kwittbugginme: This story is already complete, so no worries, I will post all of it. I was just saying that I would post it in fewer, but longer chapters, instead of many short chapters.

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.

The team gathered around the conference room table as House stood at the window, silently watching Wilson from a distance. Though Wilson had been admitted as a patient, he was currently seated on the couch in his office, waiting for word. He refused to be confined to a bed when he had nothing physically wrong with him other than his lack of vision and despite Cuddy's protests, House had convinced Cuddy that Wilson would heal no faster in a hospital bed than in his own office.

"House, focus," Foreman said, trying once again to get House's attention. House turned from the window, picked up the marker and took his place at the whiteboard.

"There's nothing," Foreman said. "No diabetes, no glaucoma, no drugs in his system-"

"He's not an addict," House bit back.

"You wanted us to test for everything."

"Anything else?"

"Kidneys and liver look good, heart's fine. There's nothing. He's the picture of perfect health," Taub added.

"Except he's blind." House turned to the whiteboard and drew a large question mark before recapping the marker.

"So, should we-"

"Go home," House said unexpectedly.

Foreman stood from his seat, brow furrowed. "You want us to just go home?"

"It's late, there's nothing more we can do tonight. Go home."

The fellows remained seated, no one daring to question him except Foreman. "House, this is Wilson."

House turned away from the whiteboard and pounded his fist on the table in anger. "Don't you think I know that? I said go home."

Not waiting for a second outburst, the fellows filed out of the conference room, leaving House to stare at the nearly empty whiteboard for what felt like a few minutes, but what turned out to be closer to an hour.

"House?" Wilson asked from the doorway.

He closed his eyes upon hearing Wilson's voice; he sounded tired. One word and Wilson conveyed complete exhaustion, fear and a simultaneous plea for help.

"You're fit as a fiddle."

Wilson groped with his hands, searching for the conference room table, only to trip over a chair. "Dammit," he muttered.

"There's a chair there," House said nonchalantly.

"Yeah, thanks for that."

"Just trying to help."

"I'm sure."

House shook his head and sighed; as much as he wanted this friendship back, the tension gone and Wilson's vision restored, he couldn't help but feel bitter. Angry at what, he didn't know, but with no other outlet, Wilson was the unintended target. House opened his mouth, ready to spew hurtful remarks he knew he'd regret later, when Wilson beat him to the punch.

"I'm sorry; I'm just so," Wilson's voice faltered, his fear bubbling to the surface. "I just can't believe this is happening. As if losing Amber wasn't enough…." He allowed his voice to trail off, trying to keep the tears that threatened to fall at bay.

House stood somewhat dumbfounded, thrown off guard by the unexpected apology. The terse words that were on the tip of his tongue only seconds earlier seemed to disappear. Standing there in the dark of the evening with his one time best friend, he twirled his cane as words failed him.

"I shouldn't take it out on you; you don't deserve it," Wilson said, as he felt his way to a sitting position in the offending chair.

Comforting words not being a strong suit, House resorted to what he could rely on: facts. "The tests are all clean."

"Then run more tests," Wilson said, biting down and grimacing.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You grimaced."

"I've got a bad tooth."

"How long?"

"A few days."

"Everybody lies," House said, shaking his head.

"I never lied to you."

"When I asked you if you were in any pain, I meant any pain."

"My tooth is not related to my vision loss."

House sat down opposite Wilson and placed his hands on Wilson's face, pressing firmly around his eyes. Wilson jerked his head back, again wincing from the pressure.

"That hurts," House said, not waiting for Wilson to respond. "When did this start?"

"I…I don't know; it didn't hurt before."

House nodded, wrote the new symptom on the whiteboard and paced several times, deep in thought. It was likely temporal arteritis with this new symptom, but Thirteen had been correct in saying that Wilson was too young for this type of vasculitis. It generally presented in people over fifty years of age. Leave it to Wilson to overachieve.

"Start the prednisone," Wilson whispered.

"If it is temporal arteritis, we need to get a biopsy of your-"

Wilson shook his head, cutting House off. "If it is temporal arteritis, then it's too late for my vision."

"But not for the pain or the potential strokes. We'll start the prednisone but we need confirmation."

"It can wait until tomorrow." Wilson covered his face with his hands and sighed. "I'm too young for this."

"Don't get ahead of yourself; it might be something else."

"Optimism? From you?" Wilson half snorted. "This is bad."

_______

"Where is he?" Cuddy asked as she approached House near the clinic.

"Don't worry, I haven't lost him."

"So, where is he?"

House rolled his eyes and motioned towards an exam room in the clinic with his head. "Getting a pressure check and his first dose of prednisone."

Cuddy's eyes widened in fear. "If it's…he's going to be…."

House nodded. "Permanently blind."

"Oh, Wilson," she sighed. "So, what now? Is he going to your place tonight?" The pair moved towards the door to Wilson's exam room. Cuddy planned on walking inside, hoping to stand by her former employee and long time friend, but House clearly had no intentions of crossing the threshold so the pair remained just outside the door.

House raised an eyebrow and his voice. "You can't be serious. You're the one who wanted him admitted."

"And you're the one who convinced me otherwise. We don't have an empty bed available now."

"He can go to your place, then."

"No he can't, my sister and her family are visiting. Her oldest son is camped out on the couch, her younger son is on the floor, and she and her husband are sharing the guest room with their infant."

House gave her a disbelieving look. "You did this on purpose."

"Right, I invited my family over a month ago because I predicted Wilson would go blind and I wanted nothing more than to force you to spend time with him."

"I knew you had some kind of freakish psychic ability."

"House, I-"

Cuddy was interrupted by a nurse rushing over to the pair. "He's seizing!"

Frowning, House said, "Looks like he's staying here for the night," as he and Cuddy rushed towards Wilson's exam room.

_______