Hello, everyone! Sorry about waiting for such a long time updating this story. I really have very little motivation and I was just going to finish it off with this chapter, but I see the story going longer if I find the heart to continue with it. This is just one of those stories where interest wanes and grows depending on what mood you're in and how busy you are! Lately, I've been really busy!

So, here you are with another chapter and, if you don't get it, read the previous chapter or wait for the next chapter, because I'll explain it there! Hope you enjoy!

The Task

"Wilson, you need to do me a favor."

The winter sunlight streamed in through the large glass windows in the hospital room, aggravating House. It was too bright for the mood he was in, laying in the hospital bed, shivering. Wilson, who had been glancing through a magazine across the room, looked up.

"Why?"

"Do I really need to tell you? Just do it for me."

Wilson sighed and closed the magazine, dropping it on the desk beside his chair.

"If you hadn't spent all night in a graveyard, you might be well enough to do this task yourself. And if you won't even tell me what it is, why should I do it?"

"Because you're a friend."

House muttered these words as if they were his last chance in the world to get anyone to do anything for him ever again. Wilson knew it was just a ploy to get him to bend to House's will.

"I can't give you any more medication. Cuddy has a-"

"It's not medication. It's this."

House reached under the mattress of his hospital bed and fumbled for a few seconds before showing the item to Wilson. It was a letter, in a plain white envelope, no markings whatsoever marring the smooth paper surface. It was a rather thin envelope, so whatever was in it wasn't much.

"Why is this so important?"

"None of your business, like I said before," House said, making sure the envelope was sealed shut before waving it at Wilson. "I just need you to deliver this for me."

"You could get a nurse to drop this off in the post box right here in the hospital," Wilson commented, taking the envelope and flipping it over in his hands. "Why send me to do this? I'm supposed to be here, watching you."

"Watching me for what?" House snarled. "You think I'm going to escape my confines here in the hospital and run off, causing chaos?"

"No, Cuddy thinks that. Why can't you get one of your team members to do this?"

"Chase and Foreman are on clinic duty. I know because I scheduled them for it. This is something I trust you to do."

"Wow, trust. We're talking about something serious here, aren't we?" Wilson mocked. "I thought it wasn't in your nature to trust people."

"There are a lot of things that aren't in my nature, but I do them anyway, most often when people aren't looking. Are you going to go now or deliver the letter while standing here?"

"This doesn't have a stamp on it."

"It doesn't need a stamp because you're going to deliver it personally."

Wilson killed the engine on the motorbike, taking off the helmet and balancing it on the handlebars. Making sure the letter was in the pocket of his long woolen jacket, Wilson walked down the all too familiar path to Cameron's grave. Fresh tracks from the ambulance and footsteps he and Cuddy had made just hours ago were still crisp in the snow. He was going to stop and bring flowers, but figured that was too much. Cameron had been getting so many flowers lately.

Standing above the headstone, Wilson looked at the spot where House had fallen, a large mark of slightly melted snow forming a thin sheet of ice, some of the ice trapping petals of the flowers that rested at the grave. Wilson read the engravings on the headstone and sighed. He was here. He could place this letter on the stone, cover it with a bit of snow to keep it from flying away too soon, and leave. But his curiosity overwhelmed him. He had to know what House had written.

Guilt ridden, Wilson ripped one edge of the envelope open and pulled out the simple sheet of paper, reading the words scrawled across the white background.

"I always knew, Cameron, except that it would end like this."

Wilson bit his lip as he returned the paper back to the envelope and buried the envelope into the stems of the wilting flowers. He had read something very personal, very private. He didn't know what it meant, but had a few guesses. Wilson wasn't going to ask House what he meant by writing "I always knew, except that it would end like this" because then House would know he had broken the trust House had bestowed upon him. Walking back to the bike House had told Wilson he could borrow until he was discharged from the hospital, Wilson ran all possibilities over in his head.

None of them fit.

He would have to keep guessing.

Hope you enjoyed it! I hope I've been getting you to think about all the possibilities on how the story is going to end (the end should be in a few chapters or so...) I watched the latest episode last night, when House drives away and leaves Wilson on the bench after the big fight they had, so this probably isn't the mindset of a few readers, House and Wilson trusting one another...

Anyway, thank you for reading and feel free to drop me a comment in a review! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!