021. Friends

One Is The Loneliest Number

House could count the number of friends he had on one hand. Hell, he could count the number of friends he had on one finger. He'd never been one to make friends easily, his intelligence, confidence and arrogance alienating more people than they attracted. And he'd burnt more bridges then he cared to think about after the infarction. Only one person had stuck by him, refusing to be driven away, refusing to allow House's bitter, biting words to hurt, to wound, to scar. And now it seemed he might have finally achieved the impossible.

The argument had started out about House's risky treatment of his current patient. For some reason Wilson's warning words had rankled and irritated. He couldn't figure out why this time they bit when they were hardly new. So he done what he always did when someone got under his skin, he lashed out. But Wilson hadn't backed down and the argument had suddenly shifted, leaving House flustered and unsure of what was happening. Never something to make him feel comfortable or pleased. And so things had escalated to the point where angry, almost vicious words had been said by both of them and had ended with Wilson stalking furiously out of House's office.

That had been four days ago and House hadn't seen Wilson, hadn't spoken to him, in all that time. He'd holed himself up in his office and flung vituperative words at anyone who dared to enter. By the end of the third day he'd sent Cameron fleeing in tears, Foreman looked like he was considering homicide and Chase had retreated to the ER in disgust. Only Cuddy had been able to lever him out of his office and down to the clinic and even that had taken some rather firm threats.

But now as evening closed in on the fourth day he was starting to wonder whether maybe this time he'd managed what he'd thought was the impossible – driven St Wilson away. And as that thought grew so did the realisation that he didn't want that. That he valued his friendship with Wilson. That he didn't want to lose it. And that if he didn't want to lose that friendship he was going to have to be the one to do something about it.

He pushed himself to his feet and limped to the door, ignoring the sudden flinches his movement had garnered from his team. He made his halting way to Wilson's office and for one of the few times in their friendship knocked on the door.

"Come in," called Wilson and he opened the door and limped in.

Wilson looked up with an expression of polite enquiry that disappeared when he saw who was there and was replaced by a completely blank face that made House wince inwardly.

"What do you want?"

The words were cool and almost dismissive and House really did wince this time.

"I…I…" House swallowed hard and slumped over his cane. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Was that so damn hard to say?" Wilson replied, his voice now neutral.

House stared down at the floor. "Yes."

Wilson snorted and when House looked up he saw that the oncologist's expression was weary and sad.

"I'm not your whipping boy, House," Wilson said firmly, coming to his feet and walking around to stand in front of House, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm a skilled doctor in my own right. I'm the head of my department just like you are. I'm just as well known in my field as you are in yours. I think I deserve your respect. I think my opinions deserve to be given due consideration. I am not your junior in anything other than years."

House's eyes dropped back down to stare at the floor. "I know," he said, his gaze flickering back up to Wilson's face. "I…do respect you."

"It doesn't feel like it," Wilson said honestly.

"I…I don't know what else to say," House replied.

Wilson finally relented a bit. "I don't think there is anything else you can say right now."

"I…don't want to lose you," House forced out. "I…value our friendship. It matters. It matters to me." He paused and then said so very quietly, "It's the only one I have."

"It matters to me too," Wilson replied, his face now calm but his eyes were what mattered to House. Those brown eyes were now alive again rather than blank as they had been when he first walked in.

"What do I do?" House asked rather helplessly.

Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes. "Take me seriously."

House nodded. "There's baseball on tonight. I have beer," he offered with an odd tentativeness.

Wilson smiled. "I'll bring the food. Chinese?"

House returned the smile, relieved to finally see it. "Yeah, sounds good."