Hello, Harper here! This is my first published story. Not all my tales will be as... imaginative... but I felt that my first should be interesting. This is chapter one, and as a new member, I'd love some reviews and suggestions.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

On a cold, rainy Tuesday afternoon, James Wilson strode into the diagnostics department, an angry stab to his step.

He'd walked in on House just as the diagnostician was setting down his back pack and sitting in his office chair.

"So, you finally get to work?" he asked scathingly, jumping down his friend's throat. "Cuddy was on my ass all morning long, looking for you. You know how far behind on clinic hours you are? And she comes to me, like it's my fault that you're an irresponsible ass."

House rolled his eyes, turning to his computer. "Well, I'm here now, mom. Kindly get out and let me do my job."

Wilson snarled. After their little fight last night, he'd had enough with his friend's snark. His mind threw him a play by play of how much of an ass House had been the night before.

Wilson had knocked on the door, before simply using his key. He knew House wouldn't answer the door, so it was best if he asked forgiveness instead of permission.

House had been on the couch, watching TV. He'd turned an angry eye on Wilson as soon as the oncologist had entered. Wilson had instantly known this had been a bad time to show up at House's apartment.

House hadn't let him explain why he was there. "Go away, Wilson. I'm tired and I don't feel like it tonight."

Wilson had rolled his eyes, taking a step closer. House's sharp tongue had stopped him flat.

"Did you not hear me?" he snarled. "Get the hell out!"

Wilson was both hurt and angered by his words. "Why?"

"I don't want you here?"

Wilson had snapped then. "Really? You really don't? Because I seem to be over here a lot when you supposedly don't want me, but it seems like I do a lot of cleaning up your wasted ass for you to resent me."

House had sneered. "That's fine with me, Jimmy, if you need to stroke your ego by hanging around a needy cripple. But tonight, you need to go back to your lonely apartment, with no wife to keep you company, and leave me the hell alone!"

House's jab on his current living conditions had really hit home. "Fine!" he yelled, whirling around to stalk out the door. "And don't you dare call me for a ride in the morning!"

Back in the present, he blinked. House didn't look the least bit sorry for the spat last night. In fact, he looked hung over.

"So, what, did you spend the night getting wasted?"

House stiffened, but then unwound like he was forcing himself to relax. "Sure."

Sure. He got drunk, and came in to work hung over, and all he has to say is "sure."

"Jesus Christ, House!" Wilson exploded. He'd had enough. "When are you going to grow up? And stop being such an ass!"

House didn't say anything. He just turned to his computer and ignored Wilson totally.

"Fine!" Wilson shouted. "I'm gonna go tell Cuddy you've finally arrived so she can get off my ass and onto yours!"

He stomped his way out of the room.

Before going to Cuddy's office, however, he made a quick stop in his office to calm down, slamming the door behind him.

He placed both hands on his desk, breathing deeply to calm himself. House just had this way of getting under his skin, he always had. It wouldn't do for him to end up yelling at his boss because of it.

"He really is an asshole, huh?" said a voice behind him.

Wilson whirled around, startled. "Wha-"

His mouth dropped open, and he backed up a step, paling. There, standing before him, was none other than Lawrence Kutner.

He made an incoherent squeaking noise. Kutner was there, but he wasn't. He was partially see-through. Wilson could see the window, covered in blinds, behind him.

Kutner was not smiling. "Dr. Wilson. How've you been?"

Wilson didn't answer the question. "K-Kutner?" He stuttered. "How… You're dead."

Kutner didn't blink at the supposed revelation. "Thanks for reminding me. Like I'd forgotten."

Wilson was sweating now. What kind of sick joke was this? He looked around for the projector. "House, if this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny!"

Kutner shook his head, taking a step towards Wilson. "This isn't a joke, Wilson. Do you need proof? Ask me a question, anything, and I'll answer it for you. It's one of the perks of being dead."

Wilson swallowed. "What am I thinking right now?"

Kutner gave him a thin smile. "And I quote, 'holy shit holy shit holy shit, how the hell is Kutner talking to me right now, House must have put LSD in my coffee when I wasn't paying attention, or am I hallucinating…"

He stared at Wilson, who was now breathing rapidly. "Should I go on?"

Wilson took a shuddering breath. "What number am I thinking of, between one and one billion?"

Kutner blinked. "You aren't thinking of a number. You're thinking, 'I won't think of a number, and when he says one I'll know I'm not totally insane."

Wilson sat down on the couch, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Kutner was suddenly right in front of him, and Wilson jerked backwards.

"So, you and House have been fighting, huh?" he asked, almost conversationally. "Why's that?"

Wilson was still trying to wrap his mind around the situation, but thinking of how House had treated him still made him angry. "Why in the world would that matter to you?"

Kutner shrugged. "He was my boss. I look out for the people I knew."

Wilson stared at him. "What, from heaven?"

Kutner smiled, his first genuine one. "Yeah. You should see it, Wilson. It's amazing up there."

The smile dissipated as quickly as it had come. "But back to the question. What's wrong between the two of you?"

Wilson scoffed, beginning to get angry. "If you've been watching, you should have seen. House has been being a total ass, and I'm getting fed up with it."

Kutner shook his head, almost like he was disappointed in Wilson. "Dr. Wilson, you aren't getting the entire picture. I don't think you're being totally fair to House right now."

Wilson frowned. "What else is there to see? He takes advantage of me and shoves everything wrong in my life in my face when I try to help him. I don't understand why I'm friends with the man, honestly."

Kutner raised his eyebrow, leaning in. He was cold, and he sent a shiver through Wilson. Wilson was suddenly, forcefully reminded that he was talking to a ghost.

"Come on, Dr. Wilson. I'm gonna go Christmas Carol on you. You better call Cuddy and tell her you're going home, because this is going to take a few hours."

It clearly wasn't a request. With shaky hands, he called Cuddy and told her he had a family emergency, and he needed to take the rest of the day off. She was completely understanding and granted him the day, and tomorrow too if necessary. Next, he called his secretary to do the same, canceling his appointments.

She was understanding and sympathetic as well.

When he was finished, Kutner grabbed him by the arm. His transparent hand was cold, giving Wilson goose bumps.

"W-where are you taking me?" Wilson gasped, as Kutner wrenched him none to gently upright.

Kutner's dark eyes sparkled with a sudden malice. "To the past, Dr. Wilson. House's past."

Suddenly, the room was a spinning blur around them, growing darker and darker. Wilson yelled out, frightened, clinging to Kutner's cold body.