A/N: This chapter was super annoying to write. Sorry it took so long. Reviews are my oxygen.

He dreams that he's standing on a pier with Wilson. His friend is leaning against the railing, laughing at something he's just said. A warm breeze sweeps through the air, and the sun lights both their faces.

"I'm tired," Wilson says, and runs a hand through his hair.

"You need a haircut," House teases.

"I'm tired," Wilson repeats. There's a strange expression on his face. It's like he can't even hear his friend.

"You okay?"

"I'm tired."

House is suddenly jarred awake, and it takes a minute to figure out why. Then he reaches across Stacy and answers the phone.

"Hello?" Beside him, his girlfriend stirs.

"Greg," comes a terrified voice. It's familiar and yet he can't immediately place it. "This is Jennifer Wilson. James's mother."

And with those words he is instantly alert. "What's wrong," he demands.

"There was an accident-" The woman's voice breaks.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

"He was working late. His car slid on the ice."

"Where…" He struggles to ask the important questions, to hold his calm that long, but a hysterical lump forms in the back of his throat.

He feels Stacy take the phone and he numbly gets to his feet, pulling on clothes.

"Jennifer?" There's silence as she listens to the other woman's words. "Where is he," she quietly asks. "How bad is it?" House's heart constricts when Stacy's eyes move to him and he sees the concern in them. She doesn't worry over nothing. "Yes, we're leaving now." She hangs up and stands. As he hands her a shirt he realizes that he's trembling. He still can't speak, but Stacy knows to reach for him.

The drive to the hospital is short in length, but it seems to drag on endlessly. When they finally park and rush inside, House's panic is so high his vision seems cloudy.

He's going to be okay, he tells himself. It's probably just a concussion and a broken ankle. Of course Wilson's mother is going to overreact. Wilson can't even buy a pair of shoes without weighing the pros and cons. But he can't get the frightened look from Stacy's face off his mind.

Finally, he catches sight of Wilson's parents standing just outside the E.R. waiting room. He's in front of them in four long strides.

"Greg, I'm so glad you're here," Jennifer tells him through tear-stained eyes.

"Where is he," Stacy asks.

"In surgery," answers Evan Wilson, wrapping an arm around his wife. "There was internal bleeding."

"You guys want something to drink? I can go to the cafeteria."

They respond exactly the way House wants them to, and the rush of gratitude he feels for his girlfriend nearly crushes him. "Let's go with her," Evan tells Jennifer, who nods. The three trail away.

House mutely falls into a chair. It's strangely silent tonight-no other sudden catastrophes. He dimly wonders why his face is wet, then realizes he's crying.

He makes an attempt to do what he always does in situations like these-think- but full thoughts are hard to grasp. Instead it's quick flashes of memories: Jimmy hurling a bottle across a crowded room, laughing in his living room; the amusement in his face as he unwrapped the 'Vertigo' poster House bought him for his birthday.

"This cannot be happening," he whispers to himself. He tries to see his life play out without his best friend, and the bleak picture it paints is horrifying. He squints, thinking back on his life before he found Wilson and can't remember it. He knows he's never been more scared.

He hears movement by him and looks up into Bonnie's blank face.

"They called you first," she questions softly.

House stares back, uncomprehending. Wilson's wife turns away. "Is there any news?"

"There's internal bleeding. He's in surgery."

She slowly lowers herself into the chair by House. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"If they decided on emergency surgery, then yeah."

"You look worried."

"I am."

Bonnie drops her head into her hands and lets out a muffled sob. "If something happens to him…"

House's head snaps up. "Don't," he says sharply. "Don't even-" He's cut off by the appearance of a man in a white coat. The sewn-on name says Dr. Andrew Barrett.

"Are you here for James Wilson," the doctor asks.

House and Bonnie both get to their feet. "Yes," says Wilson's wife.

"He got through surgery," Dr. Barrett begins. "We have to see how he handles the next couple of hours."

"Can we see him," Bonnie asks.

"Not yet. We need to give it an hour-let him rest. Let his body focus on healing." As Bonnie continues gathering information, House tunes back out. He knows that the doctor is down-playing Wilson's injuries. Not letting any of the family in to see him speaks volumes.

Stacy and Wilson's parents arrive at that moment, and his girlfriend sits beside him. "You should eat something," she gently encourages.

"No," House answers. He looks at the clock and is surprised to see that it's after three in the morning. They've been there over two hours. Stacy nods, and pulls House's hands close to her heart. Does she understand how deep his affection goes? That piecing a life together without Wilson is simply unacceptable?

The doctor departs and minutes tick by without a word being spoken by anyone. Jennifer eventually gets up and calls Wilson's brother. House overhears the words of comfort that pour out of the woman, and is struck by sudden revulsion. It is almost unbearable to listen to her assure the man on the other end of the line, knowing that it isn't true.

"She has to say that," Evan eventually says. "She can't envision anything else."

Forty-two minutes and thirty six seconds later Dr. Barrett approaches the group again. Fear grips House.

"He's doing well," the doctor tells them, his face relaxing into an easy smile. House takes a shuttering breath, and a hysterical laugh escapes his lips. "He can have visitors. Just one at a time."

His parents look to Bonnie, who looks to House. "Go ahead," she says. House knows that he should put up some type of self-sacrificing protest, but that's just not his way. He follows the doctor down the hall and into recovery. He immediately locates his friend and approaches him. What he sees takes his breath away. Right arm in a cast, cuts across his young face. The gown has fallen past his shoulder, so House can see the deep gashes on his chest while stitches try to pull his skin back together. His stomach in knots, he sits in the chair by the bed. He takes Wilson's left, uninjured hand in his own and weaves his fingers through his friend's.

"You really scared the shit out of me," he breathes. He knows that Wilson can't hear him, but his relief over seeing him moves him into speech. "Bonnie's here. She's pissed because your parents called me first. I wouldn't worry though. Your husband nearly dies, you lose any right to grudges against his parents." He draws marginally closer so that he can rest his head against their hands. "I know you're under a lot of stress right now, Wilson." His voice drops to a whisper. "I know that it's painful and hard and you're probably exhausted. But I am telling you that if you give up now I am seriously going to be pissed. You may think that dying will relieve you of the responsibility of dealing with my fury, but this is me we're talking about. I will find a way to punish you." He pauses. "I kind of need you."

Two hours later Wilson wakes up and this time House is last to go in. When Bonnie finally comes out she's smiling, which he takes to mean only positive things, however he reserves his judgment until he sees for himself.

He doesn't need to worry, though, because in the time since his last visit his best friend has gotten more color, is awake, and in mildly good spirits. He's also high, but even that is good.

"House," he greets.

"I'm not going to say something corny like chastise you for the things you'll do for attention."

"Whew," Wilson returns. "That was my big concern." His eyes meet House's and the turbulent emotions behind the bright blue take him off guard.

"Do not ever do that again," House says huskily. "Seriously."

"I promise," Wilson assures him. "I'm sorry."

"We'll work on the terms of your penance when you get out of here. But here's a preview: expect the words 'Don't worry, House, dinner's on me' to come up. A lot."