The Irrelevant Bug, Chapter 10.
Wilson peers through a small gap in the curtains each time he hears a car drive near. Behind him, a fire crackles in the grate and House's aunt and Blythe's friend, Mary sit on the sofa making small talk trying not to freeze.
He had called an engineer that morning but the cold snap means that two guys are a low priority when it comes to getting the boiler fixed. Anyway, it kind of suits the icy atmosphere of the unspoken.
Worrying about House is starting to feel like a natural state but it doesn't make the horrendous fluttering in his belly feel any better and it won't make his pulse rate return to anything like normal.
When House had left that morning, Wilson was sure he was still drunk, still way over the limit. Coupled with the snow and the leg, he supposes there ought to be solace in the fact that what would constitute a sure accident for normal people, was the sort of thing that House reveled in on an almost daily basis. Still, he thinks his vigil by the window will count for something at least.
He's been trapped in Blythe's house for days playing no other part in House's grieving process than to make tea and coffee for visitors.
He feels antsy, like bugs are creeping over his skin. He is using every last bit of his reserve to maintain the illusion that he is listening and that he cares; it helps that he spends a large proportion of his working life doing exactly the same thing.
He envies House his freedom and feels sick when he realizes the implications behind that statement.
When the conversation has run out and all three people in the now-stuffy living room are clearly thinking the same thing, the low rumble of House's exhaust pipe splutters up onto the drive.
Silence falls in the room and Wilson can hear his heart beating hard in his chest. He has no idea why he has ascribed so much expectation and weight to House's arrival and thinks, not for the first time, that House can't help but fail to live up to the stifling mass pressing down on him when he enters this house.
There's a jangling of keys and a creak when the front door opens. Unmistakable, lop-sided footfalls make their way up the corridor and House calls out Wilson's name.
"In here, House."
House shouts a reply from the hallway, "It's freezing in here."
When he pushes open the living room door, a brief flash of fear only noticed by Wilson, strikes across his face before he manages to greet his guests.
"Sarah, hi." House then turns to face Mary, and Wilson can see him try to work out whether he is supposed to know who she is. "I don't uh…"
"My name is Mary, honey. I was as good friend of your Mom's. I was here the other day…"
"Oh, right. Good."
Wilson can feel the tiredness seeping out of House and feels really, really bad that he can't just make all this go away. If he could click his fingers and House's aunt and Blythe's friend would disappear, then maybe House would feel just a little bit better.
The room is silent for a little too long and Wilson is grateful when he hears Mary take in a deep breath, ready for some sort of revelation, or something, he hopes.
"Actually honey, I met you some time back when you visited your folks in their last place."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, your mom and I were going to an exhibition… I don't remember what it was now…"
Wilson watches House drop his head and rub his hand across his forehead.
"Greg, what is it?" House's aunt rushes to his side and Wilson stands silently in the corner watching whatever this is play itself out.
Wilson can't bring himself to interfere. Despite all the interfering he's done, the meddling right in the heart of House's life, this seems just too raw and intangible for him to deal with; not after Amber.
House gets up quickly from the sofa and he looks to Wilson as though he's about to drop.
"I don't want to do this now."
House limps past and Wilson feels the cold shiver of his wake make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Greg, wait… honey-" House's aunt stands and looks like she's about to go after him.
"No, it's not time yet."
"What do you mean, James?"
"Now is not the time for talking. That's not his way." With that, Wilson feels like he suddenly, really knows House. The epiphany brings with it a huge sense of calm and Wilson feels all the crazy planets orbiting around in his head, fall into place, just where they should be. He knows House will, and is, dealing with this in his own, unique way. Just as he knows that Amber has been laid to rest; it's his own peace that needs to be restored.
As so often in their friendship, House has forced Wilson through some sort of insane process he didn't know he needed to be a part of. House the healer; House the bereaved. This was all going to hit him and very soon, and Wilson knows he is just going to let it be. House knows what he needs to do.