Disclaimer: I own nothing. This isn't slash, at least I don't think it'll be. However, it'll be very angsty. Hope you like it. First time at a Housie fic. Many flashbacks, but that'll be a one time occurance. Sorrie!

An idea for this fic was triggered by an all dialogue one shot fic by Juliabohemian called "Delusion".

Tell Me What's Real

It had been about a week since House had gotten back home from the institute. A week since he'd stepped into work. A week of ignored phone calls. Seven days of Wilson going to House's doorstep and pressing his ear against the door to hear for some sort of clarification that House was moving around. That House was alive.

Seven nights of Wilson almost falling asleep against the door to House's fingers delicately playing on the piano.

A week since he'd gone to pick up House on the day he was being discharged. A week since he'd gotten back from a conference out of state.

A week since he's been unnerved out of his mind over his friend.

His best friend.

Who, for some reason had his therapy bring him to conclude otherwise.

Sighing, Wilson sunk to the floor in front of the door, his back pressed up against it. He ran his hand over his tired face and let his head lean against the door. Of course, he had a spare key. But House was ignoring his calls for a reason.

---

The three weeks before he'd left for a conference out of state, House had been a mess. Every time Wilson went to visit him, House's eyes would widen and then clench shut. If he said something, House would immediately start hyperventilating.

It was frightening. Seeing his best friend almost flinch away from him, and hug his knees as he almost curled up into a ball.

Not only was it frightening, it was something that happened almost every time Wilson stepped into the room after House started his meds, after House started therapy. He always glanced over the papers that monitored House's condition, and he seemed to be getting better. He'd detoxed off the Vicodin entirely. And all his hallucinations seemed to have disappeared. At least, Amber and Cutner seemed to have. There were others, apparently, but were undisclosed. House apparently didn't want to say so, or whenever he tried to, he'd go into a full fledged panic attack.

However, the weirdest thing was, whenever House's shrink decided it was best for him to be discharged, and Wilson went to visit him, they would be proved otherwise.

After some recurring situations, the nurses and psychiatrist advised Wilson to stop visiting, but to feel free to look at some of the tapes if he really wanted to.

This was when Wilson snapped. He went straight to the guy who owed him a favour and barged into his office without bothering to knock.

"What did you do to him?"He demanded.

The man looked up at him frowning, and tilted his head to a side.

"What do you mean, James?"

"He's afraid of me."

A moment of confusion revealed itself in the hazel eyes of the other man. Then enlightenment filled them.

"Oh, James. Sit down."

"Don't treat me as if I'm a patient. What's wrong with him?"

"He's realized. That's all."

"Realized WHAT?" Wilson felt his voice hit another pitch, completely foreign to his ears.

Eyebrows furrowed together in the other man.

"That you guys weren't really friends. The fact that you continue to come only makes him get confused, as to why you would do that. He's yet to understand that you really are compassionate."

"I…What?"

"James, calm down." A chuckle. "I know all about who you are. But for you to be in such a strong relationship with that man, as a friend, obviously, that was a hallucination. You were a colleague, and you worked right beside him. He confused that with reality. He confused that with what he wanted. Obviously, he wanted a friend, but the reason he was so pushy with you was because he thought you already were."

For some reason, this didn't settle in.

"What do you mean? We were friends."

"James, stop being you. It's not helping him. He needs to know what's true. You were an acquaintance, and maybe you found some sort of attachment in his clinginess, but we both know that he wasn't good for you. He told us everything, how he ruined most of your marriages-"

"Wait, no. That wasn't him. That was me. I cheated on them. All." Wilson cut in, hearing his heart pounding in his ears.

"There you go, being you again. Understand, that won't help him in this situation, James. You care for everyone, you think everyone has a good side to them. The more House pushed himself on you, the more you took it because you thought he needed someone, anyone. But that's no reason to become a martyr."

"What? No, he was my friend. I wasn't only his friend…I mean it wasn't a one side thing-"

"Wilson, stop. This is a waste of time. You've finally gotten him off your back. Come back to visit him in about a week, and he'll understand more so."

"I'm leaving for three weeks; today's my last day to see him."

"All the better then. Enjoy your trip-"

"It's a conference, and what do you mean all the better? I have to tell him I'm going.."

"No. You have to stop encouraging the delusion…What did he say that his hallucination constantly told him? Ah, he said he was an enabler."

"No-no! That was me. I said it."

"Of course, with your pushover personality, you may have as well. On another note, I'm busy, James. Relax. I don't want to end up seeing you here." The man looked back down to his paperwork.

For some reason, Wilson felt his legs going numb. He turned around and started towards the door, almost stumbling. As he started to walk out it, he stopped at the other man's voice.

"Oh, and James, think about it this way. It's a good thing. You finally have him off your back. You can have real relationships, real friendships. You won't ever have to convince him again that you two were never friends. Good bye, James."

Never friends.

Oh God.

Wilson closed the door behind him and found himself on his knees. He fell to his side, his hand reaching out and hitting the floor.

House thought the friendship had been a delusion.

House didn't think himself worth a friend like Wilson.

Tears overcame Wilson, and he found himself in silent sobs, shaking as he clamped a hand over his mouth.

---

The piano stopped playing and Wilson jerked himself out of his thoughts. He heard his friend walking from one end of the room to the other, the cane thudding beside his foot. It was a little past twelve.

It had been so long since Wilson had heard his voice. House hadn't picked up the phone for anyone. His ignored phone calls didn't really unnerve anyone, considering it was normal. However, Lisa had worried. Lisa was the one that had told him about the day House was being discharged, which was the day he'd gotten back from the conference.

Wilson heard the television turn itself on.

This isn't how House was supposed to be after the admission.

---

James Wilson drove as fast as he could to the institute. The three weeks he had to be out of state had to have been the weeks House had gotten better. And the day he got back had to be the day he got discharged. When Lisa had left the message on his voicemail, he put back on the shoes he'd just taken off and ran back to the car.

Glancing at the clock every minute, as the time got closer and closer to noon, Wilson had to refrain himself from pressing harder on the gas. After all, getting a ticket would prevent him from seeing his best friend first after being discharged.

He burst into the institute just as it hit noon, and bumped right into a man with a set of bright blue eyes.

Bright blue eyes that widened at his entrance.

Stumbling back, Wilson watched his best friend drop his backpack and take a step back. Wilson took a step forward and felt something poke his chest. Looking away from the blue eyes he saw a cane pressed against his chest. He frowned. It didn't shove him back, nor did it hurt. It was just there, holding him back.

Wilson grabbed onto the cane and, to his surprise, pulled it from his loose grip easily. He dropped it on the floor and took a step towards House.

His breath seemed to have sped, and he looked around almost frantically. Then he stopped, and closed his eyes. Wilson watched, confused and concerned, as his friend calmed himself down.

"Hey, James." The voice that met his ears was a voice that chilled Wilson to the bone. Emotionless. Apathetic. But something underlined it, something like panic. Or maybe that was his own imagination?

"House?" Wilson heard his voice come out hoarse. He almost wanted to hug the other man.

House smiled, and Wilson found himself freeze at the false expression on the other man's face. "Thanks for holding my stuff all this time. You could've just left it here."

What was he saying? That would've meant there was a chance his license would be revoked. Numbly, Wilson put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, wallet, and some other abstract things. He looked at it. He held it out in his hand and watched at House took it.

"Thank you. Please tell Lisa I won't be in for work for a while, but I appreciate the gesture."

"W-What?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" House asked, tilting his head to a side. "On her behalf, right?"

He looked beside House to a nurse who was viewing Wilson with creased eyebrows.

"No-I'm here because we're friends."

House laughed. "Oh, I see. Yeah, they told me you'd say that. How nice a guy you are. Oh! I know why you're here." House opened up his wallet and took out a folded blank check. He handed it to Wilson, that horrible fake smile on his face. "I don't know how much I owe you for all my troubles. It's probably priceless, but please, take a good amount. If you don't, I'll be forced to take an amount out and hand it to Lisa to give it to you."

Wilson watched as House placed the check in his hand and put his wallet in his pocket. He limped to his cane and picked it up, and brought his backpack up as well. Wilson stared.

"I-I'll give you a ride home." Wilson found himself saying, almost pleading.

House started to walk, limp? past him and shook his head.

"No, it's okay. I'm done with burdening you-"

"I-"

"Even though I know you'll say it isn't. Good bye, James."

Wilson stood in shock as he watched his friend walk out the doors, pull out his phone, and heard him call for a cab.

---

Wilson jerked again as the sound of the television turned off. Some shuffling. Maybe he was going to bed?

Some more shuffling, a door being opened, and then noises that were too quiet to decipher.

Wilson glanced at his watch. Past 2am now. He was probably heading to bed. Wilson sighed, and walked out of the hallway, returning to his car.

He missed his best friend…And he didn't know how to get him back.

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