A/N – Sorry it's been awhile. For those reading the story and have been following since the beginning, Chapter 2 was completely trashed and replaced with a better one. The story is moving at a slower pace due to many requests. Also, I'm sorry if I'm "begging" for reviews. I'll stop. Here's my last one. I appreciate it if you guys can tell me what you're thinking about the story.

But I wrote many and said that unfortunately for a story to be good there will always be a constant writing and re-writing. If ever there was a chapter change (like the one that happened in chapter 2), I message those reviewers and told them about the change as soon as it happened. If I only knew all my readers, I would email each and every one of you because you don't know how much I appreciate all of you.

On with the story. And for the most part, this (as of now) will be the last A/Ns for awhile.

"Does House have access to a mirror in his house?" Cuddy asked off handedly surprising Wilson.

They were both just outside the clinic discussing one of Wilson's ideas for treating his newest patient. It had something to do with a clinical trial that apparently has had great results on patients. Unfortunately, the trial was being done in Chicago; Wilson wanted to know if there was any ways Cuddy could pull some strings. It was, after all, a teaching hospital.

"What?" Wilson asked bewildered.

Cuddy pointed at House who was currently trying very hard to avoid eye contact with either. He looked absolutely horrible. His usual stubble had now grown into a full-grown beard. House's hair was currently sticking out of his hat wildly; sweat dripped down his face as he concentrated on the floor. Cuddy could clearly remember the damned shirt he was currently wearing, mostly because it was the same shirt for the past three days.

Cuddy stalked over to House, her hands firmly planted at her waist as she waited for House to make eye contact. House bit his lip knowing he had been caught. Yesterday night was hell on him. At one point, his leg ached so much that he actually started to whimper in protest. The fact that he had made it to the hospital was miracle enough for him, but by judging by the look on Cuddy's face, it wasn't nearly enough for her.

"House," her voice was tight, as she tried controlling her emotions. "In my office…NOW!"

"Yes mother," House said sarcastically.

A random shooting pain in his leg made him hiss out loud, his vision clouding temporarily as he bit back the tears he knew were beginning to pool in his eyes.

Wilson studied his friend worriedly. "House you don't look good."

"Thank-you captain obvious," House said darkly.

Wilson shook House's comment off, placing a gentle hand on House's shoulder. He kept it there despite House's attempts to shake it off. Finally, House gave a small growl, but stopped fighting, twirling around to face Wilson. His leg protested almost immediately, forcing him to lean against the wall to stop from falling face first.

"Do you have enough Vicodin? It's been awhile since you've asked me for a script," Wilson noted fishing for his tablet.

"I have Vicodin," House said. "My leg just hurts, ok?"

"No, there's a difference. This time it hurts to the point that you can't even hide it anymore. House, you look like you did that week you were on detox."

"Well, you seemed to enjoy it back then, didn't you?" House snapped limping away.

Wilson stood dumbfounded for a couple of seconds, unsure of what had just happened.

"What?" Wilson questioned, his eyebrows coming together in confusion and worry.

He watched House enter Cuddy's office, immediately going for a chair and collapsing into it. House waved away Cuddy's rant, one hand on his temple to stop the impending headache.

Wilson gave a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, slowly making his way towards Cuddy's office. The week was one from hell to say the least. The night he stayed at House's was by far the quietest night he'd ever had with his friend. House said good night at nine, with no glass of scotch in his hand, nor in his system, from what Wilson observed. So why was it the next day House was still throwing up and looked even more worse than before?

--

Cuddy sighed dropping the pen on the desk. "I can't keep doing this, Greg."

House nodded, unsure of what to say. He was too tired to argue with Cuddy. He played his role during their argument, perfecting his lines full of dry wit and sarcasm. He had whined when it was called for and lashed out at proper times.

"You can't suspend me. I'm a department head," House said confidently.

"It seems to me that lately your department has been running better without you than with," Cuddy pointed out.

House envisioned the carefully played chess game in his head. It was Cuddy attacking him from either side of the board. Three lousy pawns, and one queen were currently defending House's king. He gave a smirk when he realized he compared Wilson to a queen.

"Are you even paying attention to me right now?" Cuddy snapped, whirling around to face House.

"Yes…" House said, all the while shaking his head no.

"Damn it House," Cuddy swore quietly.

"You swore, I can tell on you."

"House!" Cuddy cried out. "Please! Can you just for once," she said flailing her arms in the air trying to find the right words. "You…you're going home. Monday if you come in looking anything or come to think of it, smelling like you do right now you might as well go right back home. I'm not kidding, House. Two week suspension no pay, and we will see from there."

"But I have…" House started to point out.

"Tenure, I know House. You have Tenure. But at this rate it doesn't really matter anymore," Cuddy resigned.

"Whatever," House said darkly, moving to stand up.

House hissed in pain as a shooting pain traveled back and forth through his damaged leg. Cuddy was by his side in an instance, only to be pushed away by House.

"When was the last time you had Vicodin?"

"When was the last time you had sex?" House countered.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Go home, get some rest, take a shower...definitely take a shower, change, relax. I don't know Greg. Do whatever it is you do to come to work looking half way decent."

"Thank you mom," House said rolling his eyes and limping out of the office.

House pushed the door open nearly hitting Wilson in the process. Wilson stepped back in time expecting House to stop and talk.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I'll push harder," House muttered when Wilson glared at him.

Cuddy met Wilson at the door, both staring as the diagnostician limped lamely towards the elevator.

"You should go check on your friend," Cuddy met Wilson's eyes with her own for only a few seconds before she broke eye contact.

Cuddy smoothed out her unwrinkled suit walking towards the clinic, leaving Wilson alone to ponder. To say Wilson was confused was an understatement. Wilson rubbed the back of his neck slowly while making his way towards the elevator. He half-nodded when he heard a nurse call out his name, too engrossed in his thoughts to really talk to anyone.

He had a one o'clock with a patient, but that's all he really knew at the moment. Wilson made his way to his office, plopping down heavily in his chair. His eyes landed on an old picture of House and him. It was taken the New Years before House's infarction.

Despite the fact he had been married three times, no wedding picture had ever gone up. He didn't have any framed memories standing proudly on his desk. Rather, he had hidden them in his drawer, stuffed away and forgotten until House got bored enough to snoop.

Wilson gave a sad smile as he picked up the photograph, brushing the dust away. House had a ridiculous party hat on, his arm around Wilson's shoulder, leaning heavily on the smaller man. Wilson had one of those corny blowouts in his mouth, his arm slung over House's shoulder as well.

Whenever House came in, he had always begged Wilson to get rid of the horrid thing, claiming that it made them both look gay. But Wilson always refused. It was a constant reminder to Wilson about the better times, to help him remember why he was friends with House to begin with…to remind him of who House was.

Wilson set the picture down, an unreadable expression on his face. He shook away any lingering thoughts before taking a moment to collect himself and exiting his office. He walked the couple of hundred feet towards the diagnostic department, sticking his head in to look for House.

He gave a small frown when he found the place empty, a circled diagnosis on the white board. He seriously considered checking the clinic but gave a small scoff in the end. House didn't go to clinic duty, he was dragged to clinic duty, and everyone on the way to the clinic knew he was getting dragged there, thanks to his constant whines.

When Wilson realized House was nowhere to be found, he gave a small smile. He knew exactly where House was. He walked towards a half abandoned stairwell on the old side of the hospital. Wilson retraced the familiar steps, his eyes briefly passing each random graffiti drawing that House had decided to add claiming it livened up the place. He made a mental note to tell Cuddy to repaint over the more graphic ones next time he saw her. Wilson took the steps two at a time in a slight jog figuring he might as well get some exercise while he could.

The wind blew Wilson's kept hair everywhere as Wilson tried in vain to swipe the random wisps out of his eyes. He was blinded a couple of times in attempt to adjust to the natural light, all the while searching for his best friend.

Wilson heard House before he saw him. Wilson rushed towards his friend, his head dipping down to meet House's eyes as he leaned heavily on the wall.

"Hey," Wilson said lamely.

"What you doing up here?" House managed to gasp out through clenched teeth.

"I wanted to see if I could fly, but I found you instead," Wilson said dryly.

Wilson watched House struggle for a couple more minutes, before finally ordering the man to sit down. House glared at him, but made no further protest, worrying Wilson.

"What's up House?" Wilson asked gently sitting besides his friend.

"Everything," House resigned so quietly that Wilson had to lean in closely. House made a face. "I said everything, I didn't want a kiss from you, and you're not my mom…or Cuddy."

"I might as well be your mom, House. You're just one six feet tall child," Wilson declared.

"Right," House scoffed. He attempted to stand, but Wilson grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry," Wilson said not wanting the conversation to end.

"Of what?"

"Calling you a child."

House nodded. "Yeah…" House said unsurely. "I have…I have to go home and take a shower or something. Cuddy's orders." With that, House grabbed his cane and slowly walked towards the exit, leaving Wilson alone in his thoughts.

As of right now chapter 4 is 90 done (7-30-2007)
expected no later than Monday next week