Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters In this story! They belong to Fox and House, M.D.

House awoke with the worst amount of pain he had ever felt in his life. It was like someone had ripped out his heart and sawed off his leg all at once. The room swam in front of his eyes and it took him a moment to figure out that he was lying in a hospital bed. Cuddy was seated beside him, her head leaning forward and very much asleep.

He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He let out a deep groan. Jesus, what have they done to me?

"House?" His eyes snapped open. Cuddy was awake and looking a little groggy. Concern flitted across her face. Something about her was different, but he wasn't quite lucid enough to place it. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked a few times, trying to come up with the right words. How could he tell her that he felt terrible for ruining their relationship, hurt because she had lost all faith in him, and that he was also in agonizing physical pain because his leg felt like it was on fire?

"Like shit. What the hell am I doing in the hospital?" He could tell he sounded annoyed, and made a note to dial down the sarcasm. After all, the last time he could recall speaking to her was when she stood in the doorway and told him that he couldn't be the man for her because he was an addict who only loved himself. A fact he had proven over and over again.

Cuddy hesitated before answering. "You overdosed on Vicodin." Her expression hardened; all the concern going out of her face. She looked guarded, like she wanted to tell him off but couldn't. Suddenly, House was able to place what was different about her.

Her hair was pulled up off of her neck in an up-do usually reserved for high school girls about to be harassed by over eager, pimply faced prom dates. Her makeup was different than usual. She looked much too made-up for just about anything in her normal range of activities.

Cuddy rose from her chair and walked to the edge of the bed. House sensed her need to put distance between them. As he watched her cross the room, he took in her clothing. She was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a plain blue t-shirt.

Why is she made-up so pretty but dressed so shitty?

House searched his head for any more clues. Nothing. The only thing he could remember was her standing in the doorway as he begged her not to end it.

"What was the point?" she finally asked.

"What?"

"What happened? You were doing great. Why did you go back on Vicodin, House?" It wasn't really a question. She knew why he couldn't stop.

He remained silent. He was an addict. That's all he felt like he could say.

"I was scared," he told her as he had before. Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I…I thought I was going to lose you. It was stupid. I'm an idiot."

Confusion played on her face. As she opened her mouth to respond, the door slid open and Wilson came in. He looked disheveled and even more tired than she did. House took in his appearance. Wilson was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white long sleeve button up. It looked almost as if he had been wearing a tux.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I just talked to Foreman. They're going to keep you overnight to watch for any effects from the Narcan and then send you home tomorrow." Wilson had turned on his Doctor mode. He turned to Cuddy. "Lucas is looking for you." Wilson looked as if he were angry with Cuddy.

Without a word, Cuddy locked eyes with Wilson and left the room. Now House was extremely confused, she almost looked like she was shouldering some unbearable load of guilt.

"What the hell is going on with everybody around here?" House questioned.

"Good question. Why did I come home and find you lying on the floor in the bathroom with an empty pill bottle next to you? Are you just trying to get attention, House? You can't stand for her to be happy – for anyone to be happy because you're not!"

An image flashed through his mind. He was sitting propped against the bath tub, contemplating death. He popped the lid of the orange bottle and tossed two Vicodin into his mouth. Still, the pain wouldn't stop. The ache in his heart wouldn't ease. He popped two more. Then, what, five minutes later probably another two or three. If he couldn't close the hole in his heart maybe he could forget about it.

"All I want is for her to be happy, but I want to do that for her, Wilson, and I can't. I thought I could do better but we both know I can't."

Wilson plopped down in the seat where Cuddy had been. They were quiet for a long time. Finally House asked, "How long was I out?"

"About seventeen hours. We reversed the respiratory depression with Narcan, but it took forever for you to wake up. I knew I should have stayed with you tonight. I had a feeling you would do something stupid."

Wilson knew? Cuddy must have called him on the way over and told him she was going to end it with House. Wilson knew before it happened and he didn't even warn him. Well, in his own way he did. He kept telling House 'not to screw it up'.

"Listen, House, I know it's hard on you. As soon as she said she was going to marry Lucas I noticed you starting to drift back into old-House. You were-"

"Wait, what? Marry Lucas? We've been split up for less than a day!" House roared.

Confusion crossed Wilson's face. "Um… you and Cuddy?"

"Yes, moron, who did you think I meant? Masters?"

Now Wilson looked REALLY confused. "Masters?"

Was he being stupid on purpose? "You know. Short. Annoying. White, female version of Foreman. Has an idiotic belief that the world is made of sunshine and lollipops."

"House, are you having delusions again? How long have you been back on drugs?" Why was Wilson being such an ass?

"No, damn it, I'm not delusional. I started taking Vicodin when Cuddy was having her testing done. I thought my girlfriend was going to die."

Wilson stared at House for a long time. "Sooo…Cuddy was sick. Cuddy was your girlfriend and she was sick. House, I don't know how to tell you this." Wilson cleared his throat. His eyes settled on the floor. "Cuddy and Lucas were engaged for months. You took all those pills about an hour before their wedding. I came back to the condo for my phone and found you barely breathing in the bathroom."

"No, I overdosed the Vicodin because she found out I was back on it and dumped me. What are you saying Wilson? That I imagined us all over again?"

Wilson just stared. House wanted to choke him.

"Don't you remember when we thought Rachel swallowed that dime and had to sneak her in to do an ultrasound?"

"House, that never happened."

"You don't remember me drugging you and Cuddy's mom at dinner?" House asked. He needed Wilson to remember.

"No…it's not real, House. I think you need to go back –"

"Wilson, she told me she loved me the night I lost my patient in that collapsing building. She came to my house and told me…Wilson…"

House was choking on his own words now. He didn't want to lose this. He couldn't stand the thought that the happiest moments in his life were a product of Vicodin.

"You need to go back for more help. I'll take you as soon as they discharge you. You've got to get off the Vicodin, House…or you'll have nothing left. Not a single thing."

Wilson stood up and crossed to the door. "I'll tell Foreman you're up. He'll want to have a look at you. Chase, Taub, and Thirteen have been asking about you too."

Wilson exited the room, his face looking like he was trying not to cry. House knew the feeling. His heart felt like it was in a vice. His eyes and throat burned. He wanted the hurt to stop. He wanted the pain to go away and that wonderful flood of memories to wash back over him.

Maybe they were fake. Hell, he'd take it. If he couldn't really have Cuddy, he knew how he could almost have her. There was one truth he knew - he wasn't going back to rehab. He needed to get more Vicodin.