A/N: Sorry for the massive disappearance lately. I had no time to do this recently; I had tons of homework last weekend, and I was out with friends most of the weekend before. You should get tons of new fic on the 20th, I'm going to be on a plane with my laptop for fourteen hours. Also, thank you all for reviewing. You have no idea how much every single review, favorite, and story alert means to me. I'm not quite sure if this is how I wanted it to turn out, I'll see if I want to continue it/change it later, but for now this is it.

"House? Look, I know you were... I mean, nobody will hold it against you if you don't come in... Hello?"

"Foreman, it's Wilson."

"Wilson? Why are you there?" I detected a bit of resentment in Foreman's tone, and some confusion. I had to admit even to myself that I hadn't been a very good friend recently. That could be dealt with later, though. I had a more pressing matter to contend with.

"Foreman, that can wait. House is..." I didn't know what to say. House values his privacy so much.

"Yeah, I think I get the picture. I saw him yesterday night, before he went home. I don't know how he was still upright. He practically bit my head off, though."

Foreman wasn't the ideal person in this situation, but he'd have to do. "Look, I need you to help me out a bit here. House passed out due to the pain, and there's no morphine around." I looked carefully at House, trying to assess his physical state without touching him. "Could you please bring over some morphine, and some stuff to clean him up with?"

Foreman didn't even bother replying, he quickly hung up

I held House anxiously as I waited for Foreman to return with his pain meds. House was probably too out of it at this point to hear me, but I sat next to him anyways, whispering comfortingly. "Hold on, House. Help is on the way."

House didn't dignify that with a real response, just a shaky, quiet laugh that quickly turned into a grimace. I gently reached over and gently touched House's leg once again. It was spasming, as I'd feared. I gently took my hand away again, knowing that the touch was making House uncomfortable and in more pain than usual.

It seemed like hours later when I heard a knock on the door. It had to be Foreman; who else would be here?

"It's open!" I called out. I didn't want to risk jostling my friend by getting up.

Foreman quietly stepped into the room. "Shit," he whispered. I just nodded sadly. Nobody should have to deal with this sort of pain.

Foreman leaned down, carefully injecting House with the morphine. We sat there with baited breath, hoping that this would do the trick.

At last, House calmed down, sinking into my arms. Foreman helped me lift him up and carry him into his bed. I pulled blankets up around him, making sure to get his leg elevated. It promised to kill him tomorrow.

But, tomorrow was tomorrow. For now, I just wanted to make sure that he was going to be okay. We'd have to talk in the morning; nobody should ever have to be in that much pain.

House and I, and perhaps Foreman, would find him the right meds. I wouldn't leave my friend for whichever woman I was dating. We'd been through far too much together.