The phone rang.
It rang again.
House stared at it, contemplating.
The phone rang again.
Decision made, his body went into action immediately. He skidded across the room and yanked the handset out of the recharger.
"Hey." He said.
Silence. On the other end someone breathed, rough. House heard the sound of metal on metal.
"Are you leaving?" He asked.
"Do you always have to get right to the fucking point like that?" Wilson's complaint came out in one breath. Then silence.
House swallowed. "Are you leaving?" He repeated.
"I might." The metallic sound again and House realized it was keys being hefted in careful thought. "I'm pissed." Wilson said.
"I know."
"I'm real pissed."
A thought struck House and he carefully made his way across the living room towards the front windows. Pulling back the blind, he saw the empty street bathed in moonlight and if he angled just right, the man sitting on his stoop, staring at the ring of keys in his hands incomprehensibly. He hooked his cane on the table.
"I know." House said again.
"You lied."
House leaned forward, his forehead against the cool glass. "You were much happier with the lie."
"I'm much happier drinking regular coffee, until I'm up all night with a headache."
"You drink decaf coffee?" House asked incredulously. The moment the words left his mouth, he sighed in irritation. He didn't mean to go skidding off topic like that. "You're not upset," he said, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment, "because the wild dog you were trying to nurse back to health bit you. You're upset because the wild dog you were trying to nurse back to health bit you…just like everybody said it would." He opened his eyes again. "Including the dog."
"This is not my fault!"
"I know that."
"You are not going to make this my fault."
"I wasn't…"
"I am not trying to nurse anyone…"
"It's understandable…" House squeezed the bridge of his nose.
"You are not a dog."
"It's just a…"
"And this is not my goddamn fault!"
House took a deep, slow, even breath. The window fogged.
"I'm sorry." He said as the fog slowly faded, revealing the man again.
"Oh, you are not."
House rolled his eyes, suddenly very angry. "If I'm not sorry, then what the hell does it matter if I say it or not."
Silence. Wilson's breath came out in white puffs, drifting away before dissipating.
"You sound cold." House said finally.
"I am cold."
"That's because you buy coats based on looks, not on the probability of cold winters occurring in New Jersey."
Wilson hissed between his teeth. "Yeah? Great!"
"Look! I'm not trying to fight. I'm not trying to lie either…just come back."
"No."
"You don't want to go. If you wanted to go, you would be gone. You're just sitting there because you want me to chase you and if you really go, then I can't chase you and….just come back inside."
"No." Wilson said, sounding
"But you…"
"Don't tell me what to goddamn do!"
House smirked. "What to goddamn do?"
Wilson stood.
"Wait!"
Wilson paused. House could see his ribs rising and falling with each breath.
"I don't like this." Wilson said.
"What don't you like?"
"This. All this. The fighting. The lying. The…" Wilson sighed and dropped back on the porch. "I don't know if I can do this…"
"No!" House yelled. He took a deep breath, struggling to regain control of the volume of his voice. He did, but the words still came out raw and forceful. "If you're going to end us, if you're going to walk away from his relationship… and it is a relationship…say it. Don't say 'I can't do this.' Say 'I'm leaving you.'"
"I didn't say that…"
"Go ahead. Say it. 'I'm leaving you.' Three words. 'I'm leaving you.'"
"House…"
House raised his arm and knocked on the wall. Once. Twice. As if he was knocking to be let inside. He leaned his forehead on the glass. Wilson said nothing.
"Say it!"
The anger went through his body and into his arms. House struck.
The drywall crunched between House's knuckles.
House stared at his hand.
"Ow." He said.
Wilson turned his head. "Was that a question?"
"Hang on." House set the phone on the table and used his other hand to guide his fist out of the wall. The skin of his knuckles glistened with blood but a quick examination led him to believe he hadn't broken any bones. It hurt like hell though. He shook the hand experimentally, pressed it into his other palm, wincing at the pain.
House picked up the phone. "I'm gonna need a doctor."
"What?" Wilson turned.
"No, don't come in yet. We need to finish this. I'm just warning you I'm going to need a doctor…and a repairman. I'm not letting you come back because you're worried."
"I'm on the porch. It's not coming back, it's turning around."
"Are you leaving me?"
Wilson shook his head.
House sighed in relief. "Good."
"I didn't even say anything." Wilson looked around anxiously.
"I know. I'm watching you through the front window."
"House!" Wilson spun around, staring in disbelief.
"Yeah. Jerk. Sorry." House raised his arm. "And I put my hand through the drywall."
Wilson shook his head. "Incredible."
"Yeah." House looked at his feet. "Come back?"
Wilson took a deep breath. He nodded, let the phone fall from his ear and shut it.
Dial tone.