A/N: This isn't as good as I would have liked it. But I'll re-do later.

Wilson was bored. Very bored. Nurses did not make good conversation. They either:

a) avoided him and refused to look him the eye (did he look that bad? He didn't smell, or anything...)

b) gave him angry glares (which was annoying, since he didn't know what he'd done)

c) blushed and giggled.

The gigglers were the worst, he concluded. Clumsy too.

At least he was now allowed to eat on his own. Now more stupid IV drip thing. Wilson felt like he'd just been potty trained, but savoured the 'independence'.

"And how is Dr Wilson today?" said the old man, coming in. Wilson plastered a smile on his face.

"I'm fine," he said, matching the man's tone. "When can I go ho- leave?" The man dropped his cheery expression.

"Well, we're not too sure at the moment. Your memory-" Wilson sighed and relaxed into his pillows.

"Yeah." Now he looked all fatherly and concerned.

"Have you had many visitors?" he asked.

"Not really. Who wants to see the guy who doesn't know who you are?" joked Wilson lightly. He nodded and wrote something down on his chart.

"I'll speak to Cuddy. You're well enough now. Visitors could trigger your memory. Act as a sort of catalyst." Wilson felt hope bubble up inside him. He felt so...so frustrated. Losing so many years, just like that.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said formally. The man nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Cameron knocked on the closed door and waited, nervous. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe-

"Come in!" She turned the knob and cautiously walked in. Wilson lay on the bed, holding a book in his hands. He smiled at her encouragingly and she felt her confidence increase. Cameron sat on the chair next to the bed.

"I'm...Allison," she said at last, the awkward feeling returning. It felt so strange, introducing (or re-introducing?) herself to him.

"I'm - well. You probably know my name already," he said cheerfully. She smiled and nodded. They looked at each for awhile. His brown eyes were bright and afraid. Uncertain.

"Do you - do you want to...know?" Wilson wanted to thank her. Worship her, the first person willing to tell him the story of his life.

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble." Cameron leaned forwards, about to take his hand before thinking the better of it. He didn't know her. But she knew him. He was still as charming and...unfailing kind as he had been before.

"I don't know where to start," she laughed, uneasy. Wilson half-smiled at her.

"I don't either. What...was I a doctor?" he asked. "They call me Doctor Wilson, and I-"

"Yes," she interuppted. "You were. Are. You're an oncologist. Head of Oncology, even." Wilson leaned back into his pillows.

"I never...I always wanted to be a doctor," he said to the ceiling."Am I...?"

"You're a good doctor," she reassured. "The best. And one of the youngest too!"He did not look at her. She was wondering what he was thinking. He looked so lost. Younger. Cameron wanted to wrap him up in cotton wool and protect him from the world.

"My..family?" She was quiet for awhile. What to say? She started with the obvious -the dead can wait.

"You haveone brother." Wilson seemed slightly puzzled by this, butshe continued. "Your father-"

"Is dead," he supplied. Now it was Cameron's turn to look surprised.

"How'd you-"

"Instinct," he said, grinning sadly. "My mother?"

"Has caught the next flight out to see you." He nodded and opened his mouth again.

"Am I married?" he asked, feeling ridiculous. Asking a woman (half his age at that) whom he had no memory of ever meeting was sitting here answering his questions. Cameron thought quickly. She did not know much of his...situation, only that Julie had been informed of the accident. And that she hadn't come to see him. Two weeks was a long time of 'being too busy'.

"Divorced,"she said, wondering how much she should tell him. But then, it was his life. He'd have to live it again anyway. "Three times." Her voice was quiet and sympathetic. Wilson turned away. Was that why the nurses were so... Cameron moved on quickly.

"Your patients love you," she said in a rush. "Ho - someone once told me they had to pay you ten dollars every time one of them thanked you after telling them they were going to die. Which was often." Wilson looked at the young woman. She was so sincere. Trusting. Vulnerable.

"Really?"

"Really." They laughed together, anything to ease the strangeness of the situation.

"What else...I have this feeling you do not know me very well," he said kindly, not wishing to insult her after she had been so helpful. Slowly the gaps were being filled.

"No, I don't. But Cuddy-" Aah...Linda/Lucy. He had overheard the other doctors call her that. "-might be able to tell you...more." Her pager bleeped a merry little tune.

"You should go,"said Wilson. Cameron stood up unwillingly.

"Will you-"

"I will be fine." She left the room, turning back once to look at him. He picked up his book again and turned the pages,the words swimming before his eyes.

Chase idly walked down the corridor, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. He was almost done for the day and was looking forward to going home. There was some television show on that night. House had not taking on any new cases, so he had spent most of his time (inbetween lunch and crossword breaks) in the Intensive Care Unit. There had been a fire in one of the nearby schools, and some of the younger children had been badly burned. He passed room 1082 and paused. Should he go in? Introduce himself? It wouldn't hurt, he supposed. Wilson did not know him anymore, after all. He felt sorry for the guy.

"Can I come in?" Wilson took off his reading glasses and observed the young doctor. He was a handsome man, with floppy blond hair and blue eyes that girls probably tripped over for.

"Of course, Doctor..."

"Call me Chase," he said, sitting down with no hint of embarrassment or uncertainty.

"...Chase." There was a brief pause as Chase sipped at his coffee.

"How long have you been working here?" asked Wilson.

"Almost a year now. Moved here from Australia."

"I see. Which department do you work in?" Wilson said, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Diagnostic Medicine. Under Doctor House. I assume you know him?" he replied carefully.

"No, I...should I? Know him, I mean?" Chase cocked his head to one side so his blond hair covered his left eye.

"He's your best friend, I should hope so!" he laughed. Wilson pondered this for a moment. A best friend who had not been to see him yet. "He's probably at a crucial stage in 'Burn Out' or something." Chase felt a bit guilty for...telling on House? It wasn't his problem he hadn't been to see his so-called friend. But he did like Wilson. "He's probably in trouble or something," he said lightly. "Law suit." Lying came easily to him, having done it before many times.

"Oh."

"He'll see you soon, I'm sure. He's had no one to talk to for weeks now," said Chase, filling his voice with false charm.

"Yes," Wilson smiled. "Thank you for visiting me." Chase stood up and awkwardly shook Wilson's hand.

"No problem." He left the room, feeling strangely guilty.