The Visit - A Huddy Two-Shot

James Wilson waited in the common sitting area at Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. He stood by the window and stared off into the distance as he considered the events of the past four months.

In addition to running the oncology department at PPTH, he had been doing his own fair share of babysitting House's ducklings. He had been participating in a number of differentials that had little to do with cancer or hematology to ease their jitters and help them along as they worked without House.

He had also spent a great deal of his off time maintaining House's apartment, traveling to Philadelphia to visit House, and to New York to visit his own brother Danny. And he hadn't even begun to consider all of the effort it has taken to help keep Cuddy together during this time. Lisa Cuddy was indeed the strongest woman he had ever known, stronger even that Amber, he thought, yet House's breakdown had nearly led to her own.

No, it had not been easy. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't have House back at home and at work soon enough. Who was he kidding, it wasn't just because he was exhausted, he truly missed his best friend. Wilson needed him, perhaps more than House had ever needed him.

"Rationalization man," House quipped from behind him, startling Wilson, "two days in a row? Is gas suddenly free out there in the real world or do you really have nobody else to talk to-cause that's pathetic."

"Nice to see you too, House," he answered, not surprised that House would berate him for visiting on consecutive days. He did have a good reason, but he wasn't going to tell him what it was, at least not yet.

"So what's going on?" House asked, seriously concerned with the unplanned visit.

"Nothing," Wilson responded, shifting his weight and heading abruptly towards the game table. "Wanna play?" he asked, referring to the chess board.

Still suspicious, House limped over, "Sure. But only if you tell me why you are here."

"House, sometimes a visit is just a visit," Wilson said.

House chuckled. "Jimmy, I am pretty sure Freud didn't even believe the original version of that particular idiom. And you know I don't. Nothing just is. Why? Are the kiddies about to kill a patient and the sent you for a secret consult? Is it you? Are you here to invite me to your fourth wedding -- I'm not out for another two weeks so-"

"House!" Wilson shouted, interrupting him and earning the stare of the few patients watching tv on the other side of the room. "I am not here for a consult. They have almost killed every patient they have treated in your absence, but they are somehow surviving. And I don't have a freaking minute to myself, so trust me, I am not going to find another Mrs. Wilson anytime soon."

House realized he may have pushed him too far. He moved the pawn and began the game with the Queen's Gambit opening.

"Two weeks then?" Wilson asked, betraying too much emotion, he was sure.

"That's what they said, as long as I keep my cool, refrain from physically or verbally assaulting others and continue to share my very 'soul' in therapy," House said. "These next two weeks may be harder than the detox," House observed.

Wilson listened carefully as he considered his next chess move, and he understood that even as House was about ready to step back into his life, these final two weeks of real self-restraint would be a real test for him. The air quotes House used around the idea that he was sharing his "soul" in therapy made Wilson think that House was doing anything but that. As much as he wanted his friend to face his demons, he was kind of happy to see that House was still House.

Wilson moved a pawn, playing into House's opening. House did not divulge anything with his look, and he continued with this game, knowing that he would have Wilson's King in just a handful of moves.

Wilson was a better chess player than this, House thought. He could tell that Wilson was distracted. Either that, or Wilson wanted House to think that he was distracted. In either case, House knew that something was up, and he didn't like not knowing what it was.

Moving his knight, Wilson remarked, "You haven't asked about Cuddy. I've visited you at least weekly for the past four months, and you normally ask about her and the baby within the first couple of minutes."

House kept his eyes on the board. "Not true. I ask about her and the brat, not once about her and the baby. The brat probably technically isn't even a baby anymore."

Wilson watched House's move for a moment before he made his own. "Semantics and deflection, all in one sentence. At least you aren't losing your step," Wilson added.

House kept his eyes on the board. He wasn't thinking about his next move, nor Wilson's next move, his mind was about ten moves ahead playing the various ways to get to Wilson's King. There were so many, really, that it was almost embarrassing.

"So," Wilson started again, "Why haven't you asked?"

"I don't need to ask since it is the reason you came. I don't think you would drive all the way over here and leave again without making whatever point you want to make about Cuddy. I don't ask because I know you,ll-"

"She's here."

House finally looked up from the chess board and met his friend's eyes. He didn't say anything, but the anger that was coursing through his veins was evident enough in the expression on his face. Wilson was afraid that House might actually blow the two week window for his release by assaulting him right then and there.

"Why?" House asked in the most level, reserved voice he could muster. In that single syllable he implied his feelings of betrayal. "Why" in this case was really, how could you bring her here when I begged you and told you I didn't want her to see me here, that I wasn't ready to face her, that I needed time to think….

Wilson started quickly, before House shut him out completely, as he knew he would do after this perceived betrayal. "She needed to meet with Dr. McVinn about your treatment. The board is holding a special meeting tomorrow, about your tenure, and-"

House was processing and trying to reason his way out of the guilt that was spreading through his stomach, making him nauseous. "Is she in, is she in trouble with the board?"

Wilson had kept these dealings from House, but he saw no point in keeping them from him any longer. He was about ready to step back out into the world, and he was going to be dealing with the consequences of his addiction and admission soon enough.

"It hasn't been easy, House, not by a long shot." Wilson took a deep breath and continued. "But she is strong, the strongest woman I know. And she is in her element with the politics of the board. She will be fine."

House stood up and shook his head. He grabbed his cane and limped over towards the windows. He looked back at Wilson, "Don't do that. Don't assume she can take it. She has a breaking point. She shouldn't sacrifice her career for-"

Wilson had joined him by the window. "She is strong, House. It has been hard, but she is strong, stronger than Stacy, if that's what you are worried about."

"For fuck's sake, Wilson, I am thinking about Cuddy and how she is pissing away her career to protect a drug addicted, ungrateful crippled asshole -" House lost his sentence at some point, midway through it, and he only added, "Don't let her do that, Wilson, please."

Something in House's rant struck Wilson, and he couldn't help but smile. "Actually, you're not ungrateful," he said. "You sound pretty damned grateful right now." Wilson took his chances. "So, do you want to see her? Her meeting should be over by now."

"You know the answer to that, Wilson. Tell her I'm sorry."

Wilson started to walk away, disappointed but not entirely surprised. He turned and said, "You know, House, it would make her feel better if she got to see you. So she could be sure that you are better. So you could clear the air. If you won't do it because you are trying to protect yourself from something, why don't you try to do it for her? So maybe she could get a full night of sleep tonight?"

House chuckled sadly. "There you go assuming again."

Wilson arched his eyebrows, trying to consider what House meant. House clarified, "You are assuming that if I see her I won't screw things up even more."

Wilson's cell phone beeped and he checked the text message. "She is waiting for me in the lobby. I guess I'll see you next week, House. Try to keep your cool."

He was almost out the door when he heard House's plea, "Fine, bring her back here. I might as well get this over with."