Okay, I'm not finished. I've got at least one more chapter left after this one.

"I thought you'd come through
I thought you'd come clean
you were the best thing, I should never have seen
But you go to extremes
you push me too far
Then you keep going till you break my heart
Yeah, you break my heart," The Pretenders

I've been concerned about House before; I've been disappointed in him, angry, mad, hurt, felt sorry for him; I've loved him, but I don't think I've ever been pissed off to the point of almost hating him, like I am right now. I keep on telling myself that no matter what is wrong with him, no mater what he says, no mater what happens, I won't forgive him, not until he makes things right.

I don't say anything when he drives past me on the bike, I won't even make eye contact. Not that it seems to mater; he shoots me that look, but won't apologize. Then he drives off and I'm stuck here, waiting for the stupid bus. By the time I get back to my place, shower, and get into bed, it's after midnight and yet I still can't fall asleep. I can't stop thinking about House.

I can sit in my office all day trying to convince myself otherwise, but I still care about him. I still love him. Finally, around 3:00, I manage to nod off. So it's only natural, that less than fifteen minutes later a loud knock on the door wakes me up. Damnit!

"I know it's you," I call as I make my way to the door. The knocking doesn't stop, doesn't get any less desperate. "What do you want?" I ask, not opening the door, not even unlocking it.

"I need you to let me in. I need help," he says quietly. I open the door and pull him inside, only to make him be quiet so the neighbors won't complain.

"I can't write you any more prescriptions, don't bother asking and you have to leave. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I had that dream again," he tells me staring at the floor. "I'm—look this thing with Tritter, it's going to go away, but the other thing." He shakes his head.

"I thought you were doing better on that one. We talked about the dreams." He shrugs silently. "A lot of people have nightmares."

"But you weren't there, and you said you would be—I uh—I don't like to be alone." His voice trails off. House rubs his eyes. "But I'll go now."

"Sit on the couch. Relax. I don't know what to say. My car was towed. I can't treat my patients. I'm gonna get kicked out of this place in a week, maybe less, and you don't even care!"

"What am I supposed to do? If I tell the cops, I lose my license and go to prison. Do you know what that would be like? I'd—I can't. Please, don't turn against me to. You're all I've got."

"You can't do this to me! I'm mad, and I have every right to be mad. It's entirely within reason. Chances are if things keep going this way, we're both going to jail. I don't think I've ever been this angry with you and then you come over here with—how am I supposed to act?"

"I know I shouldn't have come here. I just couldn't—you—I need you. I need help, and you know how hard it is for me to say that, so don't make me do it again." He looks up helplessly. I cannot deal with this right now.

"Look, it's late. How about we get some sleep and talk about this in the morning? Okay? Because right now, you don't want to talk to me. You don't even want to be in the same room as me if you can manage that."

"I—um—yeah, okay," he says, lying back down awkwardly on the sofa. I know what he's doing, what he's trying to do. He wants to make me feel bad for him. It's working, of course, and I have to give in.

"Come on," I call jerking my head towards the bedroom. "If you wanna, I mean." He nods, following me and rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says laying down and staring at the ceiling. "If it makes any difference, I'm sorry." It's not much, but it is something. I'm not just going to forgive him though, not that simply, not like this. I love him, truly I do, but what he did—I still don't believe it. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive him this time.

"Yeah, it helps, but—you didn't even think twice about it. You just—and now I might as well not bother showing up to work. I don't think I can forgive you this time."

"I guess we're even then, aren't we, Jimmy? Trust me on this one; what you did was a lot worse."

"I made one mistake, one time and I stopped, after that. You—what you did keeps on spiraling out of control. It's getting worse and worse. We're both screwed. Your whole team is going to get screwed." House shrugs closing his eyes.

"I thought you didn't have anything to say. You said you wanted to sleep, but you're the one who is keeping us up all night. I'm sorry. I don't think I can do better than that. I'm sorry." And then, he's asleep.

Watching him lying there like that, helpless, exposed, venerable, it's hard to stay mad at him when he looks so—innocent. It's almost enough to make me forgive him. I said almost, of course, which means that I haven't actually been able to do that quiet yet. I don't sleep, not that it matters I haven't got any work to do. Maybe I'll just stay here and spend the day fighting it out with House. Oh God I hate him. Oh god I love him. "You're staring," he says with a yawn. "Have I got something hanging from my nose?"

"That's not even remotely funny, and don't try again. I don't feel like laughing. We need to talk. Don't roll your eyes at me. What are you doing? Sit back down."

"I can't have this conversation on an empty stomach," he explains, reaching for his coat. I try to catch myself, but he sees the grimace. "I'm in pain. That's the answer to all of your questions."

"I have to keep lying for you, because what? Because this job is all you've got? That's about what you said, right? Have you once considered what my career means to me? Do you know what it would happen to me if I lost my job?"

"Didn't we have this talk last night? And last week? And—well it just seems to me that you keep coming back to this."

"Because it's a big deal and you refuse to do anything about it. Tell me you feel bad. Tell me that you're going to fix things. Tell me you have a plan and then do it!"

"I feel bad about what happened. I want to fix this, do you think I like having you mad at me? I'm scared that you'll leave and I'm afraid because of the other thing…" He's got tears on his cheeks but then he turns around and wipes them away. I put my hand on his shoulder, to comfort him, but he jumps. "Don't," he grimaces. "I'm sorry."

"No," I say sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, "I'm sorry—for that anyway." House lifts his head slightly, and looks at me.

"I decided last night; I forgive you for—whatever you want to call what you did that day. I forgive you. I mean, we weren't even speaking lat night but you let me in here and did almost everything right, when I needed you and I realized that you only want what's best for me. You love me and you'll take care of me no matter what and you—you care about me. And I uh—decided that you deserve to be forgiven."

He did that on purpose. I mean maybe he really has forgiven me but the only reason he's telling me right now is to try and guilt me into forgiving him. He's trying to make me feel like shit, and its working. I know it's not all an act. At least he's not crying. If he starts to cry, I think that would push me over the edge. I wish I knew how I was supposed to deal with this.

"I'm glad, grateful even, that you were able to forgive me, especially considering what I did to you but I'm not at that point yet. I'm sorry. I just can't. Maybe you're a better person than I am." He rolls his eyes. "I know. I'm a jerk, I get it. I'm sorry. I just can't forgive you right now."