Thanks for reading and reviewing. One more chapter left after this one.

Chapter 5

The sheets were scratchier than he remembered and he realized the blanket was missing the strip of satin along the top edge. The bedding smelled…clinical. Opening his eyes, Wilson held his breath, briefly forgetting he could no longer see. Exhaling, he did everything in his power to keep from losing it there alone, in what he could only guess was a hospital room. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to keep the tears from pooling in his eyes.

Not knowing for certain, Wilson was fairly confident that he felt sunlight on his left, which meant he'd spent the night in hospital. Waking more fully, the hospital sounds from the hallway began to filter in, and from the din he decided that he was not in the ICU, though he couldn't remember exactly why he was in a hospital bed.

Despite being covered with a sheet and thin blanket, Wilson felt overwhelmingly exposed. The lightweight bedding suddenly seemed confining, as did the iv he was attached to and struggling against the various wires which he found upon placing his hand on his chest, Wilson knew he wanted only one thing: to get out. He'd never been claustrophobic before, but he now understood the intense desire to bolt in an effort to feel safe, or at least less un-safe. He fought the wires, simultaneously hearing his heartbeat speed-up on the adjacent monitor. The faster the monitor chirped, the more desperate he felt and the closer he came to thrashing about in the hospital bed. Wilson gripped the guard rail of his bed, his knuckles whitening with his mounting fear when he felt a strong hand cover his own.

"Settle down," House said quietly.

"I can't…need to get these off," Wilson stammered, trying to pull the lines from his chest.

"Seriously, calm down."

Wilson struggled under House's grip, but House refused to budge and desperate for something to ground him before he was lost to the throes of claustrophobia, Wilson slapped his free hand on top of House's hand and gripped tight.

House's first instinct was to recoil, and though he tried, Wilson had a death grip on him like no other and House found he couldn't move; his hand was firmly sandwiched between Wilson's trembling hands. His second instinct was to mock Wilson, tease him of his insecurities, thereby diffusing the situation and ultimately forcing Wilson to laugh at himself. Their relationship had changed though and mocking Wilson of his insecurities suddenly seemed…not fun.

"What happened?" Wilson asked, his hands not yet ready to leave the safety net that was his former best friend.

House sighed, shifted in his seat and closed his eyes, finding Wilson's unseeing eyes to be somewhat disturbing. "You seized last night."

"Prednisone?"

"You never received the first dose."

"So it's not arteritis."

"Congratulations, your blindness isn't necessarily permanent, but now you've got a potentially more serious condition which is causing you to seize."

"Do I get a prize with that?"

"Yep, this way cool hospital bed, complete with this magical wand thingy that lets you raise and lower both your feet and your head at the push of a button."

"I was hoping you'd say I'd get my vision back."

"My hand's turning purple."

Wilson released his grip, unsure if House was being truthful or not, though as he thought about it, his own hand was a bit sore from gripping so tightly. "What time is it?"

"Nine; breakfast will be here soon."

"Not hungry."

"Good, more for me."

They sat in silence for several minutes until House turned the television on. He flipped channels for several minutes, finally settling on a talk show after he'd seen each station at least twice.

"Were you here all night?" Wilson asked. He noted that the heart monitor was once again beeping a normal rhythm.

House remained silent, instead upping the volume on the television set to avoid conversation. Wilson fully understood that House had stayed the night, likely in the chair beside him, and that House had no intention of admitting it. The weight of his previous words came crashing down on him and Wilson wanted nothing more than to erase the past several months, wishing life were more like a childhood game of kickball with the chance for a do-over.

"House, I'm s-"

Wilson felt the movement before he heard it; House was on his feet before Wilson had the chance to finish his thought. He limped around the edge of the bed, pausing near the doorway, though he didn't bother to turn around to face Wilson when he spoke.

"Foreman's on his way to take you for an MRI," House said.

"Wait, why can't you do it?" Wilson asked, a tone of desperation marking his words.

"I don't run diagnostic tests on my patients."

Wilson listened to the awkward gait of House's stride as he walked away. Calling out in anger, Wilson bellowed, "I'm not just your patient, House."

_______

Foreman poked his head into House's office later in the day and found House seemingly asleep in the corner chair and was slightly startled when House asked, "Anything?"

"MRI's clean."

"We need-"

House was cut off by the sound of his pager. He paused to look at it, closed his eyes briefly and said, "Damn."

_______

House stood beside Cuddy outside of Wilson's room and watched as his team worked on Wilson. "How long ago did this start?"

Wilson was unable to lie still as a migraine caused him to writhe in pain. His hands were balled in tight fists at his temples, his knees rested near his chest and his eyes were shut tight.

"The migraine started during the MRI, but it only just reached this stage a few minutes ago," Cuddy said. Looking at House, she shook her head. "What is it? Do you have any idea?"

"Where have you been?" House asked.

"Don't deflect; it's not like I spent the night on a wild date, pretending to be someone else. I had to meet my sister and her family last night."

House stared off, seemingly unfocused, at a spot on the distant side of Wilson's room and thought for a moment, almost forgetting Cuddy was standing beside him.

"House?"

"Get an OR ready," he said, as he walked in to Wilson's room. Cuddy told a nearby nurse to call up to the OR and then followed House inside.

House watched Wilson as the pain medication and slight sedative took affect and as the creases near his eyes lessened, House took a seat on the edge of his bed. "We need to do an arterial biopsy."

"But the MRI showed no evidence of temporal arteritis," Forman said.

"MRI is not conclusive; a biopsy is the only definitive way," House argued.

The fellows awaited orders but none came. Tentatively, Taub asked, "House? Do you want us to get Chase-"

"Nope. I'll do it," House said.

_______

Cuddy, Foreman, Taub, Thirteen and Kutner stood at the observation window and watched as House performed the surgery himself, with Chase assisting.

"Why did he insist on doing this himself?" Kutner asked.

Cuddy inhaled deeply, "Because," she paused, shaking her head. "Because he's House, and because that's Wilson in there."