Save Me From Myself

Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D.

Chapter 1

"You are going to the party, and that is final!" Wilson practically shouted at House.

"Why should I? That party is just a celebration of rich, self-righteous pompous asses who want to make a public spectacle of their wealth and so-called generosity. Frankly, my dear, I just don't give a damn." House shot back. Sure, he stole that last line from Rhett Butler, but Cuddy stole the "when doctors screw up, people die" line from General Hospital, so he figured that it was OK.

"Don't you think that your assumption is a little bit too harsh?" Wilson asked. "Its an oncology benefit gala. If it wasn't for the "so-called generosity" of these people, PPTH wouldn't have an oncology department."

"And you wouldn't have a job. You still haven't told me why I should care." House picked up his cane and started to walk away.

'Time to pull out the trump card. Its now or never." Wilson thought.

"House...to be perfectly honest...there is another reason why I want you to go to the gala..." Wilson began hesitantly.

House swiveled around on his cane and cast an inquisitive glance at Wilson.

"There is a girl that I want you to meet..."

"A girl? How old is she? 15? 17, maybe?" House asked sarcastically.

"No, she's...I don't know exactly how old she is. Could you stop being an ass just long enough for me to tell you something?"

"Sorry, I just can't hide who I am on the inside." House said acerbically.

Wilson sighed. "Her name is Amanda. She is a physiotherapist. I met her at a previous oncology dinner that I went to."

"The one that you spoke at? The one that caused you to miss monster trucks?" House paused. "No, wait, you actually went out to dinner with Stacy!"

"Look, I'm sorry about that. Its just that I really think that you need some contact with the outside world. You're always at the hospital, or holed up in your apartment. All of your social contact is with your team, Cuddy, or, God-forbid, your patients. Don't you want to meet some other people -"

"No, you want to meet other people. You are the one that needs "contact with the outside world". And you know what else, you are always hiding out in your office or my apartment. Stop trying to make this all about me just to feel better about your own lame-ass existence."

"OK, stop. I get it. Fine. And you know what, House, you're right. But can't you look beyond yourself for, like, five seconds to see my situation? I'm divorced, being home in my apartment by myself sucks, and somehow I don't seem to have many friends anymore. So what do I do? I spend all my time at the hospital, or at your place." Wilson stopped, dropping his gaze. "Its the reason that my marriage broke down in the first place, and now its just getting worse. And you're sure as hell not helping anything."

"Poor baby Wilson is lonely..." House said.

"Fine. Have it your way. I didn't expect any less from you anyway." Wilson started to walk away from House, but suddenly stopped and turned to look directly at House. "I just wish that you valued our friendship enough to make a sacrifice, oh, maybe once every blue moon."

"Oh, come on," House piped up. "You're still my friend because I'm still damaged. I'm needy, and neediness sustains you. As long as your friends are weak, you feel stronger than you really are. The only reason you haven't married me is because I'm not a woman."

House paused for effect, seeing Wilson suck in his breath as though he had been punched in the gut. "You don't really want me to make sacrifices, because it takes strength to make sacrifices, and if I am strong then I would become a threat to you. You wouldn't be able to entertain illusions of "fixing" me anymore, or use my problems to distract you from your own."

Wilson sighed, utterly defeated.