When Wilson found House at the gravesite, the first thing House noticed was the smell of anti-septic soap. Odd considering he had been out in the cold for who knows how long. The first thing Wilson noticed was how calm House was. He had expected the worst; House drunk or high (most likely) or upset and crying (least likely). But House was just sitting there.
Wilson put House's heavy jacket around his shoulders and let his hands rest there to let House know that he was there for him. Wilson had been expecting something like this to happen. House had never talked about what happened, about his relationship with Cally, or what happened that last day. All he really knew was that Cally had been in an accident three months ago on House's bike. The bike had survived. She hadn't.
House looked up at Wilson. He didn't know how long Wilson had been standing there with his hands on his shoulders. "That last day . . . ." House began, and then paused. Wilson came around and sat down next to House, and House shrugged into his coat. Wilson was surprised that House hadn't pushed him away, he was always so reluctant to any human contact. He must be really cold or really out of it, he thought.
"That last day . . . ." House continued. "Cally said she knew."
"Knew what?"
"That I loved someone more than I loved her."
Wilson looked confused. "She couldn't have meant Stacey. Cally never met her, and you never got into it all with her. It was easier that way for you."
"She didn't mean Stacey."
"Well who then, Cameron?" Wilson said with a contemptuous, yet sarcastic half laugh, half snort.
House gave him a rueful smile.
"Yeah, it's Cameron. You found me out." He rolled his eyes at Wilson. "For someone who is supposed to be so smart, wonder boy oncologist, you certainly lack observing the obvious."
"Well, that I leave to you, the people person." Wilson said in just as a sarcastic tone. But as he finished saying it, recognition clicked in his brain, and flashed across his face. "You don't mean, you d-didn't mean . . ." His voice trailed, off uncertain as to what to say. What he did know was that he didn't want to continue this conversation here, and out in the freezing cold.
"Come on House, let me take you home."
House allowed himself to be led to the car, unsure as to what Wilson was thinking now, now that he had finally put the pieces together. But he was cold, and his leg was starting to ache in an increasing amount, and he just wanted to get warm and take his vicodin.