Part Five: I'm OK By Myself. Just Watch Me.

"House? You in there?"

Wilson had been knocking and knocking…and knocking, but House didn't seem to notice. He hadn't moved from that spot on the floor and, though it wasn't pouring anymore, his nose still dripped blood onto his jeans and shirt. He couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop closing his eyes and picturing his fifteenth birthday. That birthday. The birthday that tainted all other birthdays.

As a last resort, though he didn't like to use it, Wilson let himself in with his own key, his eyes widening as he saw the state of House. He quickly set the beers and boxes of Chinese down on the coffee table and rushed over to his friend.

"What did you do?" The concern in Wilson's voice was almost overwhelming.

Only then did House snap out of it and realise Wilson was even in his apartment.

"House? Can you hear me?"

With that, House painfully crinkled his nose in annoyance and swatted at Wilson's frantic hands.

"Yes, I can hear you. I'm fine. Just…get me my cane, will you?" House was barely making eye contact, a tell-tale sign to Wilson, that everything was not indeed fine.

Wilson passed House his cane and instinctively went to help him up.

"Just –" House protested, holding up his hand, telling Wilson to keep his distance.

"Okay, okay." Wilson backed off, perturbed by his friend's heightened defensive behaviour.

House pushed himself off the floor with one hand, the other hand trying to balance himself with his cane. He'd just about reached kneeling position when, as he expected, his leg gave from under him. Without thinking, Wilson was at his side in seconds, taking hold of House's elbow in an attempt to steady him.

"I can do it!" House's eyes were meant to be one of warning as they locked with Wilson. But Wilson could read House, and what he saw was not so much a warning as a look of anger, frustration and sadness all melted together. Wilson stepped to the side, giving his friend the space he obviously needed, but also scrutinizing him, watching his face. He assumed House had forgotten about his nose as he watched two small drops fall from his chin.

Watching House was excruciating. Wilson saw he was obviously hurt, but he wasn't accepting anything.

What's he trying to prove? Wilson wondered as he watched.

House managed to balance himself, without putting any weight on his right leg, with the aid of his cane. He pushed down and painfully made it into standing position, uncurling his right leg and placing his foot lightly on the ground. After standing there for a minute, staring at the ground and evening out his breaths, he turned and walked unsteadily to the kitchen taps, soaking some kitchen towel and wiping the blood from his face. Wilson was silent, standing in the kitchen doorway, waiting for an explanation.

Soon, when House didn't say anything and continued to have his back to him, Wilson had to say something.

"So?" Wilson prompted.

"So what?"

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

There was a pause and then House sighed.

"Nothing happened," he said, turning to face Wilson, "just had a run in with the floor. They've happened before, they'll happen again. Comes with the bum leg." He then stalked past Wilson, avoiding his eyes, and went to sit on the couch.

House grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, staring blankly at the screen, but Wilson could tell he wasn't paying attention to it. He had two frown lines evident between his eyes and was clearly biting his mouth shut. Wilson couldn't believe that House expected him to drop it and carry on as though nothing had happened.

As quickly as House had switched it on, Wilson tore the remote from his grip and turned it off again. He sat on the couch, facing his friend who was happier for his eyes to remain on the black TV screen.

"What about your nose?"

"Nose bleed, that's all."

"House! Have you seen yourself? You've got what I can only assume to be the beginnings of a black eye! What happened?" Wilson urged again.

"Can you just drop it?" House snapped, finally turning to look at his friend.

"What, you want me to pretend I didn't come over and find my friend in a bloodied heap on the floor?"

"You're exaggerating."

"Oh, stop it. Stop…acting like it's nothing when it's obviously not nothing!" Wilson wasn't shouting, but he gesticulated wildly as the words came out in force.

A hybrid of fear and anger were now swelling inside House as he realised he might not be able to avoid this conversation. One last option remained; walk away and hope Wilson does too.

That's an awful plan, he thought, but he knew he had to try it anyway – if only so he could say that he tried all methods of avoidance.

House stood from the couch and went to turn towards his bedroom as an intense spasm caught him by surprise. He always hated it when they crept up on him. Feeling the leg tighten, he swayed unsteadily, leaning heavily on the couch. Wilson saw nothing of House's face, but knew what was happening by the way House's knuckles whitened over the handle of his cane.

"House, please, sit down." Wilson's tone was softer.

After a few moments, House visibly relaxed a little and reluctantly came back to sit on the couch.

He inwardly berated himself, well done Mr Cripple. Guess I'm really not getting out of this.

Subconsciously rubbing his thigh, House breathed loudly but slowly through his nose.

"Where are your pills?" Wilson said, looking around the room and spying them on top of his friend's piano, "Do want me to get them?"

"No," House said, perhaps a little too loudly. Stroking his thumb across his forehead, he continued, "It-it's fine. I don't need them."

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A/N: FINAL CHAPTER WILL BE UP SOOOON! Eeeeep!
I'm looking over it now...worrying about it :S But still, hope you enjoyed this chapter.