A/N: I'd just like to comment on the reviews. I thank all of you who took the time to send me your thoughts. Buzzkill, thank you for agreeing to review. The fact that you think this story is well written and has decent characterization means a lot. But as far as where you see the story going based on House's encounter with Julie, that is totally incorrect. I hope my writing is never as predictable as you assumed in your review.

Chapter 5

House drove home with the CD player off and the windows open. The Vicodin and scotch chaser weren't mixing well and he felt light headed and sick to his stomach. Or he possibly may have felt sick as a result of his encounter with Julie. He had promised her he would keep her secret for Wilson's sake. She had seemed sincere when she told him that she was breaking up with this guy tonight…whoever he was. But would she? And what about Wilson? He would be devastated if he ever found out that his wife was having … or had been having… another affair. Frankly, House had been very surprised when Wilson had given Julie another chance that first time. He remembered thinking that the young doctor was a fool … or foolishly in love. Probably a bit of both.

Wilson may have screwed him in the trust department, House thought, but he certainly didn't deserve this. Sure, the oncologist liked women… loved women… loved everything about women. But he limited his dalliances to harmless flirtations which apparently satisfied something inside him. For that reason they were important to him, but as far as the women receiving his attentions, they meant nothing. No, Wilson did not deserve this. Julie had better keep her word.

House was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of a blaring car horn. He glanced in his rear view mirror, realizing that he had apparently just run a red light. Wonderful. All he needed was for a cop to stop him for running a red light and then smell the alcohol on his breath. He would flunk the DWI test and end up in jail. For a moment House contemplated whether that would be such a bad thing. After all, they feed you in jail, they provide you with a bed, a blanket… maybe not such a bad thing. Then he considered that they would confiscate his Vicodin and, worse, he'd probably have to share his cell with a drunk. Nope, not a good thing. He slowed the car down and silently thanked whatever god was watching over him that he hadn't been stopped. He managed to obey all the traffic laws the rest of the way home.

When House reached his apartment, he added a pounding headache to his repertoire of delightful ailments. He dragged himself into his apartment, threw off his clothes and fell into bed.

The next morning he overslept and cursed himself as he downed his first Vicodin of the day; then dragged himself out of bed. He lingered in the shower longer than usual, allowing enough time to reap the much needed benefit of steaming hot water on his sore, tired muscles. He slowly woke up and felt his body relax, the Vicodin definitely playing a part in this lovely scenario. The shower had the additional side effect of clearing his mind, although he didn't quite know why. Whatever the reason, it was working for him. So much, in fact, that he finally realized it was Saturday and that he didn't have to go to the hospital.

He spent the rest of the weekend hanging around his apartment watching senseless sitcoms and action movies, reading magazines and medical journals, playing the piano, listening to music, eating junk food, drinking beer … all the necessities of life. Periodically, he checked in with Chase who was lucky enough to have weekend duty at the hospital. Since it was the weekend, their patient's test results would not be back until Monday. Chase told him that she was doing as well as could be expected.

All in all it was a fine weekend, save for the fact that House could not get his mind off Julie and his encounter with her Friday night. It was bad enough that she was cheating on Wilson, but she also managed to put a damper on House's weekend.

Damn that woman.

Monday morning House arrived late to work. He walked into his office and found the results of his patient's blood panel and contrast CT scan on his desk. His team of young diagnosticians was nowhere in sight. He dropped his belongings onto his desk and grabbed his coffee cup, placing it under his arm while he tilted the vertical blinds open to let in more light. He saw Wilson standing outside on their shared balcony, leaning over the railing and appearing to be deep in thought. Watching Wilson brought to mind his run in with Julie and he wondered if the young doctor already knew what was going on.

Wilson must have seen him with his peripheral vision because he turned his head in House's direction. They briefly made eye contact, long enough for House to notice that Wilson looked tired. Wilson quickly turned away without acknowledging his colleague. Nice. Bring on the day.

The first day of the work week had been eventful for House and his team; they had finally come up with a diagnosis for their patient, and had started her on a cocktail of meds that appeared to be working. House managed to get in some gloat time since the contrast CT scan he had ordered turned out to be the test that generated the diagnosis. It didn't matter that the actual diagnosis had been made by Chase. House reminded his team at every possible opportunity that if not for the test he had ordered, Chase never would've been able to come up with a diagnosis. He didn't want anyone on his team to develop an overblown ego.

House hadn't seen Wilson all day, and that managed to make him even angrier with the young doctor. He wondered how much longer Wilson would make him wait before he came to apologize. Surely he had to realize sooner or later that he was wrong and House was right. The older doctor decided to give the oncologist some slack considering what he had found out about his wife. But that didn't change the fact that Wilson had wronged him.

House returned to his office after subjecting himself to two hours of torturous clinic duty. He dropped down into his chair and swiveled it towards the window. He saw Wilson standing on the balcony again, leaning over the railing seemingly taking in the moonlight. In spite of himself, House grabbed his cane as he stood and opened the door. Wilson glanced over his shoulder as House stepped out onto the balcony.

"Dr. House," he said, turning his attention back to the moonlight. House noticed once again that Wilson looked tired and drawn.

"Rough weekend?" he asked as he walked over towards Wilson and leaned against the railing.

"No, not really," Wilson replied tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with his hand.

"Difficult day?" House tried again.

"Not particularly, no," Wilson said.

"Bad food?"

Wilson sighed. "House, what are you getting at?"

"You don't look good. Maybe you should see a doctor," House said, scratching his chin.

Wilson shook his head slowly without looking at the scruffy older doctor.

"You know that I won't give up 'til you spill," House said. He was still pissed at Wilson but couldn't help himself.

"This doesn't concern you, House," Wilson said. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Since when has that ever stopped me?"

"This is true," Wilson sad sadly, "but just this one time try to make an exception." He looked at House as he removed his hands from the railing and stood up.

"Impossible," House quipped. "I'm just an old cripple set in my ways."

"I thought you were pissed at me," Wilson said, placing his hands on his hips.

"Profoundly pissed," House qualified.

"So… why do you care?"

"Just making idle chitchat," House said, popping a Vicodin.

Wilson smiled in spite of himself. "Enjoy your evening," he said, and turned to go back into his office.

"Say hello to the lovely Mrs. Wilson," House called after him.

Wilson stopped and turned back to face House. "Julie's … she's got a meeting tonight so I probably won't see her." He hesitated, rubbing his forehead. "I'll uh… I'll tell her tomorrow," he said.

House nodded, making note of the doubt he saw on Wilson's face. The young doctor returned to his office and slid the glass door shut.

Damn that woman.