I do believe I am finished but you can tell me if I'm not. Warning spoilers for words and deeds slightly OOC, and I think I can finally forgive Wilson in this story.

"If I could be like that, I would give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes.
If I could be like that, what would I do?" Better Than Ezra

House doesn't say a word when he walks through the door and sees me sitting on his couch. Whether he was expecting me to be here or not, I'll never know for sure, but he doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't bother explaining himself, though. He won't tell me anything. He just steps inside, tosses his coat on the floor, sits next to me and turns on the television. He doesn't talk, not for hours, but he sits right next to me and takes my hand.

He looks about the same as always, tired, angry, pained, somewhat nervous. He just looks like himself. I lift my arm slowly, carefully, with every intention of putting it around his shoulder, but I wait. I wait, because I know how he might react.

"I know you hate it when I fuss over you but you've been—lately things are—we both—I don't even know what to say," I try to tell him how I'm feeling but the words just won't come out. He takes my arm and pulls it roughly down to his shoulder, but still doesn't say anything.

At least now I don't have to worry about him going to prison. At least he can keep his job. At least I can keep an eye on him. At least it's not all over. I know he'll never really change, and frankly I think it was unfair of me to have tried to push him into it. He's been through so much, sometimes I wonder if all my pushing has hurt him more than I've ever helped.

Maybe I should stop trying to fix House. He's not okay, not healthy, not happy, not even comfortable, and that's no way to live, but if it's what he wants, I have to respect his wishes. He's in more pain than I can even imagine. If I can be there for him, it might be enough. That might be best.

I love him. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I really do love him and I know that he loves me. He's said the words, more than once and I know he meant it. I can feel it, the way he looks at me, and because he asked me to stay. If I had been somebody else, if he didn't really care, if he didn't need me, then he wouldn't have cared either way, or he would have pushed me away to prove a point, but House begged me not to leave, and he's never asked that of me or anybody else before.

He needs me. As worried as I am, as much as I think he has a chance to get better, I also know that he is terrified of change. That was my mistake before, trying to force him into it. I wanted to Fix House not for him but to prove that I could.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. I'm just gonna tell him everything. "I've been trying to force you to change because I thought I knew what was best. I figured that if you got help, if you felt better…" House still doesn't talk to me, but he nods, and he looks at me. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?"

His answer comes in the form of him taking a pill bottle out of his pocket and, his taking a handful of Vicodin, even though he knows that isn't even close to what I meant. Then he sighs, and I pull his body closer to mine, kissing him softly and just holding him for a while.

"What I said the other night, I meant it. Everything else might have been fake, and I know how badly I screwed up and how close I came to—but I wasn't lying to you. I just thought you'd like to know that." He stops for a minute, struggling with his thoughts, trying to come up with exactly the right way of phrasing things.

"You don't have to do this, not right now anyway. You just went through hell. Give yourself a day or two—If you need it."

"I'm not doing anything. I was, but now I'm finished. That's sort of a strange thing for you to say, isn't it? You keep on telling me how important it is to deal with my feelings and talk to you and then suddenly you've changed your tune. Do you really expect that little of me?" he asks, lifting his head and looks me directly in the eyes. "That's what I figured.

"What? I didn't even—I didn't say anything. Look, I love you and of course I want you to talk to me. I want more out of this. I want you to be happy and—well—you know what I want, I've told you enough times, but I know now that I can't push you into it unless it's something you want too. I'm sorry it took all of this for me to realize it." House watches me for a while, for about an hour, and then he nods slowly.

"Okay," he says, standing up. Then he starts for the bedroom, and I follow. Later, as we're laying there, he turns and smiles at me. "I love you too you know," he says and then gets quiet again.

"Are you okay?" I ask, watching him carefully. "I know. You hate that question, but I'm just—I don't why but I've just got a strange feeling. I feel like something is wrong but I don't know why."

"You're worried about me. That's what you do. I'm fin—I 'm not fine but I'm no worse than I was before any of this started. I was scared. I thought I was going to jail, and losing my job and—you but I'm back to my old self again. It's not great but, I can…we can…" he sighs and stops.

"Okay, I got it. It's okay. I'm here. You asked me to stay, and that's what I'm doing. Things might never be perfect. I'm not even sure if that exists, but I don't need perfect. I just need you."

House yawns, and says, "I need you too," before falling asleep. And for the firs time, I think we're both gonna be alright, and I smile and I sleep too.