House strolled into Wilson's office, without knocking as usual, tossing his patient's file onto Wilson's desk as he came into the room.
"Need a consult," he said as Wilson opened the file, "my patient's in cardiac arrest on and off."
"Ouchie," he finished sardonically, taking a longer look at Wilson.
The younger oncologist was scanning the file in his careful, meticulous way. After several long moments he replied.
"Doesn't look like paraneoplastic, lymphoma, or metastatic osteosarcoma. You should do blood work for autoimmune and leukemia, though, just to be thorough."
House gave a curt nod.
"Thanks. I'll get my team on it."
House made his way to the window and looked out over the balcony the two shared at the graying skies. Neither said anything for a long minute. Finally, Wilson broke the silence.
"Is there something else, House?"
"Gee, if I didn't know better I'd think you didn't want me here."
Wilson shrugged.
"Just waiting for the agenda."
"I just…wanted to find out how you're doing," House said awkwardly.
Wilson looked at House as he spoke, his voice clear but emotionless.
"I'm fantastic, House. My girlfriend's dead."
"Wow, you're really milking this bereavement thing, aren't you?" House said, his usual sardonic tone firmly in place.
"I'm resigning," Wilson said, his voice carrying through the silence like a knife.
House's eyes found Wilson's instantly, House leveling Wilson with his piercing blue gaze.
"You're not serious."
"Believe what you want, House, but I got a position in New York and they're expecting me next month. I've already given Cuddy my notice."
House simply stared.
"Why? Why are you leaving?"
At this Wilson got to his feet, placing his palms flat upon his desk and leveling House with a piercing gaze to match House's own.
"What do I have keeping me here?"
House seemed to shrink at these words, and he could not find a reply. Silence reigned until Wilson spoke once more.
"Damn it, House!" he said, slamming his hand upon the desk for emphasis, startling the older man. The two were now looking at each other over Wilson's desk, the tension palpable.
"It's been a week," Wilson said, his voice nearly breaking, "one week since she died. I spent this weekend at her funeral. But here I am, head of oncology as usual. I haven't lost my mind and I haven't spiraled into a depression. Listen, I'll help you with your patients, I'll play mediator between you and Cuddy, I'll even try to help your team understand your insanity. Until I leave. But since one week after losing the woman I love all you can say is that I'm 'milking this bereavement thing' you can just get the hell out of my office."
House turned to leave, but was stopped by Wilson's voice.
"You are such a coward."
House turned to face Wilson once more.
"What?"
Wilson locked eyes with House, the brown eyes hard and unwavering.
"This is it, House. This is your chance. You know as well as I do that all you have to do is…something. Anything. Demonstrate some kind of humanity to convince me you give a damn and I'll stay. But you're too scared for that, aren't you?"
"And what am I scared of?" House said, with a bravado he didn't really feel.
"Admitting that you might actually care about someone besides yourself. You've always been scared of that. If someone else means something to you, you might lose them."
At this point Wilson faltered, and fell into his seat again.
"Like I did," Wilson said softly.
House paused for a moment, watching Wilson carefully.
"So why should I admit anything? It sure as hell hasn't seemed to help you any."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Wilson said, his voice rising.
"I know all that 'tis better to have loved' crap. But it's a lie. Are you actually telling me that loving her hasn't left you with anything but regret and pain?"
Wilson stood up, stepping purposefully to come nose to nose with House. When he spoke his voice was hardened steel.
"You listen to me, House. Loving Amber was the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. If you ever dishonor her memory or what she meant to me again my reputation as a tame and peaceful oncologist will be summarily ended."
House had never seen Wilson like this before. There was no fury, no rage. It was a cold and righteous anger blazing in the brown eyes now, and House could tell that Wilson's was no idle threat.
Wilson sighed.
"You don't get it, do you?" Wilson said, taking a step back from House, but never breaking eye contact.
"I don't regret loving Amber. Not for one second."
"But she died," House said quietly, "We did everything we could to save her and…she still died."
"You're not God, House," Wilson said, more quietly now, "you can't save everyone. Neither can I. If I didn't accept that a long time ago I'd never have made it as an oncologist."
"So you're fine with losing her?"
Wilson looked at House as if he were insane.
"Of course I'm not fine. Why is that the only choice with you? Either I regret loving her or I'm back to normal? It doesn't work that way when you lose someone close to you."
"How does it work?"
"You break," Wilson said, "and nothing is right anymore. But slowly you put the pieces back together. And hopefully when all is said and done you can hold onto the happy memories you had together."
"Alone," House said pointedly.
"Alone," Wilson said sadly.
"So what's the point?" House asked contemptuously.
"What's the alternative? Become a closed off, misanthropic cynic who can't even hope for a connection to another human being? That's you, House, that's not me. And it's not who I want to be."
House paused, his eyes upon the floor in front of him. Giving Wilson a curt nod, he turned his back on the younger oncologist, placing his hand upon the doorknob. For several long moments he stood there, staring at his hand, unable to bring himself to open the door. Without looking back at Wilson House spoke, his voice small and frightened.
"I know there's nothing I can say to bring her back. But you are my best friend. This place needs you. I need you. I hope you change your mind about leaving."
With that House threw upon the door with a sudden movement, as though he would suffocate if he stayed in the room for one more moment. Before he could make it through the doorway, though, Wilson's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"House."
House stilled, but did not look at Wilson.
"You're buying lunch later," Wilson said, a small smile curving his lips.
House made his way through the door before either could say anything more. He closed the door of Wilson's office and leaned against it, smiling a small, enigmatic smile. No one was there, however, to notice the silent tear that fell down his face at the same time.
A/N: So I saw the preview for Season 5 on YouTube (tsk, tsk, I know, but I couldn't help myself!) A scene of course, was inspired by the lines in the preview...
For those who haven't seen it, the lines that were in the preview are House and Wilson's...
Wilson: "My girlfriend's dead."
House: "Wow, you're really milking this bereavment thing, aren't you?"
Wilson: "I'm resigning."