House sighed, lying curled on his couch, alone.
He was staring, eyes fixed on the empty chair across the room.
For five years, he had sat in that chair, curled up with Stacy, watching the fire and enjoying each other.
The year after that it had been empty, and then three years in a row he had eaten with Wilson and Wilson's family at Wilson's home.
The year after that they had eaten together here at his apartment, and Wilson had been sitting in that chair, eating Chinese noodles and laughing.
The year after that had been spent in New York with Wilson's younger brother--his parents had been in Florida that year.
Then had been the year he had laid on the floor in front of that chair mostly unconscious, his head in a pool of his own vomit.
Last year he had met Wilson and matt for dinner after the show, Wilson's parents were officially moved into a nursing home in Florida.
he had had a few good Christmases. A few nights not spent shivering in the backyard or staring up at the ceiling of his dorm or into the empty space of his first apartment. He had had the good nights here, and one good night at college when he had met a woman just as lonely as him.
This year was the first time he had been alone because Wilson had refused to have anything to do with him.
This was the first time in twelve years that he had been truly alone.
He had been truly alone for five months now, and it wasn't getting any better.
And now, today, tonight, this Christmas....
He closed his eyes, not fighting the tears on his cheeks.
It hurt.
It all hurt so much.
He should have stayed on that bus with her, he should have swallowed those last two pills, he shouldn't have paged her when he had stuck that knife in the wall.
He didn't want it to hurt.
'do you remember me? I sat upon your knee. I wrote to you with childhood fantasies.' came faintly through the window.
Stupid caroler. The rest of them had come and gone, and that wasn't even a real carol.
'well I'm all grown up now, and still need help somehow. I'm not a child but my heart still can dream.'
he frowned.
Where did he know that voice from? He knew he hadn't heard it singing before, but... Somehow it sounded extremely familiar.
'so here's my lifelong wish, my grown up Christmas list. Not for myself but for a friend in need.'
huh? That wasn't how the song went.
'no more heart torn apart, that pain would never start, and time would heal all harm.'
he sat up, hesitating.
'and you would have a friend, and right would always win, and love would never ache. This is my grown up Christmas list.'
House stood.
'as children we believed, the grandest sight to see was something lovely wrapped beneath our tree.'
he took a step toward the window, just able to make out a figure standing on the sidewalk.
'Well you do surely know that packages in rows can never heal a hurting human soul.'
he limped to the door, hand on the handle, as the refrain filtered through the door.
'what is this illusion called the innocence of youth? maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth.'
his hand tightened on the knob, as the refrain came again.
'this is my only lifelong wish, this is my grown up Christmas list.'
House sighed. The song was over.
'so let me grant just one thing on my list, because life should never end alone on Christmas night.'
House opened the door.
Cuddy, standing there with her coat pulled tight around herself, tears on her cheeks.
She swallowed, taking a deep breath of relief, and walked up the steps until she was standing just a few inches away from him.
He stepped back, letting her in.
"let one person have a friend." she said, looking unbelievably sad.
"why are you here?" asked House, hoarsely.
She looked up at him, wiping the tears off her face.
"I was worried you would do something stupid." she said, gently touching his hand with her own.
she pulled something out of her coat pocket. It was something small, wrapped in golden paper.
"they can't heal much. But... Not getting them hurts."
House looked down at the present, then back at her face.
He swallowed.
"I...."
Cuddy took a step forward, wrapping her arms around him.
"I'm glad I wasn't too late." she said, and he knew she was still crying.
House opened his mouth to yell at her, but he couldn't form the words. He couldn't push her away. This time, like that time twenty-five years ago, he needed her too badly.
he pressed his face to the top of her head, arms going to encircle her shoulders without thought.
"thank you." he said, voice so husky and rough Cuddy could barely understand the whispered words.
She nodded into his shoulder, holding him even tighter.
The next morning, when Cameron called Cuddy's cellphone because there had been a bigger holiday casualty rush than she had expected, it just rang and rang, because it was in her car and she was asleep in the chair near House's couch.
House was lying on the couch, watching her sleep with an expression gracing his face that hadn't been seen there in ten years.
Tenderness. Kindness. Maybe even caring.
He got up, putting another piece of wood on the fire.
He saw the gold-wrapped package lying on the table next to the chair.
He picked it up, carefully slitting the tape.
Twenty-five years ago, he had told an undergrad that had turned up alone in the same lonely corner of the campus park he was in that he would have been happy if someone got him so much as a guitar pick.
He was holding a box of it had to be at least fifty guitar picks, each one completely different from all the others.
He swallowed, closing the box.
Then he stopped, opening it again and taking out one of the picks.
Cuddy opened her eyes to 'come all ye merry gentleman', and smiled.
House was enjoying his gift.