Part 2

House decided a long, hot shower was in order. He turned the shower on as soon as he entered the bathroom, letting it work up a good steam before stepping inside. The searing liquid pellets left red marks in their wake, but the momentary pain soon melted into relaxing relief. He tried to massage his right shoulder a bit with his left hand, but could only manage it in brief spurts. Balancing on just his left leg proved tricky in the slick stall. He let the heat and rush of the shower lull him slightly, focusing only on the warmth. He needed to clear his head and shore himself up for what was to come.

Wilson sat staring straight ahead on the couch, languishing in the small comforts of being in a home. It was the closest he'd felt to being at home since he'd moved out months earlier. He had always felt like a guest at Grace's, slightly out of place. The hotel didn't have anything homey about it. The solitary room with the perfectly made bed at the center of it, mocked him daily, reminding him that he had no one to share it with.

He heard the sound of the shower. As angry as he was with House, he welcomed the feeling that he was not alone. He was almost too weary to stay mad. It was pathetic really. House's lame apology was almost enough for him. Everyone teased House about the fact that Wilson was his only friend; what they missed was the fact that Wilson's life was just as empty. Sure, he was well-liked. He had plenty of people who thought he was pleasant and wouldn't mind grabbing a cup of coffee with him, but that was it. He had his share of "girlfriends," but they were casual flings. They were acquaintances, not friends. The relationships lacked depth and closeness. House was his family.

Wilson had been so deep in thought it took him a moment to react to the sound. He was wondering if he had really just heard a crash from the bathroom when a very loud, very angry shout followed. "FUCK," House yelled. "Shit," Wilson said under his breath, already up off the couch and making his way to the bathroom door.

House had been going over some of the studies he planned to bring up when he talked to Stacy. The heat had helped ease the overworked muscles in his right leg and gave him the confidence to try to knead his shoulder a bit with his left hand. The balancing act that had proven tricky earlier was literally his downfall. He reached out for the grab rail when he felt himself slipping, but the damn thing was on his right side. The shoulder injury made it impossible for him to grab on as quickly and fiercely as he needed to stay vertical. Thinking fast he tried to angle so that his left side would take the brunt of the fall, but he slid down so quickly, it was hard to tell if it had helped at all.

"Fuck," he growled out, cursing his damn weakness as his body made contact with the hard porcelain floor. He lay there flat on his back. The water that had been so pleasing earlier when he was upright was now irritatingly angled straight at his face. He lay motionless for a moment, dazed, the wind completely knocked out of him. Then he felt it. He groaned with the shock of the pain. He sputtered as he lifted his head, to get his face out of the direct stream of water, and became aware of something else.

"House? Are you okay in there?" Wilson asked maintaining a steady knock on the door.

"House?"

House wished he could just melt into the porcelain. He was utterly frustrated with the situation. He knew Wilson would break the damn door down with this caring if he didn't say something, but he just couldn't will the air into his lungs. Pa-freakin-thetic, he thought to himself. He couldn't even call out to pretend he was fine. He shut his eyes when he heard the door knob turning. This was definitely not what he had in mind when he thought of being joined in the shower.

"Shit," Wilson said under his breath again as he took in the scene before him. House was laying on the floor of the shower, seemingly unconscious. He saw the water was streaming into House's face and went to shut if off before kneeling at his friend's side. He grabbed House's wrist, and was relieved to find a strong steady pulse, but was concerned at how fast it was. "House," he called loudly as he gently shook his friend. The blue eyes cracked open.

"I've fallen and I can't get up," House tried to muse, but his voice was still weak and quiet.

Wilson smiled a small relieved smile. No matter what the circumstance, House was always House. He didn't like how weak his friend's voice was though or how every drop of color had drained from his face. He could hear how shallow and quick House's respirations where and he immediately went into clinical mode. "Did you hit your head House?"

"The back of it…hit the ground, but not too hard. There'll be a bump, but no concussion." House's speech was halting and he was beginning to shiver. He turned his head to the side and started to wretch. He didn't bring anything up, but he was done he was breathing hard each breath coming out with a chuff at the end. He felt like he would soon pass out from the pain.

"You're looking pretty shocky, I'm gonna go grab my bag. Want to try sitting up?" Wilson was quietly assessing House's status. His mental functions seemed normal, as normal as they ever were anyway, but his breathing was too shallow and rapid and his pulse was racing. Wilson grabbed the towel that was on the rack and laid it between House's chest and his knees. House was definitely out of it. He was hardly aware of Wilson's presence and looked like he might pass out. Whether or not House was willing to venture sitting up would be a good test of how severely he was hurt.

"Pills" House quietly croaked out. House could feel himself slipping, losing hold of what was around him. This wasn't the loud, screaming kind of pain. This was the strong, unrelenting 'I'm gonna kick your ass so hard, you're not going to have any strength left' kind of pain.

Wilson made a grab for House's jacket and pulled out two pills. He rushed them over to House, but the other man was already starting to pass out. Wilson shook him gently. Pure misery reflected in his eyes as he awoke. Wilson placed the pills in House's open palm. House shut his eyes tight as he sucked on them before swallowing. "I'm going to go grab my bag now House. Stay with me, okay?"

House grimaced in response. Wilson hurried back with his bag. He took out his penlight and checked House's pupils. They were equal and reactive. "Can you give me a pain rating House?" Silence. "Come on House, this'll be easier if you just tell me."

"Eight."

"Where does it hurt?" House opened his eyes, which had been screwed shut, and gave him a patented 'you've got to be kidding, no one's that big of a moron' look.

"Right, besides your leg, where does it hurt? Do you think you broke or sprained anything?"

"No." House wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He didn't want anyone seeing him like this, not even Wilson.

"Okay, that's good. I'm going to go grab you a robe. I'll be right back."

Wilson took his time getting back to the bathroom. House didn't look like he was going to pass out again and his injuries didn't seem too severe. He was close enough to hear if he was needed, but wanted to give his friend some time to recover on his own. He waited a full five minutes after fishing out the robe. "You look better," he said as he walked back in.

House was starting to become more aware as the shock wore off and the vicodin began taking the edge off the pain. He would have been able to handle it if it hadn't been for the blasted shoulder, he thought to himself.

"You know those stupid rubber things you made me get for the floor are as useless as they are hideous," House quipped. "Better warn Grandma Wilson." Yes, he was definitely feeling much better, aside from the whole laid up on the shower floor still naked and wet thing.

"I'll get right on that. Right after I work on the whole no car, no money, can't do my job thing. You ready to try sitting up?" Wilson asked a bit of annoyance creeping into his voice. His patience for House was stretched thin.

"As hot as the thought of you and me in the shower is," House licked his lips comically. "Get out." Wilson eyed him for a moment before consenting. He wouldn't be going far. No matter how much he wanted to throttle House for the whole prescription mess, he couldn't just turn off caring about the bastard.

"I'm gonna go order a pizza," Wilson said as he exited. "You're buying," he hollered over his shoulder.