A/N - Written for a Sick!Wilson fest prompt on LJ - this is a retelling of "Last Resort' with Wilson as the hostage instead of Thirteen. First chapter is from House's point of view, next is the same story but from Wilson's point of view
"House, we need to talk."
House looked up from Cuddy's desk and across the room at Wilson. Then he went back to what he was doing, completely ignoring the other man.
"House."
"Wilson."
"We need to talk about this."
"No, you need to talk about this. I need to get this done before the evil administrator comes back and turns me into stone."
"Get what done? House, what are you doing with her desk? See this is exactly what I was saying last night. Here we are..."
"Doing the horizontal mambo? Fucking like rabbits?"
"In a relationship, and yet here you are dipping Cuddy's pigtails in the inkwell."
"No, I'm fixing her desk so that when she opens the drawer all her stuff will fall out on the floor. Only you could read some Freudian interpretation into it. Sometimes Wilson, a desk is just a desk."
"You need to ask yourself, why you are doing this."
"Because she made me do twice as many clinic hours last month to make up for some ridiculous piece of trivia that I forgot about."
"The yearly Departmental budget House! And that's not why you are doing this!"
House had his mouth open to retort when there was a polite little rap on the glass door. His first fear was that it was Cuddy, but she would have come rampaging in the door, both barrels blasting.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Dr. Cuddy."
The guy asking was thin, tired looking, probably sick like all the others milling around out there in the clinic waiting room. No wonder he avoided the place like the plague.
House waved his hand at Wilson.
"This is Doctor Cuddy."
For a brief moment he felt a little uneasy but he couldn't quite put a finger on why. Of course WIlson didn't play along, telling the guy Cuddy would be back later and then smiling at him as he shut the door again.
"You've always got to screw with people don't you House? What was the point of that?"
House groaned, Wilson was in a real lecturing mood this morning.
"Gosh dear, you're just no fun since we started screwing, you don't take me places, you won't let me do anything fun. I'm feeling all smothered."
The door opened again and a crowd of people came in, some nurses, a few sick looking people and that guy again. What was this place? Cuddy's office or Grand Central Station?
"What?" he growled and then stopped as he saw the guy was holding a gun.
"I'm sick, and I want to know why. I want the best doctor in this hospital here, now… Or I'm gonna start killing people."
House looked at him, and then at the hostages, and then at Wilson, standing frozen on the other side of the desk. He swallowed hard and then stared at the guy calmly.
"What seems to be the problem?"
Gun guy started directing the hostages to move furniture around. The guy was barricading the bathroom, if it wasn't for the gun this could almost be funny.
Gun guy thrust a thick medical file at House. Apparently the guy had had every test known to medical science, two or three times and still didn't have a diagnosis. House got about eight letters a day from people with the same complaint, most of them ended up filed straight in his bin. Gun guy seemed to have thought up a way to jump the queue.
After Gun guy gave him the file he took House's cane away. House exchanged a glance with Wilson. This had always been one of the complaints he'd had about his disability, it gave people a weakness to hone in on. Wilson was standing there staring at House with a peculiar expression on his face, as if he was trying to convey something to him. House had no idea what.
He picked up the file and skimmed through it, Jason, gun guy's name was Jason.
He'd gotten one of the hostages to give up a lighter. They were all standing there like they were going to wet their pants any moment, except for Wilson - Wilson wouldn't want to wreck a perfectly good pair of designer pants.
Jason had the lung volume of an asthmatic one year old. House decided to toss off a diagnosis for the waiting spectators. Pulmonary scleroderma. Nice and impressive sounding. Wilson was looking a bit sceptical but that was Wilson for you, luckily he kept his mouth shut.
House decided that a nice dose of Propofol would put Jason out like a light and end this farce before Wilson got hurt.
Only trouble was that Jason wanted it tested before House gave it to him, the man wasn't as clueless as he looked. House briefly thought about giving it to Wilson but Wilson had almost no tolerance level for medications, he'd be out before the injection was finished, it had always made him so easy to drug.
He picked the biggest guy there, injected him quickly and then tried to hustle Jason along. No luck, big guy collapsed in the background, the bigger they are the harder they fall apparently.
Jason threatened him with the gun, but House knew he wouldn't shoot him until he had his diagnosis. Jason knew that too. He started waving the gun around at the hostages and there was a brief heart-stopping moment when he thought Jason was going to shoot Wilson. He was relieved when he shot another guy instead. The other guy wasn't so relieved, he screamed as the bullet tore through his hip and blood spurted out.
House looked across at Wilson.
Things had suddenly gotten very serious.
Wilson naturally went rushing to the aid of the guy who was shot in the hip, Mitch was his name House gathered. Wilson shot House a few looks that suggested that maybe House would like to help with the first aid. Actually, he also said something like,
"House, wouldn't you like to come and help?"
Didn't he know House only did one patient at a time? Anyway, there was a nurse to help the guy. And Jason didn't seem keen to let his personal doctor go. So House stayed where he was and waited for further developments.
Further developments proved to be his team, strike that - his teams, ringing on his cell phone. Chase made some typical smart arse Aussie comment and apparently walked out, well Cameron said he didn't but House could always tell when she was lying. Chase was being struck off his Christmas card list right away, the weasel.
To keep up his mystique he commandeered one of Cuddy's walls for writing the symptoms. It looked impressive and was also guaranteed to piss Cuddy off big time, win-win. Of course one of the spectators in the peanut gallery thought it was a bit unnecessary, but this was how House thought.
He gave his minions their instructions and instructed the nurse, Regina it turned out, to draw blood from Jason. She looked like she wanted to keep going until all the blood was sucked out of the guy but otherwise did a competent enough job.
Jason ordered some woman to open the blind that had a view of the courtyard. She had a little fit about it so of course Wilson spoke up.
"Leave her alone, I'll get the blind."
Any woman in distress and Wilson was there, probably be marrying her soon.
He watched intently as Wilson went over to the blind and cracked it open a little bit. There were SWAT team members all over the place out there. It was just like being in a movie. Of course Jason panicked.
"Get back! Get back! I will kill him unless you back the hell out of there now!"
The gun was pointed straight at Wilson, which made House feel fairly uneasy. Wilson could be a bit annoying but House didn't want him shot, being shot wasn't all it was cracked up to be, House had been there, had the scars to prove it.
He threw out a diversion.
"Nobody else heard those guys, he's got hyperacusis."
Most of his audience looked baffled, Wilson nodded his head slowly.
"Amped-up hearing could be linked to nerve palsy."
House did a couple of simple tests which involved Jason pulling funny faces and came up with the diagnosis post-herpetic neuralgia. Jason looked less than convinced but House was the doctor here, if Jason knew what was wrong with him presumably he would have stayed home today.
Jason agreed to exchange the wounded guys for the Capsaicin House needed to check his diagnosis. Apparently the best way to get out of here was to be just a little injured. House wondered if he could arrange something for Wilson to get him out of the way. It was hard to concentrate on diagnosing Jason with Wilson there for some reason.
Of course once they got the Capsaicin Jason wanted someone else to take it first. Great, except it would hurt like hell for anyone who didn't have post-herpetic neuralgia. And then there was the chance of nerve and muscle damage.
House was pretty sure he knew who was going to volunteer to take this dose.
Wilson was bent over Cuddy's desk, expensive designer pants pushed down to reveal the tip of his ass. House admired the view.
"If you wanted me to admire your ass you didn't have to agree to this, I would have done it for free."
Wilson looked around agitated, they weren't exactly out at the hospital. Here he was, being held hostage and about to be in a great deal of pain and he was worried about his image.
"You didn't need to do this, should have kept your mouth shut." House muttered.
"They're patients, I'm a doctor."
House looked around at Regina.
"She's just a nurse."
"Shut up House and give me the dose. You've always said that you wished I could feel some of your pain just for a few minutes, now's your chance."
House rammed the dose home.
"I don't want you to be in pain you moron."
Wilson started to smile and then gasped and doubled over in pain, groaning.
"Luckily for me it looks like you don't have herpes."
House brushed his hand quickly against Wilson and then turned on Jason.
He took pleasure in ramming the syringe into Jason's buttocks and then when the man started groaning in agony he calmly went and crossed 'nerve paralysis' off the wall.
Wilson was being helped by Regina who lowered him to a sitting position where he could lean back against the wall. House scowled at the sight of the nurse hovering over him.
"Want a Vicodin?", he asked Wilson, producing the vial out of his pocket and swallowing one himself. Jason weakly waved the gun in his direction but he ignored him. If he didn't take his Vicodin regularly he'd be in more pain than Wilson was now.
"No, I'm okay. Wouldn't want you to run out."
House counted the tablets, yeah Wilson was right, if this thing went on for a while he'd be running short. He pocketed the pills.
He consulted with his team who had all the usual moronic ideas they always came up with, and the totally useless bits of trivia they picked up from their search of Jason's home. Then he heard WIlson's croaky voice from the floor, he was hoarse from the pain.
"It's his heart."
"Thought you would say it was cancer."
Wilson managed a weak smile.
"His neck, he has a distended jugular." Wilson levered himself up to a standing position using a chair. House scowled at him, Wilson looked more like a cripple than House felt at the moment. Still, that was a reasonably good idea.
He limped over to Jason to check his pulse. Jason, of course, thought he was going to do some super advanced martial art move and disarm him. Just for fun he told Jason he was going to strangle him. But of course the voice of reason chimed in.
"He needs to check your pulse."
House shot him a look that said Wilson was spoiling all his fun and then felt for Jason's pulse, much too fast. Of course Wilson wanted to get the paddles, so he could save the guy who had shot someone and taken them all hostage if he had a heart attack. He would.
House decided to try carotid massage instead. No surprise, Jason sided with Wilson and wanted paddles. Probably had seen them on TV like everyone else in the world and thought they looked really cool. One shock with those while he was holding the gun and there's be another bullet hole in Cuddy's wall and she really would be pissed. He'd probably never get out of the clinic.
Of course Wilson had another bright idea, doing it chemically. And of course Jason picked Wilson to go and get supplies from the clinic. Jason gave him thirty seconds and then he was going to start shooting. House didn't think Wilson could have managed it in thirty seconds even in prime health, now he was still in pain from the previous injection and agitated from the whole 'hostage taking' thing - House hoped Jason wasn't good with time.
Regina, the nurse, reassured them all that Wilson would come back. Of course he would damn well come back. He was Wilson, still House couldn't help wishing that for once he would put himself first and just keep going. It would be crazy to come back.
House felt a surge of both irritation and affection when Wilson came rushing back into the room, all adorably flustered and out of breath.
"Idiot, you should have kept going."
Wilson shrugged.
"And miss your moment of triumph?"
Wilson's faith in him was touching, or something.
Apparently Wilson was to be the guinea pig of the day. House protested that the Adenosine would slow his heart to dangerous levels, seeing as his wasn't beating at 160 beats a minute at the moment.
"House, it's okay. I'll take it." Wilson was wrapping a tourniquet around his arm, and before House could come up with another plan he plunged the Adenosine into his veins. He collapsed to the ground almost instantly. House knelt awkwardly down and and felt for his pulse, dangerously slow of course. Stupid Wilson. The nurse was hovering too so he turned away from Wilson and fixed Jason with an angry glare.
"Okay, his heart is dangerously slow, are we good to go now?"
He injected Jason, making it as slow and painful as he could. Jason's heart of course slowed down to normal rhythm, no heart defect. Damn. But the guy was sweating, profusely. On one side of his face not the other, tumor on his sympathetic nerves - lung cancer.
Too bad their oncologist was almost dead.
Wilson had been put on Cuddy's couch, nurse Regina was hovering over him tenderly. All doe eyed for the poor suffering martyr. House squashed down the anxiety he felt at seeing Wilson like this, they were in a hospital, if he coded they could get help immediately. If Jason would allow it.
"His pulse is below 50." Regina confided, as if it was some sort of secret.
"Get the martyr up and walking, that will get his heart beating faster, show him a bit of skin, that will really get his heart going."
Regina scowled at him and Wilson gave him a dazed confused look but struggled to his feet with help, and they started walking him around the room.
"I need proof." Jason demanded. Of course he did, that's how medicine worked wasn't it? Someone said you had lung cancer and there was some sort of automatic proof available. In Cuddy's office. Right.
"Lung cancer, usually lower than...seventh...nerve. Check his throat..." Wilson doing his oncologist act even while half dead.
House got Jason to try to spit on the floor. Nothing came out, dry mouth. Parotid glands not working.
"Is there swelling...Pancoast tumor..." Wilson put in, struggling for breath and strength.
House went over to Jason, putting his hand under his jaw, found the lump and showed it to Jason. Idiot wanted some more proof. Wanted a CT. Paddles, CTs - Jason had obviously spent far too much time watching medical shows, he knew all the jargon.
"How many hostages for a trip to radiology?" Jason asked, House presumed it was a rhetorical question but he answered it anyway.
"Release Wilson, he needs some proper attention, more than Florence Nightingale here can give him."
"No, he stays. He gets everything I get."
Damn.
Two of the female hostages won the hostage release lottery and fled rapidly. Jason's big plan was that everyone left tied themselves in a big circle around him, thus ensuring that if the SWAT team shot anyone it would be the innocent hostages. Brilliant, except for the fact that one of his hostages was barely on his feet and another could maybe, on a good day, walk a dozen steps without the aid of a cane.
So the walk out of Cuddy's office and to the elevator was more of a slow and awkward shuffle, Wilson lent up against House. It was a bit like a bondage dream come true, with the ropes and everything, but there were extra people and there was a gun. And he was in pain and Wilson's heart was barely beating. So, yeah, not so much fun really.
He tried to do the concerned boyfriend bit when they were in the elevator, leaning into Wilson and asking him if he was okay.
Wilson just stared at him as if he'd grown two heads.
"No, my heart is barely beating and I'm tied to a group of people and being held hostage at gunpoint. Just diagnose him already so we can get out of here."
Okay, so much for the concerned boyfriend bit.
In the radiology room Jason locked the door and untied them. It was sort of a shame not to have Wilson's hot sweaty body pressed up against his anymore, but nice to be able to walk, well limp, a couple of steps without everyone else pressed up against him as well.
He went into the booth to get the equipment. Jason did his usual thing of waving the gun about and got onto the CT bed.
As Wilson started the CT going he looked at House.
"But it's not going to..."
"Be any fun without being chained together anymore? Quite correct, but we can always do that at home anytime we want." House gave an exaggerated wink and leer. Wilson sighed and seemed to decide not to protest.
House looked at the monitor which was giving exactly the result he expected and signalled for Wilson to bring Jason out of the machine.
Thinking ahead to Jason's next protest House scribbled 'starburst' on a piece of paper and handed it to one of the extraneous hostages. Then he showed the monitor to Jason and Wilson.
"What's this Wilson?"
"Starburst." Wilson answered promptly, a small smile on his face, looking like the oncologist who won the spelling bee.
Which was exactly what House had written down of course. Sometimes it was a good thing, being a couple.
"You need to give me the gun. Or shoot me. Whichever." House tried to sound nonchalant but it was difficult with Wilson's big puppy dog eyes on him, for most of the last ten years he would have happily gambled his life away. Now, not so much. .
Jason wavered.
"You want to find out what's wrong with you don't you? Give me the gun and I'll get you your answer."
House held out his hand and slowly Jason handed over the gun.
House put it down out of reach and gestured Jason to get back onto the CT bed.
All the hostages except for Wilson and the kid rushed to the door and ran out. House had no idea why the kid was sticking around, probably thinking it was an episode of Law and Order and the director was going to call 'cut' any minute.
He had a pretty good idea why Wilson was sticking around, and it wasn't to help him with the CT scan.
They ran the scan again, this time without the starburst effect screwing it up. House stared at the screen - no tumour. He didn't know what Jason had.
Jason hopped off the table.
"Thanks for trying anyway."
House took up the gun, staring at Jason. If he called the cops in he'd never know the answer, he'd never know what Jason had.
He looked at Wilson who was still deathly pale and swaying on his feet. He tightened his grip on the gun and pointed it at Jason.
He yelled down the hallway.
"Need some help in here!"
Of course everyone wanted to talk to House, the police, the SWAT team boss, Cuddy, his team. Apparently he was some sort of hero for getting the gun off Jason. House tried to make out like there was a big struggle for the weapon but the other hostages had spilled the beans already. Too bad. Instead of being a Major Hero he was only a Minor one, still it should be good for a few days off clinic duty, especially if Wilson was going to be in the hospital for long.
It was a couple of hours before he could track Wilson down in his hospital bed.
He was looking much better, and the heart monitor beeped out a steady and reassuring rhythm.
"Observation and monitoring overnight and then I can go home in the morning." Wilson reported.
House slumped in a chair by the bed.
"Great, I hate hospitals."
Wilson rolled his eyes at him, and then rubbed his neck in that endearing little gesture he had.
"Thanks."
House was puzzled.
"Thanks for what? I didn't even solve the case."
Wilson was smiling, that little, knowing, annoying smug smile he did when he thought he had House all figured out.
"For not solving the case. For not giving Jason his gun back so you could diagnose him."
What type of idiot did Wilson think he was? Crazed hostage taker, why would he give him his gun back? Except for then he could have kept exploring the mystery. Except, it turned out that he cared more about Wilson than the mystery. Maybe that would give Wilson a clue as to where he stood in House's life.
"Never crossed my mind." House swore. "Now, if Thirteen had been a hostage..."
Wilson's smile broadened.
"So," House said, "do we still need to talk?"
Wilson shook his head.
"No, I don't think so. Just...no more lusting after Cuddy okay?"
"Cross my heart. I have played my last practical joke on Cuddy." House said solemnly. "And no more weepy nurses for you either. That Regina woman was clucking all over you in there."
"Not just Regina, half the nurses on this floor have stopped by." Wilson said smugly. "I'm a hero, I nearly died."
"Bastard." House levered himself to his feet. "Just for that I'm going to go and get some nice greasy takeout, too bad you can't have any."
He lingered by Wilson's bedside, reaching out with one hand to touch it briefly to Wilson's. Wilson linked their fingers and then let go, lying back on the bed.
"Take me home in the morning?"
"Yes." House said simply, glad that when Wilson said home now he meant their home.
House limped out of Wilson's hospital room, made sure he was out of sight and then pulled out his phone.
"Foreman, get everyone together. We've got some diagnosing to do."
He shut the phone to cut off Foreman's indignant squawking.
Now he just had to find out what jail Jason had been taken to...