He wasn't sleeping, couldn't sleep, despite the drugs pumped into his system. His mind was too active, too aware, filled with too many questions and not enough answers. His memory was like Swiss Cheese, things he knew and things he couldn't remember twisting over and around, leaving gaping holes.

Movement beside him caught his attention. Despite not sleeping, he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. He turned his attention from a very in depth study of the ceiling tiles to the man beside him. House shifted slightly, rubbed a hand over his face, and settled back into sleep.

He looked only slightly less pained in sleep than when he was awake. "You really should be in a proper bed, you know," Wilson sighed at the image of his best friend. House lay in his chair, pillows under his head and his knees, legs on the ottoman and crossed loosely at the ankles. His right hand was tucked under his thigh, the left lay across his chest.

"It's good to see you're awake, Dr Wilson," the night nurse came into the room, all smile sand bright eyes. "But you should be sleeping."

"I wish I could, believe me." Wilson smiled at her, wondered if he'd ever hit on her. She didn't look familiar, so maybe not. Hopefully not.

She changed the IV bag, checked the output from his Foley. He really hoped he hadn't made a pass at her. He felt vulnerable enough as it was. She finished her work and smiled at him again, standing next to the bed. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Wilson shook his head.

"How's the pain?"

"Bearable. It's my head I can't get to quiet down."

The nurse put a hand on his arm. "I could get you something to help you sleep."

He shook his head again. "I'm fine." His eyes closed, and opened again. He saw her name tag. "Maggie?" Her name didn't register with his memory, and that was a good sign.

"Yes, Dr Wilson?"

Wilson's eyes shifted to House. "How is he?"

"Dr House? He's –"

"Don't tell me he's fine. I know he's not fine. He's very much not fine."

Maggie nodded, and her expression softened. "Dr Chase has been taking care of him. I know he's having trouble keeping anything down and he's not getting around very well. I also know he's stubborn and dedicated and he hasn't left your side."

Wilson's gaze drifted to House. House stirred, moved like he wanted to turn on his side, but his leg refused to let him. He murmured something and sighed, rubbing his face again. Wilson reached up to rub the back of his neck. "Thanks, Maggie," he whispered, but he'd already forgotten she was there.

House could only sit back and watch, or not watch, as Cuddy and Chase helped Wilson into a chair. It took him a minute, once he was sitting up, to focus. House knew the feeling well. Knew too well how sitting up after laying down for so long created confusion in the body.

"I want to see her before I go to therapy."

House sat up a little straighter in his chair. With Wilson settled, Chase moved over to House and unhooked the IV. House never looked at him, his gaze was intent and focused on Wilson. "I think you should wait. You've been through a lot and –"

"And she's still my wife," Wilson answered before House could say more. He reached up to rub the back of his neck as Cuddy lay a blanket over his legs. "I appreciate everything you've done, Greg, but this is something I have to do."

House rubbed his left hand over his face. He couldn't really argue with that.

"I sent her to the cafeteria. I'll go see if she's still there." Cuddy offered. Wilson nodded. House grumbled.

"I want you to leave, House." Wilson said softly.

House looked at him, Chase tried to fade into the shadows. House sighed. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I heard you. But I don't think…"

"It's not your call, Greg. She's my wife. I need to talk to her. Alone."

"Fine. But I'm not leaving until she gets here."

Wilson nodded. "I didn't think you would." His voice dropped to a murmur. "Please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry." Chase slipped out from behind House's chair, and slinked toward the door. Neither House nor Wilson acknowledged him and he slipped out into the hallway.

"You are. Your nostrils are flaring."

"I just think you've been through enough and you're going to PT in an hour and the wicked witch can wait."

Wilson shook his head. "You and I both know I'm lucky to be alive, but I've got a long road ahead of me. I'm going to be tired and irritable and unpleasant most of the time. I want to get this crap with Julie taken care of before that so it's one less thing I have to worry about."

House closed his eyes while Wilson was talking. He remembered how he'd felt about Stacy after his infarction, how she was the last person he wanted around, and the only person he wanted around. "Okay. You made your point. Just promise me you won't let her –"

"My marriage is over, House. It was over a long time ago. She finally got he nerve to do something about it, and I'm done. I'm thankful my left had still works so I can sign the damn papers, because believe me. Julie is the last person I want taking care of me."

House sighed and rubbed his face again. Wilson seemed to be dealing with everything just a little too calmly. Almost like he didn't care that he was laid up, that he couldn't even sit in a chair without help, that his wife had left him. Okay, House understood the last part. What he didn't understand was why James married Julie in the first place.

Two sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway. House noticed Wilson had his eyes closed. "I hope you're ready for this."

"I'm not. I have to be."

"Right." He glanced toward the door, then let his eyes drift around the room. "Where's Chase?"

"He left."

"Oh."

"Hello, James." Julie followed Cuddy into the room. Cuddy glanced at Wilson, but went to help House get up. House pushed her hands away and glared at her.

"Hello, Julie." Wilson answered. Julie bent down to kiss Wilson's cheek.

House hissed. Wilson looked at him. "I thought you were leaving."

"My leg hurts. I don't think I should move."

"Dr House," Cuddy tapped her foot. "I need a consult. In the hallway."

"Fine. Give me a god damn minute." He struggled to get up, but refused to accept Cuddy's help, though she did hand him his cane. Which he took without a word and hobbled out of the room.

Wilson didn't want to watch, he hated seeing House in pain like that. But he didn't want to look at Julie either, at least until House was gone. Now that she was standing there in front of him, he wondered why the hell he'd been so insistent.

"I'm sorry," Julie said softly.

House was out the door. The familiar pattern of his step fading as he made his way down the hall. "You look great," he said to her, Small talk. But it was true. The sea foam green that dominated her pant suit highlighted her eyes.

"You…well. You probably know you don't look so good."

"Thanks a lot, Julie."

"No. I just mean…" She sighed and sat on the end of the bed.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know what you mean. Where's my dog? I can't believe you took my dog."

"He begged me to go. You know how he gets when he sees the suitcases."

"Where is he now?"

"My sister has him."

Wilson looked down at his mangled hand. The blanket over his lifeless legs. "I want him back. As soon as I'm out of here."

"I don't want it to be over, James."

He blinked at her. "It's been over, Julie. For a long time."

"We're not divorced yet. You don't have to sign the papers." She moved to kneel on the floor in front of him. She reached for is hand, but the splints prevented her taking hold of it.

"You can have the house, Julie. I'm going to stay with Greg when they discharge me. Which won't be for a few weeks at least. " So what if they hadn't talked actually discussed that. He knew it was only a matter of time before House suggested it. And he was, perhaps, the best person to help take care of him, he'd been there before with the learning to walk again thing. He'd know, better than anyone, what Wilson was going through on a day to day basis.

Julie dabbed the corners of her eyes. "I don't want the house, James. I want you."

"Why, Julie? Because I'm hurt? You want to take care of me?"

"No. Yes. Maybe." Julie looked down, hair falling around her face.

"I think you should go. And don't come back unless you have the papers for me to sign."

"I still love you."

"You love the idea of me. Not me."

"James…" She stood over him.

He stopped her before she could lean in and kiss him. "I really think you should go, Julie."

She pressed her forehead to his. "I don't want to go, James."

"Greg will be back any minute. You really want him to chase you off with his cane?"

"If that's what I have to do to prove myself to you."

"There's nothing to prove, Julie. It's over. Go home."

Julie sighed and moved away from him, smoothing out her blouse. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. You're such a bastard, James."

Wilson just looked down at his hand in his lap. He had nothing more to say to her. He closed his eyes and listened to her retreating footsteps. After a moment, he looked up, looked around the room as if he couldn't believe he was alone. Actually alone.

He flipped the blankets off his legs and scooted to the edge of the chair. A quick glance at the door, a tilt of his head listening for footsteps. A nurse, at least he assumed it was a nurse, talking in the distance. Nothing, no one close.

He braced both hands against the arms of he chair and took a deep breath, bit his bottom lip for added concentration, and tried to push himself up.

He knew it wasn't a smart idea. He'd been in bed, flat on his back, for a week. Eight days, actually. He knew, and yet he did it anyway.

He almost felt relieved when his legs refused to hold his weight and gravity pulled him to the floor. He hit the cold tile in a twisted heap, his IV line ripped out of his arm. Blood gushed from the site, he clamped his other hand down on it to try to stop the flow. Or at least slow it down until someone wandered by his room.

And he hoped to hell it wouldn't be House.