The blinds were drawn in both the conference room and the diagnostician's office and only the desk lamp in the office cast its dim glow over House things but not House. Very little light reached where he was sitting on the floor behind his desk, right leg fully extended while the left was drawn up. The tiny buds of his headphones were stuck in his ears and the fingers of his right hand played along with Schubert's Serenade. It would be another couple of weeks before his cast could come off. He should have felt lucky that he wouldn't receive any permanent damage but he didn't feel lucky, he felt numb.

The world was just as small and sad as before and even though being with Wilson made it marginally more tolerable everything still seemed just as dull and lifeless as before.

For a moment House's mind replayed the night of the crash and for just a second he wished that had been the end of Gregory House. Almost as soon as that thought entered his mind was it followed by the thought of Wilson accompanied by a wave of guilt.

In truth life was meaningless. It was the medicine that gave it weight and value but it was Wilson that kept him anchored to it. Without Wilson or even the thought of the man life was intolerable and House didn't know if he could have suffered another minute of it. To wake up and know that he was alone seemed worse than death itself.

A large shaft of light fell across the floor and after a second disappeared, signaling someone had either entered his office or had looked to see if he was in. At the sight of French loafers appearing before him he looked up to see Wilson, briefcase in hand and coat hanging from the other. His lips were moving but the music of his iPod had reached a crescendo and successfully drowned out Wilson's voice.

"What?" House asked as he pulled out one of the buds.

The oncologist rolled his eyes with mild annoyance. "What are you doing on the floor? Wait, forget I asked. Are you ready to go?"

House nodded and extended his right hand so that Wilson could help him up. Dropping his briefcase and coat onto the chair the younger doctor kneeled beside the older doctor to wrap his arms around the thin torso. House reached up to bury his long fingers in the carefully constructed locks.

"All I needed was your hand." House grumbled even as he buried his nose in the crook of Wilson's neck.

"I've waited all day for this." Muttered Wilson as he kissed House's cheek softly.

"I just saw you less than three hours ago."

"I'm greedy. Sue me." Wilson pulled back a little so that he could help House to his feet but House pulled him back.

"Not yet." He said under his breath. He needed this, Wilson, more than anything right now just as the despair was settling over him. Without meaning to he whisper aloud, "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't kill your team while I was gone did you? I'm sure they weren't that bad." The oncologist's soft hand absentmindedly smoothed down the wrinkles on House's shirt, a small smile playing about is lips.

Averting his gaze in favor of staring at the books on his bookshelf he took Wilson's hand in his own and breathed deeply. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?" Wilson studied House's pained expression for a moment. "You can tell me."

The diagnostician dropped Wilson's hand and curled the fingers of his right hand into a fist which he dropped into his lap, the nails biting into the calloused pad of his hand. He stared helplessly at the bookshelf as he spoke. "It wasn't an accident."

Confusion was written all over the younger doctor's face. "What are you talking about?"

House turned his helpless gaze to Wilson. The night I crashed my bike wasn't an accident."

"I don't understand. Why?" The younger's face was distorted in a mask of confusion and grief.

"Because I refuse to keep secrets from you. I will not do what my father did." Anger flared in his chest and he stared at his companion, eyes flashing with what was almost contempt but it was Wilson it was aimed at. He was bitterly angry at himself for telling Wilson when it could destroy a relationship that had only just begun and also that he had given into despair the night of the accident and brought them to this point. The expression in the blue eyes changed suddenly and begged for forgiveness and understanding.

"Not that, well yes that too, but why did you call me that night? If you did it on purpose what was the point of calling me?" House regarded him with a blank stare. He would not tell and if Wilson found out it could very well tear them apart. So he waited, watching as the gears turned in the oncologist's head. "You son of a bitch." Wilson whispered at last, his hand covering his mouth and his eyes wide with shock.

House looked down and turned his focus on the wrinkles of his shirt. "I had to know." He said quietly.

"So you risk your life over a question? Again, I might add. What made you even think I was still angry? Damn it can't you see I love you?"

"Words mean nothing to me. There are only your actions." House spoke quickly.

"Then can't you tell?" Wilson jumped to his feet, his frame quivering with a mass of emotions. With his hands clenched into fists at his side he walked around the desk until it hid him from view.

House remained on the floor, his nose buried in the crook of his left arm while his teeth gritted together in anguish. He wanted to get up and shout meaningless apologies but he didn't because the damage had already been done and enough experience told him that it would be useless.

After what felt like an eternity the diagnostician finally rose to his feet to find his companion standing by the door to the conference room with his back facing House, both hands clasped over the back of his neck. Sans cane House limped heavily over until there was less than a foot between them. He could have easily reached out to touch the expensive material of Wilson's suit jacket or run his hand over the brown locks again but he didn't dare. Everything seemed so fragile at that moment as if one wrong move or touch could break them like glass.

"You gave me the choice." Wilson broke the silence with a strangled sob. "And what if I had gone over your stupid time limit simply because I was too far away? What then? I could have lost you. You're such an irresponsible, reckless jerk." Another sob broke free which he tried to contain behind clenched teeth.

House's mouth suddenly went dry and for the first time in a long while he found himself unable to speak. The words that usually rolled off his tongue so easily escaped him. He was unable to tell the man in front of him how much he meant. To lose him now seemed worse than death. At least in death there is no pain but here he could already feel the blade of agony pierce his heart.

"Why are you throwing all this at me at once? Are you trying to push me away? Do you not want to be together? I don't understand, House. I'll move out if that's what you want." The oncologist turned to face him finally, his brown eyes welling up with tears. House felt paralyzed. He couldn't move or speak and he was filled with a type of terror he had not known since childhood.

"I'll get my stuff out." Wilson said with a heavy sigh after House failed to answer.

NO! House screamed in his mind.

"I suppose I can manage just being friends."

No no no no no no no no!!!!!!!!!!!

"Maybe you were just being a good friend when I was being so pitiful and said I love you."

Damn it, Wilson. You couldn't be farther from the truth. He would have said the words aloud but he was still in a paralyzed state, his face a blank mask.

"I'll leave."

"No." First it came out a whisper then a sudden shout and his hands were on Wilson, grabbing the front of the neatly ironed shirt in his fists to bring him closer. "You're so wrong I'm offended. It's as if all these years as friends have taught you nothing. And don't you dare think of even just being friends because I cannot stomach the idea of you not sharing my bed or kissing-" House stopped abruptly and let go of Wilson's shirt. He realized that he had spoken without thought and poured out his heart so to speak. It was a sign of weakness his father used to say but it didn't feel that way. He felt almost relieved but when he saw Wilson's face had become blank he felt nervous. "You're right though." He said quietly. "I've dumped too much on you at once. If you want to leave I'll understand." Willing himself to look Wilson in the eye House put on the façade; calm, confident, and unafraid.

Neither of them moved several minutes so that the only noise came from the muted voices and the echoing footsteps of the people in the hall. It was Wilson that closed the gap. Bringing his hand up slowly he placed it on House's chest.

"Don't say anything yet." Wilson ordered softly when House opened his mouth to speak. "You fairly idiotic for someone who's suppose to be so smart." House couldn't help but roll his eyes at the comment. "How could you even think I was angry over Amber's death? I was upset, yes, but not at you. Never at you. And I know you're depressed but why crash your bike? You couldn't talk to me about it? You think I won't understand?"

House shook his head and hesitantly laid his hand over the one Wilson had on his chest. "There's no way you can understand and there's no way I can explain it to help you understand. I hate this more than you can ever know. Anti-depressants only help marginally. I'm in physical pain every second so that sometimes it's all I can focus on and it's draining. Sometimes I want to tear my hair out just so that I'll have a new source of pain. I've learned to live with it though since it's my only constant companion. Look at me, Wilson. I have night terrors, nightmares, insomnia I'm so screwed up I push people away but keep a few because I'm frightened to death of being alone." He let go of Wilson's hand and took a step back. "Stop it." He said gruffly.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that. Stop pitying me. I hate that."

"I'm not pitying I'm sympathizing."

"Same difference. I don't need either."

"I understand." Wilson closed the gap again. "Life is unbearable to you. It's become a chore to simply exist and your leg pain only makes it worse but it gives you something to latch onto because without it and without your job you wouldn't really exist. You would feel invisible. That pain let's you know you're alive so it's almost comforting in a way."

House sucked in a sharp breath then let it out slowly, his face a mask of calm. "I don't want to live like this anymore." A slight quiver in his voice betrayed him.

"I know."

AN- Sorry for the delay people but my old computer broke and I had to get a new one. This chapter is longer than the others so enjoy!