For Wilson, at the apartment, NFB, and please no interruptions

[gotcanewillpoke]

House lay in the bed until he simply couldn't stand it any more. His body felt heavy, and he ended up crawling on all fours -well, three- to get to the bathroom. His mouth felt dry and disgusting, and he brushed his teeth even though he hadn't eaten, and wouldn't eat. Couldn't eat. The very thought of food made him nauseous, and he threw up in the

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[dr_jwilsonmd]

The noise, the sound of happy party goers had finally gotten the better of him and Wilson had left the park. Shoulder's hunched and eyes cast downward, he'd made it out of Faire without anyone really recognizing or stopping him and though he'd been tempted to walk over to the shop, the check ... to see if Aziraphale was alive or dead he'd eventually turned and walked away.

He was bloodstained, heartbroken and caught in a well of despair with walls so high he didn't think he could see a way out. That wouldn't do Phale any good.

The oncologist wandered about, he could easily have gone into one of the diners, gotten himself something to eat but he'd only bothered to get coffee, the hot beverage helping to chase away a little bit of the numbing cold that had settled into his bones over the long night.

Sitting on a low retainer wall, finishing his coffee, Wilson knew he had to go back to the apartment. He had to face House, if for no other reason then to get his toothbrush if the older man still insisted on throwing him out.

I

[gotcanewillpoke]

By that time, he'd gone cross eyed staring at the door. He blinked, rapidly, several times. There were dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and his right hand gripped his pill bottle so tightly he'd cracked it.

For a tense moment as the door opened, he thought maybe it was Angelus coming back to...take care of the witnesses, ot whatever, and he would have welcomed it. What he saw instead...broke his heart all over again.

Wilson looked...positively broken. Destroyed from the inside out. And House knew, whatever had happened in town, his rejection the day before had been the final straw.

"James." Was all he said. One word. His lover's name. His voice cracked terribly, he sounded like a pubescent teenager. "James."

[dr_jwilsonmd]

Wilson looked up and a guarded expression entered his eyes as he physically braced himself for another onslaught.

Part of him had been hoping that House would be in the Clinic, seeing to the discharge of their patients, while another part of him was begging to find House exactly where he was, sitting...safe in the chair but...maybe waiting for him?

Wrapping his leather jacket tightly around himself, Wilson moved on into the small apartment. He wanted to say something feisty like...he'd come to get his toothbrush, he wanted to throw himself down on the floor beside House's chair and hold onto his legs, hide his face in the good thigh and beg House to forgive him.

In the end, all he could was stand there, at the end of the couch, his voice hoarse, raw and barely more than a whisper from the night of begging people, screaming at Angel, crying and sleeping out in the open.

"I should...have cleaned this up, before I left. I'm sorry."

[gotcanewillpoke]

"Is it why you came back?" House asked, voice low and rumbly, eyes searching Wilson's face. "Because...I'm...if you had..." He closed his eyes. Words weren't coming out right because his thoughts were spinning all over and around themselves in his brain, and had nothing to do with how much Vicodin he'd consumed over the last 24 hours.

He jerked the foot rest of his chair down and set his bare feet on the floor. Sheer will and determination helped him lurch to his feel, and he put his arms out to catch his balance.

"Come to me. I can't...walk on it."