Title: Self-inflicted
Rating: T - teen
Summary: House decides to test Wilson's comment about his need to be miserable with disasterous effect. Spoilers for Need to Know and Distractions.
Disclaimer: Don't own em. This is just for fun plus I have no money so sueing would be pointless...

He sat on a park bench watching the people pass him by. Gazing at the world as it drifted slowly on its axis. A couple of young blonde college kids jogged past. A biker in a helmet and the gaudiest colored spandex he had ever seen. A mother with a dual stroller and two young toddlers throwing animal crackers at each other.

He had started coming here after Stacy had left him the second time. After Wilson had screamed at him on the roof. That had been months ago. It was warm and sunny out now but the words still echoed around his head

"you have no idea why you sent her off"

"Don't do this"

"This is no great sacrifice. You sent her away because you've got to be miserable."

He'd drunk himself into a stupor that night. And the next. And for another week after that. He had lashed out at everything and everyone around him. But mostly he had lashed out at himself.

He remembered the first time he had come to this bench. In a fit of rage he had decided to test Wilson's theory and at 2am on a Thursday night he had walked here. A mile from the hospital and nearly seven from home. The walk which may have once taken him an hour to jog had seemed to go on forever. Seven miles. It had been snowing.

After a mile the pain in his leg had felt good. Something, anything to make the dead feeling that had settled itself in his chest disappear. After three miles he had popped three extra Vicodin into his mouth. By the time he reached this bench in the park he could hardly stand. In fact, he had fallen quite a number of times. His leg wasn't used to the kind of abuse he was throwing at it and in his drunken state he was being none to careful. The snow and cold had numbed his pain and he had made it. It was 7 in the morning but he had gotten there. And then he had sat on the bench and laughed until he cried.

He hadn't walked so much as a mile in five years and now he had gone seven. An impossible feat but the booze and rage had spurred him on.

Then he had reached into his pocket and called James.

"Jimmy?"

"House?! It's seven in the morning. It's your day off what are you doing up??"

"Jimmy. You were right." He didn't know if it was the Vicodin or the booze or the pain so sharp that he was now curled up on his side on the bench. He cleared his throat. "Look you were right. Please come pick me up." He just wanted to be warm again. All this. All this had only proven that Wilson was right. That he did things to make himself miserable. Knowing that didn't change anything though. He was still alone and there was still an ache in his chest where Stacy used to be.

"Right about what House? Where are you?"

"I'm in the park by the hospital" And snapped the phone shut. The cold may have temporarily numbed his leg but now the muscle froze up and the same cold that he had welcomed locked his joints. He would be paying for this dearly.

Fifteen minutes later James Wilson found his best friend asleep on a park bench. It was almost freezing outside but he knelt cautiously in the snow in front of the seat. "House."

He reached out and lightly touched his friend's shoulder.

Glossy blue eyes opened up slowly and drifted before they seemed to find his face. "Jimmy?"

It was a question and that worried the young doctor. "House." He called. "House," this time with a little more force and a nudge to the shoulder. "Come on get up. We need to get you home. Where's your car?"

Again the blue eyes blinked slowly in and out of view. "At home. I walked here."

"Shit" Wilson cursed and sucked in a deep breath. "House how long have you been outside?"

"Dunno. What time is it."

Wilson glanced down at his watch. It was nearly seven thirty in the morning and he said so.

"Hmm. I guess about five hours then."

"House. It's too damn cold to be out here that long. Come on. Get up." He stood up swiftly as if to show his friend how it was done.

"I don't think I can."

That worried Wilson more than the booze on his breath. House rarely ever showed others that he was in pain. He faked it all to often as a means to an end, but when it truly hurt he clammed up and pushed every one away.

"Come on I'll help." He reached down and slid his hands through his friend's armpits and realized to his dismay that his friend wasn't shivering. "House did you fall down?"

"hmm."

Wilson stopped his attempts to lift his friend and thought about it. Greg wasn't exactly dressed for hours out in the cold. Sure he had a thick coat on but the jeans he was wearing couldn't be offering much protection. Now that he looked he could see that they were soaked through. That plus the lack of shivering and the alcohol. The whole combination spelled hypothermia.

"Shit House what have you done to yourself? I'm going to take you to the hospital its closer than your place or mine. I think you have hypothermia."

"NO!" The still figure started struggling to get up and cried out halfway curling his body around his leg. Despite the obvious pain House's muffled voice made his desires clear. "I don't want to go to the fucking hospital take me home or leave me here. I shouldn't have called."

"You're not up to arguing buddy." A sharp pain in his bicep though proved him wrong. House's cane had whipped around lightening fast and struck him in the arm.

"Then leave me the fuck here. It'll be fun I can be miserable and you can watch."

Wilson thought about the best way to the handle the situation and finally just reached down and grabbed House under the armpits and pulled up.

House screamed.

It had been five years since Wilson had heard House scream like that and he had hoped never to hear it again. Re-firming his grip he started to drag house to the car making. Eventually House helped by hopping along on his left leg with Wilson under his right arm grabbing the wrist and Wilson's left wrapped around his torso.