This chapter was interesting, mostly because of the fact that I was playing around in House's head. I promise, if it wasn't such a serious chapter, there would be more snark. Maybe next chapter?

The world spun, and Wilson found himself in House's apartment.

The man was asleep on the couch, lightly snoring. A quick look at a clock revealed it was an hour or so before Wilson had shown up.

Suddenly, Wilson was on his ass. A sharp, searing pain had shot through his thigh, sending him down, down, down. He cried out, gripping it and flailing in blind, white hot agony.

House had woken up, and was massaging his thigh muscle franticly, his eyes closed and his head pressed up against the couch. His breath came out in short, pained gasps.

This was House's pain he was feeling? How was the man not screaming?

Kutner touched Wilson's arm, and suddenly the pain was gone. Wilson lay on the ground and panted in relief.

"I need you paying attention," the younger doctor explained, "But I wanted you to feel what he felt for a moment. Now, instead, you'll hear what's going on in his head."

Before he had a chance to think, 'What the hell?' Wilson felt a strange, tingling sensation all over his body, like the feeling he got when his leg or arm fell asleep.

Suddenly, with the force of an oncoming freight train, Wilson felt himself connect with House's mind.

He saw stars. It was overwhelming. Suddenly he felt all that his friend felt, thought everything that House thought. With a mind like House's, Wilson was left, confused and sore, in the dust. He literally hearing everything that ran through House's mind.

'Jesus,' he 'heard' House think. 'Why so much pain today, leg? Did I slip up and insult you again? Come on, you know when I said you looked fat in that, I was joking.'

It was a strange sensation. He knew House was in an incredible amount of pain, but he didn't feel it himself. Instead, he felt the effect it had on House's mind. The feeling was literally so strong that it clouded the man's thoughts; Wilson had the strange sensation that he was listening to House through a cardboard tube, or seeing him through warped glass. His mind just wasn't clear.

Wilson felt sick at the kind of pain it would take to derail House's powerful mind.

He watched as House's shaky hand pulled out his Vicodin, popping the lid in one practiced movement. 'Not that it will help,' House thought as he dry swallowed two. 'Not with breakthrough pain. You know that, you moron, so why are you taking them? Oh yeah, because you don't want to detox on top of everything else.'

Little to no relief came with the pills. His mind hardly sharpened. Wilson felt his stomach lurch. How long had House been dealing with this?

'This is a long one,' House thought, as if answering Wilson's unspoken question. 'I'd hoped the weekend was going to be long enough to get rid of it, but no, it just had to keep on hitting me today. I have got to figure something out, or this is going to kill me. I can't handle more than one breakthrough episode a month.'

Wilson swallowed. A month? House had been getting that kind of pain that often? And he hadn't even noticed.

'I need to sleep. I haven't really slept in… what day is it? Monday. Nearly three days-'

Suddenly, his thoughts just stopped. Wilson watched as House bent over his leg, hissing as another cramp wracked the tired muscle. He rubbed it franticly, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling.

This continued on for several minutes, until the cramping let up. 'God,' House thought tiredly. His thoughts seemed like they were coming through on a bad connection. 'How the hell am I going to piss? When was the last time I ate? I certainly can't get up right now. The last thing I want to do is fall flat on my ass and have to explain that to the ducklings.'

Wilson paused to quirk a smile at House's nickname for his team, but he wasn't smiling for long.

'I'm a moron for not leaving the morphine within reach. Why did I think putting it way up there was even close to a good idea? I use it for breakthrough pain… so I put it where I can't reach it. Yeah. Real intelligent, genius.'

Wilson rounded on Kutner. "He keeps morphine here?"

Kutner's eyes flashed. Suddenly, Wilson felt that horrible pain in his thigh again, and he cried out and fell to his knees. Kutner's voice cut through his agony, but his words were just as angry.

"You'd keep morphine around too, if your leg did that to you on a regular basis," he hissed furiously. "Try walking on that. I dare you."

"You're right! You're right!" Wilson cried frantically, until the pain faded. He felt ashamed of himself, and not just because he was crying like a girl over pain House dealt with constantly. Of course House kept morphine around.

House's thoughts cut through his own. 'Damn. I'm not going to get any sleep if this doesn't stop. I could try a hot bath, but… if I fall, I'm on my own. No. better not do that.'

'What was that?' he thought, as he heard a car pull up in front of his building. With a sense of foreboding, they both realized that it was Wilson pulling up.

Oh, no. Not him.

Wilson felt sort of hurt, until he heard House's next thought. 'I don't want to snap at him. But I don't want him to see me like this. It'll kill him.'

'And on top of this, I can't deal with a lecture, which he's sure to give me when I mention that I need my prescription refilled, again. "You're abusing them, House. You're addicted, House"' he mocked, his mind mimicking Wilson's voice perfectly. Wilson flinched to hear his own harsh words like that. 'For God's sake, I'm dependent. Without them I'd be in pain like this on a regular basis. But does he know about that? No. And do I plan on telling him that? Obviously not.'

It seemed like House was defending Wilson in his own mind. Wilson couldn't help but feel he didn't really deserve it.

House sighed. 'Can you blame him, Greg? The things are killing you. But I need them. They're the only things that work without making me fuzzy. It's not like I work on morphine, I'm not that stupid.'

House was arguing with himself, back and forth. 'I've tried a hundred other things. Nothing works. And even now, Vicodin fails me sometimes. Damn it! I'm so tired of being in pain!'

Wilson heard himself knock on the door. 'No. Please, Wilson, go away. I don't want to rip you apart. You're all I have.'

Of course, he opened the door. Wilson felt a vague sense of disgust for himself as he unlocked the door, striding in.

From this angle, of course, he could see what he hadn't last night. House was breathing fast, pain making his thoughts bump and hitch like a car on a dirt road. His eyes were tightly shut and sweat was dripping down his neck, drenching his tee shirt.

House opened his eyes, turning with effort to look at Wilson. 'Gotta get him out of here before I get another cramp. I can't put him back in that pitiful position, man's gotta live his own life. Come on Greg, suck it up. You know he'll see it on your face if you let him, and it's only a matter of time before he's tired of you… just like Stacy was.'

House's real voice was much steadier than his thoughts, and Wilson took a moment to marvel at how well he hid the pain. "Go away, Wilson. I'm tired and I don't feel like it tonight."

His thoughts held more truth. 'God, I sound like a total ass. But that's the goal, isn't it? Better if he gets mad, than if he gives up all together.'

House got desperate as Wilson came closer. 'He gets around the couch, and he'll know something's wrong, and he'll freak.' "Did you not hear me? Get the hell out!"

'Damn!' House thought as another cramp began. Wilson swallowed as his inner dialogue faded to a bad cell phone connection. 'Calm down, Greg. Calm down or you're going to scream out loud, and he'll never leave you alone.'

Wilson wanted to slap himself.

"Why?"

'Because I don't want to snap at you and say something incredibly awful because I'm in pain. Because I still want you to want to be around me on good days, because I need you. You're all I have.'

"I don't want you here?" 'God, that came out as a question. Be more forceful, or he's not going to believe you!'

Wilson had snapped then. "Really? You really don't? Because I seem to be over here a lot when you supposedly don't want me, but it seems like I do a lot of cleaning up your wasted ass for you to resent me."

'Yeah, you do. And thank you. Thank you. But I don't want your pity. Tonight, you need to leave, because you don't need to see me in breakthrough pain. I might get past even your needy meter, and then you'll leave me alone and won't come back, and I'll end up killing myself.'

"That's fine with me, Jimmy, if you need to stroke your ego by hanging around a needy cripple. But tonight, you need to go back to your lonely apartment, with no wife to keep you company, and leave me the hell alone!"

'Jesus Christ, that was harsh. But look at his face. He should be mad enough to leave you alone now, and he won't have to stick around to keep me together. I can manage. I think.'

"Fine! And don't you dare call me for a ride in the morning!"

Wilson watched himself stomp out, totally oblivious to House's inner reasoning.

House winced, letting a shuddering breath escape him as the door slammed. The cramp took over, and he rubbed at it until it eased a bit and he could think clearly. 'Okay, obviously I took it too far. It's raining, and it'll be raining tomorrow too. Can't take the bike, obviously. And I can't drive like this. If I cramp up in the middle of the road I'll crash and end up smashing into some old lady. Damn.'

House closed his eyes. 'I guess I'm calling a cab. I sure as hell aint riding the bus.'

Wilson physically flinched as broken up images of the crash and Amber flitted through House's head.

"And I didn't take him, either. God, I'm an ass," Wilson mumbled to Kutner.

Kutner didn't look at him, instead focusing on House. "Well, he does hide pain pretty well. His point was to drive you away, Wilson, so don't beat yourself up about him getting his way."

Wilson didn't really feel absolved of anything.

House's thoughts stopped Wilson's guilt trip. 'SHIT!' he practically hissed, and lunged for a trash can that was sitting close to the couch. His mind went blank, then he was violently ill into the bin.

Wilson winced at the sound of dry heaving. Nothing but bile, and two half dissolved pills, came out of House's mouth. Obviously, he hadn't eaten in a long while.

House's shoulders were shaking by the time he was done, and his thoughts slowly floated back to the surface. 'Damn. Did I just pull an ab muscle?' He leaned back marginally, and inhaled a sharp, irritated breath. 'Yep. That's going to be real fun tomorrow. Like I didn't have enough to deal with.'

He popped the cap to his pill bottle and shook out three, tossing them back and chewing them up, and he grimaced at the bitter taste. 'Hopefully these will stay down long enough to actually do something,' he thought darkly, laying back into the couch and pressing his hands into his eyes, sighing heavily.

The clock flicked over to 1:00 AM.

Satisfactory, or more past? Let me know in reviews.

-Harper