Disclaimer: House MD, its characters, stories and situations are property of Fox and creators/producers Bryan Singer and David Shore. Sense & Sensibility' s Mr Palmer was created by Jane Austen and later adapted and cast by the clever Emma Tompson,
who did her old pal Hugh Laurie and the rest of the world a great
service. This piece of fanfiction may not be re-published
anywhere else
without the author's consent.
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Author's note: For all those of you who asked for more Wilson, with the extra bonus of being a (sort of) crossover. Hope you enjoy ;)
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That day Cameron came to work in a good mood, as exampled by the wide smile she used to greet Foreman and Chase. Her colleagues took it in turns to frown at her and raise their eyebrows in response to her out-of place cheerfulness.
"What have you got to be so happy about? It's Monday morning." Stated Foreman, grumpily.
Cameron actually giggled. She sashayed out of her coat and carefully put down a pile of papers she had been clutching something fierce since she had stepped out of her car about five minutes before. On the top "the New England journal of Medicine" rested innocuously.
"You won't believe what I've found!" She exclaimed, sweeping aside the magazine without a shred of respect for it's authority and unearthing a big, hard-backed book with a glossy jacket depicting a family portrait from the early Eighteenth century. The cursive (and embossed) title proclaimed it, and not with little pride, the catalogue of "A changing era: private portraits through eighteenth and nineteenth century Europe". The men recognized it as an exhibition that had been enjoying a particularly vehement month-long publicity campaign.
"You went to see that?" Supplied Chase, positively radiating un-interested vibes.
Cameron tsk'ed him, giggled again, then opened the book at a mark, near the beginning.
"Now, whom does he look like?" She pointed to one of three pictures clustered on the page.
It was the portrait of an English gentleman leaning on a mantelpiece, a small book half-open in his left hand, a horse whip conspicuously peeking from one of his boots, and a blood hound resting at his feet. Startled, Foreman leant forward with a gasp. Chase roused himself from his early morning stupor and had the decency to goggle. While decidedly younger, with darker (and more abundant) hair and perhaps not quite as long a face, the man in the portrait looked eerily like House. Same lean figure, same pale blue eyes, very similar features and an identical sarcastic scowl were regarding the three Fellows from the printed page and, in the case of the original, from three centuries before.
The caption read: "The Hon. Mr Edward Palmer, 1798, 60by24 oil on canvass, Author unknown".
"Well," said Foreman.
"Huh," clarified Chase.
"How cool is that?" Added Cameron, alternately stealing looks at her colleagues and the picture. "He might be an ancestor! I've found House's genealogy!"
Chase made a funny, strangled noise, eyes still as big as the proverbial dinner saucers, while Foreman recollected himself and tried to deflate Cameron's balloon.
"You can't know that! Besides, this doesn't really prove anything… and even if it did, what does it matter?"
Cameron stuck her tongue at him, calling him a spoilsport. Then she sobered up. "It's just a bit of fun. I went to the exhibition yesterday –which, by the way, is fantastic- and had the biggest shock when I passed this one. It's almost life-size, it's… well, it was pretty impressive. I bought the catalogue and I wanted to show you guys. I thought we'd share a laugh. Besides, I want to see his face when he sees this."
"I won't spoil him if you cut me in on the joke," interjected Wilson from the door, giving the other three a bit of a scare. "Uh, that is, if you're talking about House." He added sheepishly, rubbing his neck and looking around before making up his mind and going for the coffee pot. He was disappointed to find it still empty.
Cameron took it from him and started a fresh batch. "You tell us. Have a look," she invited, indicating with her chin. Foreman helpfully pointed to the correct picture, and Wilson gave Cameron the satisfaction of doing an authentic double take and finishing it with a short laugh.
"Eerie, uh?" She said, handing him a full mug before filling one for herself.
"They're not that similar!" Finally said Chase, gesturing at the picture in strangely agitated manner." I mean, sure, there's a passing resemblance, but nothing more!"
Foreman gave him a calculating look. "Just because you're colour blind it doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to see that they're so similar it looks as though House decided to play an elaborate hoax on the MOMA by planting a fake in the exhibition and…" Foreman trailed away, looking at Cameron as both had the same thought.
They ignore a flustered Chase who was protesting that he could see perfectly well, and quickly turned to stare at Wilson, who seemed to struggle for an answer. "I don't – it would be something he'd do, but- no. I don't think so. Definitely no. I would know about it."
Of the three, Chase seemed to be the most upset by the idea that his boss hadn't after all indulged in some illegal whim. He frowned at the picture, pursing his lips in a fairly accurate impression of a spoilt child.
"Oh, come on, what's the matter with you now? So maybe Cameron has found House's long-lost great-great-great grandfather, big deal."
Chase stubbornly shook his head. "They're not long-lost relatives! They can't be!"
"Why not?" Finally asked Wilson, "you can't escape genetics."
Chase managed a sort of gurgling noise, then a very unconvincing shrug and a wholly false "who cares" expression.
Wilson narrowed his eyes. "Chase, you're mother's maiden name wouldn't happen to be Palmer, would it?"
Chase visibly pursed his lips, and slowly shook his head.
Wilson cocked his head to the side, as both Cameron and Foreman began to grin, seeing where this was heading. "Ok, what about your grandmother?"
To his credit, Chase managed to restrain his panic to a swift and contained look, but that had been enough.
"Oh my God! She was! You're related to House! Somewhere back then, your ancestors lived in England before emigrating! You have a common link!" Wilson exclaimed immediately, pointing and gesturing expansively. Cameron burst out laughing at Chase's expression and had to sit down. Foreman, while making less noise that the other two, was certainly enjoying the same level of mirth.
House arrived at that moment to find Chase as red as he had ever seen him and Wilson, Cameron and Foreman seemingly in the throes of some pretty good pot.
Wilson went up to him, grinning like a maniac, clapped him on the shoulder and, in a very bad attempt at an English accent, said "this is a good day for you, old chap. Not only do you find your roots, you also earn a nephew."
House looked at the book Cameron was pointing at, raised his eyebrows and read the caption and a bit of the description on the other page before looking speculatively at Chase, who was clearly the only one not inordinately amused by the little spectacle. "Let me guess. You have a Lady Palmer in the family tree? Or even better… please tell me your father was some type of direct descendant who was disowned and had to flee to the colonies and change his name."
Chase, having finally calmed down and having decided that the teasing was unavoidable, rolled his eyes and sat down.
"Better google this Hon. See if the title and the estate are in the proper hands. We could team up and demand our inheritance if not. Then I'll duel you for the whole lot. Pistols at sunrise sound cheesy and traditional enough for you? I'm afraid my sparring skills have quite deserted me after the infarction." House raised his cane and waved it in front of Chase.
Foreman covered his mouth and continued to quietly express his amusement, but managed between snorts to inform House that Cameron had been the first to make the discovery.
House beamed. "In that case… He went to stand in front of her, did a small, gallant bow, took her hand and kissed it. My lady, thank you for re-uniting me with my long lost nephew. You have filled the void a long-lost something inevitably leaves."
Cameron instantly sobered up and blushed. A particular fantasy of hers had just materialized in front of her and she hadn't been prepared for it.
"Look, House, I'm not your nephew," tried Chase reasonably, but shut up at the look of glee that filled House's eyes.
"You don't want me as a relative? I'm hurt." House shook his head, then took the catalogue and slammed it shut abruptly, obtaining silence. "All right, enough chit-chat. We should have a patient in recovery, right? Go check on her."
"Him." Sighed Foreman unnecessarily.
"Whatever, just check them. And take Lady Chatter-ly here and cousin Rob with you. And don't disturb me, I want to reach level seven before lunch today." Replied House, taking his gameboy out and turning his back on them.
Foreman shook his head and went, followed by a slightly offended Cameron who vaguely remembered Lady Chatterley's character from her English classes, but Chase hesitated.
"Oh, go on Robbie. We'll have some tea later and we can catch up. I so want to know how all the family's doing."
Narrowing his eyes, Chase stomped out, leaving House and Wilson finally alone.
"You're never going to let him live that down, are you?"
"What, should I pass up such a great opportunity? My own flesh and blood? How much do you think it cost to hire that costume anyway?"
"Ok- no- wait, what?"
House grinned at him and then pushed his way into his own office and settled himself behind his desk.
Slightly bewildered, Wilson followed him. "You did not."
House gave him his best innocent look, one practised extensively and tweaked to perfection over the years.
"House, I don't believe for a moment that you hired a painter, dressed up and generally went to all that trouble just to tease Chase, ok?"
House nodded. "Ok. But what if I told you I used to go after this gorgeous visual arts major in college and quite misunderstood her when she invited me over to her dorm room to "pose" and it turned out she didn't mean in the nude?"
Wilson's eyes narrowed. "Right. Then she passed it off as an antique-"
"Probably sold it for a hefty sum. I should track her down and demand my share. After all I had to stand there in that ridiculous getup for hours, and we ended up dating only for a couple of months. I feel so used."
"And the name being in Chase's family?"
"An unexpected and very welcome bonus. Or, as the Spanish say, buena suerte. She probably gave it the name of a real lord that lived back then, to lend credibility."
"Really."
"What can I say? I've always liked my women smart. Sometimes it backfires. Very occasionally it backfires but ends up paying back in the long run."
Wilson shook his head, unable to tell if House was telling the truth.
"This could turn out to be useful in any number of occasions. Take Cuddy, for example. I could buy a life-sized poster, give it to her and tell her from now on to call me milord, see how she takes it."
"I wouldn't dare, she'd probably use it to voodoo you into clinic duty. You know, cut a chicken's head and all that."
"Aren't those for love potions?"
"In that case I'd beware of Cameron. For all you know she's bought one and made a little shrine in her apartment, and uses it for all sorts of spells."
"And that's exactly why I have you, my friend: to watch my back. If I start working in the clinic or slobbering after Cameron I trust you to set the Spanish Inquisition on them."
Despite himself, Wilson grinned. "Right. Because "no one expects the Spanish Inquisition", uh?"
"Bit of Old World wisdom, that. As valid then as it is now. I'll need to bone up on my cultural heritage now that I've been… made aware of my lineage. How does a weekend "Flying Circus" marathon sound?"
"It sounds fun, except if you want to, er… "bone up" on some serious culture maybe you should go for something a bit more punishing. We could rent every Dickens movie ever made, interspaced them with what's her name, Jane Austen."
"Tcha! I want to celebrate my roots, not repudiate them so quickly. Besides, what's the point in being English if it doesn't give you the right to gorge yourself on Monty Python at the drop of a hat?"
"House, you're not English."
"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not. There's many things you don't know about me. Besides, everybody lies, and I happen to be a pretty good liar."
House winked, and Wilson sighed. Of everything from their bizarre conversation, the fact that House was a proficient liar was the only thing Wilson could vouch for. As for the rest, well… not even he could be sure. Sometimes with House you just have to take what he says at face value, and accept the fact that there's no way to prove it either way.
Wilson slouched back in the chair, and put his hands behind his head." In that case I'll bring the "ale" if you provide the "crisps", mate."
the end
Author's note: This fic has been sitting on my computer for three months now, while I vainly attempted to look for a beta. If you'd like to beta it please don't hesitate in conctacting me.