They put House at the very end of the hall, out of respect for Wilson. People were less likely to parade in front of the room because the hallway met a dead end there. Wilson stood in the doorway, clutching the door frame as if it was the only thing holding him up, for a long moment. Behind him, Cuddy and Harris and Lawson held their breaths and exchanged worried glances.

"James," Cuddy finally spoke, voice deliberately soft and soothing.

Wilson started, pulled from the memory of the early morning, when House had come out of the bathroom. They'd smiled and kissed, House had been fine; bright eyed and smelling of minty tooth paste. "We were supposed to meet for lunch," he said softly, barely a whisper. Cuddy had to strain to hear the words. Wilson hadn't taken his eyes off the still figure in the bed.

"I know." Cuddy reached up to rub his shoulder. He finally looked at her, blinking back tears. Her hand slid down his arm to clasp his hand, to give a gentle and supportive squeeze.

Wilson nodded a brave nod. He sniffled and exhaled. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know." Cuddy looked past Wilson, in to the room where House lay. "I'm sorry."

Wilson nodded again, losing bravado. "I've always told him I'd never let anything happen to him." Before Cuddy could reply, Wilson crossed the threshold into House's room. From the doorway, he looked like any other critical patient. Blankets pulled up to his arm pits, tubes and wires extending from his nose, mouth, and chest. IV in his hand, which was secured to a stiff board to prevent tangling.

One step, then two, and House's face came in to focus. Wilson's eyes closed. His posture slumped, and he reached out to the end of the bed for the support of the bed frame. He didn't make a sound, though cries of anguish filled his head. "Oh Greg," he murmured, and raised one hand to wipe at his eyes. Behind him, he heard one of the other doctors talking to Cuddy, telling her he had to do this on his own.

He closed his eyes and bent his chin to his chest. They were right. As much as he wanted Cuddy to walk with him, hold his hand, and hold him up, he had to do it on his own. He had to be strong for House.

"I can do this," he muttered to himself. He looked up, tears in his eyes making everything look brighter. Struggling to keep his composure, he moved along the bed at House's right side. He couldn't clasp House's hand, could only lay his hands over House's hand and gently squeeze. "I can do this," he repeated, even as he bent over the bed, laying his cheek against House's chest, his body shaking with sobs. "I can't, I can't," he moaned, words muffled against House's blankets.

In the silence that followed, interrupted only by the hums and beeps of House's monitors, Wilson became keenly aware of the rhythmic tick-tock of his watch. House had taken him to a five star hotel and restaurant to celebrate their anniversary. The gift had been completely unexpected, on top of that. A 14K watch, engraved with i JW, I love you more with each passing second. GH 5-17-06 /i on the back plate.

Straightening himself suddenly, Wilson tugged the watch off his arm, struggling with the clasp, growling with the effort. Once the band was freed, he traced his finger over the message. He lay the watch face up on House's chest, and held his hand over it, fingers curling into a fist with the watch and the blankets beneath.

It might have been five minutes or five hours that he stayed like that. House would have known to the minute, he'd always had an internal clock that was rarely off. He woke up on his own, and always knew exactly when a batch of home made cookies should come out of the oven. That was one reason, aside from the inscription, that made the watch so sentimental for Wilson.

"God damn it," Wilson pulled back to standing upright. Still clutching the watch and a handful of the blankets, he thrust his fists against House's chest. "It's not fair. Wake up, damn you. Wake up!" House's body offered no resistance, but the machines above his bed registered a change in heart rate.

Lawson and Harris lost the battle to keep Cuddy out of the room. She caught hold of Wilson's arm and steered him a step back and away from House. She said his name to try to reach him. He crumbled, body folding against her, arms around her. "It's not fair!" Wilson tripped over the words and his breath.

"Shhh. Shhh. I know, I know," Cuddy cooed. Lawson and Harris brought the chair over, placing it only a few steps behind Wilson. Cuddy guided him those few steps and urged Wilson to sit in it. He stumbled backward, somehow resisting at the same time he consented. Once he was settled, Lawson smoothed the blankets over House and ran a quick check on his vitals. Cuddy knelt in front of Wilson, her hands on his knees.

"I can't do this," he moaned, his voice broken and irregular. He tried to meet her eyes, but dropped his head, eyes closed, unable to look at her.

"Shhh. You can. You have to," Cuddy encouraged in her best professional voice, despite the dips of emotion that pushed through. "Come on. You've got to settle down. I know you're hurt and you're angry. I am too. But you've got to stay focused. Stay in control in here. He needs to know you're here, and you're strong. You can't be falling a part, yelling at him."

"I can't…" He stopped, pulled back from Cuddy's embrace, and held his hand against his mouth. As if that would hold everything in, and make it all go away, and take him back to waking up and hearing the comforting sounds of House in the bathroom before anything bad happened, and maybe if he kept House talking and he didn't leave right away, everything would be fine and this wouldn't have happened and House would be bitching and moaning about working clinic first thing in the morning. Just one minute, two minutes, could have made a difference, and House wouldn't be lying in the ICU.

Cuddy rose up on her knees, her hands moved to Wilson's shoulders. "You have to, James. Look at me. He needs you to be strong." Wilson's face contorted in unspoken anguish. The words wouldn't form, could only come out in tears and choked sobs. "Let it out, James. Let it all out. And after this, no more. Not in here."

Wilson pulled her against him so that he could cry into her shoulder. Cuddy smoothed the hair away from his face with one hand. Her other hand reached down to take the watch from his hand. "Let it all out," she repeated and kissed the top of his head then lay her cheek to rest there. Her thumb rubbed over the inscription on the back of Wilson's watch.