The next chapter.. please enjoy and review please! I know I've been too long gone with this story, but I promise you I will update faster.

Chapter Four: The End… Never Comes When You Want It

He knew what he was doing when his hand let go of the bottle and raised in the air. He knew what he had done when his rough, old hand with small, large fingers touched her perfect cheek, which send out her everlasting youth, her understanding of make-up. He knew his expression hadn't give away guilt because the pain had won over the shock of his move. But after she had left, the shock came and it had brought guilt, shame and every other similar emotion with it. His eyes were locked on his hands, the orange bottle had fallen on the floor in the process. He looked at his hands in disgust with the feeling those had just murdered someone. It definitely felt that way. He had no right to hit anyone, least of all her. She was pure perfection. Smart, ironic, sexy, strong, witty, rich. These hands had destroyed that perfection within one second. House thought back about the moment his Dad had hit him for the first time.

When he was six years old, his father had let come some friends over to play cards and watch TV while his mum was staying at her parents' place because her mother had fallen of the stairs. His father didn't want him to talk about the night when his mum would return later, so he had put him into his room and had said he would get a present when he stayed at his room that night. Gregory wasn't interested in presents at all, but he had agreed. His plan had be to eavesdrop the conversations through the door. That way he would get his present and he also knew what they were talking about that was probably so important he wasn't allowed to hear it (now he realized it must have been about sex and beer, but he couldn't think of something like that at that age). So he sat quiet at his bureau, making his homework for the second time because he had already done everything he had to do for tomorrow. After twenty minutes he grabbed a glass of his table and put it on the other side of the door. He didn't notice right away his door wasn't completely closed and it opened a little when the glass touched it. He heard a couch angrily be pushed back and big steps came towards his room. With a speed he had never reached before, he ran back to his bureau, put the glass on it again and pretended he was working. The door was pushed open with a big force and slammed shut with the same force. With acted surprise, Gregory turned around and looked into the reddened face of his father. With one big step he was standing right in front of him and he yelled something about eavesdropping him and breaking the deal. Gregory didn't understand completely and wasn't prepared when his father's hand hit his cheek hard. Gregory tumbled aside, falling on his bed with the move. He was in such a state of shock he turned around instead of keeping his hands in front of his face preventing it from being hit again. Before he realized his mistake it had already been too late. Another hand hit his other cheek, and another one, and another one. When his father was finally finished, he kneeled down and grabbed Gregory's chin and said it was his own fault, he had this coming when he started eavesdropping. He tolerated no excuses, nor would he in the future. It had only been a warning for the next time Gregory would do something he didn't like. After that he walked out of the room and locked it from the outside. Not one of the guests had said anything. Gregory cried that first time, because of the pain his father had caused on his face, but also what latter would be translated as emotional pain. He didn't understand it back then. After the years past, he came to understand it more and more. Only after a couple of years he understood he didn't do things wrong every time his father came towards his room. Most of the time he didn't actually. But he wouldn't say anything of it. He adapted to it, hid the pain from everybody. It was the only way to make the pain bearable. The physical pain, but also the emotional pain.

His thoughts dropped back to the present. The present wasn't any better than the past. He wasn't anything better than his father. His father whom had hurt him so much with his fists. But the most pain came from the acting like everything was fine. House turned his gaze away from his hands, not bearing the sight of them any longer at the moment. There was no way back now. He had reached the lowest of the lowest he never thought he could get. The worst kind of people. Why would he bother any longer? Wilson was mad at him because he lied to him, he had humiliated and pained Cuddy.. he had no reason to be here any longer.

House reached down to grab the bottle full of Vicodin and stood up which caused a terrible pain in his leg. He continued anyway and walked out of his office, not even bothering to grab his coat or cane along the way. He stumbled towards the exit doors of the hospital, trying to hide from everybody by looking at the floor the whole way down from the elevator. He knew people were watching. Nurses, patients, visitors. But he didn't care. Not anymore. When he finally was outside, he grabbed his cell phone and called for a cab who picked him up and brought him home.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was an absolute miracle that he didn't get his share of abuse of House when he saw the way House handled his other two employees, Cameron and Foreman. Everyone of them was used to at least one comment a session, but he stayed out of the picture this time. It felt almost like a compliment. Chase watched himself in one of the glass doors that led to a patients room. He straightened his white coat and put a smug smile on his face. He didn't make a comment. He made another pose and watched his image on the door again until he finally realized the patient and his family in the room with the glass doors were looking on him in amazement. With a blushed face he made a hurried exit. He found a space for himself with a computer and logged on in the hospital system to find a way to get in contact with other doctors which their patient could have visited in the area. He knew it was a wide guess and he also knew that it would take a tremendous amount of time but it was worth it. It was worth it to be away from everyone and to finally be by himself. All the rush didn't make him feel better and House's cranky behavior also didn't make his mood more like usual. Cameron already figured out he was wrestling with something and soon more people would find out. And of course, when House finally decided he himself wasn't the most important human being on the planet for a second and would glance at him for a fraction, he would immediately see through him and his 'unusualness'. If House would find out, he could just as easily kill himself right now. House would follow him every step of the way and torture him with 'hero' and all the other sarcastic synonyms he could find. No, definitely no good idea. Instead of thinking about it any longer, he focused on the computer screen and began searching for clues to cure their patient.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After almost four hours of searching the computer, not one name that connected to their patient had popped up. Chase thought he had grown squared eyes by looking at a computer screen for this long and started to wonder how on earth all those addicted nerds could play pc-games for days without a single break and he suddenly almost envied them. He stretched his back and heard his stomach grumbling. He decided it was time for a break and stood up to go to the cafeteria. He walked around so he didn't need to go past House's office and so he could get some exercise. After his 'workout' he reached his destination and moved to the snack department of the cafeteria. While thinking about what to choose, the chocolate cake with citron filling or the applecrumb-pie, he saw Cameron and Foreman sitting at a table at the far end of the cafeteria. He quickly decided to take both choices, paid for them and walked towards his colleagues. While approaching them, he saw the devastated looks on both faces and knew almost instantly he wasn't the only one without a result yet. He sat down on the empty chair between Cameron and Foreman.

"No luck either, he?" Cameron let out a sigh.

"The allergy test was negative. Apparently the guy isn't allergic to me." Chase smiled a bit and gave her one of the extra plastic forks he brought with him. Cameron gracefully accepted it a planted the fork in the chocolate cake and began eating. Meanwhile, Chase looked at Foreman with anticipation.

"Our patient doesn't have kidney failure, I guess?" Foreman looked a bit annoyed.

"No, he doesn't. Do you know since when there's a policy that they only check for the blood levels you put down on the form?" Chase looked back and give a shrug.

"I didn't know."

"Well, normally those lab rats check all the kidney parameters when you mark creatinin. But instead, I get this back." He shoved a piece of paper towards his male colleague. Chase looked at it and indeed saw that the only results they got back was the level of creatinin and the corresponding GFR level: 98 μmol/L and an estimate of 100 ml/min GFR. No increase thus. Chase sighed.

"Why the hell won't they do the rest of the parameters anymore?!"

"Apparently because there're cutbacks and they only determine proteins and other parameters when there're valid reasons to determine them, i.e. when you have a reasonable diagnosis. And well, we don't, ever, do we?"

"And what about the MRI?"

"Kidneys looked fine." Foreman sighed heavily and grabbed Chase's fork off his plate and took a large bite of the applecrumb-pie. Chase stared at his plate and saw with his mouth hanging open how the two people ate his delicious snacks in front of him. With a deep sigh he stood up and headed back to the snacks to get another one.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wilson grabbed his phone and searched for missed calls. He didn't have one. His fight with House wasn't even two days ago and House already had given up calling him. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, he knew how stubborn House is but still he felt even worse than he already did by it. He sighed, dropped the pencil he was holding in his left hand and leaned backwards. He really didn't saw this huge fight with his friend coming. Everything was doing okay lately, Wilson even had the feeling House was less cranky than usual. He made more playful jokes, smiled from time to time and limped less than normally. He had almost acted normal. Wilson hadn't made a comment about it then, because he didn't want to ruin the reason for his abnormal good behavior, but he regretted that move now. If he had asked about it then, he would have also known why it suddenly turned 180 degrees into a abnormal bad behavior. His jokes were rare, the look on his face was a somewhat killer look and he looked at the floor most of the time, like he didn't want to face anyone because he was afraid someone would find out what his problem was. He didn't even scold at nurses who did stupid things or other doctors who didn't find the diagnosis he did discover. He was just quiet, trying to mask everything he was thinking. Wilson also discovered the small steps House took lately and how his leg almost sagged with every step he took. James also hadn't made a comment about this strange behavior, and regretted it even more. He thought it was just temporary, just like his good days were temporary. At the end, House would always roll back into his 'normal' behavior after a while like nothing ever happened. But this rolling back didn't occur fast enough in Wilsons eyes, and Wilson gave up on him. He gave up too soon, he knew nos. He was the only one who would get through to him, to stand by him when he was in trouble. But now he had his behavior brought up and there was no turning back. He, for a moment, thought House quit using Vicodin but nothing resembling was true. He hadn't stop, and Wilson was too stupid to even think such thing. He had become angry and walked away from it, preaching about never coming back. Wilson had been too self-conscious to hammer about the real reason behind House his behavior and just left. Now, it was too late. He didn't wanted contact with him, he needed to solve it by himself for once. James would only look weak if he already answered his phone. The anger about the fight had lowered down a bit after two days, but he wasn't able to surrender yet. House would only continue with doing what he always does and soon he would be insufferable. He sighed again and tried to concentrate on his work when there was a knock on the door. Here we go, he probably insulted someone already. He prepared for what's to come and said it was okay to come in.

He only looked up from his paperwork when the one entering his office sat in the chair in front of him. His eyes grew wide when he saw Cuddy with a red, swollen right cheek.

"What.. How.. Who..What Happened?" Wilson was so astonished that he couldn't find the right words. Cuddy looked down with a hurt face.

"I've got no one else. I don't know who to tell. I don't know how. I don't know what to do." The tears already started to form. Wilson wanted to reached towards her but saw she fearfully jolted back when he touched her hand. Wilsons shock only became worse.

"Did someone… did this to you?" Cuddy nodded slowly. Wilson stood up and walked around the desk to kneel down next to Cuddy.

"Who did, Lisa? You have to tell me. A patient, stranger, someone we know?" Cuddy began to shake a little but didn't respond. Wilson took her in an embrace slowly and felt Cuddy was giving in and was now softly crying against his chest.

"Greg." Wilsons eyes grew wide.

"Greg? Which Greg? The oversized guard Greg Grunberg in front of the hospital?"

"No." Wilson moved Cuddy away from him and grabbed her shoulders while trying to get her attention.

"Who did it then, Lisa? Tell me, please." Suddenly, Cuddy stopped crying and a bit of anger was evident in her eyes. She reached her head and looked straight into Wilsons eyes. She knew it was unbearable for him if he knew, but he was indeed the only one she could go to. She knew if she'd tell, he would have no one left, he would be alone in this world, his life would probably even worse. But if she didn't tell, he could get away with it. He could continue with everything he did. It had been the last drop. She needed to prevent everyone from getting hurt by him. Hurt, just like her. Her eyes went blank when she opened her mouth.

"It was Greg House. House hit me."