A/N: I am so terribly sorry! I honestly hadn't ANY intention, at all, of continuing the cliffhanger with that last chapter; I'd thought that I'd done enough foreshadowing in the previous chapters that chapter 24 would make the diagnosis clear. Blew that, huh? I'm hopeful that this next chapter will clarify everything for everyone, but if you still have questions, please feel free to PM or email me. You guys have been such a loyal, supportive group throughout all three stories; I'd never intentionally do anything that cruel to you. Again, my most humble apologies for the general annoyance and confusion. mjf

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Betrayed

Wilson clicks on the voice file from last night's conversation, and smiles sadly as he hears the first statement he'd made to Dick, because in any other circumstance Dick's oversight might never have been noticed:

'When we were talking about how the loss of the breakthrough pain might affect House, you mentioned that there could be serious consequences if he didn't acknowledge the change, and accept it. But, uh … I think maybe you might've forgotten to mention what those consequences might be. And I guess I need to know…. '

Wilson's smile fades quickly as he listens to Dickinson's answer:

'Well, the most serious thing, of course, would be a conversion disorder, or a psychosomatic illness.'

Wilson pauses the file and picks up the cover page from the test results. He's read and reread the last few lines several times, but now he reads them again. And of course, the words haven't changed:

POSSIBLE DIAGNOSES AND RECOMMENDATIONS: A full battery of tests, including imaging studies with and without contrast, bloodwork, nerve conduction studies, and an electromyogram, have revealed no underlying physiological disease process. No pathology was detected. In light of these results, recommendation is that malingering or psychosomatic illness be given consideration.

Wilson knows that malingering isn't the problem; that leaves only one thing, something that shouldn't be the problem. Something that wouldn't be the problem if I'd talked to him. Damn.

He resumes the file and listens as he reads the same damning lines aloud to Dickinson, and as Dickinson asks him if he's blaming himself.

'Of course I'm blaming myself; who else is there? How many times did you tell me to speak with him about his changing self-perception? Hell, even Cuddy realized the importance of that after she listened to our session. I thought it wasn't necessary, and now he's paying for it.'

'James, let it go. Let go of the guilt. It won't help Dr. House, and it'll paralyze you, and then you won't be able to help him either. It should help you to know that, in my opinion, this would've happened anyway. You made several good points the last time we talked. You told me he wouldn't be receptive to such a conversation, and you know him well, so I've no reason to doubt that. But the most important thing you told me was that the problems with his left leg started on his first full day home. So you were correct when you pointed out that he hadn't had time to view his pain problems any differently.'

Wilson pauses the file again, and starts scribbling a timeline on the legal pad. When he's finished, he reads it over thoughtfully. As he reads, a little of the weight is lifting from his shoulders; some of the guilt begins to recede. "Maybe he's right about that," he murmurs aloud. He resumes play.

'Maybe, maybe not. I'll deal with the guilt, Dick. That's not why I'm calling you. The overriding concern is House. If this diagnosis is accurate—and I really can't see any way around that—then how do I help him? And how do I even tell him?"

"You can't tell him yet. First, you have to accept it. Otherwise, he'll pick up on your guilt, your doubt, and he'll grab onto those to deny the reality of the diagnosis."

"No. I'm going to tell him. Right away. I can't keep this from him; I won't. I promised him my honesty. I've practically forced him to trust me. I owe him that; I owe him so much more than that, after what my own disbelief did to him for months. I won't even consider hiding this from him. No.'

There's a long pause at this point in the recording, and as Wilson listens to the silence, knowing what comes next, he can't help wondering if Dick is going to be right.

'You told me, the first time you came to see me, that you were willing to sacrifice the friendship if it meant saving the friend. You need to know that if you insist on telling him before he's ready, before you're ready, that you may, in fact, be making that sacrifice.'

'That can't matter. Any loss I take isn't important, as long as House gets through this, and gets well. As long as his sense of trust isn't disrupted again. He may blame me for this; he may even hate me. But at least he'll know that I was honest with him, and I know House; no matter what happens, he'll never forget that.'

Dick's sigh is so loud that it transmits clearly on the recording, and when he resumes speaking, his voice is resigned—but it's clear that, although he doesn't agree with Wilson's decision, he's going to try to help him as best he can.

'Then just tell him. Don't sugarcoat it. And be prepared for his anger, and for his rejection of the diagnosis. And all you'll be able to do is give him time, and give him room. The situation won't resolve unless and until he accepts it. I don't know how long that'll take. The good news here is your stubborn insistence on total honesty; he may, eventually, give that high importance in reaching a decision to combat this. Don't get me wrong; I still think telling him right now is a mistake, but I'm willing to say it could pay off, in the long run.'

'Thanks, Dick; it's good to know there's some hope. I've got another question. I told you about the pneumonia earlier, during our regular call. Aside from that, he's showing improvement overall. It's slow, but it's steady. Could any reaction he has to this new diagnosis endanger his recovery?'

'No, I don't think so. He's got the most conscientious doctor on the planet; his general recovery should continue unimpeded. But now I have a question for you. I know you can handle getting him through this newest diagnosis. But you're gonna need some guidance. The only way I can do that effectively is to meet him, try and get an idea of how—or if—he's coping. Think he's up to that poker game yet? Say, Friday night?'

'That's three days away; the pneumonia should be pretty close to resolved by then. Yeah, we could try it. Just… uh… don't expect a warm reception from him, okay?'

'Now there's a surprise! Here I was, expecting to be treated like visiting royalty—the good china, and his best manners. Damn, I'm disappointed!'

Dick laughs at this point, and Wilson, listening now, allows himself a chuckle, and wonders if even Dick is any match for the barbed sarcasm that's sure to come his way.

The next part of the discussion is especially difficult for Wilson to listen to, as Dick points out all the missed clues; House's recurring nightmare, where Wilson actually accuses House of defining himself through his pain, and Wilson's awful dream of watching House destroy his left thigh to spite Wilson's belief that House needed to be in pain. And the timing of the spasms, almost always coming when House would be feeling insecure. Even the most recent "dream spasm," which ended when House awakened, but turned into an actual spasm when House was contemplating the need for a muscle biopsy.

Wilson makes careful notes, listing all these incidents, and remembering others, like the night they'd returned from the nerve-wracking tests at Princeton General, and the morning House had begged Wilson not to leave for the day. He writes these down as well.

Wilson continues to listen to the file as Dickinson's voice tells him that, ideally, the discussion about self-perception should have come prior to the treatment for breakthrough pain. It's Dick's theory that House hadn't had the time to really assimilate the information that he was no longer being doubted by the people closest to him. He also hadn't yet had confidence in his own decision to trust Wilson and Cuddy. As a result, Dick continues, his brain is now rebelling against both the rapid physical and emotional changes in his life. His mind is unconsciously seeking out the familiar patterns of the pain.

Dickinson even postulates that House's initial resistance to the morphine may have been an unconscious acknowledgement of the origins of the spasms. Wilson feels another small stab of guilt about this; it's another reminder that he should have asked more questions, been more sensitive to House's refusal of the drug.

The voice file concludes with Dick warning him that House's recovery from the psychosomatic pain could take a lot of time, and with Wilson's response:

'As long as it takes. Whatever it takes.'

Wilson shuts off the recording and stands. He needs to check on House, and administer the antibiotic. Before he leaves the kitchen, he looks again at the timeline he'd constructed, and admits to himself that, while he still feels that much of the blame for this diagnosis lies with him, it's a relief to let go of some of the guilt.

As he exits the kitchen, he reads over his notes and allows himself to feel the first faint stirrings of hope that they might get through this. He enters the living room and lifts his eyes from the page—and he sees House, sitting on the edge of the couch. House's face is unreadable, and his eyes—those mirrors that Wilson counts on for House's truth—his eyes are cold, so cold that a shiver goes through Wilson's body as the two men regard each other.