Alex: Points to you! I was wondering why nobody had a problem with Wilson's conduct. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks. (Although Irresponsible!Wilson is actually kind of canon... he did file through the cane, which had the potential to turn out really badly).
Anyhow: enjoy!
House was just graying out when something poked him hard in the stomach. He gasped reflexively, then growled. So much for holding his breath.
"Why can't you just listen to me?"
House shrugged. He really had no answer to that.
"Do you think you're going to somehow leap up out of that chair without my help?"
Maybe.
"Do you think you can actually pierce my heart with your stare? I'm wearing a Kevlar vest under this shirt. I'm told it's very protective."
I'm going for a headshot.
Wilson didn't miss the way the glare flashed to his hairline. "And an invisible Kevlar helmet," he added through grit teeth. "Give it up, House."
Sorry, no can do.
"You know what? Fine. We'll watch TV, while we wait for you to grow up."
House watched TV for as long as he could, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
Almost immediately, there was a hand on his arm. "Hey - it's bad?"
No, never been better - what the hell do you think?
House jerked his head yes."Because this is a bad day? Or because you've been sitting in one position too long?"
House shrugged.
"Both?"
He nodded. Then Wilson came to kneel by his chair and bent down over his foot. House watched, bemused. "Hmm?"
Wilson looked up. "I'm going to cut your leg loose so you can stretch out, okay?" A stool was pulled over, but House couldn't exactly do much about it. Wilson had to lift for him and arrange the limb all by himself. House sat staring at the ceiling, totally ignoring the process because he hated people moving him without his participation.
"Sorry," Wilson said aloud. "Better?"
Yeah. But what happened to this being about YOUR problems?
As if reading his mind, Wilson asked, "Good. Then can we talk now?"
House ignored it, and instead started begging with his eyes for another injection. Wilson frowned. "Okay, I totally miscalculated how much you're taking. I guess I could call someone and have them bring over more…"
"Mm-nn." And explain what the hell is going on here? Just go get it yourself.
"Me?" Wilson correctly interpreted his nod. "What, and leave you here alone?"
Like you just did for two hours?
Wilson shook his head reproachfully. "How irresponsible do you think I am? I'm not you! Look:" He pointed. "Webcam. This morning I was parked in my car keeping an eye on you… and feeling rather creepy about it, by the way." He cocked his head, thinking. "Which really isn't fair, considering I'm positive you're the creep here, not me. All I want is to have a conversation."
Uh-huh.
House rolled his eyes, tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair. Pantomimed writing."No, the whole point of gagging you is I don't want you giving me a piece of your mind," Wilson complained, but got him a pen and pad anyway.
House wrote: Pain meds worth risk to life. Go.
Wilson read it over several times. "Not I'll sue you? Not we're friends, please untie me? You finally get a chance to communicate with your captor… and this is what you come up with?"
House nodded towards the door.
"I can't leave you..."
House fumbled for the pen. Dear Cops: he wrote. Did this to myself. Not Wilson's fault. Please don't arrest him. Tombstone should be in shape of guitar. –G House. He nodded towards the door again.
When the phone in the conference room rang, Foreman checked the caller ID. "Guys, c'mere – it's House."
But when they picked up and put it on speakerphone, there was only a shrill beeping noise on the other end.
They all covered their ears.
"Bad connection," Cameron shouted into the phone. "Hang up and call us again."
They hung up, waited. When House called back they picked up, but again it was only the beeping.
"House?" Chase called over it. "Your phone's broken. Can you hear us?"
Beep-beep-beep. Beeeep-beeeep-beeeep. Beep-beep-beep.
Cameron blinked. "Hold on. Isn't that… an SOS?"
More beeping - a different pattern.
Chase took over. "Wait, wait, House: is that you? We don't know Morse code. Does anybody here know Morse code?" Foreman and Cameron shook their heads no. "Okay… House? Can you hear us? Can you talk?" He was practically shouting into the phone just in case.
Foreman heaved a sigh. "How's he supposed to answer, idiot? If he can't talk…"
"Fine. Two for yes, one for no. Okay, House?"
Yes
."Great. Okay. So you can hear us?"
Yes.
"Is everything okay?"
Cameron hissed "What kind of a stupid question is that?", but after a short pause House answered Yes and she shut up.
"Can you talk?"
No
."Do you need our help?"
Yes
."Are you… in danger?"
Foreman's turn to complain: "What is this – the CIA?"
No.
Foreman had the epiphany: "Do you need help because you were playing some kind of stupid game that went wrong?"
Pause. Yes.
Cameron rolled her eyes. "Before we bend over backwards for you: is this all your own fault?"
Immediately: No.
"Okay: give us a second," Chase said. "Let us pull up a chart or something online, and then you can spell out very slowly what you need us to do."
When Wilson got to the pharmacy, Chase was there signing for something. Be cool. Don't talk to him. But he felt so awkward just standing that he had to say, "Chase, hi."
"Hi," Chase said easily. Then, as if he'd just remembered: "Oh! House says don't worry about his meds – he took care of it."
"He took…" Wilson repeated, mystified, as he was handed the little package he'd called in. He slipped it into his pocket. "When did you… talk to House?"
"He came in a couple minutes ago. Just before you. I think he ran up to his office for something, but he said he wasn't staying long."
"House... came here?"
"Yeah. He said something about you guys playing hooky today? Have fun."
"Yeah... uh... we will." Wilson spent the first few minutes of his return trip wondering how the hell House had escaped and beat him to work. By the time he arrived, though, he had scrapped that idea and was wondering instead how the hell House had managed to convey instructions to his conniving, lying minions. "All right," he demanded as he threw the door open. "How did you do it?"
House nodded towards his pad, where he had already written: ESP. Duh.
Wilson chuckled and wrestled the pen from his hand. "That's it, buster, your talking privileges are hereby revoked. Unless of course you're ready to talk about my wife."
House looked longingly at the pen and Wilson could only imagine the answers he'd come up for that one.
TBC.
Next chapter gets more serious. Let me know what you think so far!
