Title: When Life Gives You Lemons

Relationships: All friendship

Rating: T/M

Warning: Nothing too bad. Mild language I guess…

Spoilers: Season 1

Disclaimer: I am not making any profit from this fan fiction, all recognizable characters belong to FOX and all of the others belong to me.

A/N: This chapter is much longer than my previous ones but I really wanted to get over the flashbacks and to the rest of the fic. I have more planned and I thought that if I could get the backgrounds out then I could get on with the fic. I do apologize for the flashbacks but I've really enjoyed them.

Chapter 12: Leaving

Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?

-Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Wilson dozed on the couch. He was tired and the past few days had taken a lot out of him. House figured the depression was also causing him to sleep more but he wasn't going to bring that up again. Wilson had already come pretty close to yelling at him for that.

'General Hospital' ended so House flipped through the channels. He landed on a TLC special and deciding to watch that. It was always fun to laugh at how stupid some of the doctors were.

"What does she have?" a man asked one of the doctors on TV.

"Cancer," Dr. Matos, one of the new residents in diagnostics, argued with House.

"No, it isn't," House snapped at him.

Matos rolled his eyes and looked at a fellow resident who simply shrugged. Groaning, he turned back to House. "I had the pathologist check the biopsy twice!"

"You're wrong," House snapped again. "It isn't cancer. The pathologist is wrong."

Matos looked angry. "Do I need to call a consult?"

House gave him wry grin. "Go ahead; I still think you're wrong."

"It's his case, Dr. House," the other resident said quietly.

"Doesn't mean he's right," House snapped. He was not going down without a fight. He was positive the patient didn't have cancer and giving her chemo would be a death sentence if he was right. "He can't override me on this; I'm head of this department now that Palon died." He felt a stab of pain when he said that. Palon had been a good friend to him and since she'd died of a heart attack only two months before, he was still grieving.

"I'm calling for a consult," Matos announced and stormed out of the room.

House laughed at the memory. He knew Dr. Matos was now working for Princeton General as an oncologist but he remembered how wrong that man had been with the diagnosis. The consult he had called for had confirmed it.

The next day, Matos walked in and sat down at the table across from House. "I called for a consult from a different hospital."

"Who is it?" House asked in a bored tone as he flipped through a sports magazine.

"He's not from this hospital. You wouldn't know him," Matos said smugly.

"How did you find him?" House asked, flipping a page. He was only asking because he wanted Matos to shut up. "And where is he?"

"He's a resident," Matos began but House cut him off.

"A resident? You called a resident for a consult call?" House demanded. "You idiot! You're supposed to call someone who knows what they're talking about."

Matos sniffed; after all, he was a resident himself. "He was highly recommended by Dr. Lousing."

House paused, he recognized that name but he couldn't remember where from. He shrugged it off; the memory would come to him eventually. "So where is this guy?"

"He's coming," Matos replied.

House got up. "Well, when he comes, page me."

Matos paged House an hour later and told him to go to pathology. House was in the clinic at the time and was thrilled with the idea of meeting the unfortunate resident.

When he walked in to pathology he saw Matos conversing at a table with the female med student in the department Danielle Cleever and a brown haired man whose head was bowed. House figured they were going over the chart and stayed hidden in the shadows of the room to hear what they said.

"It's cancer," Matos said to them.

"I don't know," Cleever said slowly. "It could be something else. Something we've missed."

"Let me see." The other man took the file. "It looks like it probably is cancer." He looked up and House saw his face for the first time and decided to stay in the shadows while the three talked. "But I'd still like to check for myself."

"House does this crap all the time," Matos snapped. "He's always got some weird theory."

"House? I thought you worked for Robinson." The man frowned.

"He wishes," Cleever said.

"Where is House?" Matos demanded.

"Oh, I'm sure he's around here somewhere," the man said with a rueful grin at the shadowy corner.

House snickered and walked over to them. "This is your idea of a consult? An almost-thirty year old boy?"

"Dr. Lousing said he was the best at their hospital," Matos told House, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

"What else did he say?" House asked, trying not to grin.

"What does it matter?" Matos demanded. "He was recommended. Why isn't that enough for you?"

"Just answer the question," House commanded.

Matos sighed. "He said that Dr. Wilson was a wonder to the oncology department at their hospital."

House looked like a child for whom Christmas had come early. "James Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist."

Wilson groaned and put his head in his hands. "Now I'm going to have to listen to that for the rest of my life."

"You know him?" Matos was clearly stricken.

"Yeah," Wilson muttered, "unfortunately."

"He was my med student," House said. "He understands the pain you're going through." House sat down on a stool. "So what do you think, Wilson?"

"I want a biopsy of my own, House," Wilson answered. They never used last names since they were good friends but Wilson decided that if Greg was going to start that, then he was going to continue. "The pathology looks pretty conclusive but I know that means nothing to you."

"I've missed working with you," House said with a grin. "At least you listen to my ideas."

"Don't flatter yourself," Wilson said, grinning back.

House remembered the look on Matos's face when Wilson had announced that the woman didn't have cancer. It had been a cause for Matos to check the biopsy himself and announce that he'd been wrong. House had snapped at him to check a biopsy for himself in the future because you couldn't always rely on what the pathologist said.

Wilson woke at seven that evening with rigor mortis of the neck. He cursed when he tried to look to the right. "Do you have any Advil? My neck hurts"

House looked at Wilson with a look that clearly wanted to know if his friend was on drugs. When that didn't produce a result he took out his Vicodin and shook the bottle. "What do you think these help cure?" he asked.

Wilson groaned. "Do you have anything with acetaminophenin it that isn't as addictive or dangerous as Vicodin?"

"No, but I've got some ibuprofen," House replied. "It's in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom."

Wilson nodded and went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to get the pills. He shook one out in to his hand and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was taking the pill when he heard House's phone ring. Like always, House ignored it so Wilson didn't bother to answer it either.

Wilson was walking back to the couch when he heard the message being recorded and noticed House glaring angrily at the answering machine.

"Greg, it's Stacy," the message machine recorded, "I was wondering if I could buy you dinner. It has nothing to do with what I said a few days ago, I just want to do it as a thank you." She sighed in to the phone. "I'll talk to you later since you're ignoring me right now."

"What was that about?" Wilson asked as he walked in to the room.

"She wanted to take me to dinner," House replied, his voice annoyed. "You heard it."

"Yeah, I did, and I want to know what she said a few days ago," Wilson informed him. "You've been weird the last few days and I think that there is something personal going on."

House gave him a horrible look. "It's nothing."

"Oh, yeah," Wilson said sarcastically, "'nothing' always makes you act like this."

House glared at him but sighed and looked like he was considering something. After a few moments he said, "She told me I was the one for her but that we could never be together since I don't make enough time for her."

"The one as in The One?" Wilson asked with a shocked look on his face.

"Yeah," House replied. "That's what she meant."

"Wow," Wilson said and sat down on the couch. "Now I understand why you've been so weird."

House snorted.

"What are you going to do?"

"Same thing I've been doing: I'll ignore her," he answered. He wanted Wilson to shut up. He'd been dwelling on this and he just wanted it to go away. 'Damn Stacy!' he thought. 'Damn her for saying anything about how she still feels!'

"Ignoring her isn't going to solve anything," Wilson said.

"Yeah, you learned that with Emma, didn't you," House shot at him.

Wilson turned away.

"I've been offered a job," Wilson told House one day after they'd finished playing lacrosse with some of their friends.

"Cool," House said. "Where?"

"Princeton-Plainsboro," Wilson replied happily.

"Fellowship this time?" House asked with a grin.

"Nope," Wilson answered, his eyes dancing.

"Partnership?" House knew Wilson deserved to have a partnership. At thirty years old he had established himself as one of the best oncologists in the area.

"No," Wilson answered.

"What are you then?" House was curious. "The new administrator?"

Wilson snorted. "They offered me Head of Oncology. Jones is retiring and he said I should have the spot."

"That's quite an honor," House said seriously.

"I know," Wilson replied. "I'm excited."

"You know what this means?" House said with a smirk on his face.

"What's that?" Wilson asked.

"You get to buy me lunch every day. It'll be just like when you were in med school," House taunted.

Wilson snickered and hit House lightly with his lacrosse stick. "In your dreams," he said and ran off the field before House could hit him back.

House grinned and chased after Wilson.

"That's not a happy look," House said when Wilson walked in to the diagnostics conference room where House had two residents going through medical textbooks.

The residents looked up but House didn't offer them any explanation when he and Wilson walked out of the room. They'd become used to the comings and goings of the two doctors in the last six months that Wilson had worked at PPTH.

"So what happened?" House asked when he and Wilson walked outside of the hospital to a coffee table.

"Emma's pregnant," Wilson said miserably.

House looked confused. "How is that bad news? I thought you wanted kids."

"Not yet," Wilson answered slowly. "Besides, it's not my kid."

"How do you know?" House asked but regretted asking when Wilson looked upset. "You don't have to answer that…"

"I've been ignoring her since I started working here and we haven't had sex in at least four months," Wilson admitted, not meeting House's eyes.

"I guess that explains why you've been so touchy lately," House muttered.

Wilson sighed. He decided it was probably best just to ignore that remark. He'd known House for two years and had learned that if his friend made a snide remark it was normally in his best interest if he didn't comment on it. "I messed up again," he moaned.

"You didn't do anything wrong this time," House said.

"I didn't see her as often as I should have. I wasn't always around," Wilson replied, his eyes on the table. "I could have done more."

"I'm not always around for Stacy and we've been together for five years," House pointed out. "You didn't do anything wrong, James." Wilson looked up at the sound of his name. "She just wasn't able to handle being a doctor's wife."

Wilson nodded slightly. "I guess."

"Did you file for divorce?" House asked.

"Yeah," Wilson said miserably. "I called the lawyer a few hours ago." He put his head in his hands. "I'm only thirty years old and this is my second divorce." Tears leaked through his fingers. "I guess this is what you get for ignoring someone you love."

House bit his lip and rested a hand on Wilson's shoulder. He had no words to offer.

"I'll just go home," Wilson said, heading for the door. "I didn't come over here to be abused." He yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him. As he did so, the rain started to pour again. "Wonderful," he muttered furiously as he walked away from the apartment and towards a covered area that the apartment dwellers parked their cars. "Just wonderful."

Wilson sat on a bench feeling a little bad for leaving Greg's house in such a way. He knew Greg was sarcastic and that he had provoked the comment by pressing him about Stacy, but House had had no right to say such a thing! Muttering to himself, he dug in his pocket for his cell, forgetting that it was broken. Groaning, he walked to the payphone on the other side of the covered area.

He shoved his coins into the machine and punched in the number for a cab service. When the person on the other end answered, Wilson rattled off the address, added, "I'm in a bit of a hurry," and hung up.

'Now I sound like everyone else,' Wilson thought to himself. 'I sound like Stacy did when she left him after the infarction. I sound like the friends who walked out on him.' He sighed. 'I sound like everyone who ever abandoned him until I was the only one left. And now I'm leaving...'

"You knew I didn't want this," House roared at Cuddy from his hospital bed as Wilson rounded the corner and nearly entered House's room. He decided it was better if he didn't enter just yet and waited outside. "You knew and you still let her!"

Wilson flinched and he wasn't even the one who had been yelled at. 'They'll be OK,' Wilson told himself. 'He and Lisa are almost as close as he and I are. They'll be OK.'

"I didn't have a choice," Cuddy said tearfully.

The door was slightly open and many people in the hospital were listening to Dr. Cuddy and Dr. House. Wilson glared at them but they didn't react.

"I'll never be able to trust you again either!" House screamed. "Get out," he demanded, "I can't even be near you right now, let alone look at you."

Cuddy walked out of the room with tears streaming from her eyes. "Excuse me," she said to Wilson as she ran past him and towards the bathroom.

Wilson watched her go with a sense of foreboding. It had been two hours since the surgery and House was finally awake enough to comprehend what was going on around him. Gathering himself up, he opened the door and walked in to see his best friend.

House glared at him when he entered. "Why didn't you stop it?"

"I didn't know," Wilson said, trying hard not to flinch at the anger in his friend's voice.

"Don't lie to me," House spat at him. "You and Stacy probably worked together to do this."

"Greg," Wilson pleaded.

"Don't address me as if I'm your friend," House said furiously. "How dare you think that I'd call you a friend after this?"

Wilson flinched and closed his eyes to stop the tears. He felt like he'd just been slapped. "I didn't know," he said forcefully. "I honestly didn't know." He looked at House who was lying stiffly on the bed. Wilson knew House was pretending to ignore him but that he would listen to every word Wilson said. So Wilson began his story about what happened before Stacy had the surgery done.

"Stacy told me you wanted to be put in to a coma and asked what I thought. I told her that if you were in that much pain then it was probably in your best interest. She thanked me and told me to go home." Wilson looked at House and saw that his friend was clenching his jaw. Wilson sighed and sat down in the chair by the bed before continuing.

"I was exhausted. I'd been at the hospital for nearly three days straight, taking shifts with Stacy to make sure someone was always at your side. I thought it was smart of you to ask to be in the coma since you seemed to be in so much pain. I knew you'd be out for a while so I went home and slept for nearly fourteen hours." Tears were rolling down Wilson's cheeks but his voice was still pretty steady.

"I called Stacy after I'd eaten breakfast to see how you were doing and she told me I ought to come to the hospital because there was something she needed to tell me and she didn't want to tell me on the phone." Wilson's voice broke. "I thought you'd died! I was so scared." He saw House's lip quirk upwards but his eyes remained stony.

"When I got to the hospital Stacy took one look at my face and assured me you weren't dead. I knew something was wrong and when I asked her she told me that you didn't ever want to speak to her again." Wilson took a deep breath to steady himself. "She told me what she did. How she used the proxy over Cuddy so that you would have the surgery."

"If I'd known what she was planning I would have stayed at the hospital," Wilson said, his voice broken but serious. "I would have tried to talk her out of it. I would have done something, anything, to help you."

House turned to look at Wilson. "Do you agree with what she did?"

Wilson shook his head. "Her actions were wrong."

"She says she saved my life," House commented. "What do you think?"

"Who can tell?" Wilson asked. "We'll never know." He knew that was what House wanted to hear, but he also knew it was true. Stacy may have ruined House's chance of ever walking normally again, but she may have saved his life. There was no knowing and Wilson didn't want his friend to dwell on it.

"Cuddy should have refused," House said furiously. "She conspired with Stacy to do this."

Wilson blinked. He knew Cuddy had had no choice and was about to say so when Stacy walked in to the room.

"James…" Stacy began but Wilson leapt out of the chair to give them privacy.

"I'll be back," he told House and quickly walked out of the room and turned down the hall. He was going to find Cuddy.

He took the elevator up to cardiology in search of her. She was head of that department so he figured she had to be in there somewhere.

When he reached her office he saw that she wasn't there and he frowned. She had to be somewhere in cardio…

"Can I help you, Dr. Wilson?" a nurse asked.

"Have you seen Dr. Cuddy?" Wilson asked, barely registering that the nurse was a pretty Hispanic girl.

"I think she's in diagnostics," the nurse, Coral, answered.

Wilson nodded his thanks and headed for the elevator.

"Lisa?" Wilson ventured when he reached diagnostics and saw Cuddy sitting in House's office chair.

"Did you talk to him?" she asked, sniffling.

Wilson looked at Cuddy's tear streaked face and his heart went out to her. She was only two years older than he was and had known House since she'd started working at the hospital five years before. They'd been friendly rivals ever since she'd started working there and they'd been named Head of their separate departments in the same year. It was rumored that Cuddy would be the next hospital administrator since the current one was retiring. Wilson thought she deserved the post and was capable of it.

"Yeah," he said. "He's furious."

"He blames me," Cuddy informed him. "I'm sure you heard him yelling."

Wilson nodded glumly. "I did."

"He hates me now," Cuddy said sadly. "I could deal with that but he hates Stacy too."

Wilson frowned. "He loves her."

Cuddy nodded. "I know. But I don't think he will forgive her." She sighed. "For his sake, I hope he does. You know how Greg can be when he puts his mind to something. If he convinces himself that he hates Stacy, he'll never forgive her."

Wilson felt as if he had been struck. He knew how much Greg and Stacy loved each other. He'd known them both long enough to know that they had a kind of happiness and love that he'd never had with his past two wives. It was something he wanted and something he felt that House deserved. "He might be mad at her, but he won't leave her."

"But will she leave him?" Cuddy asked, her eyes searching Wilson's.

"It's probably best if we don't think about that," Wilson told her; not wanting to think about what might be a good possibility.

Cuddy nodded and wiped her eyes. She was embarrassed to cry, especially over something in which she had no control. "He hates me," she whispered.

Wilson moved closer to her and hugged her. "He doesn't hate you. He was mad."

She let Wilson hold her, not caring about how she looked anymore. "I shouldn't have treated him."

"Stacy asked you to," Wilson said gently. "You're the best in your department."

"It was a conflict of interest," Cuddy protested pulling away from Wilson and looked him seriously in the eyes. "I knew better."

"He might have died," Wilson argued. "You couldn't have stood by and watched Greg die."

"I know," Cuddy replied. "But I don't know if I can watch him suffer for the rest of his life either."

Wilson noticed that her eyes were no longer full of tears and she had a steely resolve in her. "Come on; let's go see how he's doing. I left him with Stacy. Maybe they've reconciled." He knew that the words were just false hope but he had to say something.

When they reached the House's room Stacy had gone and House was lying on his back watching TV.

"I don't want any visitors," House snapped at them when the door opened.

"I'm your doctor, not your visitor," Cuddy said to him and went over to the machines.

"I don't want you to be my doctor," House told her, taking a sadistic pleasure in her hurt expression.

"I'll leave in a minute," Cuddy said, the hurt creeping into her voice.

Wilson glared at House but House didn't see the glare – his eyes were angrily following Cuddy.

"Done," she said after a few minutes. "I'll get Dr. Morgra to cover you from now on." As she walked out of the door she added evilly, "You probably won't need my department much longer. Physical therapy is all ready looking over your files. I bet Polvaski will handle the PT himself."

House gave her a horrible look as she left the room but he didn't say anything to.

Wilson, on the other hand, was taken aback by the hatred in House's glare and the evil in Cuddy's voice. They'd always been rivals but the rivalry had always been friendly. To see Cuddy threatening House with a doctor he hated was more than rivalry, it was revenge.

He shook his head when that thought came to him. Revenge wasn't something you did to your friend, especially after something like this.

"Well?" House demanded of Wilson.

"Huh?" Wilson asked stupidly. What had he done this time?

"Are you going to stay or go?"

"Stay," Wilson answered, knowing very well that there was more behind that question, and flopped in to a chair.

In the course of one week many people had stopped visiting House. House had never been a popular guy but he'd had a few friends. Most of them had been his lacrosse buddies and they'd stopped by after the surgery. When House's sharp tongue had pissed them off to the point where they refused to come back, Wilson found himself hoping that some people would still stand by Greg; but he learned that if he tried to force people on his friend then House just got worse. Soon it was to the point that Wilson, Stacy, and Cuddy were the only ones still trying.

Well, Wilson was still trying.

Cuddy had given up on ever being friends with Greg again and, though it obviously pained her to admit it, she was no more than another lying doctor to him. She would stop by when House was asleep and ask Wilson how he was doing.

Wilson always told her he was doing fine.

It was a lie.

Stacy had told Wilson that she had started to move her stuff out of Greg's apartment and she was moving in with her friend Natasha and Natasha's husband Michael until she could find a place to stay permanently. Wilson had done all that he could to convince her to stay but after a week of House telling her how much he hated her or just not telling her anything at all, she'd given up.

"I wish you wouldn't leave him," Wilson told her after House had been in the hospital for three weeks. He noticed that her face was pained but he ignored it.

"I don't want to go," she told him. "But I have to. He's never going to forgive me and I just can't deal with the looks of hatred he gives me. Maybe one day he'll understand but that day just isn't anytime soon."

Wilson sighed. He had no words to offer Stacy because he knew what she said was true. The only reason Wilson hadn't left House was because he knew how much it hurt to have someone betray you. His last wife had betrayed him and he'd cheated on his first. He couldn't let House suffer alone but he'd counted on Stacy to help him.

"I've got to go talk to him," Stacy said quietly. "I've got my stuff in the car and Natasha and Michael are waiting for me at their house."

Wilson nodded and watched Stacy open the door to House's room. She smiled at Wilson through the glass for a moment before she pulled the blinds shut.

Wilson couldn't watch any longer so he headed to his office to work on charts.

"Bye," Stacy said from Wilson's doorway.

Wilson looked up and smiled at her a little. He noticed that she had tears in her eyes but that she looked unwilling to let them fall. "Yeah."

"Good luck," she told him quietly and turned to leave.

Wilson got to his feet and followed her out of his office. "You don't have to go." He wanted to try one more time.

Stacy turned around and smiled at him. She was thirty-nine and had seen more of the unfairness in the world than the thirty-one year old before her had but she would listen to him one last time.

Wilson put his hands on his hips. "Stay, Stacy."

"I can't," she answered sadly thinking that if this was his way of trying to convince her to stay he was doing a horrible job.

"He needs you," Wilson said.

"No he doesn't." She sighed when she saw him run a hand through his hair. "You'll take care of him."

Wilson scoffed. "He's my friend."

"Make sure he doesn't fall," Stacy said as she turned to walk away.

"Stacy!" Wilson called after her.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning around.

"I'll try." He didn't want her to go but he knew now that she wouldn't stay. Nothing he could say would keep her at the hospital and he knew that she had handed in her resignation weeks before and that she couldn't stay now.

Stacy nodded and walked in to the elevator with tears rolling down her cheeks.

A month later Cuddy was made administrator and House was sent home.

Wilson wasn't sure how long it would take his friend to return but he missed him at the hospital. Sure, he saw Greg every afternoon when he drove him over to the hospital for physical therapy but it wasn't the same.

Department of Diagnostic Medicine was emptied of its residents and was closed with the promise of opening when House returned. It turned out that the department wouldn't open for another four months and it hurt Wilson when his friend returned.

House had a new cane and threatened to hit people with it when they asked him how he was feeling or if he needed any help. Even his old residents avoided going near him. For four years Cuddy let him escape from the rest of the staff and avoided him when she could. She didn't excuse him from cases but since he still saved lives she didn't bother him too much about the clinic or his lack of teamwork.

A resident or two was assigned to his department but they were only there for a few months and they never asked to stay longer. After a while she told him he had to hire someone.

When he got the call from Rowan Chase about the position, he listened to the man and told him to have his son submit his résumé. House hired Robert Chase a month later and Wilson hoped that it would help to bring his friend out of the depression that was settling in.

He hated watching House pop painkillers but knew that Greg needed them. Sometimes Wilson wondered how his friend's liver was faring but he never asked too many questions. When the physical therapist stopped writing the scripts, James took over without comment.

After a few more months, House hired the beautiful Allison Cameron who was followed a few months later by Eric Foreman. Wilson was impressed by House's intelligent team and it got on his nerves when he saw them sitting around.

"They do work, don't they?" he teased one day, earning himself an annoyed look from House.

"Yes, Wilson, I do," House said, saying Wilson's name like it was a bad thing and Wilson never commented again.

He and House were still friends; they were still as close as they had been before, but Wilson wouldn't lie to himself and say that his friend was the same. House was much more bitter than he had ever been and his cynicism was a lot harsher. When they were alone House seemed almost forget about his leg but the memory and the pain were never completely gone.

The cab pulled up and honked at Wilson and Wilson felt bad. He couldn't leave House like that even if the comment had been incredibly mean. House had said worse things to him before and he wasn't going to let something so stupid drive him away.

"You call for a cab?" the driver asked.

"No," Wilson lied. "You must have got the wrong address."

The driver swore and drove off looking angry. It was obvious the driver knew Wilson had called him and was no longer interested in a ride.

Wilson got off of the bench and walked back over to House's apartment. He knocked on the door, knowing better than to barge in after a fight.

"You forget something?" House demanded when he opened the door.

"No," Wilson said and slithered by.

House nodded. "Stay or go?"

"Stay," he answered and flopped down in to a chair like he had so many years before.