A/N: The title will make more sense in the second chapter. It is partially off a song by the Counting Crows, but mostly in reference to the book Henderson the Rain King, which is a great

book if you have not read it by Saul Bellows (I'm almost positive that's the author).

Most likely will be a House/Cuddy pairing, with Wilson and possibly others along for the ride. Not much thought just something to pass the time by while I'm sick, and please excuse the errors I'm dyslexic so I really suck at grammar, and it gets worse with me being ill right now. Review please, so I at least know to continue to pass the time.

The Rain King

Chapter 1

The phone had not stop ringing all morning. If it were not for the fact that when he sat up he felt nauseous and dizzy he would have answered it hours ago, so that it would not ring again. The ringing gave him a headache, well an even bigger headache. Drifting between sleep, and semiconscious states filled with pain and nausea. He had wished this was a hangover, but he had not drank the night before, no he was ill. Curling up as much as his bad right leg would let him without protesting he pulled the covers over his head, hoping to stop himself from shivering more.

He was in a semiconscious state when the banging began. Someone banging on the door. Did these people not get the point, House was not coming out to play today. When the banging continued and threatened to make him cry out in agony, he sat up very slowly. The phone was ringing again. Looking around through his bloodshot eyes he searched for his cane. Once he found it he held his breath, this was going to hurt. Getting up his right leg complained, he had not downed a Vicodin since the night before, and his leg was letting him now. Shuffling to the door half using the cane, half leaning on the wall he made it to the door just as the screaming started in.

"House I know you are in there." Cuddy's high pitched voice screamed at him.

House opened the door after fumbling with the lock. The world had been spinning since he got off the bed, but now it felt like it had gone into hyper drive.

"I already told you, I'm not coming in today." House said softly his eyes closed in hopes to keep himself from vomiting.

"God House you look like hell. Are you hung-over?" Cuddy asked no sympathy in her voice, she was sure he was hung-over. She came over expecting to find House playing hooky, Wilson had slipped that the new Grand Theft Auto video came had come out, which was more than enough reason for House to stay home and play it all day.

"No." He answered softly gripping the wall as white hot pain shot up from his no existent thigh muscle. The world was spinning even behind his closed eyes. "Excuse me." He said pushing off from the doorway hopping to make it to the bathroom in time.

He felt the energy drain from him when he made it two steps from the door, and he knew what was coming next. His good leg gave out and he tumbled to the floor landing on his right leg, an agonized scream. Than started the heaving that resulted in vomit, more dry heaving, he felt a hand on his sweaty back, rubbing. The voice was off in the distance.

"What is going on?" She asked worried about her subordinate.

House would have snorted if he had not been dry heaving, wasn't it obvious what was going on he was sick. Flu probably, pretty nasty bug, but he would get through it.

Cuddy's cell phone rang the screeching ring make House flinch. "Yeah I found him." She said to the person on the other end of the phone. "He really is sick." A pause as the other person must have been saying something, "Just tell my assistant that I am going to be out for awhile." More time passed, "No need, I think I can cover it here."

House now lay on the floor trying to avoid his own vomit. He body tensed in pain, he did not try to move, it would hurt too much.

"Can you get up Greg?" Cuddy's voice asked softly. "We need to get you into the bedroom."

"I was there before you came, and doing just fine thank you. Go away." House said, even sick he did not want his life messed with. He needed help, that was clear, but not from her, not now. He could not take it, not after what he had said to her the other day.

"As much as I would like to do that, I don't think you can afford for me to leave you here on the floor next to your own vomit." Cuddy said her voice sharper than she meant it to be. She tried to pull him up, only getting a pained cry from him. "when was the last time you had your meds?"

House coughed it looked as if it hurt, his entire body was shaking, a thin film of sweat covered him, "last night."

"Where are they?"

"Nightstand."

Cuddy walked down the hallway looking for the bedroom. She had not been in House's apartment much, and she had never been much farther than the living room. Finding the bedroom she found the orange bottle of Vicodin rushing back out to House he gave him two pills and went to the kitchen searching the cabinets for a glass. Filling a glass with water she rushed back to his shivering side. She helped him take a drink, and watched as he downed the pills. He drank more water before collapsing back to the floor.

"Come on Greg, help me get you to the room."

He noticed the use of his first name, which usually meant he was in trouble or she was worried. Since he had a legitimate reason even she could not deny, for not showing up to work that morning, she was worried and not angry.

Getting to his feet with her help, he leaned on her as she led him down the hallway. Cuddy could feel the sweat that was covering him, he must be burning up with a fever, she thought. She struggled with his weight, she was almost dragging him to the room.

"Pit stop." House croaked trying to turn them towards the bathroom.

Cuddy turned with him, they were just inside the door when she felt his body start to wretch, and she could do nothing when he started to vomit again, this time on her chest, she felt it go down her blouse, soaking it through. She kept him up though, her natural reaction was to drop him, but she didn't. Wanting to cuss, she knew it wasn't his fault, his aim though was suspect.

"Better now?" She finally asked. She started to worry when he did not answer, but she felt his head shaking.

He finally croaked out, "Sorry about the twins."

Cuddy got House into his room finally. Laying him on the bed she began to wonder if she should call an ambulance to come and get him. He was pale, shaking, and the vomit seemed to be never ending. She knew he had to be in pain if he had not taken his Vicidon. House never missed his doses of Vicidon, he usually used between them even.

"no hospital. I'm just sick is all. Flu."

"House this is more than the flu."

"Who is the diagnostician?" House voice was only a few decibels above audible.

"You can't diagnosis yourself."

"I just did." He croaked, trying to find the covers without really moving too much. The pillow under his head felt nice, helped him feel grounded as compared to the dizzy floating feeling he had before.

"Do you have something I can borrow to wear?" Cuddy asked looking over herself.

"Closet, floor…" House was starting to fall asleep.

Cuddy looked around, she found a shirt in the closet, and than decided to settle for a pair of House's shorts, they were a bit baggy, but better than nothing. She showered quickly getting the vomit off herself, cleaning the bathroom floor. Walking back into his bedroom, she found House asleep on the bed, his body now covered in sweat. His shirt was sticking to his chest, the sheets pulled over his shivering form. Returning to the bathroom she searched for anything, a thermometer, some flue medicine, anything to help him. Finding nothing she shook her head, he was a doctor, why did he not keep that stuff around.

Snatching her phone from the living room where she had left it she called Wilson.

After the polite greetings, Wilson asked, "How is he?"

"He's sick. Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure what is it?"

"He needs antibiotics, and I need a thermometer, maybe even some cold presses." Cuddy said quietly, she had walked back towards House's bedroom when she heard a groan coming from the room. When she saw him he was asleep still.

"Why is he not coming to the hospital?"

"He didn't want to be taken to be treated. If it's just the flu than I should be able to handle it. It's a Saturday, so there shouldn't be much for me to do. All I was going to do was get caught up on some paper work." She thought some, "If you could bring my laptop I could do that here."

"Are you sure you want to stay there?" Wilson asked carefully, after the exchange the day before, he was not sure if House was still in Cuddy's good graces, not that he usually was, but yesterday had left Cuddy in tears.

"Yeah." Despite the arguments they had it was still difficult not to care for House. She had long since given up trying to figure out why that was true. Some of her best conclusion was that it was easy to care about someone who did not care about themselves because someone had to, or there was the childish charm he had and in that childish charm seemed to be an innocence mixed with the pain that he hid so well from everyone, not just the physical pain. Even with all of these ideas all of them and none of them seemed to fit why she cared.

"Ok I'll bring it all by." Wilson said after sighing he was not sure if it was right for her to be there. House surely did not deserve this, Wilson and House had ended the night before in a screaming match over what House had said to Cuddy, and for once Wilson was not ready to forgive House. Wilson knew part of this had been due to his building relationship, or what he hoped was his building relationship, with Cuddy.

"Thank you Wilson."

Cuddy hung the phone up, now leaning against the doorway to Houses room. Watching him in his fevered sleep, he looked almost innocent, like he did when he was in silent contemplation on what could be killing whatever current patient he had. It was in moments like these that made her wander what happened to House, besides the obvious. Yes the infraction and the constant pain he lived in were a good excuse for who he was, and even Stacey leaving him added to the excuse, but she knew House, and in knowing him she knew none of that was enough. There was more to his story, and he would never share whatever else there was. Not readily, he was private, it was fine for him to nose around everyone else, but don't dare return the favor. It was like feelings, everyone else could show them to some degree as long as they were not sympathy or even empathy everyone else was entitled to their feelings, but House showed no feelings other than when he was in pain. She wondered what happened to him to make him never smile, and all the excuses still were not enough for him. Remembering back to when she first came across the man that was Greg House, in college. Even than he was not known for smiling. It was like someone had long ago told him being happy was wrong.

She was taken from her thoughts by a soft whimper coming from House. Rushing over she saw he was still asleep, his clothes were wet and he was shivering. Getting him out of his clothes was probably the best option, but one she had not wanted to tackle unless it was necessary, and by the looks of House it was necessary. Gently shaking him she tried to wake him enough so that she could.

She got a few grumbles and when Houses heavy eyelids opened just enough to see he started to cuss her. "House cuss me all you want, but you need to get out of these clothes." Struggling she helped him sit up, he had given up any resistance that he had started with. He let her pull his soggy t-shirt over his head, and than lay him back down gently. She could tell he was exhausted, but she needed him to stay with her just a bit longer. "Where do you keep your extra blankets House?"

No answer came from him; he closed his eyes and went back to sleep trying to curl up, the cold air now better able to touch his bare skin. She moved down, pulling his pajama pants off, she tried not to look at the angry scar on his right leg. He would only have gotten upset if he knew, and even if he was unconscious, it was something out of respect. Getting that off him, she decided to leave his boxers on. Searching around she found nothing, so she pulled all the blankets he had on his bed over him hoping to warm him enough. Warmth was not what he needed right now, she could tell he had a high temperature, and in theory she should have had him in the bathtub for an ice bath, but that she could not tackle on her own. Wilson would have to help, and she did not want to put House through that until she was sure it would be needed.

She busied herself with cleaning up after House. There were puck piles around the apartment, and she knew it would be best to clean them as soon as possible. This action also would allow her to do something rather than watch her subordinate sleep. When she had the apartment cleaned of all vomit, she decided to look around. House was asleep, it would not hurt to see where the evil genius lived, and how he lived. There were haphazard piles of journals, she knew the piles were anything but haphazard, somehow they were organized, in House's own way. No one but House would know how or why. She decided to check his much, she knew better than to see what movies he might have. After having heard about the Girls Gone Wild movies, she was sure that was all he had in his collection. His music taste was varied, as she had expected. Moving over to his piano she ran her fingers over the keys wondering how many lonely nights he had spent playing the piano.

Wilson let himself into his friends apartment, he had two bags full of various supplies, a black messenger bag hung around his neck. He walked inside setting the bags at the door.

Cuddy appeared from House's kitchen.

"Thanks for this Wilson." She said taking the bags. She found the new thermometer Wilson had picked up at the hospital pharmacy, she suspected.

"How is he?" Wilson asked looking down the hallway to where he assumed his friend was asleep in his room.

"Why don't you come and see." She said walking down the hallway.

Wilson grabbed the blood pressure instrument, and his stethoscope he had brought, in order to perform the basic medical checks on House.

Cuddy was in the room, already having had House open his mouth. House was not really asleep, but between twilight and a comfortable sleep. She waited for the thermometer to beep, watching as the temperature kept rising until it finally read, 104.5.

"That's not good." Wilson said almost flinching when he did, he expected House to chide him for saying the obvious, but his friend was too out of it to care.

Cuddy sighed, "I expected it." She pondered whether or not it was a good idea to follow through with House's wishes and keep him out of the hospital. Wilson was looking at her thinking the same.

"Let's try an ice bath. If we cannot get his temperature down that way, than we will take him in." Cuddy said trying to convince herself that the old fashioned home remedy was a good option compared to the new improved IV antibiotics House would have if he went to the hospital.

Wilson was busying himself with listening to House's chest to make sure he did not have any other serious illness. Thanking Houses blood pressure had been the easiest medical procedure, Wilson had ever conducted on his friend. Every time he tried to take House's blood pressure, usually when he was giving him a check up, House would bitch moan and groan and make it almost impossible. Usually they would joke, and Wilson would promise him a red lollypop if he would sit still, eventually House would cave with a sarcastic comment. He always left with the red lollypop.

Now that he had checked on his friend he was ready to tackle why Cuddy was dressed in one of House's shirts and shorts. Shorts, that House must have had from before his infraction, because since that incident Wilson had never seen his friend in shorts. "What's with the clothes?"

"He got sick on my other ones." Cuddy said looking over herself, "I should keep his shirt as revenge." She had on a Clash t-shirt, that was rare enough due to the fact that it had Japanese writing under the bands name.

Wilson laughed, "That is one of his favorite shirts. He got it when he went to Japan." That trip had been before Stacey, Wilson had not even known him than, but he remember the story House had given him of how he found the shirt, and just had to have it.

"That'll teach him than." She laughed, both of them staring down at his semiconscious form. "I hate to ask, but from my wardrobe I can't go out. We'll need ice, and probably some soup incase he wakes up later. Would you go pick that up?"

"Of course." Wilson said, it was the least he could do. His argument with House that ended in him storming out the night before quickly forgotten.

After Wilson let Cuddy took a proactive approach getting a bowl full of cold water and a wash cloth she began to gently rub House's face and next, occasionally moving down to his body. She knew this would do nothing to lower his temperature, but at least it would relieve him of some the sweat that was building. She noticed how his features were contorting into pain, his eyes scrunching up, wrinkles forming on his forehead from it, his lips turned into a tight frown, his fist clenching grabbing the bed sheet in a ball in his fist.

She knew it would be wrong to whisper him assurance, House would never allow that, even in his current state.

Wilson returned shortly, and started to run the cold bath, pouring the bags of eyes he had gotten from the gas station not to far from House's apartment. The gas station attendant had been curious at why all the ice. He had seen Wilson and in the gas station multiple times before, usually in the morning that Wilson was driving House into work, House had always made his friend stop so he could get some coffee. Wilson gave no explanation, he was in too much of a rush. But he would admit it was odd that he bought three huge bags of ice, and multiple cans of soup.

When he finished running the ice bath he rushed into House's room. Scooping his friend off the bed, Wilson was careful of House's right leg. Cuddy had offered help, but Wilson assured her that House was not that heavy. In reality he was not as heavy as Wilson had expected. Most of House's weight came from being tall, otherwise his friend was skinny, sometimes way too skinny. His current state was due to his not taking care of himself. House rarely ate unless he was stealing food from Wilson, or Wilson had prepared him something.

House was unconscious again, at least Wilson thought he was. Place House in the ice tub, he was surprised by how only a few seconds later his friend seemed to have enough strength to fight his being placed in the cold water. House was whimpering, struggling against Wilson, who held him in the tub, not caring that House's struggles were getting his clothes wet.

"House stop. We are only trying to help you." Wilson said in a clipped tone not because he was upset, but because he was struggling against House.

Whimpering more House croaked, "Please stop. I won't do it again. I promise please just let me out. I swear Dad I'll be good."

Wilson looked confused, after that plea House stopped struggling, he had not stopped whimpering yet. He sat there shivering in the tub, Wilson hands on his shoulders. He looked back at Cuddy once he was sure House was not going to struggle against him, and he saw the same confused and yet concerned look on her face that Wilson had of his own.

A short while later, Wilson pulled House out of tub, sitting him on the floor he grabbed towels using them to wrap his friend up.

Cuddy left to quickly change the sheets on House's bed, and try and find clean clothes to put him in.

Wilson sat on the floor with his friend. Holding him to his chest gently rocking the shivering body.

House slowly opened his eyes, aware that he was cold, but the blood that he had felt rushing through his head the last time he had been awake seemed to slow down, the ringing in his ears a dull ring now. He felt a warm body cradling him, rocking him. "Stop rocking." He said softly.

"You're awake." Wilson said stopping his rocking.

"Yeah." House said softly, he was exhausted, and far from ok. He wanted to sleep again, but he wondered why he was soaking wet sitting on the floor of his bathroom with his friend cradling him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap what is going on?" House inquired.

"You are running a high fever, and you were adamant about not going to the hospital." Wilson paused he wish he could see House's face to see how he would react to the next few words. We tried an ice bath to cool you off." Wilson felt him tense, but nothing else.

"I think it worked."

"It won't work for long." Wilson said, "House why don't you want to go to the hospital?"

"Please I just don't." House said the last time he had been in a hospital he had been shot, and the time before was with his infraction, he did not like being a patient, that side of the hospital sucked.

"We might not be able to."

Cuddy came back into the room seeing the two men. "The room is ready."

"What is Cuddles doing here, you going to help keep me warm?" House asked, almost like himself.

"Don't you remember me coming this morning?"

House didn't answer, he was not sure if he remembered of it was just the fevered dreams he had. "Why are you in my clothes?"

"That would be because you ruined mine by vomiting on them."

House said nothing, that he did remember now.

"Come on lets get you off the floor." Wilson said standing up and with help from Cuddy they got House off the floor and into his room.

Cuddy had clothes sitting on the bed, she had Wilson set House next to the clothes. "Let's get you into something dry." She said helping House into a shirt. The next part she knew would be uncomfortable for both of them. Slipping his boxers off, she quickly put a new pair on for him, than quickly pulled up a pair of flannel pants. "There that should keep you warm."

"Not like cuddling up to you would Cuddles." House said tiredly.

"Don't go to sleep yet House. You need to try and take some of this antibiotic, and ibuprofen to hopefully help keep your temperature down again."

House let them give him the pills, and took a small sip from the cup that was offered. Laying down he curled up on his left side, the blankets were pulled up over him, and Cuddy went to gently applying a cold compress to his head, to help keep his temperature down. She gently rubbed his shivering back and said, "Try and get some sleep."

House did not need to be told that, he was already letting himself drift off into the fever induced sleep.

Wilson stood watching as Cuddy continued to rub gentle circles on Houses back. His mind was running a thousand miles a minute. Why had House begged and pleaded and promised to be good to get out of the ice bath, and why had he called him daddy?

"He's asleep." Cuddy whispered, "Let's move to the living room."

Both of them walked into House's living room. Sitting on the couch they started to address the same thing Wilson had been contemplating before.

"Any idea what that was about?" Cuddy asked, knowing Wilson was probably the closest person to House.

"No." Wilson said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. It was not overtly obvious, and even when it was Wilson did not want to believe it. "He is delusional from the fever." Wilson tried.

"No that would not cover it. He was whimpering Wilson. Even when he was in the worse pain with his infraction he never whimpered he cussed, he cried, but never whimpered." Cuddy paused before continuing, "We know he does not have a great relationship with his father." As if that would add in bringing out the huge pink elephant in the room, that neither of them wanted to notice or call out because they knew House would not want them to know.

"House has never said a thing about why he hates his father." Wilson thought, "He never mentioned any form of abuse."

"Yeah because that is a conversation House would have with anyone. I can see it now he steals your other half of your sandwich, 'oh Wilson by the way my father use to abuse me'."

"I get your point." Wilson said, almost annoyed sometimes talking to Cuddy was like talking to a tamer version of House. "But I don't see what we can do about it. We mention it he'll deny it all, and there is nothing we can do to change it."

She thought for a moment, it was true there was nothing they could do, but it was another interesting fact about House. Another layer to who he was. "Why don't you take off Wilson. I'll hang out here."

Wilson needed to get back to the office, he had a lot to catch up on, and he was sure House's three fellows were wondering where he was. They had a patient, and House was in no shape to treat that patient. "I'll come back after work and relieve you."

"No need Wilson." She said, she actually wanted to be there for House.

"I'll still be by after work. Do you want me to bring anything?"

"No."

"Than I'll pick up some dinner. Try to get him to eat later. He'll be a big baby about it, but eventually he'll give in if you keep trying." Wilson said having helped his friend through the flu before.

"I will. Don't worry he's in good hands Wilson."

"I know. Thank you." Wilson said getting up and leaving.