Wilson doesn't know how long he has been sitting here. It might have been days, hours, or just a few minutes. He wasn't real friend with Barry. In fact, they have barely gotten to know each other and that makes it even worse. He's still shivering slightly and his knees are dragged to his stomach. He's holding them tightly.

It felt nice to have company in his 'cell'. He felt better with Barry next to him. Now he knows that his own end is probably nearing quickly.

Wilson doesn't get it how someone can be so cruel to kill for money. It doesn't make sense. But there are so many things in the world which don't make sense that he has to simply let it be and accept the fact.

He wishes, already for the millionth time in his captivity, to have House down there with him. Telling stupid jokes, making even stupider remarks, but reminding him by every motion that this friendship matters. He desperately wants to have the chance of seeing his friend again.

He thinks about his mother and father too. How will they be able to stand their second son's disappearance? He has never wanted that. Before this, he was sure he could make them proud of their sons, that he could ease the pain after David's disappearance. Now it's possible that he is in the same situation like David was. Did he also end up with blind eyes and a cold voice telling him total crap? Or was he shot three times like Barry, and had no time to defend himself?

Wilson has already failed on counting time in here, but he's capable of telling what day is it. Today is Monday, and he has been stuck here already for four days and nothing has changed. Has someone outside finally noticed that something is wrong? That he is actually missing? He hopes so.

When he expects it the least, the door flies open like today's morning, when they came for Barry. But there is no Gorilla anymore. Instead, Wilson is staring into Roy's eyes. He has seen them already, so nothing new, but now they are even more wide and piercing.

"Get up!"

Wilson manages to stand on his feet, albeit with much difficulty. Sitting in the corner didn't help his muscles to relax.

"And any tricks, or your second wrist will be in pain as well." Roy announces nonchalantly.

Wilson nods almost invisibly and realizes that he has totally forgotten about the pain in his hand under other circumstances. He curses inertly, because the damaged bone has probably already started to heal on its own and in the worst angle possible. Of course.

Then the scarf is on his face again and he wonders what the difference is. He's going to die anyway so why all the dramatics.

He's forced out of the small room and something in him knows that he'll never get back there. Ironically, he's going to miss this place. Hell, he's going to miss almost everything!

He is led by Roy through the corridor and he feels a cold breeze against his face. There has to be the window opened, he thinks. Finally, they get into this astonishing room again. Astonishing because of the scent of it, Wilson will never forget this and the cold voice speaking to him there either.

"Doctor...Wilson. It was very nice to meet you but as I said, one day we had to say goodbye and this day just came."

Wilson leaves his head down where it is, his chin resting on his chest. He's sure, like never before in his life, what will happen. That he'll hear those agonizing crashes when the gun fires. He tries to inwardly prepare himself for the pain, for the shock, for the death. He fails miserably, and he only feels like his heart is pumping quicker than normally. It seems as though any second it should make its way up his throat. He can't think of anything else but Barry's screams and when he hears the cold voice saying 'Goodbye' to him again, he's sure he also hears the safety lock on the gun turn off.

He closes his eyes; even through they are still hidden by a scarf, he furrows his brows, narrows his head and waits for the shot.

tbc...

I'm ready for threats! Just leave them here along with your comments! ; )