Author's Notes: Okay, so I didn't get this done before Christmas, but consider it a late gift! Next chapter up soon! Please review!

Everyone Knows

The next day, they were seated in the hospital cafeteria and Greg was eating half of James' lunch when Thirteen plopped down into a chair at their table.

Sarcastically, Greg asked, "Can we help you?"

Smugly, "You drove in together."

With a fake shocked gape, Wilson replied, "We also left together last night!"

Adding to the game, "And I'm planning on leaving with you again tonight!"

Completely ignoring the woman that had interrupted their lunch, James stood, "See you later, Greg."

"Yup."

She waited until the younger doctor was out of earshot before saying, "He called you 'Greg'."

"Ooo, you…you've been watching a lot of CSI." He wagged his finger in her direction. "There's no getting anything past you!" He stood. But before he walked away, "It's my first name, you idiot!"

She scrambled after him as he limped away. "Right. But no one calls you Greg."

"My mother does. So did Stacey."

"You're using your mother and your ex-girlfriend as leverage?"

"That was kind of a bad example, huh?" He tried to escape onto the elevator, but she followed.

He was thankful that she suspended her line of questioning when another man joined them in the metal box. Both doctors were shocked when the man asked, "Dr. Gregory House?"

With a roll of his eyes, he wondered what yelling match would come next. He didn't recognize the man as a past patient, but that really didn't mean anything since he rarely visited patients. At least this would be a change from the annoying questioning from Thirteen. "Yes. How can I help you?"

The punch that came next must have been well thought out. It connected with a force the knocked House to his knees, his head hitting the wall on the way down. Everything went dark before he hit the floor.

Wilson has just sat down at his desk when the telephone rang. He barely got out his greeting before Cuddy started frantically explaining, "It's House. He's unconscious in the elevator…"

She continued to ramble, but he had already gotten out of his seat and was in a full run on his way to the elevators. He fell to his knees beside Greg, whipping his stethoscope from his neck and yelling at Thirteen. "Go get a gurney!"

Her response was shaky. "They're already on the way."

Greg was twisted on the floor in a helpless lump. James had already tested for a pulse and listened to his heart, but the worry wouldn't leave him. "What the hell happened?"

"There was a guy in the elevator. He asked if he was Dr. House and when he said yes, the guy just slugged him. He hit his head on this rail thing when he fell. The guy ran out when the doors opened."

His anger took over. "You let him get away?"

"Security is putting the hospital on lockdown. I know what he looks like. He won't get away." She was in nears tears defending herself. "I thought it was better if I was here with him getting help rather than running after that lunatic!"

He ran his hand over his face, knowing that he was taking his anger out on the young doctor. "I'm sorry."

She softened instantly. "It's okay. You're worried. You love him."

A crew of doctors arrived with the gurney before he could reply. He jumped out of the way, shouting orders as he did. "Steady pulse. Possible head trauma. He needs a MRI of his head stat."

He had every intention of following the team of doctors and not leave their side until every test had been run and reviewed, but Cuddy stopped him before he entered thru the double doors. "We need to talk."

"What can we possibly need to talk about right now that is more important than me being with Greg?"

She understood his reaction, but knew she needed to distract him. If not, Wilson would hover, complaining that every test took too long, and nothing would be good enough. "We got the guy."

He flung his arms out. "So? Throw him in jail! What do I care?"

"Don't you want to know why?"

"I'm sorry. I believe you've confused me with Greg. I don't need to solve the puzzle. I just want to go be with my boyfriend."

He started to turn, but Cuddy stopped him with a hand on his arm. "House would want you to do this."

He blew out a breath, knowing she was right. Feeling somewhat defeated and torn between two directions, he turned back around and nodded to his boss. As he walked, a million thoughts ran thru his head. He was ticking off all the things that medically could be wrong with Greg, all the while praying that he would just wake up and be fine. Then he wondered just what caused this whole ordeal. Sure, Greg had been punched before; several times, in fact. But he'd never lost consciousness. This was a whole new ball game.

By the time they made it to Cuddy's office, his anger was brewing. She stopped him with a hand at his chest before they entered. "Don't make me regret this."

He took a deep breath and nodded before they entered the room. There a man, mid-thirties, baseball cap, jeans and a t-shirt was seated handcuffed in a chair with a police officer at both of his shoulders. One of the officers began to speak immediately. "Stephen Moore. He used these." He held up a plastic Ziploc bag with a set of brass knuckles.

Wilson suppressed the urge to jump the man. "Why did you do this?"

The man refused to talk until one of the officers pushed his shoulder. "He told my wife I was cheating on her. She left me." He was completely calm as he spoke, as if he was talking about the weather rather than the fact he'd just knocked a man unconscious.

With one hand on his hip and another at his forehead, Wilson paced. "And did you?"

"Well, yeah…but she didn't know."

Throwing his arms out, "So he ratted you out and you think it's okay to just come and knock him unconscious?"

"I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted him to know that he can't get away with meddling in people's lives like that."

"You punched him with a set of brass knuckles. What did you think was going to happen? You could've killed him!" He was about to blow. His blood pressure was rising and the temperature felt about 10 degrees warmer than it had when he entered the room. Knowing that he was better off beside Greg than being hauled off to jail himself, "You know what? I don't have time for this." To the police officer, "Is he going to jail?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good." He turned and headed to the ER, and soon found Cuddy at his heels. "What?"

"We still need to talk."

With his voice a little louder than he'd intended, "What? What do you want now?"

In a sympathetic tone, "He's unconscious. You need to calm down so you can make decisions if you need to."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Not caring who heard, he was in a near yell. "My boyfriend is unconscious and I'm standing here talking to you instead of finding out just what the hell is wrong with him. And it doesn't even matter what I find out because even though I love him I have absolutely no say in what gets done!"

She shouted to interrupt his ramble. "Dr. Wilson!" Shocked more than anything, he shut up. "You have every right. You have his medical proxy. Don't you know that?"

His jaw dropped. "I…I have…when…I…" He couldn't form a coherent thought.

"Yes. He turned in the form a couple weeks ago." Trying to lighten the air, "Maybe he's psychic." He rose worried eyes to hers. "Okay. Just…please calm down. He needs you."

With a shake in his voice, "I need him." She nodded before they began walking.

Nearly a half hour later, Wilson was faced with his first decision. The MRI had revealed a subacute subdural hematoma. He could take the chance of the swelling reducing itself over time or authorize the brain surgery to relieve the pressure. Either way he was taking a chance.

Morphing into doctor mode. "Do the surgery. Then start him on corticosteroids for the swelling and phenytoin for possible seizures."

He stood in the room during the surgery, for what he didn't know. He stayed out of the way, clad in scrubs and a surgical mask, his arms wrapped securely around his body as if protecting from any outside force. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, he was scared. It had taken him all these years to figure out his happiness was held and controlled by Greg. A few months ago, he'd thought that happiness was with Amber; then he'd lost her. The only reason he'd made it thru those hard months of loss, was that he knew Greg was still there. If he lost Greg, there would be nobody. He'd have nothing to hold on to. There'd be no reason to keep going.

Hours later, he was seated beside Greg's bed, holding his hand, silently begging him to wake up. Doctors and nurses had come and gone, making sure he was comfortable. Wilson had added Oxycontin to Greg's regimen, knowing that between the surgery, his leg and the expected headaches, he'd need the pain meds. Although he was stable, Greg had made no move toward waking.

Cameron appeared in the doorway asking, "How's he doing?"

"Same."

"Do you need me to do anything for you? I can go get you a change of clothes or something to eat."

"You mean you're not going to try and convince me to go home and get some rest?"

She took the few steps toward the bed saying, "I prefer not to waste my time if I don't have to." Their eyes met in a knowing look. "Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"Because we weren't ready. Ironically, we decided last night that we were."

"Good thing, because I'm pretty sure everyone's figured it out."

With a chuckle, "Yeah, I guess." Cameron had always been able to make him laugh.

"He's gonna be okay. He's too stubborn. You know that, right?"

For the first time, he let himself cry. "I just need him to wake up. God, Cameron, I love him so much."

She waited while he cried, part of her understanding exactly how he felt. Silently, she pulled a chair beside Wilson and sat. Over the years, everyone had noticed that Wilson and House were close. They were best friends. No one refuted that. But no one understood it either. No one understood why Wilson would hang around to be friends with the misanthropic asshole. Wilson was kind, caring, dedicated; everything House was not. But still, somehow James Wilson had in fact fallen in love with his polar opposite.

As his tears slowed and his breathing evened, he muttered an apology.

Ignoring the unnecessary words, "How long have you been…together?"

Relishing in the distraction and a friendly ear, "Well, I guess that depends on your definition of 'together'. I think I've loved him since Stacy left him. But…officially I guess a couple weeks."

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."

"No hesitation. That's good."

"No. We're in love. I have no doubts about that."

"I don't mean this the way it sounds, but…how do you know?"

He knew what she meant. She wasn't trying to be derogatory. She truly wanted to know how he knew Greg was his one true love. "Because I'm willing to give up everything else as long as I have him in the end. He's the one I always run to for…for everything. I know all of his faults and none of them matter." He paused a moment before, "And I know he loves me because I'm the only one he's opened up to since Stacy. I'm the only one he lets in. And he also told me that I make him happy."

"That's huge."

"I know."

"So, how about food, clothes?"

"Umm…yeah, that would be great. My jeans are in the second drawer from the bottom and any sweatshirt is fine. And…Chinese?" He handed her his keys, holding the apartment key upright.

On her way to the door, "Back in forty-five minutes."

Once she was gone, James kissed the back of Greg's hand that he hadn't let go of since entering the room. Whispering, "Please wake up. I need you."