Sorry this is so short, but it seemed to be a good place to end this part.

Title: The Essence of Friendship, part 3

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: for mature audiences

Genre: will finally be slash

Disclaimer: I sure I owned these guys.

Number of Words: 896

Summary: Wilson's clinical technique encounters criticism.

Dr. Gregory House sat in his office with his earphones on, but, for once, he wasn't listening to anything. There was "something" playing, but his mind was so totally distracted that he could not have told you what it was.

He was "seeing" the look that his friend James Wilson had given him just minutes before. Since House was 30 foot away in a busy corridor, it was impossible to tell what Chuck Taylor was telling his friend, but House knew - - after all, hadn't he driven that mealy-mouthed, lower-than-life Denebian slime devil into telling Wilson that Taylor had changed his mind and that while he wanted the "noted" diagnostician Gregory House on his clinic staff, he did not want James Wilson.

The look in those soft, dark eyes haunted House. He had never seen such an expression in the oncologist's eyes before - - not even during those hellacious days when House was recovering from a life threatening infarction. House sighed, not even his beloved yo-yo offered comfort to the forlorn man. Boy, will Wilson owe me for saving him from the clutches of Charles "Holier Than Thou" Taylor.

House's mind was in turmoil and well it should have been because House knew, in his heart, that his true concern was: would James Wilson forgive him for "saving" the ungrateful bastard from Chuckie-poo's clutches?

Unconsciously, House turned up the volume that was coming into his earphones, hoping the decibel level would help him forget his recent actions, but the noise didn't work. In fact, it made House's head vibrate so badly with pain that he ripped the phones off while noticing, after his ears stopped ringing, that the security-breach klaxon was blaring away. House shook his head, wondering if the ducklings had decided to revolt en masse. His heart stopped for several seconds when he finally understood the words coming out of the speaker system: there was a problem in the Clinic and Security was being alerted.

If anyone had taken the time to actually determine Gregory House's IQ, they would have discovered that it was off the charts, but on this occasion, the slender, crippled man immediately put two and two together, with very little help from his brain - - his heart did all the work: James Wilson was in the Clinic and there was a problem there.

House got out of his chair as quickly as possible, racing towards the Clinic. By the time he got there, the trouble was over. Three, very large and very bruised security guards, had a husky, muscular, scruffy looking individual in custody. Even now the man was demanding to see someone named Maggie. House took all of this in in the span of a millisecond because what he was really noticing was the dishevelled appearance of Charles Taylor. It looked like the prick had been wrestling a gorilla. Taylor was mouthing something to House, but he didn't really understand because the shrieking wail of a diminutive woman pervaded the entire space around him and 40 blocks out from his location.

House was preparing to shout at the woman to stop screaming when his blue eyes spotted the even smaller Lisa Cuddy walking out of the exam room 1. As she moved forward, House could see - - in that slow motion - - that movies are so fond of when something devastating happens, the crumpled body of his best friend, James Wilson.

Lisa Cuddy's mouth was moving but House could not understand; he simply plowed through the door to move to his friend's side. Getting down on the ground was awkward, but House never hesitated. There was blood flowing from a scalp wound, obviously made by contact with some equipment against the wall. Eric Foreman had arrived seconds earlier than House and was dealing with the medical side of the situation, but, for once, House had to be with the patient. He could not diagnose from afar.

Staring at the unconscious man, House stared at the bruised face. "What?"

Chase, who had made the race with Foreman, stood nearby, handing over supplies as Foreman called for them. He cleared his throat then said briefly, "That guy out there attacked Dr. Wilson. Apparently threw him across the room where he hit his head. He's been out, at least, five minutes."

House looked up at Chase and stared but merely nodded his head. The shock of seeing his Jamie, lying on the floor as if he were dead, was so devastating that his normal, sarcastic wit was totally blasted away, much like Mt. St. Helens had done to the trees around its base so many years before.

Foreman put away his medical gear and stood up, thus permitting the orderlies to carefully place the unconscious figure of James Wilson on a gurney. Foreman offered his hand to House, who gratefully took it. After House returned to a standing position, he asked again, "What?"

"He's concussed. I've dressed his scalp wound, but it will need stitches. He's going to have a headache. I'm sending him to get some pictures taken then we'll admit him."

House nodded then turned and followed the gurney, carrying his friend to radiology.

End of part 3