Okay, here's an update! *cheers* This chapter was really hard to write for some reason. Anyways, enjoy and review, even you lurkers! I'd love to hear from you :)

House ran down the stairs, taking two at a time, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He felt free; he was free from his past and from his pain.

It felt so good to be able to run. It felt so good to run from his past.

Coming to the fourth floor landing, House flung open the door letting it slam against the wall. Things looked exactly as they had before he had gone on to the roof.

"Hi, can I help you?"

House turned around. It was Kutner. House wondered why Kutner looked like he had never seen him before, but then he remembered he was never born, so he had never met the disgruntled Gregory House. He was a brand new person.

"Uh, yeah. Where's the diagnostic department?" House asked.

Kutner looked at House strangely. "We…don't have a diagnostic department."

"Oh." Cuddy had made the diagnostic department just for House. Since he was never employed at the hospital, there would be no diagnostic department…

"Who's the Dean of the hospital?" House asked.

"….Doctor Lisa Cuddy," Kutner said softly, fidgeting. "But…"

House smiled. At least some things were the same.

"Thanks," House said to his past fellow. He walked down the hallway with a spring in his step, looking into each of the rooms, looking for familiar faces. Most of the same doctors were still there. His absence from the world hadn't caused that much change in the world. He wasn't needed after all.

Too busy looking at the rooms as he passed, House ran right into someone who was walking quickly down the hallway.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I…"

House looked down at the women who was stuttering apologies and knelling down, gathering the files she had dropped.

"Cameron?" House asked.

"Yes?" Cameron smiled, always wanting to help someone in need. House snickered. She hasn't changed at all.

"It's me, House."

"Um…" Cameron tilted her head and stared at House. "I'm sorry, I don't know you."

House sighed when he remembered that she would not know him.

"Is there a problem?"

House looked over, recognizing the thick Australian accent immediately.

"Chase!" House exclaimed.

"Dr. Chase."

"Whatever," House muttered. "How's your dad?"

"Dead," Chase said with a stony expression. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gregory House, I used to work here."

Chase nodded. "That's wonderful. Now if you don't mind Dr. Cameron and I must be going."

House's two former fellows walked away. Chase trotted next to Cameron's side, trying to talk to her, but Cameron merely brushed Chase off and turned her head away.

Even now in an alternate universe, Chase is still pining after Cameron and Cameron still didn't let him into her life. It was only a matter time before Chase finally won her over…or not. Cameron turned around and yelled something at Chase that House could not hear, and then stormed away in the opposite direction, leaving Chase standing clueless in the hall.

Shaking his head, House continued walking down the hallway, examining life without him. He felt like a ghost. Nobody knew he was there, (well, nobody knew he was there. To others, he was now just another random person), and he had full knowledge of how things were before. It was kind of enthralling.

House's thoughts were interrupted when a familiar short figure crossed in front of his line of vision. With curiosity, House followed Taub into the room where he was headed, but stopped short when he also recognized the person laying the hospital bed.

Thirteen was looking very ill, more than House had ever seen her.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Taub barked with his arms crossed. "This is a patient's room and you can't come in here-,"

"I'm a doctor," House said. He closed the distance between Thirteen, who was now sitting up, and himself, leaving Taub irritated.

"Remy Hadley?" House asked.

Thirteen nodded. "Why do you care?"

House looked over at Taub. "Why is she here?"

"Alcohol poisoning," Thirteen said without missing a beat. Taub sighed.

"Ms. Hadley, I need to talk to you alone. When I ran some blood tests, I-," Taub began.

"NO!" Thirteen screamed, covering her ears. "I don't want to know!"

Both House and Taub jumped back in surprise to Thirteen's outburst. House quickly recovered.

"One day, you'll have to know whether or not you are at risk for Huntington's. Why not know tonight?" House asked.

Taub and Thirteen both stared at House in shock. Thirteen tried to remember if she knew House from anywhere.

"H-how do you know?" Taub stuttered.

"I told you, I'm a doctor." House snatched Thirteen's file from Taub, and at the same time House noticed Taub's left hand.

"You're not married," House stated. Taub's usual gold wedding band was now gone.

Taub instinctively rubbed where his ring would have been. "No…I'm not."

"But you were."

Taub scoffed, and then shook his head. "How…why are you asking me this? I don't know you."

"Did she catch you philandering around again?"

"Who are you?!"

"Or did you confess your affair to your wife?"

"Shut up!" Taub yelled. He then took a deep breath, and then let it out, glaring at House. "I have no idea who you are, or how you know so much about me…or this patient," he said nodding to Thirteen, "But I'm asking you to leave. Now."

"Fine." House handed Thirteen's file back to Taub and walked to the door, and looked over his shoulder. "But…"

"If you must know, yes, she caught me, and then divorced me. Happy?" Taub asked.

"No." House left the room without another word.

Okay, so Thirteen's and Taub's lives are different, but he himself wouldn't cause that much of a change in their lives, would he? House doubted it.

But a sickening feeling in his stomach made him think otherwise.

House came to the place where his office would have been, if he was alive. Now, it was just another lab. House felt a twinge of remorse when he thought of all the time he spent in his office…

Next to the lab however, was still the office of "James Wilson, M.D." Gleeful that Wilson had still ended up as head oncologist; House quickly walked towards the door, and then began running. Stopping at the door and hoping that Wilson was working late, House turned the doorknob. It was unlocked, and House soothed his want to know and opened the door, revealing his friend sitting at the desk like he always did. But Wilson wasn't like the Wilson that House remembered.

James Wilson now looked like he had lived many stressful years; his look of boy-like innocence was gone and was replaced with desperation and depression. His hair had begun to grey at his temples and spread throughout the rest of his head, almost completely covering his normal brown hair, his eyes were dark and sunken in, his skin and pale and sallow and his clothes were rumpled and looked like he had slept in them.

"Wilson…what happened to you?" House asked softly.

Wilson looked up from his work. "Do I know you?"

"No, I don't." House didn't know this James Wilson…what had happened that made this Wilson so…different?

"Then what do you want?" Wilson snapped. He reached forward and grabbed a mug and took a long drink of it and then slammed the mug on the table.

House sniffed the air. "Are you…drinking alcohol?"

Wilson glared at House. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah…" House sat down in the chair in front of Wilson, much to Wilson's displeasure. Wilson let out a loud sigh and motioned towards his mug. "You want some?"

House shook his head. Wilson shrugged, and then pulled a bottle of whisky out from under his desk and poured some into his mug until it brimmed over the top. House watched as Wilson drank once more from his mug.

"What made you like this?" House asked.

"Like what?"

"Like…this. You used to be so bright and…happy," House said.

Wilson laughed. "I haven't been happy in many years. Ever since my first wife left me, my life has been constant hell."

"How many times have you been married?" House asked in shock.

Wilson laughed and held out his hand in front of his face. "Let's just say I need more than one hand to count them."

House closed his eyes. This isn't Wilson, he kept repeating, over and over. House looked up at his friend, who the real friend had to be in there somewhere, and looked for some part of Jimmy that was missing. House noticed something on Wilson's wrist though, that made him stare and jump up and grab the oncologist's wrist.

"Hey!" Wilson yelled.

House examined the long scars on Wilson's wrist that seemed rather fresh. They were a new addition to the "New" Wilson.

"What are these from?" House asked. Wilson ignored him and tried to jerk his wrist away from House, but House held Wilson's wrist tightly and yelled, "Where did you get these scars?!"

"Hey man! I was just trying to oust myself, but it didn't work obviously. I wish it had," Wilson said.

"Killing yourself is a stupid…" House let go of Wilson, a thought coming into his mind. He was going to do the exact same thing this night.

House rushed out of Wilson's office. Confused, Wilson yelled, "Merry Christmas!" after House.

"You're Jewish!" House said, stopping at the door.

"I am?"

House exited the room before he could learn anything else that this Wilson was not.

Afraid of what he might find, but anxious to not, House ran the down the stairwell, his steps echoing in the empty desolate room. He was going to see the other person who he thought their life would be better without him.

Arriving to Cuddy's office, House found it closed off with the blinds closed. He looked around the room. The clinic was closed and nobody else was in the same room as House.

He made a move to climb over the ropes that blocked Cuddy's office, but a familiar voice stopped him.

"Greg."

House turned on the spot. "Oh, you again."

"How do you like your life without you?" the angel asked.

"I…" House tried to form a lie, but he couldn't muster it.

Thomas smiled. "Different that you thought, huh?"

"So…people have shittier lives and Wilson is a drunk." He pointed to Cuddy's office. "What about her? Where's Lisa?"

Thomas winced. "I wish you wouldn't have asked that."

"Why? Where is she?!"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do." House grabbed Thomas by the shoulders and shook him. "Where is she!?"

Thomas took in a shaky breath, and then looked away from House. "Lisa's….dead."

House blinked. No, Thomas must be wrong. Cuddy can't be dead.

"It's true," Thomas whispered. "It happened just a few weeks ago. There was this patient that came into the clinic. His name was Jason. He went into Lisa's office, where she was at the time. He demanded a diagnosis and threatened her with a gun."

"No…"

"Lisa tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear it. He killed her, Greg."

House shook his head. "You're lying! That can't be true."

"It is," the angel said softly.

House looked down at the floor and squeezed his eyes shut, blocking away the tears he could feel forming. Lisa Cuddy was dead because of him. Before, he was in her office instead and was able to prevent the shooter that had come into the clinic from killing anybody.

"Do you think you're significant now?" Thomas asked.

House darted to the phone that was sitting on the nurse's counter and began dialing his mom's phone number.

"Greg, stop it. She's gone too."

House let the phone drop away from his ear and stared at Thomas in disbelief. "What…?"

"Your mom died many years ago."

"But…"

"Yes."

House slammed the phone down on the receiver. "Tell me why!"

Thomas shifted, uncomfortable with the situation. "John went too far one day. He hurt her too much, and she had had enough. So she took her husband's gun and killed him."

House shivered.

"And then she killed herself," Thomas said.

"I…I can't…" House slumped against the counter, breathing heavily and gasping for air.

"Greg."

Reluctantly, House turned around to look at Thomas. He was standing in front of what seemed like a big group of people, but the crowd was surrounded in shadows and was faceless.

"Who are they?" House asked.

"They are dead," Thomas stated. "But you know them."

"No I don't…" House took a step closer to the crowd, Thomas taking a step away. As House looked over the group of faceless people, they became clearer and House turned to Thomas in shock.

"They're patients I saved!"

Thomas shook his head solemnly. "Not anymore."

House slowly looked back at his past patients. There was the nun with the copper allergy, the little boy that he had treated during the hospital benefit, the girl that could feel no pain, the man that had gotten poisoned by his wife, and the photographer and her baby was there too. Every patient that House had ever saved was there, pressing guilt on him, because he could have saved them. House looked down when he felt something tugging at his hand.

It was the bald headed little girl that had cancer. What was her name…? Andie. House looked down at the pitiful looking child.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," House muttered. "I really am." He looked up into the crowd and saw another familiar face. Foreman was standing there, looking smug.

"Why are you here?" House asked.

Foreman shrugged. "That patient, the police officer, I still got infected by him. I was treating him because of the neurological symptoms he was having. Nobody could figure out what I had, so…here I am."

House shook his head. "You!" he shouted, pointing at Thomas. "You're making this up!"

"I wish I was." Thomas sighed. "All these people died because you were not around to save them. Lisa got murdered because your absence made circumstances and agendas of Jason change. James became a different person because you weren't there when he needed you, when you first met him."

"But-,"

"You helped him get over his depression and made him move on with life. Remy is still afraid of her fate with Huntington's, because you were never able to pressure her into it. So now she is continuing on her downward spiral. Taub's problems repeated because you didn't make him feel like an idiot about it. Cameron and Chase…" Here Thomas stopped. "Chase still resents his father and Cameron is still weak."

"I didn't cause all of those people to change," House muttered.

"Yes, you did. And your mom…you weren't there to prevent John from abusing her. You kept him from hurting her, remember?"

"I killed her," House whispered. He thought of all the people whose lives had changed because he was never born. Many had died, and the rest were living miserable lives where they wished they were dead.

"I killed them," House said. "I…"

"What?"

"I wish I didn't…" House looked back over to the crowd of people he could have saved. Andie was crying and looking up at House.

House had thought it was bad to be alive, but now he felt even worse. He was in a world where nobody knew him, and everyone close to him were dead, or not themselves, so it was like they were dead. House remembered something that the real Wilson had said to him. Living is hard, dying is easy.

"Hmmm?" Thomas asked.

"I want to live…" House didn't want to take the easy way out of things anymore.

"Too late."

"No, come on! You have to be able to…" Too much had been lost, and House wanted it back. His mother, Cuddy, Wilson… House felt selfish for wanting to end his life.

"Sorry Greg."

House grabbed Thomas and yelled in his face, "I WANT TO LIVE!"

Thomas smiled. "You want to live," he said simply.

"YES, I DO!" House shut his eyes, letting tears fall, not caring who knew. "I'm so sorry, I just want everything back the way things-,"

House slumped to the ground, feeling Thomas slip away. House felt the familiar pain in his thigh and wind whipping around him and cold air stinging his face. In a moment, it was all over, and when House opened his eyes, he found himself back on the hospital roof.

A/N: I tried to fit everyone into this chapter. I know Kutner's just kind of...there. LOL I also find it hard to believe that everyone would be employed at PPTH, because if House didn't have teams...you get where I am going. But also, there is a thing called fate, and sometimes things still happen regardless of what you do.

Anyways, reviews are nice :) There is one more chapter so, look out for it!