Chapter 2: Free Lunch

House sat in a booth by the window. He was already eating as he waited impatiently for Ceara to arrive. She had insisted on finishing some paperwork before heading to lunch and so, being House, he went ahead without her. After all, she had agreed to pay for the meal. She better show soon.

He wasn't sure how a simple theft had turned into a lunch with Wilson's psychiatrist, but he didn't question it really. The woman was good-looking and had a refreshing sense of humor (not to mention she paid for lunch!). He wouldn't go so far as to say he liked the woman, but he didn't hate her (and House hates everyone…).

The red headed woman walked into the small, dimly lit restaurant and immediately recognized the cane-wielding criminal. She moved briskly to the table and sat across from the infamous diagnostician. James Wilson had said a lot about the man…actually every other sentence was centered on her patient's best friend. Of course, she had no intention of revealing that fact. Actually, she had no intention of revealing anything, but her ploy had worked and now she only had to wait for the second part of her plan to come through.

"I see you couldn't bother to wait." Ceara stated blatantly, not really surprised.

"Once again, did Wilson tell you anything about me?" He answered pointedly. "You shouldn't have offered to pay."

"I didn't offer. You practically demanded it!" She countered, raising an eyebrow.

"And you folded. What's your point?" His eyes remained trained on his food as he took another bite of his sandwich. "So…are you really going to spill Wilson's deepest darkest secrets or was this some ploy to get me talking bout my feelings?" Damn it, she thought.

"It's a little bit of both…" She answered in an oddly quiet voice. House frowned, but before he could reply, Ceara's second act was set into motion.

"What's he doing here?" Came the unmistakably confused voice of Wilson. House looked up at his best friend. Wilson's expression was that of surprise, but his eyes also held a tinge of fear and worry. House directed a glare at Ceara. He knew exactly what she was planning and he wanted no part in it. Wilson, however, had no clue what the hell was going on. Ceara smiled weakly at the oncologist, if only to avoid House's penetrating gaze. Despite her best efforts, his glare was intimidating and made her doubt her plan.

"Care to explain, Ms. Baker?" House directed, his face impassive.

"Look…before you fire me," she looked to Wilson nervously. She then addressed House, but tried to avoid his eyes, "and before you kill me with your knife there, I want you two to just listen for a minute." House and Wilson shared a skeptical look. Wilson then turned back to Ceara.

"I'm not going to fire you." He replied thoughtfully with a brief smile, still confused at finding his psychiatrist having lunch with his best friend. Something about the entire concept was unsettling. Wilson still seemed anxious, but he was also relieved seeing as she hadn't told House anything. The diagnostician rolled his eyes in response to Wilson's compassionate gesture.

"You're such a sucker." He sneered.

"I trust her, okay?" Wilson responded defensively.

"Sure you do," House replied sarcastically, "and her looks have nothing to do with it."

"Will you two stop it?" Ceara broke in, thoroughly annoyed, "you are aware I can hear every word you're saying."

"You have one minute to explain." House told the woman impatiently.

"In that case, I'm sitting down, so scoot over, House." Wilson ignored the older man's protest as he crammed into the booth. Ceara stared at the two doctors. House took another bite of his sandwich seeing that the increased tension was no reason to pass up a free meal, while Wilson tapped his fingers expectantly. She sighed.

"As far as I can see, you two are both miserable…" Wilson just stared at the Ceara, as House laughed slightly.

"You're kidding, right? Women and their need to fix people…what are you doing? Hooking us up?" He added as a joke, but the notion made Wilson's cheek flush a deep red. Luckily, House didn't notice (for once). Ceara, however, did notice and quickly diverted her gaze. Wilson couldn't contain a sudden pang of jealousy towards the woman. He knew he was acting silly, knowing Ceara had no interest in the older doctor, but he still couldn't repress a sudden possessiveness. House was his…and yet he wasn't.

"You came to me! You wanted to know what was wrong with Wilson and you were willing to commit a crime to do it! Now I can only ask, why you don't trust each other?" Wilson hid his surprise and joy at that comment. House was worried about me?

"I trust him. I'd trust him with my life. Doesn't mean I'm going to spill my secrets…assuming I have any…" He added with an expression of mock innocence.

"If you want to know what's wrong with him, I expect you to reveal something in return-" She stated forcefully.

"Why? What does anyone get out of this?" House argued, matching and then surpassing her forceful words. Wilson's heart was racing. He knew what his psychiatrist was getting at. She knew everything, she knew him, and he knew her plan. She wanted him to spill his secret and deep down, Wilson knew it was tearing him apart inside. He was actually considering leaving PPTH, but he knew even that wouldn't help. House had to know…and Ceara was using negotiation to give Wilson the most opportune moment to tell him. She was putting her neck out for him and yet he wasn't sure he could follow through, but he wanted-needed-had to tell him.

"I get to tell the truth." Wilson broke in. "Can you…I mean…will you just…listen to her?" He pleaded with House. He hated the sudden desperation evident in his voice. The other man was slightly taken back by Wilson's sudden support of the idea. It meant a lot to him and House began to wonder why. "She…I have something I want-have to tell you…" He continued weakly, breaking eye contact. House frowned and wanted to turn down his plea, but…couldn't. He'd never seen Wilson so…troubled and (for the first time in his life) he restrained his insults. House sighed and turned his eyes briefly to the ceiling. After a moment of silence, he finally replied.

"I don't have any secrets worth knowing, so why don't you just tell me what you came here to say?" He asked, not sure what to expect as an answer. House had no intention of telling these two anything about his personal life. No matter what he said…he didn't trust Wilson. It was nothing personal…he didn't trust anyone. He learned that lesson early on in his life and he'd held firm to this belief ever since. Wilson, however, refused to give in.

"I can't…I just can't." He sounded pathetic. Wilson desperately longed to explain everything, but there was some strong barrier that prevented him from saying a word. House nodded, suddenly understanding what Wilson and Ceara wanted from him.

"So this whole scheme of hers is just some ploy to get you to trust me, right?" Wilson nodded, his eyes trained on the menu, which he chose to divert his gaze. House continued. "So if you trust me, you can finally tell me whatever it is you're hiding?" It was less of a question and more of a statement, but Wilson nodded nonetheless. "Must be a pretty big secret…" House mused as he returned his eyes to the ceiling. He sat silently for another minute or two, deep in thought, before turning his attention to Ceara, who was sitting quietly across from him.

"Fine…I'll give this a try," House conceded reluctantly, "but nothing I say here is ever to be mentioned to anyone!" He threatened. House wasn't sure what compelled him to give in to this charade. The primary reason, House assumed, was the fact that in one minute, Wilson had changed into a desperate, anxious wreck. Whatever he had to say, it was big and he looked nervous as hell. House was curious, but he also (though he'd never admit it) was worried about his friend. If this problem was big enough for his psychiatrist to drag House into this, then Wilson might as well be on suicide watch. Scratch that thought...too pessimistic. This is Wilson we're talking about, but then again...he is on anti-depressants and he does have a psychiatrist. House's mind began to race to diagnose exactly how screwed up his best friend was. Surely he would have noticed...

House knew this was much more than Wilson chasing another skirt. The younger doctor was in a major state of distress and House had completely failed to notice until this very moment. That could be blamed partly on Wilson's secretive nature (because House had no real intention of taking the blame himself). It was one reason why House and Wilson worked so well together in the first place. They both kept their private lives mostly to themselves and they knew never to ask about the other's past, but now, suddenly, Wilson needed to push their friendship further.

His psychiatrist was passing the torch to House. After this, Wilson wouldn't need a paid stranger to confide in. House wasn't sure how he felt about this, so he decided to see how it'd play out. In the end, he was doing this only for Wilson...and (if he's really truthful with himself) for his undying curiosity and mad obsession with puzzles.