A/N: Well, here we are at the end - almost! This isn't much of a chapter, because I decided to split the A-storyline final chapter into two pieces, for reasons that will become clear. So this is the first part of the A-storyline ending and you will get the full final chapter of the B-storyline straight away. The rest of this storyline will be up tomorrow. Thanks again all you wonderful people for your reviews. Please keep them coming. I will be very interested to hear your thoughts on the ending(s)!

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"House, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."

Wilson's words sounded fuzzy. House felt as if he'd taken too many Vicodin. All his reactions were slowed, the responses of his brain working as if in slow motion. Even his leg pain felt dulled.

"She hasn't regained consciousness yet," House said, repeating the last words the ICU doctor had said to him.

Jess lay in the bed in intensive care, connected to as many monitors as Princeton Plainsboro had. Thankfully she was breathing on her own, but her injuries were serious. She wasn't out of the woods yet.

"How is she?"

"Broken leg, broken ribs, collapsed lung, they took out her spleen and had to stitch up a tear in her celiac artery, but no head or spinal injuries."

Wilson let out a breath. "Well, that's something." He paused. "Do you know what happened?"

"She was at my place last night," House began explaining. He shook his head. Yeah, last night, like any other night, Jess had slept by his side and he hadn't realised how precious that was. Of course before that, before they'd gone to sleep, he'd held her hair back as she vomited up close to a bottle of champagne. That was not exactly precious, but made him smile a sad smile.

"I came in this morning and took the car." He gestured at his thigh and Wilson nodded – House preferred his bike in any weather, but if his leg was playing up, the car was a better choice.

"So she took the bike. Her work says she left early because she wasn't feeling well. She was hung over - we both were. Both am," he stumbled, his grammar getting confused and his brain refusing to cooperate. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb, a habitual sign of stress.

"It's not your fault House," Wilson said automatically.

"No, it's not," House agreed. "But she was only a block from my place. On my bike. She hadn't ridden a bike regularly for years…" He sounded defeated more than angry.

"Yeah, but if she'd never met you, perhaps she would have bought her own bike and this still could have happened. Fate has a funny way with things. Trust me on that."

"It's her fault she met me," House said, and Wilson narrowed his eyes at the cryptic comment.

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To be continued...