Disclaimer: I still own nothing…(sigh)

Author's Notes: So, I have not written in quite some time. I also haven't read any fics in quite some time. So I'm not even sure if anyone still reads the types of stories I write, but I'm gonna write one anyway! Lol. At any rate, I miss a few things; writing, Hilson, GSR and reviews!

This is set just after Amber's death, but then goes my own way. I know…way back, but it's when I really liked both characters a lot.

1

He sat in his office, bouncing a ball off the wall, his cane leaning on the desk next to him not even caring about his current patient. Okay, he never truly cared about his patient, but this time he didn't even care about the puzzle. The pang of the bounce which normally would have been soothing to him, or at least made his mind function the way he wanted, was merely making the pounding in his head more abundant.

With an abrupt stop, he dropped the ball and pulled out his latest Vicodin bottle, popping one in his mouth. He swirled his chair toward the balcony door, momentarily contemplating venturing out, but stopped before he even started, knowing it would only cause more pain. Not pain, anger. Or hurt maybe. He wasn't really sure.

His thoughts were interrupted by Thirteen entering his office and asking some random question about their patient. Without even processing her question, he snapped back, "Have I not taught you enough to be able to treat one patient without direction from me?"

With her arms crossed over her chest, "I thought you'd actually want to know the status of your patient."

"Well you thought wrong. Maybe you should focus your 'thoughts' on the patient instead of me. Maybe then you'd get them right!"

She pursed her lips, barely shaken by his sarcasm and raised voice. "You know, just because Wilson isn't here for you to treat like crap, you don't have to sulk and treat us worse!"

With that, she turned to leave. He turned back toward the balcony, giving thought to what she'd said. She was right of course. He had treated Wilson like crap. But Wilson had done the same to him!

Who was he kidding? Wilson had never treated him poorly, until now. His best friend was gone, never to return. Wilson had left, emphatically telling House how much he hated him and that he never wanted to see him again.

Wilson had finally won the war, the war that House had started and continued to build through the years. It had been four weeks since he'd seen his friend, four weeks of drunkenness, pill-popping, insomnia and even less caring about work than normal.

Everywhere he turned in the hospital that he had worked in with his best friend for years held a memory. He wasn't sure if he hated Wilson more for leaving, or for leaving so many memories behind. He actually wasn't sure if he hated him at all.

One thing he was sure he hated though, was being there…alone. It was a feeling that scared him more than any other. He had always prided himself on liking being alone. But in looking back he realized that he really wasn't alone because he always had Wilson. And Wilson was enough.

He stood and grabbing his cane walked toward the elevator, completely ignoring Foreman as he tried to catch up to him in the hall. As quickly as his leg would allow, he made it to Cuddy's office. Without knocking he entered saying, "I need some time off."

She never raised her eyes from the paperwork she was working on. "No."

"Aren't you even gonna ask why?"

Still working, "Fine. Why?"

Smugly, "I don't have to tell you that."

"Then the answer is still no."

"Fine, then I quit."

He turned to leave but was stopped, "Wait. What is this about, House?"

A slight smile came across his lips, still finding just a little joy in annoying his boss. He turned, the smile disappearing. "I told you, I need some time off. If you won't grant it, I'll quit."

"Are you dying?"

"Every day."

She rolled her eyes at his petty game, "Any quicker than yesterday?"

Both hands were perched on his cane in front of him, still feeling like he had the upper hand. "Nope."

"Emergency time off must have a reason House. I approve vacation time based on first come and I do it so that we're not short too many doctors at once. You know that we are already down a department head and we are maxed out on vacation time right now. So give me a good reason, or the answer is no."

He wasn't sure if the pang in his chest at the exact moment Cuddy mentioned Wilson's vacancy was a coincidence or not, but he told himself it was. In that moment, he weakened. "I just need time off. I don't want to be here."

"Ha! You never want to be here, House! This is nothing new. And if this is about Wilson, you better get over it. Apparently you've hurt him for the last time." She watched as she saw him shrink just a little before her, knowing she had hit a nerve. For a moment she felt sorry for him, only for it to pass as she wondered what kind of scheme he'd pull next. With a brilliant thought she asked, "How many clinic hours do you owe me?"

His sarcasm was evident, "I'm all caught up, haven't you heard?"

"Try near a hundred! I'll tell you what, you get caught up and then, and only then, can you have your time off."

His eyes met hers for only a second before he curtly nodded and headed out. She was proud of herself as she watched him hobble away. She hadn't given in to him, and she knew there was no way that he would actually do clinic hours. Even if he did a few, he'd never catch up. With a smile, she went back to her paperwork.

In the next few days, she saw House's scribble on quite a few charts from the clinic and very few from other doctors. Knowing he was up to something, she made her way to the clinic, ready to search for him inside some exam room, finding him signing random charts while watching his latest Soap.

With purpose to her step, she walked up to the receptionist. "Where is Dr. House?"

The young girl looked quickly down at the paperwork in front of her, "He's in exam room 2 with a patient."

Slightly stunned, "A patient? How long has he been here?"

"Today? I'm not sure, he started before my shift. But I can find out."

Now she was annoyed. "What do you mean 'today'?"

"Well, he's been here every day for the past few days. Really long hours too."

With a huff, she marched off to the room House was in. She nearly collided with him as he walked out just as she reached for the door. "Well, if it isn't Dr. Cuddy. Boy, you don't spend a lot of time in the clinic do you? You really should devote more of your time here. People need you!"

She didn't let the sarcasm shake her. "How many hours have you put in this week?"

"When I leave here in two hours, it will be one hundred. At that time, I will be leaving to take some time off that I was granted by you."

She was taken aback. "Come to my office." He followed as she tried to control her saunter and have more of an angry walk, but he enjoyed the view either way. They no sooner entered the office when she turned to him asking, "What is this about, House?"

"Pretty sure we've had this conversation. You ask, I don't tell. I threaten to quit, you offer me a deal, I accept and I've almost fulfilled my end. Does that bring you up to speed?"

She pointed a finger at him, as if trying to make her point stick. "You don't just do one hundred clinic hours unless you have a good reason."

His voice rose slightly. "Right. I did 98 so far. And I did it because I want the damn time off!"

Her next word came out louder than she intended, triggering his anger. "Why?"

"Because I need to get away from here! Everywhere I turn I see him! I screwed up! It's my fault! I get it! Now he's gone! Just let me go!"

She was shocked. House was actually hurt. He was using anger to hide his pain. She'd known him for plenty of years, but had rarely seen him like this. With a slight nod, "Go. Let me know when you'll be back."

His face was still hard, but his eyes softened just a bit, giving all the thanks he had in him. Without another thought he quickly left the hospital.