Wilson was somewhat relieved to see House laugh. It wasn't often that he did. The movie's credits came scrolling on the screen.

"Not bad," House said. "That landlady, know who she reminded me of?"

"No clue." Wilson said smiling.

"Cuddy!" House said mischievously. "It's perfect. I can see her now, walking around the house, hair in curlers, cigarette dripping from those frowny lips, that oh-so-sexy white nightgown."

Wilson shook his head. "You're sick. Speaking of Cuddy," his tone grew serious.

House waved his hand. "We are not speaking of Cuddy. It's still early. What's next?" He opened another beer.

Wilson looked at the two remaining movies. "Okay, we have a choice of 'Shaolin Soccer', another comedy, or an action flick."

"Action? Specifically?" House took a sip of beer.

"The One." Wilson said, and was quickly startled as House choked on his beer. "Jesus you OK?"

House coughed, shaking his head. "God," he said after the coughing spell had dissipated, "has a very cruel sense of humor."

Wilson looked confused. "I don't get it."

"I don't want to talk about it." House said.

"You can't just throw out a comment about God having a bad sense of humor and not explain yourself." Wilson said sourly.

"I can, and I will," House said petulantly. "Next topic."

"Fine," Wilson said. "Fine, be that way. So we're going to talk about something else. I ran into Cuddy as I was leaving today…"

"With your car?" House said hopefully.

Wilson scowled. "Stop that. This is serious."

"Oooh I'm all a twitter to see what Dr. Jimmy has to say," House muttered sardonically.

Wilson's eyes narrowed. "Cuddy said that she asked Stacy to work at the hospital."

If it were at all possible, House seemed to shrink a little before Wilson's eyes. He looked down at the floor for a few, quiet seconds. "Yeah." He managed to say before taking another drink.

"She also mentioned that Stacy only agreed to the job if it were OK with you. And Cuddy said that you said yes." He fixed House with a stare.

House didn't look at him. He sighed, and picked up a few errant grains of rice off of the coffee table and ate them.

"Well?" Wilson persisted.

House's hand slammed down on the table in a sudden motion. Wilson jumped. House balled the hand into a fist, secretly savoring the stinging pain in his palm. He looked up at Wilson, and with a start, Wilson saw how haggard he looked.

"Well…" House said slowly. He closed his eyes. "I've had a shitty day. Do we really have to talk about this now?"

"If not now… when?" Wilson asked softly.

"Fine. Cuddy came and asked me if I was OK with Stacy working at the hospital while Mark is still here. What could I have said?"

"You could have said no." Wilson said.

"Yeah right. I'm not giving her that kind of satisfaction." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the soft leather of the couch. He opened his eyes and gave a sideways glance at Wilson. "She told me I was 'The One'. Hence my comment from earlier."

"Who did, Stacy?" Wilson looked confused.

"No, Cuddy. Then she dropped to her knees and offered to blow me. Of course Stacy." He sighed again. "She said that I was always going to be the one for her. But that she couldn't be with me because I made her lonely. What kind of bullshit is that?"

Wilson's eyes were the size of saucers. "She told you she still loved you?"

"Not in so many words. But yeah. She still loves me, and goes home and does her guidance counselor. How fucked up is that?" House stared at his hands.

"Pretty fucked up." Wilson nodded. "Do you love her? Still, I mean?"

House closed his eyes in thought. "I don't know," he said finally. "I feel something for her. But I don't think it's love. Not anymore. On some level I'll always love her. I don't know anything anymore." He inspected a fingernail, not wanting to make eye contact with Wilson.

"She loves you," Wilson said. "She'll never stop loving you, now she works with you. That's a dangerous combination. Do you want her back?"

House picked up the remote to the stereo. The Rolling Stones blasted over the speakers. He winced, and switched CD's. "You Can't Always Get What You Want" wasn't what he needed to be hearing right now. Not again anyway. Vivaldi would do.

"No," he said softly. "I don't."

"Okay." Wilson said softly, unsure as to how to continue. "So maybe you need to see other people. It would be good to get out."

"You mean Cameron don't you?" House said somewhat bitterly.

"Not necessarily Cameron. But sure, why not. She's pretty, she's smart, you like her." Wilson spoke slowly, afraid to hit a nerve. "I mean, you do like her, right?"

House looked up at the ceiling. "She is pretty, smart, and I do like her." He agreed. "The problem is, that I've already fucked up that relationship before it started."

"So the date went poorly. Not a big deal. Just try again."

House looked over at him and shook his head slowly. "Oh this is much, much worse."

"Worse than you telling her that the reason she was interested in you was because of a pathological need to fix things that were broken?" Wilson picked up a piece of pineapple from the rice. "What did you do?"

House snorted. "Oh sure, I have to do something."

Wilson sighed. "House,"

"I didn't do anything," House snapped. "I was just checking up on Mark Warner,"

"You mean spying on Stacy," Wilson interjected.

"Whatever. Anyhow, Cameron comes up to me and asks me how Warner is doing, and the next thing out of her mouth is that she thought I was too screwed up to love anyone."

Wilson laughed. "She said that? Wow. When did she grow cojones?"

'I have no idea. Now don't interrupt," House said annoyed.

"There's more?"

"Oh yeah. She said she thought I was too screwed up to love anyone. But that she was wrong. I just couldn't love her. And that she was happy for me."

Wilson's jaw dropped. "Holy shit. She said all that?"

"She did." House said softly. "And then she turned around and walked away." House sighed again.

"And you said…"

"I said nothing. I just watched her walk away. Then I turned around and watched Stacy and Mr. Mackey cuddle."

"Markey," Wilson corrected.

"I said Mackey I meant Mackey, mmm'kay?" House said. "Southpark. I know you watch it. And you're interrupting again." House scowled.

"Oh like you don't interrupt me all the time," Wilson said.

"That doesn't make it right. Anyhow. So I go to my office to feel sorry for myself and Stacy comes in and tells me that I'm the one. And then when I see Cuddy she tells me about the job offer. So now Cameron hates me, Stacy loves me, and Cuddy wants to torture me."

"Cameron doesn't hate you. She loves you." Wilson said patiently.

"You said that about Stacy," House reminded him.

"Yeah. And I was right." Wilson said smugly. "So what are you going to do about this predicament you find yourself in?"

"Well I had planned on sitting home and wallowing in my own self pity. Drink some scotch, listen to music. Play the piano. But you had to come over here and ruin it."

"Your plan sucks. You need to talk to Cameron," Wilson said.

"Wrong. That would only make things worse." House said. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have good luck with the ladies."

"Just observe the master," Wilson said.

"So says the man with three divorces under his belt." House said dryly.

"I am not divorced from Julie," Wilson said indignantly.

"Yet," House responded.

Wilson waved his hand dismissively. "Fine," he said. "The point being that I was able to get them to marry me in the first place."

"I always assumed you hit them over the head with your club and dragged them back to your cave," House quipped.

"You are so funny. I don't understand why the ladies aren't lined up around the block." Wilson said. House glared at him. "Seriously, we need a plan of attack."

"What is this, high school?" House rolled his eyes.

"No. Because in high school you had no chance of getting laid." Wilson grinned. "Now pay attention…"