Chapter 1

Another Lost Cause

House's jean clad legs hung off the edge of his kitchen table. His knuckles were white with his grip on the table. He lifted his leg up a few inches with the red rubber band attached to his ankle, and the table leg. Excruciating pain shot through his thigh and hip stopping partly up his back. His breathing was quickened. He closed his eyes, resting his torn muscle before he tried again. This time the muscle was too weak to hold the tension and his leg fell back.

Only one last thought ran through House's mind before he dropped the little brown pouch containing the drug in the trash bin-Another lost Cause. He'd tried plenty of experimental drugs before, some that were meant for 90 year olds with broken hip bones, and some meant for dogs with arthritis. None of them had worked for longer than a few days. He hoped this one was going to be the one, with so much success in the rats, a glimmer of hope had sparked in him. He also knew that the amount of muscle needed in a thigh to fully support a 57 year old male's body was much larger than a rat's muscle. With another failed drug, he grabbed his cane and limped with a wince to grab his brown overcoat. It wasn't extremely cold outside, but he was going to be coming home late tonight.

He lifted his leg into his car and turned the car on when his phone rang. Wilson the phone read. House sighed, but answered. "Y'ellow." he answered.

"Are you busy?" Wilson asked.

"Depends on what you mean by busy? I've got a hooker in my room and 2 empty beer bottles on my night stand." House tried.

Wilson's almost silent sigh was heard on the other end, House got curious. "But...I can save the other 2 bottles for later. What's up?" Wondering what Wilson wanted.

Wilson's humorous grunt was heard on the other end, "Just wondering if you'd want to meet up Rodger's for a beer. Sounds like you've already got a bit of a buzz going though."

"Actually, my tolerance to alcohol is much higher than just two beers. You should know that, you're the one who helped me raise it." House shot back, "I'll be at Rodger's in 10...if that's okay with you, of course." He rubbed his leg, and waited for a reply.

"Yeah sure, be there in 10." Wilson replied, then hung up.

10 Minutes Later

House pulled up into the parking lot of Rodger's, sitting in his car for a few minutes to make sure Wilson didn't know he had left as soon as they got off the phone. Wilson would have been really suspicious of House's punctuality. Within the next five minutes House had ordered his first drink, waiting for Wilson to step through the door. As soon as he took his first sip, a tired looking Wilson pulled out the stool next to him. He ordered a Boundary Ale, before even acknowledging House.

"Tough day?" House said following a sip of his drink.

"Are we doing this today? Talking about our feelings?" Wilson said. He was met with a few seconds of silence, then "Yeah. I had to diagnose a 13 year old girl with lung cancer. She's not expected to live much longer since it's an abnormally aggressive type, on top of being lung cancer at least." He put his head in his hand, taking a deep breath. "Why did I decide to become an oncologist?" Wilson asked.

After a few seconds, House answered. "Because you like people. Because you're good with people. You know how to make even the most painful things bearable, and people appreciate you for it. Even if you do have to deal with a lot of tough things on a daily basis, you keep going, still gaining hope along the way." Wilson was a little shocked at the answer he received. He turned to look at House, who was taking a swig of his beer looking straight ahead. There was a loud crash to the left of House. Both of them turned to find the source of the noise. Someone had broken a beer bottle on the counter, in the midst of a heated argument. House's cane had been hooked on the bar next to him, but now the smaller guy in the argument saw it as a potential weapon and lunged for it. He had it in his hands, House hopped off of his stool with speed and grabbed the top of it.

"No so fast pal, don't you know it's rude to steal?" He said.

"'ey get of' me old mahn." He said with slurred speech. Ripping it from his grasp. He stepped forward, only to be spun around by House's strong grip on his shoulder. "Hey I sa'd get of' me!" He slurred again, pulling back the cane and hitting House right in the jaw. He stumbled backwards, catching himself with his right leg. He stopped, stunned. A short flare of pain was shooting up his thigh...but it was holding him. He looked at Wilson, who was trifling with the perp who had stolen his cane. Soon enough some off duty cop had noticed the commotion and given up his free time to sort out the situation, retrieving the cane and handing it to House, who took it with a nod of thanks, sitting back down on his stool with Wilson following. "You okay?" Wilson asked, his eyebrows pinched in concern. "Hm? Yeah...Fine." He said, pulling his hand back from touching his cheek and noticing blood on his fingers. "I think I'm gonna head home." He said to a puzzled Wilson. "Oh, yeah, sure. I guess I will too...See you tomorrow House." He said, before House slid off the stool and lent lightly on his cane, heading to his car.

Well Hello! This is my second story written for the House Fandom, I was watching the episode "The Fix" when I a whole story just popped into my head. I hope it's interesting, it might be a little slow this chapter. Not a good way to start off a whole book, but bear with me, it's about to get reeeeeeaaaally angsty. If you haven't already, check out my other story "Requiem For House" and PLEASE don't forget to REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

I appreciate you all, Archer