Shows not mine, characters aren't mine...yea yea yea. On with the fic.

PS sorry it's been awhile...I had family stuff and school stuff and...more stuff.

"Unhgh...coffee..." House rolled onto his side and opened his eyes a crack and saw Cameron sorting his mail. She smirked at him.

"Wow House...I knew you weren't a morning person but it's already 2:00 in the afternoon. Are you sick or something?" She cocked and eyebrow and looked at him as his glassy eyes stared back at her.

"2:00? And Dragon Lady hasn't come looking for me to banish me to the realm of idiot parents and snot-nosed children? Is she even at work today?" He sat up and wiped some slobber off his chin with the back of his hand. Making a face at the taste in his mouth he looked at Cameron expectantly. "Coffee?" She laughed and stood, motioning for him to follow. He didn't so she brought the cup back to him and sat down to finish his mail.

"Yes 2:00 and Dr. Cuddy, who I assume is the person you meant by 'Dragon Lady' came in early this morning right after you went to your office. I told her I would take care of getting you to the clinic to do your hours. You should get down there by the way. I did an hour and a half for you and then some for me, so you still have plenty to do yourself." She smiled at him and continued. "You were dead when you came in. No one could wake you so we let you sleep and did our own thing."

"Your own thing? What about the patient? You're chipper enough to be in a kid's cartoon so I assume he's cured." House took a long sip of his coffee and sat back on the couch. "And since you're in my office and the conference room appears to be empty," he glanced through the window into the conference room, "I'm assuming that either you're packing needles or we don't have a patient. If it's the first option you might want to let me brush my teeth first. Afternoon breath really puts a damper on things don't you think?" He threw her a fake inquisitive look. One only House could ever really pull off.

Cameron blushed at the mention of needles. So she tried to steal a vile of his blood, so what? They were ONLY trying to see for themselves if it was cancer and how else could they get the sample?

"Well I don't have a needle and I doubt you carry a toothbrush around with you, so I guess we don't have a case right now. But, since you're up I can page Foreman and Chase and have them find one." She picked up the phone, but somehow House made it across the room in time to hang it back up before she could page anyone.

"Hmm...no needles huh? Have you finally come for that sperm sample then? It's a bit short notice and you already know I'm cancer free but hey...I'm not complaining."

Cameron blushed. Get a hold of yourself Allison! He's been conscious for five minutes and he's already gotten you flustered twice! Geeze..."No House I'm not here for any sample of your bodily fluids. If I was I would be wearing a lot less clothing and I would have a much higher blood alcohol content level." She gave him an innocent grin and took in the look on his face. Yes! You finally got him!...And of course no ones here to see it. He smiled.

"Well that whole blood alcohol content level could be remedied but the one time I DID ask you out for drinks you turned me down. I guess a guy without a limp just doesn't make your insides tingle. Oh well. Wilson sure enjoyed it so...your loss." And with that he limped out of the room leaving Cameron to watch him go and once more berate herself for turning him down. The one time he asks and you have to go make a point about him. Way to go Allison. Great call there...

House walked down the hall to his best friends office. I'll tell him what Mom told me, make him guess how it makes me feel, listen to his advice and if I take it, don't tell him he was right. Same plan as always. House was so deep in thought, he didn't see the person sitting in the chair across from Wilson's desk. He froze with the door cracked open when he saw who it was. Listening to the end of their conversation, he remained as quiet and still as he could.

"...so we can expect you tonight at 7?Blythe is making spaghetti tonight. She makes a great meat sauce." Standing, John House held out his hand to shake Wilson's.

"Uh...sure John. I bet it will be delicious. Are you heading up to see Greg now?"

"Oh no I think I'll just go back to his place and see if there's anything good on the tv right now. I don't much feel like dealing with him right now. You know how it is, right?" He looked expectantly at the oncologist who stood, staring open-mouthed at the elder gentleman standing before him.

"Yeah John...I know exactly how it is..." You are quite possibly the worst human being I've ever had the displeasure to meet in my entire life. No wonder House is emotionally absent.

"Good, good...well. I guess we'll see you tonight then!" John headed for the door.

"Yeah...tonight."

House pressed himself against the wall behind the door and hoped his father wouldn't notice him as he walked away. I don't know why I bother wasting any hope on that man. He never noticed me before unless I did something "bad" why should he start now? House was right. John just walked right past his. If he knew it was House he didn't spare a glance to acknowledge him. Doesn't mean he didn't see me. House reminded himself. It never means he didn't see me. He walked into Wilson's office.

"Consulting with the enemy Jimmy Boy? I thought you were better than that." He sat down and swung his legs up onto Wilson's couch. "So you're going to come for dinner tonight then? I bet you...20 bucks my Mother doesn't know about it and he invited you to avoid talking to me."

"Why would you bet money on that? You really...really need therapy." He set down his pen and looked pointedly at his friend on the couch.

"The only reason you won't take the bet is because you saw me through the crack of the door and you know he didn't speak to me if he saw me and he wasn't planning on going to talk to me anyway. You know that's why you were invited. That and he loves you. You're the son he never had."

"He has a son." Wilson looked at House with that "I-care-about-you-so-I'm-going-to-tell-you-stuff-you-already-know" look he had perfected over the long, long years of his friendship with House.

House just looked at him with a blank stare. Hollowly, he replied, "No James...he doesn't have a son. He has me."

With that he stood and walked out leaving behind a dumbfounded Wilson. House knew he wouldn't have an answer for that anyway, so why stay in the office with the empty silence and the pity-filled stares that he knew Wilson was throwing at the door, even though House was long gone. So far gone.

House went up to his office. Luckily Cameron was off somewhere. Probably saving lost puppies or singing with tiny, furry, animated woodland creatures as they clean a magic carpet under the sea...hmm...maybe I took that one too far... House sat at his desk and started bouncing his tennis ball as he thought. Wilson knew how John treated House as a child. He knew about the constant moving around the world and even though House never gave him any details he knew about the constant physical and emotional abuse. He knew John and House didn't love each other like a father and son should have. He knew they were only civil for Blythe's sake. Should I tell him? House couldn't decide. He thought back to when Wilson told him about his drug-addicted brother. In a sick way it made sense that Wilson would do anything for House. Anything from lying to Cuddy to cleaning up his vomit after House accidentally took one too many shots. He's trying every new way to help the drug addict he cares about. Everything different from the way he tried to help his brother. Guess that must be way he puts up with so much crap from me...it's really not fair. Maybe I'm too hard on him...Everyone who had seen the pair knew there was no maybe about it. House was a jerk. Even House knew it. He just didn't care. Maybe I should tell him. Everything. Starting with what Mom told me and moving on to the way Mom and Dad decided to raise me. Ugh...but then he'll try even harder to get me into some sort of rehab, therapy combination. But he deserves to know why I act the way I do. It went on like that for half an hour, an hour, two hours. House lost track of how long. Thinking and bouncing and thinking some more. Finally the ball stopped. House made his decision. He stood and walked out the door.

I WAS gonna stop there...but this chapters kinda short and I haven't updated in a few days so...

A few minutes later in Wilson's office...

"Hello again Jimmy Boy. Long time no see. OO goody, no bald people in here for you to apologize on my behalf to. Lucky you huh."

Wilson saw right through House's seemingly good mood. He was however confused...why was he here now?

"What's up House?"

House's face went a bit solemn and he sat on Wilson's couch. Leaning his head on the handle of his cane, he just sat there. Wilson was just about to speak again when he opened his mouth.

"My grandmother was killed in a car accident when my father was a little boy. My grandfather blamed him, abused him, and started a vicious cycle which is part of the reason as to why I'm not sure I would ever want to be a parent. But you know all that. Most of it anyways." He chewed on his lip a bit. Wilson was silent. He was worried if he spoke House would shut up and he knew something about this was different. House was actually willing to open up and talk...for once without any real prompting from Wilson. A few minutes passed and no words were exchanged. Finally, Wilson spoke.

"Is...there something else you're wanting to tell me?" House sighed and then looked up. Wilson had to stop himself from looking surprised at the amount of raw emotion that for once was all too evident in his friends icy blue eyes. So much feeling that it almost hurt Wilson to look but at the same time he knew better than to look away.

"I know you have always been curious about it. But...you're too much of a good guy to actually ask. And even though I don't NEED your advice...and we both know I probably won't follow it...I'm curious as to what you think...you would do. So I'm going to tell you...about everything. But don't talk. Because once I get started if i get interrupted I won't be able to get everything out. So I'm going to talk. Then I'm going to leave. And we can talk later tonight. After my parents are asleep. Or tomorrow or something. If I find out you've told anyone I most likely will never speak to you again. So go on and make the calls you have to make to clear your schedule. I don't know how long this will take."

"It's after 4:00 I don't have any more appointments today." Wilson stared at the guarded man intently. His voice was soft and nonthreatening. Much like when he spoke to his child patients when they had to be given bad news. House nodded and sat for a few more minutes. Turning his head back to the cane handle he began retelling everything his mother had told him the night before. He talked about the wreck, and the moves, and the remarriages. All the way up to when he was old enough to remember things for himself.

"Everything I did...it was wrong. He wouldn't let my mother drive anywhere by herself. If he was busy and I had somewhere to be it didn't matter what time it was I would have to walk myself. She wasn't ever allowed to drive me anywhere. Guess...I guess he thought I would distract her. The way he apparently feels he did to his mother. I either ate too little or too much. I wasn't ever clean enough. Wasn't ever quiet enough. I...I was a mistake he always said. So that's all I ever did. Make mistakes and mess up. And no excuse was ever good enough. You know...you know how people say 'this hurts me more than it hurts you'? He never said that. He said...'I hope this hurts you. I hope you are in so much pain you can't breath. Because I hate you' He hated me. He always hated me. Whenever something happened it was my fault. If mom got a cold I would be locked outside or in a shed or in the basement. To sleep and 'think about what I had done' for a day or two. He would dunk my head in icy water if I spilled something or just...just beat me over and over with his belt...that big black belt. If it wasn't around whatever he could get his hands on. Baseball bats, sticks...my grandfathers cane. Just anything. Hitting me...over and over. And I couldn't scream and I couldn't cry or it would take longer. He would whip my bare back and legs with a switch from a tree outside or an electrical cord...anything he could reach. He would...he would choke me with his huge hands...choke me and throw me around. Into a wall or down the stairs. So much that I...sometimes I would pass out. Not...pass out so much as be knocked unconscious...I threatened to tell once. To tell a teacher or someone. I said if he...if he laid one hand on me I would tell the world what he did. He slammed my head on the table and when I woke up...when I woke up he was there. Standing over me with a bucket of ice water. The second my eyes opened he poured it all over me and I realized he had stripped me down to my boxers. He soaked me with another bucket and pulled out my mothers big sharp butcher knife. I...I still remember the glint on it...from the single bare light bulb in the basement. Glinted off the knife...off his eyes...it was an evil light. I've never seen anything like it before. He began...waving it around and he held it to my throat...pushed the tip in just enough to make me bleed a little. And he said...that if...if I ever told a single soul...he would kill me and my mother...and make it look like an accident. Then he turned around and...I was locked in the basement for however many days. With and empty bucket for a toilet and a bucket of dirty water to drink. I stayed in the corner trying not to cry...the whole time...I don't remember much in the next few days. Just...fuzzy. I must have passed out because I went to sleep in the basement and woke up in my bed. Someone had to have carried me. The one thing I know is it was not my father...I...My mother wants me to forgive him. Forget all of that. Everything he did and what he made me. I want to make her happy...but I don't know if I know how. I've tried and...it just...just doesn't feel right."

With that House stood and walked out the door. Wilson stared at the place his friend had sat and thought about everything he had just been told. A few moments later he went and found Cameron.

"Where's House?" He sounded urgent.

"His office why? What's wrong?" She began to get worried.

"Nothing...well...nothing I can tell. Leave him alone and go watch him. From the conference room or something...try not to be obvious though. Page me the second he leaves. Can you do that for me please?"

"Um...sure. I guess."

Wilson took off his lab coat and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" She called out after him.

"I have to go talk to someone." Wilson almost ran out the door and to his car. He drove off in the direction of House's place. He had another House to talk to.

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