A man with a grey beard sits on his bed, alone in his room, or as he likes to call it his cell, his right leg propped up in the chair in front of him. His leg pained him, but there will be no relief. There is a drawer at the head of his bed, which had been is pressed against the right wall. The bed looks like a sterile hospital bed except with rumpled covers. The drawer holds a phone on top and had held a bible in the top drawer, but the man had quickly tossed it away when he found it. There is another chair on the opposite wall. The chairs are typical office chairs. This man is waiting. He is waiting to be let out.

A worried man stands outside the door of this solitary man. He looks as if he spent too much time deciding whether to enter the door. His overcoat has speckles of rain. His hair is disheveled from the many times he has run his hands through it. He wrings his hand one last time and clears the anxious look from his face as he nods to the guard. The guard opens the door.

"Here he is, Dr. Wilson."

Dr. Wilson, James E. Wilson, M.D. as the sign on his office door says. He enters the room, lets out a deep breath and sits in the empty chair across from the grey man. He stares at the man, the worry returning to his eyes.

"You look like hell," he tries to say jokingly, but it gets a bit choked on it's way out. The other man does not even glance up. He allows his eyebrows to furrow.

"Did you hear me, House? Or are you just going to ignore me? I came all the way here, even though I know you don't want me here, but I wanted to see you…and…will you just look at me!" he stands up, looks at the man and sits back down.

"Sorry," he tries to say more, but cannot get anything else out. He waits. The other man, House, or rather, Gregory House, M.D., glances up and looks perplexedly at Wilson. Wilson looks right back.

"I thought you left already."

"No, why would I leave?"

"Well, usually when I ignore one of my hallucinations, they go away, though I have to admit I've never hallucinated you, Jimmy, but it was a matter of time."

Wilson shakes his head. "You think I'm a hallucination? I'm not, House"

"Yeah, well prove it, but you can't because you will say only what I think Wilson would say, and I got Wilson pretty pinned down."

Wilson walks over to House and grips his shoulders. "Why would you hallucinate me, House?"

"Because I'm lonely and too stubborn to call you and you're too considerate to come here and let me let you see me vulnerable!" Wilson is shocked.

"But I am here, House! Can't you see that?"

"You're just something my mind made up to keep me company, but I just had to know you so well that you'd be bitchy instead."

"House…" Wilson said softly, lowering himself to House's height.

Just then, another Wilson enters the room, let out a sigh and said, "House, you look like hell." House looks up and the first Wilson hesitantly follows his gaze, finding nothing.

"Crap."

"What?" Both Wilsons replies. House looks from one Wilson to the other. Both look at him questioningly and ask, "Is there a hallucination, House?" House closes his eyes and opens them again. Both are still there, looking worriedly at him. He lets out a sigh and glances at both.

"There are two of you." Both Wilsons were shocked.