Chapter Two: Denial

A/N: The following chapters are letters that Wilson wrote to House. ( Well at least the first part of them will be…) It may seem sappy and a little weird but I have heard many cases of people writing letters to their deceased loved one. Enjoy, leave a comment, and remember the tissue box is always nearby. Don't forget to give Wilson a hug when you leave too…

Dear Greg,

I remember your funeral. It was a sad day, and your parents were there. The icy rain was lightly falling and everyone was gathered around your coffin being lowered into the ground. Everyone. Even Chase, Cameron, and Foreman showed their faces. Last time I heard from them was five years ago when you hired your new team. They were there too. Not too many words were spoken. We just huddled together under our black umbrellas and watched you being lowered into the ground.

I don't think you are gone, even a month after it's happened. I still set an extra place setting when I make your favourite meals…which are every night. You are still there with me. I hear you playing piano some mornings and others a hear you yelling from the bathroom. You are not gone. I don't believe it. The other day when I passed Cuddy in the hall I was going to ask her to come over for dinner. But then I remembered that we only had two chairs and you take up the other one. I dismissed the thought and buried myself in my work.

I have been doing that a lot lately. I am in the bad habit of telling myself that if I bury myself in my work you won't really disappear for good this time. But there is always that empty bed I have to climb into. I spend most days in a haze walking past your now empty office. I actually burst in there and sat on the empty floor waiting for you to return. Cuddy had to wake me up an hour later.

Greg. Why couldn't you have been a cancer patient? At least then I would have been able to spend another day/month/year with you.

You aren't gone. You aren't here either.

Love,

James

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()!#$()!#$&()

I walked past his office again for the umpteenth time today. They said they were going to make it into a new doctor's office or a physical therapist's office. It wouldn't be the same seeing different people walk into that glassed-in room. I miss the connection between the room where we used to sneak and kiss before heading to lunch together. Even that section of the hospital won't be the same.

I often head up to the roof to clear my head and think. It was his place but now it is our place. I sense him here every day. Every day rain or shine I am up here. He is up here too. Sometimes we eat lunch together but lately I have been eating more and more and he has a less of an appetite everyday. I end up eating his once favourite sandwich a lot of the time.

I also go home to an empty apartment. But I know he will return to it sometime. He just has to. Without him the place has no life…no meaning…no purpose…

Tonight is yet another meal without him. Now I have no appetite.