Author's Note: Just wanted to say again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed or favorited this story. I appreciate your support.

Chapter 9: Saturday

The next morning, Wilson was laying in bed, mentally planning breakfast and the talk he needed to have with House when Greg's voice brought him to full consciousness. "Get the trashcan; I'm gonna hurl."

He swiftly responded, taking care to get out of bed carefully so as not to jostle his lover. He grabbed the trashcan, and shoved it close to the bed. He watched helplessly as House threw up the crackers he had just eaten. When he was through, House curled up under the covers. "Forgot to eat last night before bed," he explained.

"Can I help you to the bathroom?" Wilson offered.

"Can't," House gasped. "Didn't take Vicodin either." For the first time, Wilson realized that Greg's hand was kneading his right thigh.

"Where are your pills?"

"Jeans pocket, but I wouldn't be able to keep them down right now."

Wilson filled a glass of water for House to rinse out his mouth, and then went to the kitchen to grab a can of ginger ale. After another round of retching, House was finally able to keep the crackers and soda down, and was able to take the Vicodin. When the narcotic took effect, he was finally able to head to the shower as Wilson headed off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Three macadamia nut pancakes later, House was finally beginning to feel human again.

Wilson was the first to break the silence. "Barry called last night. Wanted to see how you were tolerating the methotrexate." He looked over to where House was staring intently at his empty plate. "I told him that I thought you were reconsidering terminating the pregnancy."

"What did he say?"

Wilson noted that House hadn't denied it. "He thinks that we should get together and talk before making any decisions."

"What do you think?" The question was so quiet that Wilson almost didn't hear it.

"I've looked at the literature for abdominal ectopic pregnancies. The numbers are…. well, bad. The odds that you will carry to term are almost zero, and there's a very real possibility that you could die." When House looked up, he could see the unshed tears in Wilson's eyes. "I don't want to lose you, now that I finally know what I want."

"So you think I should end it." The words were flat, unemotional.

"I don't know." Wilson's answer was thoughtful. "There's so many things…. I guess I need to know why you want to do this. Why would you go through with this when the chances that the baby will survive are practically zero?"

"I know. Every paper I look up says the same thing: early detection and terminate the pregnancy. Everything tells me to just end it and get on with my life, but I don't think I can. I know the odds don't look good, but there is a chance the baby will survive. It's only a small chance, but it's bigger than zero." He looked over at James. "Our baby. Yours and mine. This baby is a part of both of us." He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe Kayla got it right and this really is what I need. Or maybe the twelve-year-old got it completely screwed up. I don't know, but what I do know is that this baby is a miracle, and you just can't give something like that back." House drew a shuddering breath. "I don't want to die, but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't give our child a chance to live."

During this time, Wilson had been biting his lip, with silent tears streaming down his face. Greg stood up and came around the table, wrapping his arms around his lover, so that James was held in an awkward embrace, his face pressed into House's shirt. House was whispering, "please, James, I can't do this without you. Please."

Finally he got the answer he was hoping for. "All right." Wilson's answer was barely audible. "As long as Barry signs on as well."

TBC