House's part of the three-parter. yay!


Regaining Balance

Prompt: I want you to hate me


Wilson had been back two days, and House had kept his distance. This was of course, unusual and slightly distressing to House.

But he figured that when Wilson was ready to be friends again, he would try and talk to him. Until then, House would have to wait.

Two days seemed like a really long time, plus the three Wilson had missed work.

That night, he dreamt of the bus, and there was Amber, in her bare feet and pastel outfit, bathed in some kind of otherworldly glow.

She looked at him with a combination of exasperation and amusement.

"What?" he asked.

"Apologize," she said simply.

"I'm sorry?"

"Not to me," she corrected, shaking her head.

House sighed, and got off the bus.

--

The next day, Wilson left his office for exactly three minutes and fifteen seconds to go to the bathroom.

When he got back, there was a note on his desk.

On the front, it simply said 'I'm sorry'.

He unfolded it and read, feeling his throat tighten a little.

'Wilson. I know there's some amount of blame you can assign me for the events of the past week. I want you to blame me, almost. Because if you don't blame me, knowing you, you'll blame yourself.

-House'

Wilson folded the note back up and put it in his wallet. He still didn't seek House out at lunch or on his way home.

--

House kind of wondered why Wilson hadn't joined him for lunch or walked him to his car, lecturing him about his latest escapades.

He would just have to give it time. So he cracked open a bottle of scotch and sat down in front of the TV.

After about three glasses of scotch, House picked up the phone.

"Dial-a Wilson," he mumbled to himself, dialing the number.

No answer.

"Wilson! You should be home. Why aren't you answering?" he said after the indicated beep.

Another glass of scotch, and he tried again.

He called quite a few times before he finally passed out on the couch, with the phone in his hand.