Okay, I'm admitting it: House acts a bit unlike him here - at least for everyone who doesn't believe he can be afraid of losing Wilson ;-)

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I watched the hand of the clock in exam room one slowly approaching twelve... And pass it, and then leave it behind... I know it's hard to believe, but this time I REALLY didn't feel up to examining another patient. I had to spend another hour in the clinic and I didn't know what to do with myself.

Hundreds of times before in situations like this I had called Wilson - for many years, just to talk with him for a while, have fun, gather my strength before the next patient... And since we got together... Yeah, I know what you were thinking about - wild sex right under Cuddy's nose! Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you - nothing like that happened. Well, maybe one or two passionate kisses, before Wilson pushed me away and left, yelling and slamming the door behind him to make it look like his blush was nothing else, than the result of yet another argument with me. He insisted on it even after everyone at the hospital found out about us - as always he cared about his reputation in front of his patients. Many times I wanted to put an end to this circus - walk up to him in the middle of the clinic, pull him to me and kiss him - so that no one (especially young, sexy female patients) would doubt that he belongs only to me and I will get every guy (or girl!) who would try to take him away from me. But while I don't give a shit what patients think of me, HE couldn't live with the thought that someone might look away from him with disgust. I always realized that this was the way he was and I had to respect it, if I wanted to be with him... And now it seemed like it was too late for anything...

I haven't seen him yesterday, after he came back from his mysterious trip. He hid in his office right away and I couldn't force myself to go to him. One time I went out on a balcony and I saw him talking with another pathetic patient. I smiled, imagining myself barging into his office, grabbing the front of his shirt and yelling "What the hell was that supposed to mean?!" No, I wouldn't do that. For what? To hear another lie? What would it be this time? That the wife of a dying patient asked him for help choosing the coffin? I stood alone on the balcony, basked in a warm sunlight, and the thoughts whirling in my head became darker and darker...

I didn't dare ask him what he had been doing during his lunch break when we got home either. I was afraid he would lie to me. I was afraid he would tell the truth - that it's all over between us, but we can still be friends... That would be like him. I didn't want that. I wasn't ready for that. Deep inside me I felt I would NEVER be ready to be left all alone...

Wilson wasn't surprised by my silence. This was just the way I acted sometimes. I knew he explained it with the pain in my leg or a complicated case. He never pushed me. It was one of the things about him that I loved the most. His sensitivity. His intuition. Earlier, before we became closer (if that was possible, after all we had been through together as friends), I thought Wilson was very much like Cameron, that he's ready for everything in order to save the world. But Cameron is too pushy. She asks hundreds of unnecessary questions, after which I feel like withdrawing and not letting anyone in. And Wilson... Wilson looks at you with those chocolate eyes until you feel like he's seeing right through you. And while he does it, he makes that sad, unhappy face that makes you start talking, just to make him feel better. I mean - that's what everyone but me does. I just throw a cheery "Hey, Wilson..." at some point and come up with another idiotic idea. But if he were so sensitive - why was he sentencing me to this torture?!

I went to the bedroom while Wilson was doing the dishes after the dinner. I swallowed a double dose of Vicodin and still I couldn't sleep. I was haunted by the memories of all of Wilson's hospital romances that I knew about or that I suspected (which was pretty much the same thing). In my imagination I could see what was about to happen soon - I saw myself coming home to an empty apartment, throwing my jacket on the floor, walking to the kitchen, taking the last bottle of beer out of the empty fridge and stumbling on the empty pizza box on the floor on my way to the living room...

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted my musings. I was lying with my face to the door, so I closed my eyes and tried to breath as if I were asleep. It was dark in the room, so I hoped that Wilson wouldn't notice anything. I heard him stopping in the doorway and I realized he was watching me. Then he came up to the bed. I felt his warm hand sliding over my left thigh and his delicate lips, pecking my temple. For the first time, just for a short moment, I felt like everything was just fine.

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At a quarter to five I went out on the balcony, to make sure that Wilson was getting ready to leave. I saw him organizing the patients' files on his desk and putting some of them inside his briefcase, to work on them at home. I went back to my office, took my backpack and went to the parking lot, to wait for Wilson by the car.

"I have no idea how it's possible we didn't meet for a whole day today." He shook his head and walked up to me. Fortunately there was quite a lot of people around and Wilson didn't try to kiss me. He just touched the back of my hand, the one holding the cane. I fought the impulse to take my hand away.

"Even when I went to get you a moment ago, Cameron said you had left few minutes earlier... Did something happen?"

I looked at him incredulously. I was the one who wanted to know what the hell was happening! I yelled in my head.

"Noting... Nothing at all."

He squeezed my hand and tried to look me in the eye, but I turned my head away.

"It's the leg, isn't it?" I heard concern in his voice and once again was surprised at how well he could act.

I nodded slightly, gaining an excuse for another "quiet evening".

"Get in, we're going home."

In a car, Wilson tried to start a conversation several times, but when I answered in only angry grunts, he finally gave up. I sat next to him, gripping my right thigh. If he really wanted to drag this out, I wasn't going to stop him.

When we were almost home, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was watching the road and seemed fully concentrated on driving. As if he was afraid any second now we would hit a tree that for some unknown reasons decided to suddenly appear at the middle of the street.

I turned my head towards Wilson. I always liked to watch his profile. Especially on Sunday mornings, in my bedroom, when half of his face was buried in a pillow and there were single rays of sunshine coming through the drapes and shining on him... Give it up, House! This is not the time for sentimental trip down the memory lane, said a voice in my head. I shook myself out of it. The voice was right - there will be time for the memories once everything's over. Providing I will feel like recollecting anything then.

I began to watch him carefully. And then I saw it. The mixture of worry, guilt and fear, painted on his face. I had seen this before, but in somebody else. I had seen it in Stacy, before she said she was leaving. I squeezed my eyes shut and slowly let out a breath through the open mouth, to stop the scream that was rising in my chest. This can't be real...

When we came inside the apartment, I fell on a couch and closed my eyes. I felt my leg beginning to hurt more, but I didn't reach inside my pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. Yes, I wanted to feel this pain. I wanted it to hurt like all hell, because maybe then I could stop feeling the much worse pain, tearing at my heart.

I flinched, when he put his hands on my shoulders.

"I prepared a bath for you" he said quietly. "I know it doesn't always help, but maybe you'll feel better."

Yeah, sure.

I didn't need a bath. I needed an explanation. Now I just wanted to be sure that everything was over. But at the same time a small part of me wouldn't let me ask...

I grabbed my cane and stood up. Wilson's hands gently slid off my shoulders and I felt... sorry for him? No, impossible!

I went to the bathroom without a word and slammed the door behind me, making it clear that I didn't need his company.

A half hour later I got out of the bathtub and stood on wet, cold tiles, when I heard the phone ringing.

"I'll get it!" I heard Wilson calling from the living room.

"Good" I muttered.

And then I realized how absurd the situation was. I never pick up the phone. I always wait for the call to go to the machine and then... sometimes I do. There was no reason why Wilson would say that. I calmed my breathing, suddenly so loud I was worried that Wilson would hear it through all the walls separating us, and I carefully opened the bathroom door a fraction.

"Hi, Sharon", I heard his cheerful voice.

Now I completely held my breath, wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, but instead I heard his footsteps, leading towards the kitchen, and Wilson's voice became fainter, until I couldn't recognize the words.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and grabbed my cane. I never wished so badly I could tiptoe to the kitchen and eavesdrop without being noticed. I tried to walk without making a sound, but it was impossible. My heart was beating so hard that it seemed like the floor was vibrating. Blood racing through my veins hummed in my ears and, even though I was getting closer to the kitchen, I still couldn't hear Wilson's voice.

Finally I stood right in front of the kitchen door. My heart stopped suddenly. Wilson was standing right there, looking at me in surprise.

"I have to go" he said to the person on the other end of the phone and he hung up.