Okay, well here it is, the last chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always. I do appreciate the feedback, very much. Thanks for sticking with this short story.

Chapter 6

Wilson sat with his eyes covered in gauze, his back propped up against the pillows. He listened for House's tell-tale uneven footsteps but hadn't heard them since the day prior. Cuddy had been by several times, as had Cameron, Foreman and Chase. House's newer team had been in and out all day, performing what ever medical test House had demanded from his diagnostic throne on the fourth floor.

That evening, shortly before Cuddy left for the night, she stopped by again to check in on Wilson. "The biopsy was negative; it's not temporal arteritis."

"I guess that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah," she said sadly. At least he wasn't permanently blind for certain, though any number of other things could possibly yield the same result. "How have you been otherwise?"

Wilson angled his head so that he almost looked like he was staring out of the window, if it weren't for the white gauze wrapped around his head. "Heart palpitations, but not bad. Is he coming by?"

She thumbed through his chart silently at first, afraid of upsetting Wilson, but eventually she donned a fake smile, hoping to disguise the pity in her voice. "He's busy; you know how he gets when he's got a case."

"I'm not a puzzle."

"Wilson…." Cuddy found she didn't know what to say, so she opted not to say anything at all.

"Do me a favor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Talk to him?"

Reluctantly, she said, "Okay."

_______

Cuddy walked into the darkened conference room and found House staring at the whiteboard. "He's asking for you."

"Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Would it kill you to visit him?"

"Would it kill you to wear a top that doesn't shout 'I'm available'?"

"You're purposely avoiding him."

"I am."

Cuddy tilted her head to the side and stared at House, though he still faced the whiteboard; she was shocked by his honest admission. "Why?"

"To see how he reacts."

"House, this isn't time for one of your games; Wilson's down there alone, blind and on the verge learning how to live the rest of his life without his sight if we can't figure this out."

House turned sharply in his chair and glared at Cuddy. "Any new symptoms?"

"I mean it, you can't jerk him around like this."

"Symptoms?"

Cuddy dropped her hands from her waist to her sides in exasperation. "Heart palpitations, happy now? You would have known that if you'd stopped by to see him."

"When I said I wasn't playing games, wait for it, I meant I wasn't playing games. Every time Wilson is stressed, a new symptom appears."

Cuddy stared at him blankly, not quite sure what he was getting at. "So, is that a symptom?"

"And they don't pay you the big bucks for nothing," he said sarcastically.

"So, if you know what's wrong with him, tell me."

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing's actually wrong with him."

"You can't be serious? He's had two seizures now, a fever, heart palpitations and oh yeah, he can't see."

House picked up his cane and headed towards the elevators. "Conversion disorder."

Cuddy abruptly halted in the hallway after chasing after House; he stopped and turned to face her. "Conversion disorder?" she asked.

"Is there an echo in here?"

"Actual symptoms brought on by extreme moments of stress?"

"He doesn't have any neurological issues, the scans and blood work are clean; it's not autoimmune, a toxin or genetic. He's not faking it. Conversion disorder fits."

Cuddy shook her head in slight disbelief and in amazement with House's diagnosis. "So it's possible he won't be blind for life."

Turning again towards the elevators, House limped on. "If he accepts that it's a conversion disorder."

"He's going to need a psych consult. You need to talk with him, House. He's stressed because of all that's happened in the two months and because he needs y-"

House put his hand up in a stop-traffic sort of way and shook his head.

_______

"Out," House said gruffly. His fellows looked on at him in bewilderment. "I said get out. Go on, go home. You're off duty for the night."

Without talking back, his team filed out of Wilson's room and disappeared down the hall.

"Good to see you too, House."

"Actually, I can see you but you know you can't-"

"Do you have a magical cure or are you here just to annoy me?"

"Both, actually."

Wilson perked up at the thought of a possible cure. "Well?"

"You're too stressed-"

"I don't need a lecture."

"Shut up and let me finish. Your eyesight is perfectly fine."

"Right, and you're the head of the welcoming, bereavement and birthday committees."

"I said shut up and listen." House took a deep breath, ready for Wilson's denial. "You have a conversion disorder."

Wilson leaned back into his pillow and sighed. "You think this is all in my head."

"Yeah, that about describes it. Congratulations, you're now officially a head case; I've always suspected, but now I've got proof."

"What if you're wrong?"

House gave him a disbelieving look before he realized Wilson couldn't see his expression. "I'm not."

"What if my sight doesn't come back?"

"Then it'll be your own fault. You control this; no one else."

Wilson shook his head and turned his head away from the sound of House's voice. "Just go."

Growing annoyed, House whined, "Wilson-"

"Please, just go; I need to think."

House walked out of the room and met Cuddy in the hall. The pair watched Wilson through the glass as he sat there by himself in the dark, his eyes covered in gauze, his hands clasped in front of him, his chin tipped down to his chest. Without lifting his head, Wilson sent an angry wave directed in their direction, knowing House wouldn't leave so easily.

_______

The next morning, Cuddy stood at Wilson's bedside with another doctor who was even shorter than Cuddy; House stood outside, peering in through the glass.

"Wilson, this is Dr. Friedman."

A corner of his mouth turned down. "I'm not a head case."

"No one ever said you were."

"House did."

Cuddy sighed, "And his opinion still matters to you."

Wilson shrugged.

"May I call you James?" Dr. Friedman asked.

Again, Wilson shrugged.

"Okay, James, well I prefer to go by Maggie." Maggie gave a quick smile and a nod at Cuddy, indicating it was okay for her to go.

On her way out, Cuddy paused when Wilson said, "Tell House I'm not here for his own personal viewing pleasure. He can come back later."

She smiled at how well Wilson knew House and said, "Okay."

_______

The next day, House again found himself in Wilson's room. "Your fever's gone. No more seizures. Heart looks good," House said, reviewing Wilson's chart. Wilson nodded. "If you don't get your sight back, let me know; we can sit in a movie theater and annoy everyone else while I describe everything on screen in detail," House said.

Wilson listened to the footsteps as House walked away. Wilson tipped his head back to rest on the pillows and sighed, "House."

Pausing at the doorway, House lowered his head and waited.

"We're supposed to talk. Maggie, Dr. Friedman, thinks that this is-"

"My fault." House said.

"I didn't say that. She thinks this is because I've pushed the one person who means the most to me out of my life and the stress has manifested itself as a conversion disorder," Wilson paused and snorted before he continued. "Leave it to me to skip the ulcer and move straight to blindness."

House slowly made his way back into the room and sat in the adjacent chair. Wilson's words resonated with him. "You always were an overachiever."

A slight smile touched Wilson's mouth. "This sucks."

"You know what sucks? Cuddy hovering over you every moment of every day after a head injury."

"Mommy dearest?"

"Worse, it was like having my own mother there."

"That is bad."

"Yeah, at least the twins hovered whenever Cuddy did."

Wilson leaned into his pillow, unable to keep himself from smiling.

House crossed his feet on the edge of Wilson's bed, picked up the remote and turned the television on. "So, the Price is Right, or Spongebob?"

"Price is Right," Wilson said.

Grinning broadly, House said, "Spongebob, it is."

_______

Several days later, Wilson sat perched in a chair in his hospital room; House sat opposite him. Cuddy stood behind House, holding her breath.

"Ready?" she asked.

Wilson nodded once. "As ready as I'll ever be."

House slowly began to un-wrap the gauze from Wilson's skull, almost afraid to fully reveal Wilson's eyes. His eyes now exposed, House stared intently at Wilson. "Open your eyes," he said.

Wilson took a deep, cleansing breath before he lifted his eyelids. House stared into his brown eyes, waiting for confirmation. Wilson's eyes strayed to the left a bit and House noted the slight sheen as tears threatened to form in Wilson's eyes.

Cuddy covered her mouth with her hand before regaining her composure. "Maybe it'll take some time."

Wilson gazed directly at her. "Still need an oncologist?"

Cuddy hesitated momentarily as she processed what Wilson said before smiling brightly, her eyes filling with tears. She nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice at that moment.

House closed his eyes briefly and sighed almost imperceptibly. Though Wilson was looking at Cuddy, House's relief did not go unnoticed by Wilson.

Wilson then looked at House, staring intensely, and simply said, "I'm back."

Fin.