. That's when they leave, right when they know that you care. It was like an epic game of capture the flag, only the flag was my heart. "But me, I think I can handle that."

"Not just you, all of you. I want to wake up with you, I want to be able to kiss you over cheesy movies, and know that you're not going to pull away and tell me to do this some other time. I want you to stay. Here. Now." A single tear drops from the corner of his eye, and I can't help but brush it aside. His eyes flutter shut, and I do the only thing I know how to do to open them. I kiss him. It's the only thing that seems like a good idea. It works though, and his eyes open again.

"I'm not good at this." I tell him again. I don't want his hopes up. "I don't even know where to start with this. I don't know where we go to next, I don't know what more is," I pause, because I don't want to open up, but I know that I need to. It goes against everything I've told myself since I was a child. Emotions were a weakness, but I can't let this slip away. I can't let him slip away. "But it doesn't mean I'm not willing to try and give it to you."

there's a stunned expression on his face, as though he can't believe the words he's hearing, and I suppose he can't. But he needed to know. He kisses me, and it feels so right. I know that this won't last forever, and I hate myself for letting him in. He's going to cheat, he's going to leave, he's going to get bored and restless. It's an accepted part of a relationship. A painful, horrible one, but an accepted one nonetheless. But for now, I want this, and he wants it too. "Stay." He whispers, and he doesn't need to ask twice.