Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. Here is another chapter, just to show that I am serious about updating this story in a timely manner.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Chapter 5: Crisis
Cameron finally tracked down Wilson after his last patient of the day. Seeing the look on her face, he immediately asked, "what's wrong?"
"It's House. He's locked both doors to his office and has been out on the balcony for two hours."
Wilson looked out the window at the rain that had been pouring down all day. "It's barely above freezing out there. What happened?"
"I don't know. He's been in a terrible mood all day. Yelling, being sarcastic. Even for House, it has been bad. Our patient is a twelve-year old girl, and he yelled at her and her parents. She was crying, and then he just turned and left the room, went back to his office and locked the doors. He's been out on the balcony ever since. He's just standing there in the rain."
"Is it his leg?"
Allison thought for a moment. "I don't think so. Nothing like two days ago, when he couldn't sit down for over a minute because he was in so much pain."
Wilson nodded, remembering. It had been a bad 24 hours. The weather had suddenly shifted, and the remaining thigh muscle in House's right leg had knotted up completely. House, being House, had refused to say anything to Wilson in the morning, and it was halfway through the day before he had sensed anything was out of the ordinary. Damn his stubbornness. Only after half a bottle of scotch, luring House into a shower, and 40 gallons of hot water later, had the muscles stopped spasming enough for him to get some sleep. Wilson sighed; today's symptoms weren't pain, at least not of a physical kind. "How's your patient?"
"She's stable and starting to respond to treatment."
"Then why don't you and the team go home. I'll deal with House," Wilson suggested.
"Are you sure? I can stick around," Cameron suggested.
"No. Once I get him off the balcony, it is probably best if he doesn't see anyone. Believe me, this is the best way."
Finally she nodded. He watched her gather up her things in the conference room and head toward the elevator. As soon as the rest of the team was gone, he walked back to his office. He locked the door behind him, and walked out into the rain. He climbed over the low wall separating their balconies, and moved over to where House was standing motionless at the railing.
"Leave me alone."
When Wilson reached out to touch Greg's shoulder, he was stopped by a single word. "Don't."
"Please," he begged. "Tell me what's wrong."
"It's just not going to work."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"You. Me." He paused, and then whispered, "us."
Wilson felt the hot tears sliding down his cheeks, intermingling with the icy raindrops falling from the sky. "Then what has the last three weeks been about?"
For the first time, House turned to look over at the younger man. There was anguish in his voice, "don't you get it! I'm not going to change! You can't fix me!"
"Is that what you think I want from you? Damnit Greg, I'm your best friend! Don't you think I know you're not going to change! Hell, the last time I tried to change you, you broke your own hand and got slugged by an irate father. Believe me, I'm not going to try that again!"
"So you haven't been monitoring my Vicodin intake?"
"It's not because I think you have a problem." When House would have made a comment, Wilson cut him off. "Damnit Greg! It's the only way I have of judging how much pain you're in. Sometimes I can tell by watching you move, but you hide it from everyone. Even me." He sighed. "So yes, I count the pills." He tried a joke. "It's not like being miserable is a good diagnostic indicator for you."
The joke fell flat. "So why do you stay? You've said it yourself: I'm a miserable, selfish bastard. Maybe I can pretend to be different for a while, but that's not going to change. Maybe all we've done is take a 'stupid, screwed up friendship' and exchange it for an even more screwed up relationship."
Wilson cringed as his own thoughtless words were thrown back at him, and he suddenly realized that this moment would determine the rest of his life. If he could not make Greg believe, it would be the end of everything—their relationship and probably their friendship as well. "Has it ever occurred to you that I am just as much of a selfish bastard as you are?" He continued on when House would have interrupted him. "I've been divorced three times. Three! I cheated on the first two, and would have on the third except she beat me to it. I didn't care enough for them to remain faithful. I married Julie already having admitted to myself that at the slightest excuse, I would be at the hospital or at your place, because those are the two places I feel happiest. To hell with the fact that I was condemning her to a life of overcooked dinners, missed engagements, and a lonely bed. And yet I married her. So do you still think I am such a prize? Maybe we deserve each other! You are arrogant, rude, and verbalize every thought that crosses your brain. At the same time, the things that drive me nuts about you are also what I admire most. You don't spend your life second-guessing your choices. You know what's right for your patient, and you do anything to make it happen, regardless of what rules or laws you break. You're outspoken to a fault, but one always knows where they stand with you."
Throughout this speech, House had continued to stand at the railing, staring sightlessly over the rainy landscape, and Wilson began to fear that his words were not getting through. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find the words that would penetrate. "A while back, before I admitted how I felt about you, Dr. Peterson asked me why I was your friend. She asked what I got out of the friendship. I'd never put it into words before, but I realized that with you, I didn't have to pretend to be the perfect person that everyone else seems to think I am. Even my ex-wives seem to have bought into the myth of Saint Wilson. I have spent my whole life trying to live up to the expectations of everyone: my parents, my wives, my colleagues. You never bought into the bullshit. Do you know how freeing that is? With you, I can be myself. Maybe that doesn't seem very important, but…"
His voice trailed off, and then a bit of anger crept into his voice. "Maybe our relationship is screwed up. Maybe it doesn't make sense to anyone else but us. I don't care, because right now, it makes sense to me. I'm happy, and maybe," his voice broke. "Maybe it makes you a little happy too." He bit his lip, and stared out into the rain.
They both stood at the railing, shoulder to shoulder, not speaking, until finally, House whispered, "I love you."
Wilson sagged with relief. "I love you too." For the first time he noticed that he was soaked to the skin, and he began shivering. "Now can we get out of the rain?"
"Yeah. I think we have reached our quota for heart-felt conversations." Wilson had to smile at the sarcasm in House's words. Things were back to normal. Or at least normal by the standards of their relationship.
