After Greg left her apartment, Stacy felt stunned. She had thought that she and Greg shared an unbreakable bond. Her rejection came as a complete surprise.

Stacy went into the immaculate kitchen to pour herself a glass of white wine. Stacy's rented condo was the fully furnished showcase suite of a brand new development. Only a handful of the condos had been sold before real estate prices had taken a tumble. Rather than sell at a loss, the investors decided to hold on to their properties and wait for an upturn in the market. In the meantime, one of the investors, a former client, had offered Stacy the showcase suite at a greatly reduced rent. He wanted a reliable tenant to keep an eye on the building and Stacy was looking for a place to stay. The deal had sounded terrific, but Stacy was already beginning to regret it. The silence of the nearly empty building was oppressive. It forced her to admit that she was lonely.

She turned on a cd to break the silence and was soon lost in thought. Greg was wrong. They were not just reliving the past. They could still have a life together. One evening with House was all that it had taken to convince her. Now, she had to prove it to him.

At about six thirty, she started to feel hungry and called a pizza place that delivered. When her phone rang, she assumed it would be the pizza place calling back to confirm her order. It wasn't. Her caller was James Wilson, delivering bad news.

-------------------------

First there was darkness and nothingness and then a brilliant white light.

"Pupils equal and reactive," said a voice.

House recognized the voice.

"Are you trying to blind me, Cameron?"

"How's your vision?" she asked. "Are you experiencing any blurriness?"

"Maybe you should have asked me that before you shone a bright light into my eyes," House complained. "It's hard to tell when all I can see are purple and blue dots."

"He seems lucid," said another voice – Wilson, this time. Cameron was on his right side and Wilson was on the left.

House turned in the direction of Wilson's voice and gradually the dots faded and he could see Wilson. He looked tired and rumpled and worried.

"You've been in an accident," Cameron said. "Do you know where you are?"

"The emergency room," said House.

He wanted to reach out to Wilson to reassure him but his body felt heavy and unresponsive. Part of that heaviness was probably due to the painkillers, but still... He looked down and saw the casts.

"You've broken your left arm and your left leg," Cameron said. "You also dislocated your shoulder but we managed to pop it back into place. The breaks were pretty clean. We don't anticipate any problems with them. We're a bit more concerned about your head injury. You were unconscious for quite a while."

"What were you thinking," Wilson said, exasperation masking his concern, "riding a motorcycle in the snow?"

"It wasn't snowing when I had the accident," House protested. "The accident had nothing to do with the weather. A dog jumped out right in front of me. It was a random event that could have happened at any time."

"It could happen at any time! Is that supposed to be reassuring? You are getting rid of that motorcycle."

House wasn't sure that he would ever want to get on a motorcycle again, but still he wasn't going to let Wilson order him around. He was prepared to argue, but Cameron stepped in.

"I think we should let House get some rest now," she said. "Dr. Wilson, you look exhausted. You should go home and get some sleep too. I promise I'll phone you if there's any change in his condition."

Wilson nodded.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he said.

House shut his eyes. He felt very tired. Wilson leaned down as if he were about to kiss House, then abruptly turned around and headed for the door.

-----------------------------------

The next time House woke up, Stacy was sitting at his bedside holding his hand. She smiled and lifted his hand up to her cheek in a gesture of affection.

"Thank God, you're awake. Cameron said it was a natural sleep and not to wake you, but it was hard to resist the temptation."

"Stacy," House said. His voice was hoarse, and Stacy got up to give him a sip of water.

"Merry Christmas, Greg."

"It's Christmas morning?" House asked.

"Afternoon actually," she smiled. "Luckily the hospital store is open today, so I got you a present – extra difficult crossword puzzles to keep you from going mad with boredom."

"New York Times," said House. "The quality stuff."

"Nothing's too good for my man," Stacy said. "I got you some pencils too."

"Only wimps use pencils. I'm a pen man myself."

"I'm so happy you're okay. When Wilson told me you were involved in an accident, my heart nearly stopped."

"You talked to Wilson?"

"He phoned me last night. He said that he found a piece of paper in your jacket pocket with my phone number. I would have come right away, but Wilson said there wasn't any point since you were still unconscious."

"You didn't tell him..."

"I got the distinct impression he already knew. Our conversation was very awkward and uncomfortable. I assumed you told him. When you left, you said you were going to tell him."

"I took the long way home and never made it back," said House. "Damn, I wanted to tell him myself before he found out from someone else."

----------------------

Wilson set the alarm to go off in a couple of hours and tumbled into bed. When the alarm woke him, he took a cold shower to wake himself up and brewed some strong coffee. He poured it into a travel mug, and then went into the bathroom to pick up House's toothbrush, shaver, comb and other necessities. He took his Christmas present for House from its hiding place. It was an MP3 player loaded with House's favourite music, including many obscure recordings and rarities that it had taken Wilson hours to find.

Wilson drove to the hospital and headed for House's hospital room. Someone (Cuddy, perhaps?) must have pulled some strings, because House was in the hospital's equivalent of the presidential suite – a glass-walled room equipped with cable television and a mini refrigerator. Through the glass walls, Wilson saw that Stacy was with House. As he watched, she clutched House's hand and held it to her lips. Wilson turned and walked away.

Wilson had been expecting Stacy. He had phoned her, reluctantly, because he thought it was his duty. House was badly injured and House would want her there. That didn't mean that Wilson ever wanted to see Stacy again, and it certainly didn't mean that he ever wanted to witness her and House together. He gave the bag containing House's necessities to an orderly at the nurse's station and went up to his own office to wait for Stacy to leave. He came down again in half an hour but Stacy was still there, still holding House's hand.

Wilson went back up to his office and got out the MP3 player. He put the Christmas present in the top drawer of House's desk where he would be sure to find it. Then he left the hospital and drove back to House's apartment. He got his suitcase out from under the bed and began packing his belongings. It was time to go.

Unwelcome images assaulted him: Stacy smiling at House and kissing his hand, a folded piece of paper with Stacy's address and phone number, the framed photograph of Stacy that House still kept in the drawer of his bedside table. House obviously loved Stacy, and Wilson was not going to hang around hoping that House might change his mind. He should leave with some dignity. Not that dignity was really an option any more after what House had done. House had not only cheated on him, but he had also made sure that half the hospital staff knew about it, just to add that little extra touch of public humiliation.

House took outrageous risks and put his life in danger. It obviously didn't matter to House at all how devastated Wilson would be if House was killed. House hurt him, again and again, and House didn't care how much pain he caused. He was selfish and he was insensitive, and he would never thank Wilson for his Christmas present or for the Christmas dinner he made (which they were never going to have now), because he never said thank you for anything. He was an ungrateful bastard, and he just took and took, and Wilson let him get away with it because he loved him.

Wilson had never learned how to deal with his own negative emotions. Perhaps his difficulty was a product of growing up with an older brother with a violent hair-trigger temper. He had witnessed what anger made his brother do, and he was afraid that he might succumb to the same violent impulses. Wilson could bicker and argue about little things, but real anger scared him. Now an enormous swell of rage threatened to swamp him. All the ugly emotions he never allowed himself to feel flooded in at once, as if some dam in his psyche had been breached. His hands shook and he felt nauseated and dizzy. He had to sit down on the floor to catch his breath. He wondered whether he was having a heart attack.

------------------------

A week had passed. House looked up as Cuddy entered his hospital room, then turned back to the telenovela he was watching.

"House, "she said.

"Shhh," he said. "Father Ramirez is about to find out that he's the father of Maria's baby."

"House, I have to talk to you."

"Wait until the next commercial."

"You're watching a dvd. There aren't going to be any commercials."

She grabbed the remote from House's hand and turned off the television. She put the remote on top of the mini-fridge, where House couldn't reach it.

"You can watch your dvd as soon as we're finished."

"Wilson's dvd. It was going to be his Christmas present. It's pretty good. Not up to General Hospital standards but okay. Maria wears little tiny blouses two sizes too small and her breasts are almost as good as yours. She's always dropping things and leaning over to pick them up. I think you should try that."

"I'll keep it in mind," Cuddy said.

She sat down next to House's bed.

"The hospital wants to release you. Unfortunately, we can't do that until you find someone to look after you for the next few weeks."

"I can look after myself."

"No, you can't. Your right leg can't bear your weight and your left leg is broken so you'll be in a wheelchair. You're still experiencing headaches and dizziness. Dr. Ling doesn't think you should be alone."

"He's a worrywart."

"I agree with him. Normally, I'd suggest hiring a practical nurse or a home care worker, but I couldn't find an agency that would take you on. It seems you have a reputation."

"Wilson will stay with me."

"Have you asked him?"

"How can I ask him? I haven't seen him since Christmas," House said. "He's hiding. He won't talk to me. He won't see me."

"Can you blame him? You hurt him very deeply."

"Of course, I blame him! He should be here yelling at me instead of holing up in his office. He should be waving his hands and telling me I'm a self-loathing narcissist with issues stemming from inadequate toilet training."

"You need to apologize to him."

"Gee, I hadn't thought of that," House said sarcastically. "Unfortunately, it's hard to say I'm sorry when he won't visit me and he won't answer my phone calls. I've been sending him psychic messages, but I don't think it's working."

"Maybe it's time for you to accept that your relationship with Wilson is over," Cuddy said gently.

"No," House said. "He'd break up with me in person. He'd tell me it was over. He hasn't done that because he still loves me."

Cuddy sighed, "You can't stay here, and you can't go back to your apartment alone. You're going to have to find someone to stay with you. And, before you ask, it's not going to be me. I have a baby to look after."

"How long do I have to find someone?"

"We'd like you to leave tomorrow," she said. She went to the mini-fridge, got the remote, and handed it to House.

"Maria's lying, by the way," she said. "It's not really Father Ramirez's baby."

She left the room, leaving House to consider his options.