House MD one shot, but with 3 parts.
What it would have been like if Wilson was in the bus crash with House instead of Amber.
What happens to Wilson makes House question his religious beliefs and philosiphies.
Just read it. =)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. The characters belong to the House MD creator, David Shore, and the FOX network.

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Part 1 - The Crash
Wilson's POV

I walked into Sharrie's Bar, already expecting the worst. When I had talked to him on the phone, I had to strain to understand his words through his drunken slurs. House isn't so bad drunk, though; he's an ass, like hos most people get, but I guess that means he doesn't change all that much. It's when he gets full-on loaded that I start to worry.

I maneuvered past all the weird drunken biker dudes to find House, rubbing his temples, obviously experiencing a wasted headache. I walked up beside him and sighed.

"Let's go," I said.

He shook his head after hiccuping. "This cute little bartender is supposed to be bringing me more drinks."

"You don't need any more drinks," I tried.

"She's pretty slow, though!" he shouted so she could probably hear.

"House, I'm not-"

"She is so not getting a tip," he interrupted.

"House, I'm not kidding. Let's go," I ordered.

He sloppily slapped the cushion of the bar stool next to him. "Sit down, Jimmy," he slurred. "Have a drink."

I sighed, obviously annoyed and frustrated. "One drink," I told him as I sat down.

He looked at me and smiled. "You're negotiating," he observed.

I shrugged. "If it gets you out of here."

House grinned. "If being the key word."

I stared at him and shook my head. "You're an ass."

"Tell me something I don't know," he reasoned.

I looked back at him and smiled. "After we finish these," I said as the bartender handed us our drinks. "And you still don't walk out of here willingly, I will drag you out by the ear unwillingly."

He shrugged as he slammed back his thousandth drink. I drank mine in one swallow, trying to hurry House. He finished his last two, and started wobbling towards the exit door. I sighed when I realized he didn't pay. I tossed a 50 on the counter, figuring that would cover the mounds of empty liquor glasses and the frustration House probably put the workers through. I grabbed his cane that he forgot and handed it to him once we walked outside.

"Where's your car?" he asked.

I sighed. "Towed. I had to park in front of the hydrant since every other inch of this street is taken."

House looked at me, grinning smugly. "You illegally parked just for me?"

"I figured we would be in and out."

He made a face. "You obviously don't know me that well."

I just rolled my eyes when he asked, "Have any bright ideas as to how we're going to get home, Dr. Watson?"

"Yeah, Sherlock. There's a bus stop right up by the police station. As long as you don't get busted for public drunkenness, we can get on it on the next stop."

We began walking up the street when House asked, "And when will it stop here?"

I checked my watch quickly. "It comes every quarter 'till the hour, so about 5 minutes."

We reached the stop and waited until the ugly New Jersey bus stopped in front of us. We climbed on, and sat down across from each other. I sighed as I realized that this is how I spend my Saturday nights.

I glanced up for a second to see House staring inquisitively out the window behind me. I looked back down at the floor, wondering how long this ride was going to take.

"Wilson!" I heard House scream suddenly. I didn't have time to question his exclamation because I instantly felt a shower of pain rain from behind me.I flew forward as the bus rolled over on it's side. My body smashed against the roof of the bus that was now skidding sharply and violently across the road. I caught House's seemingly unconscious body out of the corner of my eye before the bus came to a halt, and we flipped onto the other side.

I fell unconscious also, and became completely oblivious to what happened when I woke up. It was pure anguish just to open my eyes, but I dealt with the pain to watch House pitifully and drunkenly crawl towards me. I whimpered slightly, a delayed reaction to all of the pain when House finally reached me. He instantly spotted a metal bar that had punctured through my entire thigh.

He slowly ripped my tie off from around my neck and breathed painfully, "I have to tie this around you."

I nodded quickly as he tied the tie around my leg wound. He looked up at me, wide-eyed and concerned. He then too my cold and bleeding hand in his and whispered, "Stay with me. Just stay with me."

I nodded again as I caught a glimpse of a nasty head wound on House. He passed out soon afterwords, and I looked around frantically. My eyes grew heavy as I heard the faint sound of an ambulance siren. I let my head hit the floor, lying next to House's. Our face wounds were bleeding disgustingly as we lied in the small pool of blood, to weak to move.

Then there was blackness.

Part 2- Last Hours
House's POV

"I'm on bypass," was the first thing Wilson said upon waking up.

I nodded. "You have multiple system failure," was all I could get out before the foreign tears started welling up in my eyes.

Wilson stared at me, terrified. "I'm dead?"

I bit my lip and nodded quickly. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, but didn't say anything. I up'ed his morphine slightly as I asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

Wilson looked away and took a second to think. "I picked you up and then..my car wasn't..w-we got on the bus. I felt something from behind..and you tied my leg, and th-the ambulance I heard..darkness."

I sighed shakily, trying to hide my tears. "The ambulance came and took us. I had a cracked skull, but you..the bus hit from the side, the side you were on. The dump truck ran right into you, Wilson. Your body was crushed. You have internal bleeding, and you know we can't fix it when it's this severe."

He nodded and looked away. "How long has it been?"

"3 days," I answered. "We've done all we can do."

"So now it's time to say goodbye," Wilson said, tears in his eyes. I nodded and looked away.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized.

Wilson shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is!" I yelled suddenly.

"House, please," he begged.

I was about to keep arguing, but sighed and looked away instead. I layed beside him in the hospital bed and took his bruised hand in mine.

"It'll be okay," I comforted.

Wilson shook his head. "Don't lie to me."

"Why do you think I'm-"

"Everybody lies," WIlson reminded.

We chuckled slightly, as I continued to stare into his frightened eyes. We layed in complete silence for over an hour, until Wilson finally broke it.

"Where am I going?" he asked. I stared at him, confused, so he continued. "Neither of us believe in God, or Heaven and Hell. Afterlife."

I quit trying to hide my tears. I let them fall freely down my face as he questioned, "Is there just a big white room? Do I fall in an endless pit for all eternity? Do I become a ghost - a spirit? Do I sleep forever? Where am I going after this?"

I looked into his eyes and said as comforting as I could, "You're going to Heaven."

Wilson smiled. "Now you believe?"

I shook my head, still crying. "I kinda have to."

Wilson still smiled as he stared at his hand that was still in mine. "The atheist believes? You should write a book."

I laughed painfully as I said, "Yeah, I'll get right on that," sarcastically.

His smile soon faded as his brown eyes gleamed with tears. He stared into my blues as he whispered, "I'm scared."

I breathed heavily as a metallic and raunchy taste grew in my mouth. I sobbed openly; unashamed of showing my weakness as I sternly said, "Don't be."

Wilson shook his head. "I don't want to die."

"I know, I know," I muttered.

He looked away again as I stared at his chest. My eyes burned with tears when realizing that this would be the last time I would see his chest rising and falling; the last time I would see him breathing.

We fell silent again for at least another hour. WIlson, once again, broke the silence by asking, "Remember when I resented you after my divorce with Julie? The reason we divorced wasn't because of you, but the reasons made me want to avoid her, so I spent all my time with you. I resented you because..well, I don't know why, but I blamed you."

I nodded, and he continued. "I didn't want to be around you. I didn't want to be your friend anymore, and now, I'm dying," he choked out. He paused to regain his composure, and added, "Now, I'm dying, and you're the only one I want here. The only person I want to be with."

I tasted the tears that rolled down my cheeks and into my mouth. I sighed, and just nodded, unsure of what to say to him. He smiled a comforting smile at me, trying to ease my emotional pain and guilt.

"Please don't leave," he said suddenly. "Don't leave, don't leave me here alone."

I nodded as I gave his hand a squeeze. "I have nowhere to go if you're here."

He smiled and I smiled back at him. I tried to make him as comfortable as possible: adjusting his pillow, increasing his morphine, fixing his blankets, and more. More hours passed, until the sun was eventually down. I was now staring at the ceiling since Wilson had been asleep for the past hour or so.

His eyes eventually fluttered opened, and he groggily stated, "I'm tired, House."

I breathed heavily and shook my head. "I can't, I can't do it."

"Yes you can."

"I can't!" I shouted suddenly. I quickly looked away, but Wilson continued, completely unaltered.

"It hurts. I don't want to hurt anymore."

"I can't kill you, Wilson," I tried.

"You aren't killing me, you're putting me out of my misery," he reasoned.

"Tell me what it's like," I said suddenly.

Wilson made a face. "Sure. I'll send you a postcard from the other side," he said sarcastically.

"No, I mean, what's it like to know you're dying? I mean, you've been a lot more calm and composed that I would be."

"It's my life," Wilson said, shrugging. "Why get upset? Sad or angry? I'm not going to spend my last hours pissed off at the world I'm about to leave."

I nodded, but looked away. "I'm losing my best friend."

Wilson didn't say anything, and looked away also. "I'm losing my best friend," I repeated, trying to make that ugly sentence sink in.

He winced, and clutched his stomach. "Renal failure?" he asked.

I nodded. "Your kidneys shut down first. Your bladder isn't working either, so bacteria can't be washed out of your system."

He just nodded and breathed heavily, obviously in pain. "Please, House," he begged. "Kill me."

"I can't," I fought again.

"I can't reach over to push the buttons off," he said. "But if you don't push them, I'll find a way."

I smiled slightly and shook my head. "Just a few more minutes," I argued. "You aren't losing your best friend here."

"You can't cling to me forever. I don't want you holding my hand when they take me down to the morgue or have you laying beside me in the casket."

I laughed a little. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's just..," he started, but drifted off.

"Just what?"

"I never knew you cared so much," he ended.

I let out a strong breath and shook my head. "You have no idea."

Wilson finally cracked a smile, and I smiled back at him. "You're sure you're ready?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes," he answered strongly.

I nodded back at him. "Okay."

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not at all," I said, laughing. Wilson smiled back and I hesitated. I finally whispered, "I'll miss you."

"I love you," Wilson said back instantly.

I smirked and nodded. "I love you too."

He smiled and I gave him one last look. I leaned over and pressed the bypass buttons, turning them all off. I quickly looked back at him and whispered, "I'm sorry. For everything."

He shook his head as his eyes began to close. "Thank you, House," he breathed as the life disappeared out of him.

I started sobbing as I realized that I just lost Wilson. My best friend; my only friend was gone and was never coming back.

I took his scratched hand and squeezed it tight before placing it against my cheek, soaking in the last of his body heat.

I layed beside him throughout the entire night, never falling asleep. I watched him the whole time, wishing and hoping that he was somewhere safe; that he was in Heaven. I smirked slightly upon realizing that I was hoping that my ideals for the past 30 years were false; about there being no God.

I was hoping I was wrong, just for Wilson's sake.

Part 3 - Aftermath
House's POV

The coroners came in and took him down to the morgue early in the morning. I respected his wishes and didn't hold his hand while they did so. I sighed as I stood in the empty room, knowing that I would never, ever be able to go in there again.

I kept looking down as I began limping out of the hospital room. When I reached the door, I looked up to see Cuddy, blocking my exit out.

"Hey," she welcomed sadly.

I looked at her quickly, then looked away. "Hey," I replied.

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy," I said quickly, not wanting to have this conversation.

She shook her head. "You aren't leaving until you suck it up and talk to me."

I sighed. "Sorry, but I don't really like talking about my best friend's death," I said in a sarcastic tone.

"You went in yesterday afternoon. I saw you in there when I left last night, and you're still here now," she analyzed. "You never left, did you?"

I shook my head. "Couldn't."

Cuddy smiled sadly. "That was awfully nice of you."

I just nodded and said nothing else. She shook her head, and started walking away, but I grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Wait," I commanded. She stared at me, confused, and I continued. "If Wilson's death has done anything positive for me, it would be that it showed me that life is short."

I took her hand in mine, and she seemed stunned. "What are you saying?" she asked.

I looked away. "I'm saying that I don't want to die tomorrow wondering 'what if?"

"You said you didn't want a relationship."

"People say things..."

Cuddy laughed slightly, but I continued. "Ever since Joy, and the night we kissed, Wilson had been telling me to ask you out."

"Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

I nodded. "Every chance he got."

She smiled. "So, what? You're going to live out his wishes?"

I shook my head. "No, but he was right. It makes sense."

Cuddy shook her head too. "I don't know. I-"

I slipped past her and started limping towards my office. "Well, figure it out," I called to her.

I reached my office to see Foreman, Cameron, and Chase reading over a file. I snatched it from them and read it over, beginning the differential.

"36 year old female," I started as I scribbled the information down on the white board. "Fainting spells, loss of appetite, throwing up blood, sensitivity to-"

"House, you don't have to be here," Cameron tried.

I made a face. "Sorry that I want to save a person's life."

"You should take the day off," Chase intervened

"I'm fine," I argued slowly. "Mrs...Thaxton won't be if we don't diagnose her.

"House, you need-" Foreman tried.

"Look!" I shouted. "Wilson's dead, I know! Mrs. Thaxton will be too if we don't diagnose her instead of sitting here talking about the past!"

The three of them just looked at each other and I sighed. "Since you idiots seem to be so transfixed, go put your mushy minds to use. Do an MRI, and don't come back until the results are in your goddamn hands," I ordered as I walked into the other part of my office.

I watched Foreman and Chase leave, but, as I had expected, Cameron walked in and stood in front of me.

She didn't say anything, so I groaned. "Your look of concern has no effect on me. You must have forgotten that i have no soul."

She sighed. "I don't believe in God, but I do believe that Wilson is somewhere safe, and that he is happy."

I made a face. "The atheist believes? You should write a book," I echoed.

Cameron smiled and I looked up at her sternly. "Go with Foreman and Chase."

She, once again, didn't say anything, and I rolled my eyes with annoyance. "Okay, Wilson is dead. I don't need your reassurance. I'm fully capable of dealing with this. Now, if you don't leave in the next 3 seconds, I'm firing you."

She sighed again, but left before I had to start counting. The moment the door closed behind her, I broke down into a series of sobs that I couldn't control. I almost started choking from how hard I cried. It lasted over 15 minutes until I finally regained my composure.

I sighed shakily, and rubbed my eyes. I stared out the window and witnessed the beautiful Spring morning that seemed a little less pretty that usual. I looked back at my office door to see Cuddy standing there.

She smiled as she walked towards me. She reached my desk, and said, "I think I'd like to take you up on that offer."

I cracked my first smile that day as I said, "Okay then."

Later that day, I walked down to the room Wilson passed away in and I forced myself to stare at it. There was already a new patient there, lying in the hospital bed. I sighed as I walked away, already wanting to move on.

A few days later, a couple minutes before the funeral service, I scribbled him a note that I had arranged with his family to let me place with him in the casket. I sighed as I read it over one last time before placing it beside him.

It read, "Wilson,

Why am I writing a letter to a dead person? Maybe Cameron's annoying concern has finally gotten to me.

The funeral turnout is pretty good. It seems like everyone from the hospital and their mother came. You were liked. Your 3 ex wives are here too. It's frightening.

This is just a small slip of paper, so I can't write much. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. Yeah, I know, you say I have nothing to be sorry for, but you just have to deal with it.

I miss you more than you could ever know. And I love you.

I hope you're in Heaven, dealing with my father. The atheist believes, remember?

I don't think I can live without you, Wilson. I'm going to try my best, though.

Cuddy and I are giving it a try. Yes, you read it right. You'll be dancing in your grave.

I never thought I would miss your constant lectures on how I should fix my life, or how you always had to be my conscience. I do miss it, though.

Running out of room. I'm just sorry. So sorry. And I love you. So much, Wilson.

Expect to see me visiting your grave quite frequently.

By the way, you are totally missing the monster truck ralley. It's coming next week. I'm going, but it won't be any fun without you.

I've found myself hoping there is a God so I can see you again someday. I already miss your voice.

No more room whatsoever. I love you. I miss you.

-House