This one is a tad short, I apologize. I was going through my documents and realized I still had this.. I don't know if I'm going to finish the story... I might, I might not. A lot of time has passed since I started it... Reviews would still be nice though. Thank you to all my readers. (:

DISCLAIMER: I do not own House MD. Just this plot.

Impulse

Chapter 2

Wilson sighed and ran his hands through his brown hair as he struggled to concentrate on the file infront of him. Over the past few minutes of staring at the paper, he had only managed to get as far as "Medical History". The only noise in the room was the clicking of his pen against the desk.

He laid the file down, unable to focus long enough to read it. In order to distract himself, he began to organize his desk. (Lord knows it needed it.) While he was doing so, he noticed a little pink note that seemed slightly out of place. It was from his secertary. It read in her loopy cursive "One new message. Urgent." Wilson bit his lip as he read it, he hoped it wasn't about a patient. Wilson rarely checked his office phone since he gave all his patients his cell and home number anyways. He looked over at his office phone to notice the red message light blinking.

He slowly walked over to the tan phone and picked the receiver up, then proceeded to dail his voice mail.

"One new message," the monotone female informed him, "Friday, May 21st." That was a little more than a week ago, the day before his father died.

"Hello, James. This is your father. I tried to call your cell, but it seems to be off, and your not answering your house phone. I'm calling because I feel like we left off on a bad note last time you visited. I wanted to apologize for it. Give me a call when you get this. I love you, Son."

Once again, Wilson bit his lip, but harder, as he hung it up. "…Love you, too, Dad." That was just like his dad, apologizing for something that wasn't his fault.

Wilson's eyes watered up and this time he didn't bother to try and stop them. He sat down in his desk chair and buried his head in his shaking hands. After a few minutes, he looked up from them. He knew he had to calm down and actually get something done before Cuddy figured out something was wrong- she wasn't stupid. He closed his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths that was still masked by tears.

He went to grab the folder when his elbow knocked over a vase on his desk. It then fell to the floor and shattered into about fifteen pieces. Instead of reactting, he stared at the broken pieces, tears still silently falling down his aged cheeks. With a slightly shaking hand, hereached for a medium sized shard. He examined it, fingering the sides. 'Wow, that's pretty sharp,' he thought.

His father's voice still echoed in his head. He sighed as he looked to the glass fragment, the tip seemed to be mocking him. He closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths. Finally, he just tucked the piece away in his jacket pocket. He couldn't do anything like that now, not after listening to that voice message from his father.

He then excused himself from his office to grab a quick snack from the machines. As he went through the rest of the work day, he found it slightly easier to concentrate, occasionally slipping his hand into his pocket where the shard of glass resided, feeling the sharp tip.

After work:

Wilson had just packed his belongings and was heading toward the elevator that would lead him to the ground floor right by the exit- the less he saw of Cuddy the better. He couldn't risk anymore finding out about what he did; it would put his career as an oncologist in serious jeporday.

As he opened the door to his tiny silver car and sat down on the leather seat, he thought, "Maybe I should visit House." He buckled himself in and tossed his bag into his passenger seat as he decided that he would do just that.

As he drove, he turned on the radio to help him clear his mind. To his relief for some reason, he caught every red light. Why was he nervous about visiting his best friend whom he had visited many times since he was admited?

After thirty minutes or so, Wilson pulled into the parking lot of the mental hospital. As he got out, he looked around the huge parking lot- it was nearly empty. It was always nearly empty. He wondered why the parking lot was so big if it wasn't ever even half full…