Disclaimer: Just playing with my House and Wilson dolls.
Beta: My sincere thanks to leakey_lover for her awesome suggestions and quick beta fo this fic.
Wilson could turn silence into an art form.
After his earlier twitching and fidgeting while waiting to see Danny, Wilson's face was now a stony mask that rivaled the Presidents' carved on Mt. Rushmore. His hands solidly gripped the steering wheel as he guided his car down the New Jersey Turnpike.
Other than Wilson huffing "Ready?" when he returned to the waiting room, not another word spilled from his mouth.
And House, on a high from solving the case, hadn't realized until now that he might as well be communicating with the North Koreans for all the response he was getting.
"Wilson?"
Rubber vibrated against asphalt.
House waved a hand in front of Wilson's eyes. "Is anybody in there?"
The brown eyes grimaced under heavy brows, the mouth pressed together in a thin line before he growled…
"Heard you. Doege-Potter syndrome."
Wilson was definitely not in a talking mood. He'd spent a long time with his brother and returned with his hair wet, his coat spattered. Had he splashed water on his face in anticipation of a long drive home, or to wash away any traces of tears? Was he frustrated with Danny or House?
House fell silent and considered what he was willing to listen to. "How did it go?"
"Not tonight, House. Just drop it." Wilson's words were like a lit cigarette between two lips. Smoldering with a trace of menthol.
Another ten minutes of silence and House's fingers began tapping a rhythm on the armrest. He turned on the radio.
The speakers flooded the interior with a coloratura's flute-like warbling. Before House could identify the aria, Wilson's hand smacked the button, muzzling the singer.
House's curiosity was peaked. "Thought you said, 'death to opera.'"
"What I said exactly was 'death to monster trucks.'" Wilson added under his breath, "Mimi's already dying."
"You said you hated opera—" House was cut off as Wilson blasted the radio. A consumptive Mimi vibrated the very air House breathed.
House never guessed Wilson listened to opera. What else could the Master Evader be hiding? How much had Wilson leveled with him? After the denial about monster trucks, using encrypted files, and game playing with Taub, the human ping-pong ball, could his friend's guileless act in the waiting room be…nothing but an act? A sop to House's curiosity.
House could not come to a definitive conclusion, and he hated uncertainties. He was absorbed in this latest paradox until the car suddenly pulled up to the curb in front of his apartment house.
Wilson pivoted in his seat as he spoke. "We'll talk tomorrow."
Picking up the sound of rattling pills, House instinctively moved his hand to pat his pocket, but he stopped midway.
Wait.
He hadn't moved. Wilson had.
Wilson seemed oblivious, other than his interest in watching House leave his car.
House looked down at Wilson's coat. An amber vial was making an escape from a twisted pocket.
Wilson caught the trajectory of House's eyes, and his hand quickly dove down, shoving the pill container back into its hiding place.
Wilson turned into the Pied Piper of geniality and understanding. All brusqueness gone from his voice. "Don't get your hopes up. There's no mystery. I picked up what I thought was an empty bottle of Danny's pills. His doctor suggested I get a generic prescription from our pharmacy."
He punctuated the remark with the release of the door locks. "Goodnight, House."
"Goodnight, Wilson." House nodded and leaned on his cane as he went up to the door. He turned around as he heard his best friend speed away.
For one instant, he'd seen the white label glow in the lamplight.
The patient's name was Wilson, but not Daniel.
And the doctor's name was "J. Gonzales."
*
~fin~
Thank you for reading. All comments welcome.