Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of the characters, but I sure as hell wouldn't mind owning Hugh Laurie!

A/N: See? Exams end and here I am, updating regularly :P This is another one of those 'introspective' chapters, I felt we needed another one because I remembered another factor that I hadn't made house think about yet or, rather, a factor that I felt was important to be taken into consideration … but it would be seriously OOC for either Wilson OR House to talk about it … so I went for their thoughts …

I hope you like it, I already have the next chapter all planned out and will probably start writing it after dinner. If it works out as I plan, then I think you'll like it, maybe even REALLY like it …

Anyways, Enjoy!

After watching Wilson haul all the large boxes into his car, House nodded, sucking on the lollipop he had bought earlier at the check-out counter, and, in a manner that suggested his 'work' was 'complete', he swiftly moved into the passenger seat of Wilson's car.

"Thanks for your help" said Wilson panting slightly after all the heavy lifting

"Wilson" said House with mock disapproval while holding up his cane "making a cripple feel guilty for not offering help in a physically demanding task? Shame on you"

Shaking his head, Wilson faced forwards and, after having regained his breath, started the car. Within 2 minutes, House, like a bored kid, was searching through the different radio stations, looking for anything minimally good to listen to.

"Will you stop that?" asked Wilson switching off the radio as House got ready to search through the endless waves of static for the 10th time.

"But mo-om" argued the diagnostician reaching out to turn the radio back on.

Slapping his hand away, Wilson just looked at him.

"What?"

"You're really not going to say anything?" Asked Wilson, fully aware that House was the master of evasiveness, but never expecting him to be able to completely move on from his previous statement as if it had never happened.

"About what?" asked House sitting back in his seat, already not liking where the conversation was going.

"What you said, back there" he motioned to the quickly fading store behind them with his thumb "I mean, that's kinda … big!"

"What? Me stating the obvious? Nah! I do that daily …" said House, intent on sticking to his guns and avoiding an emotional talk.

"Yes, you do state the obvious daily. However, this particular piece of 'obvious', you've been happily denying for 4 months …" countered the oncologist

Sighing, House shook his head "will you just drop it?"

"No, I will not drop it" Wilson shook his head in return "you need to deal with this, I figured by month 4 you'd do something … but we are now approaching month 7 and you're still at square one …"

"Wilson" said House looking over at his friend "let it go"

"You told me you lo… liked her, you admitted it, so why not? Why not just …"

"Wilson!" said House looking over at his friend with the kind of face he had on when someone pressed for two much information about his father, the kind he had on when he really didn't want to talk about something "Let. It. Go."

Figuring it would be best not push further, Wilson, once again, raised his hands up in resignation and focused on the few more miles ahead of them.

It wasn't until they were six blocks from Cuddy's place that either of them spoke again. And, surprisingly, it wasn't the oncologist who broke the silence.

As the silence surrounded them, House began to think; something he was famous for doing. But these weren't thoughts he wanted. These weren't thoughts of emersion in medical mysteries, or of naked women, these were thoroughly unwanted, emotional thoughts.

He remembered the mothers and fathers at the store, their happy faces, their blissful peace. Every little thing about having a child making them glow, nothing but the prospect of happiness hovering over their horizon. But him, the broken, self-absorbed, puzzle-addict, he had no happiness on, or past, his horizon, he would never be blissful, he was in pain, he was alone and, even if all that were to change, he'd still considered himself to be a worse candidate for fatherhood than that US marine, with whom he happened to share his last name, had been those 48 years ago.

"I can't do this" said House in a small, particularly uncharacteristic voice.

"Can't do, what" asked Wilson trying to figure out which, of the many things House needed to do but refused to, he was referring to.

"This" he motioned to the large boxes in the car.

"But…" began Wilson, intent on telling him that, if he never tried, he'd never get anywhere.

"…I mean, seriously, would you want me as your father? 'Coz I wouldn't … and I don't have very high standards …"

That was a sad thing to hear. Not only because House hadn't said he didn't want it, he'd said he couldn't do it, but also because, to think that House considered his abusive, intolerant father better for the job than himself, made Wilson's heart tighten a little.

'I can't do this'. House knew his friend would understand what he was saying. He didn't mean to have Wilson think he didn't want to have the kid. He knew full well that, if he couldn't even lie to himself about it, something which, to be fair, he was a bit of an expert at, he wouldn't be able to lie to his best friend. But the truth was, he couldn't do it. Not because he physically couldn't. Because he could. He knew how to take care of a kid, he was a doctor, after all. But because he emotionally couldn't do it. He couldn't handle his kid hating him like he had hated the man his mother had decided to reproduce with. He couldn't handle seeing a child, his child, look up at him with the same look of disappointment and hatred that he had used on John House.

It was difficult for House to love. But what was more difficult for him, was the pain that came with losing someone he'd grown to love; pain the strength of which no drug could diffuse. It had happened once, with Stacy. And it had taken him five years to get over her; her, not 'it', because 'it', the incessant pain of being abandoned, that was something he would never forget.

Wilson knew what he had meant. He knew House feared rejection, he knew he carried his cane as a sentence for misery. But he also knew that any kid would be lucky to have House as a father. Because House knew what not to be, he knew which roads not to go down and which actions not to take. He had learnt that the hard way, and hard-learned lessons are rarely forgotten. House would be the best father a kid could ask for.

But his fear of rejection, his innate fear of vulnerability, it stopped him from seeing the truth. The mere possibility that something might go wrong, that he might lose his kid, or, perhaps worse, Cuddy, it was driving him away from what he wanted; what he wanted to have with both of them.

But Wilson knew Cuddy would never leave him once she had him. Actually, anyone who had ever seen Cuddy look at the father of her child would, most likely, be willing to swear, under oath, that she would never leave him. Because if you can love someone that damaged, and put up with their crap day in day out, and still stick by their side always, unquestioningly, then there is nothing about them that could ever drive you away.

Wilson knew his friend would never lose Lisa and he was sure he would never lose his kid. But he didn't know how to get House to see that, how to get him to open up to the woman he loved and give that little baby a chance.

Wilson sighed, they were pulling up outside Cuddy's home and, after his last words, House seemed to be through with opening up as he opened the door just as the car came to a full stop, and limped out.

TBC

So, I hope you liked that. I just felt that House's father should be weighed in there, because really, if the REAL House were ever in this position, that would be one of the first things he'd think of, right?

SPOILERS 5x18: Also, for those who've seen yesterday's eppie … That scene in her office? The way he was checking her out? Ha! Top 5 Huddy moments, easy!

Thank you for reading!

Please leave a review!

CJS-DEPPendent