A/N: Not much happening here. More happens next chapter, I promise.

Chapter 5

House sat in his chair talking on the telephone to Dr. Roth. He purposely didn't place the call from the kitchen for fear that James would accuse him of trying to keep secrets from him. Normally it wouldn't be an issue, but with his friend's volatile nature resulting from the concussion, he didn't want to take any chances of upsetting him.

"He's still suffering from confusion and headaches. But I'm even more concerned about his hostility." He shook his head. "His personality changes."

"Alright, let's start with the confusion. Is it worse than before?"

House closed his eyes as he remembered waking Wilson earlier that day. "I'm afraid it is. It took several minutes for him to recognize me this morning." He paused as he heard Dr. Roth scribbling down notes.

"And the headaches?"

"They seem to be more frequent, and they're just as debilitating as before. That's when he's especially irritable which isn't surprising."

"Anything else?"

House sighed. "Sometimes he's not steady on his feet, he's experiencing recent memory loss and he's very fatigued. His tiredness also seems to bring out the volatility. And then there are the times when he's fine, alert, his usual self…which is most of the time."

"What about his appetite?"

"That doesn't seem to be a problem anymore."

"Well I hate to say it, but what you describe sounds like it could be post concussion syndrome. Even though it's only been 72 hours since his injury, he is experiencing different and more severe symptoms than earlier."

"Do you think I need to bring him in?"

"Well, I'll leave that up to you…you're the person closest to him. What do you think?"

House thought back to when he originally fought Cuddy against admitting Wilson to the hospital. "I'm afraid I'm letting my personal feelings cloud my judgment. But I'd like to give him more time."

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's not like we have definitive treatments for PCS; all we can do is treat the symptoms specific to his condition and keep an eye on him."

"What's the next step if I do have to bring him back?"

"Well, as you know there are no particular tests to diagnose PCS. My colleague, Dr. Jensen, is a neuropsychologist who can perform an in-depth assessment of Dr. Wilson to determine the presence or absence and extent of any impairment."

He sighed again. "Thank you, Dr. Roth. I'll be in touch."

"You're welcome, Dr. House."

He hung up the phone and rested his head against the back of his chair. He would tell his friend about the conversation when he felt he was in the correct state of mind to discuss it.

A few minutes later Wilson walked into the living room, his hair disheveled from sleeping, his t-shirt twisted around his torso.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and dropping down onto the couch. He yawned.

House hesitated. "Dr. Roth."

"You still think he's an idiot?" Wilson asked scratching his head.

He shrugged. "I'm warming up to him."

Wilson looked at him. "Was he checking in?"

"No. I called him."

He squinted his eyes. "Why?

"Because I'm worried about you."

Wilson leaned forward. "You told me this morning that you weren't."

"That was this morning."

"What's changed?"

"You mean you don't know?" the older man asked, his concern compounding.

Wilson sat back on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't say anything.

This was too important for House to let go. "Jimmy, don't you remember earlier this evening?"

Wilson looked at him with total confusion on his face. "What did I do?" he asked, his voice wavering.

House shifted his position in the chair. "Don't you remember getting angry?"

He slowly shook his head. "I had a headache."

House tried to help him remember. "You were upset…. You raised your voice….."

He continued to shake his head. "Jesus. I can't even remember what happened an hour ago." He looked at his friend, his face scrunched up. "What did I say?"

"It's not important. You were agitated, probably because of the headache. I know how painful they are."

James leaned his elbows on his knees holding his head between his hands. He let out a short laugh. "I only remember kissing you," he said quietly. He quickly looked at House. "Did I imagine that?"

"No, Jimmy, you didn't."

He cast his eyes to the floor without saying anything. Both men sat silently for several minutes.

"I have to go back to the hospital, don't I?"

"I don't know. I think we can give it more time."

"How much time?"

"Couple days."

Wilson stared past his friend, a blank expression on his face. Slowly getting to his feet, House limped over to sit next to him. He reached his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

tbc