The sounds of the rings on the curtain that separated Wilson's bed from the next sliding across the metal bar above his bed sounded admitting a rather frazzled looking Lisa Cuddy. Her form fitting jeans were worn over black sandals and atop it lay a white sweater accented by a black necklace. Her frizzy hair was loosely held in a ponytail and her face was clean of any make-up.

"Why Doctor Cuddy, what are you doing here?" House chirped faking cheeriness while being as quiet as he could as Wilson slept on the bed beside him.

"How is he?" she asked ignoring his irrelevant question.

"He's fine, something I told you when I called you to tell you that we would need the next week off," House answered his tone suggesting she really didn't need to be here.

"Well forgive me for being concerned when you call and tell me that my friend, and coincidentally my head of oncology, is currently in the ER after being mugged in my hospital's parking lot." She walked up to the bed, grabbing the chart that lay at the foot of it and perused it for the list of what was wrong with her friend. Pulled muscle in left shoulder, Grade I left wrist sprain, twisted right knee, broken left ankle, and laceration that had already stopped bleeding by the time they'd gotten to him in his back. None were life threatening or life altering but he would have pain with movement until his wrist and knee had a chance to heal more.

"I told you he was fine, what more did you really need to know?" House asked still keeping his voice low. He sat on Wilson's right since the left arm was currently in a sling to give the shoulder some rest and time to heal and his wrist was currently in a brace which would make it hard to hold his hand. It made it harder for him to stretch out on this side but thanks to his long legs and Wilson's injuries being mainly on the left side, it was still manageable.

Cuddy gave a long look at Wilson lying in the bed bruised and broken then returned her look onto House. "I hardly think that," she motioned her head at Wilson's bed, "counts as fine. What did he tell you happened?"

"Nothing," House answered slipping his hand out of Wilson's so he could escort Cuddy out of Wilson's room. He gave a deep grimace when his thigh burned with pain. It had been hurting a lot more than normal this week and today was the first day it had begun to feel a little bit better but it still wasn't tip top. When Wilson had come in injured and, apparently, in shock all thoughts of his own pain had been forgotten, until now.

They'd gotten to the ER relatively quickly thanks to it being late at night and no one was out and House pulled up right in front of the door. He'd gone inside to get a wheelchair, leaving a very tired and pained Wilson in the car trying to nap off the exhaustion. There had been a lot of groaning and whimpering on Wilson's part as he switched from the car to the chair and by the time he was settled there were silent tears trickling down his eyes.

During his trip out of the car and into the wheelchair, Wilson had gotten his foot caught on the foot rest giving the broken ankle a good yank in the completely wrong direction when he turned around to sit down. He'd actually yelled in pain then, tearing House's heart in two along with it.

Thankfully it had been a slow night in the ER and the current attending was able to see Wilson quickly and got him a dose of pain meds that helped to dampen the pain he was in before they wheeled him to radiology to get MRI images taken of his shoulder, wrist, knee, ankle and foot then X-Rays of the ankle and foot before they returned him to the bed in the ER to wait for the scans to come back.

Wilson had been dozing on and off since, barely waking when they came to brace his wrist and put his arm in the sling. They hadn't come to take care of the ankle yet but it was currently elevated on a couple of pillows with two ice packs covering the foot and the ankle.

House hissed when his thigh screamed at him again, his step faltering in response to the pain that radiated throughout his leg and hip. He leaned heavily on his cane for a moment, waiting for the pain to calm then he heard a jump in the heart monitor and turned around to find Wilson slowly waking up.

"House, you okay?" he mumbled sleeping, shifting to try to get comfortable. He looked around and gave a small smile when he saw his boss standing in the doorway. "Hey Cuddy, what are you doing here?"

House laughed at Wilson's question, giving Cuddy a pointed look that she wisely ignored. "House called and said you were in the ER. I was worried and thought I'd come down and make sure you're okay. How are you feeling?"

"Better though I have a feeling that's because of the Percocet currently flowing through my veins." He tried to give a smile of assurance but it quickly turned into a grimace as the pain in his ankle was making itself known. His body stiffened in response to the pain and he growled an, "Ow," out as his right hand rubbed soothingly at his right thigh.

"I'm guessing the pain meds are currently wearing off," Cuddy surmised, walking up to administer more. She was only mildly surprised that House didn't automatically rush to do it at the first hint of pain from Wilson. It wasn't expected at all but it would have been nice to see House show concern for Wilson; she knew that House cared for Wilson but he never showed it, almost making her wish he'd overreact just once and show how much they all knew he loved the oncologist.

Multiple footsteps sounded behind them and Cuddy turned around to see the current attending and a nurse coming towards them. The attending held a splint in his hand and the nurse held a syringe full of something that Cuddy assumed was an anesthetic. She hadn't seen Wilson's ankle because it was currently covered in ice packs but given how much pain the attending wrote that Wilson was in, it needed setting.

"Doctor Cuddy, good morning," Jacobsen greeted as he stepped into the curtained area.

"Good Morning Jack, do you need us to leave?"

"If you wouldn't mind, yes. Not that I think you and Doctor House are in the way but we prefer to do this without friends and family watching, I'm sure you understand." Jacobsen walked to the foot of Wilson's bed while the nurse raised the head. He removed the ice packs, giving Cuddy a chance to see the badly swollen lower leg and misplaced bones in the ankle.

House growled at the fact that he was being kicked out but followed along with Jacobsen's orders and limped over to the nurse desk in the middle of the room, watching from a distance.

"When you called you didn't say how badly the ankle had been broken," Cuddy commented as they watched Jacobsen re-set the ankle with a loud, sickening SNAP and a brief but loud cry from Wilson.

"It wasn't that bad when I'd examined him," House defended almost sounding insulted. "He caused more damage trying to get into the wheelchair when we got here. He's such a klutz."

"So why didn't you help him into the wheelchair so something like that didn't happen," Cuddy asked bristling at how easily House could brush off Wilson's pain. Her hackles lowered slightly when his demeanor changed to defeated, his shoulders slumped, and his cerulean blue eyes turned ice with anger. She knew the answer then and there – he couldn't; he physically couldn't help his friend and lover when he needed it and it was killing him.

Jacobsen chose that moment to come up to them, leaving a once again sleeping Wilson on the bed behind him. "You're welcome to take him home once he wakes up," he told House trying not to sound comforting since he knew the diagnostician hated it. "We've set and splinted his ankle, as you know he'll need to come back in a few days to get a plaster cast set on his leg to hold the bones in place. Until then he'll just need to be very careful while he's moving around – the bones could easily become displaced again if he should be unfortunate enough to catch the foot on something and pull." He focused his attention on Cuddy since he knew she'd need to know this next part. "I wouldn't recommend him returning to work for at least a week though I'd prefer closer to two. It should give his shoulder and knee enough time to heal to be able to support his weight so he can easily get around on crutches."

"Thank you Jack," Cuddy said, dismissing him with ease but still letting him know that he was appreciated. She honestly didn't know if she'd be able to keep Wilson away from his patients for a full two weeks. The only time she'd ever managed to do that was when he'd gotten the LDLT done and even when he had returned he was still in enough pain to keep him fairly immobile. "Do you need help getting him home?"

House had half heartedly listened to Jacobsen's clinical explanations so he'd heard the warning about making sure Wilson was careful of his ankle until they could get the cast on and as much as it killed him to admit it, he would need the help if just to make sure Wilson got into the car with as little pain as possible. Unable to actually form the words, he settled for a nod before scurrying off back to Wilson's side.

Cuddy followed him wordlessly knowing that small admission had hurt his pride and they sat in comfortable silence watching their friend sleep.

They'd been watching for thirty minutes and just as House debated waking Wilson up so they both could go home and get off their feet, the man himself started to stir.

"House?" Wilson called so softly that Cuddy just wanted to crawl on bed with him and hold him like the scared little boy he sounded like.

"I'm here Wilson," House assured gently, using his spare hand to brush the stray hairs off his friend's face. "Are you ready to go home?"

Wilson gave a smile that spoke of pure joy and a little bit of haziness from the drugs he was on. "Home sounds great."

"Cuddy's going to help; gotta make sure you don't hurt yourself again. My ear drums are still trying to recover from the last girlie scream you made." Cuddy could tell House was trying to joke around like he normally would but she could also tell that Wilson just wasn't in the mood right now.

"Like you're one to talk," Wilson countered with a frown, "How about I punch you in the thigh when you don't have any pain meds coursing through you to dull the pain, see how you like it?"

House sobered at his suggestion, his mind trying to determine just how much that would hurt. He'd probably scream, he knew that but he actually thought it hurt more to know that was how badly Wilson was hurting than the pain itself actually did. Solemnly he leaned down and gave Wilson's uninjured hand a soft, tender kiss of apology. "How are you feeling? Do you need more pain meds before we start moving you?"

"I think I'll be alright," Wilson answered as Cuddy raised his bed. He'd appreciated House's gentle apology and not the first time in his life wished that kisses could soothe hurts and heal wounds. If they did, House would have been walking and running and jumping like a normal guy months ago.

They'd started this relationship almost a year ago but it had taken both men a long time to get to the point where they were willing to go further than just heavy petting. Wilson was nervous because while he'd 'made love' to many women, he'd never been with a man and he so desperately wanted to please his partner than he would experience a panic attack every time the subject came up. However House had finally managed to break through his insecurities and assure him that even without practice, Wilson already pleased him – they were just taking things one teensy step further.

House's insecurities Wilson knew all too well. The deformed thigh often brought problems for the diagnostician – it was often the reason the diagnostician chose to have sex with hookers. They were paid to sleep with him no matter what his body looked like so he didn't have to worry about scaring them off.

One night the two men were getting ready for bed, they'd had a busy day and were exhausted so very little had been done when they'd arrived home besides making some small form of dinner then going to bed. Wilson walked into the bedroom to find House already sitting atop the bed in a pair of boxers and a ragged tee shirt. It had surprised him because he knew House didn't like showing his leg off and that's exactly what the boxer shorts did.

Instead of climbing into bed like he normally would, Wilson walked up to House's side of the bed and knelt so that his chest was even with House's legs. He gently ran his hands over the damaged thigh, every once in a while looking up only to find House watching at him intently almost as though he expected Wilson to hurt him. He started with tender massages, wanting to relax not only the muscle that had begun to spasm beneath his touch from its owner tightening it but to relax the owner as well, hoping to assure House that he had no intention of causing him harm.

Once he'd felt the muscle relax, Wilson had bent down and placed several loving kisses upon the long, jagged scar then got up and gave House a long, soulful kiss on the mouth as he brought his body onto the bed so he could straddle the older man, careful not to place too much weight on the thigh.

That was the night he'd managed to show House that he didn't care about the scar or the misshapen 'thing' that was his thigh. He loved it because it was a part of House and he loved House more than he'd ever loved anyone. Sure he wished with all his heart he could heal the damage that had been done and take away the pain his friend was experiencing daily but he knew there was nothing he could do so he settled for taking care of the man as much as he physically and emotionally could.

Stinging pain briefly scorched his back were the knife scratch was currently complaining about the change of position as the skin was stretched, bringing Wilson back into the present and making him wince.

"You okay?" House asked, immediately alert to Wilson's pain.

"Yeah, I was off in La La land and wasn't expecting it that's all," Wilson dismissed easily with a one-shouldered shrug and a half smile. He looked down at himself, at the mess of bandages and bruises then looked at his two friends. "So, how are we going to do this?"

Cuddy immediately left to grab a wheelchair and pushed it as close to Wilson's bed as she could get while still leaving room for him to actually get off the bed. "How strong is your other leg?" she asked, concern bringing her eyebrows together and saddening her eyes. "Do you think you could hold yourself up enough to sit down or should I call an orderly to help?"

Wilson bent his knee testing for pain and range of motion. He didn't really want to have to call an orderly because it would only create more questions for when he got home and it was just him and House alone but he wasn't about to stubbornly try to hold himself up only to fall immediately to the floor and risk causing more damage either.

He received a painful twinge in response to his test but felt confident that he'd be fine. "I think I'll be okay," he answered at last, slowly lowering his most injured leg to the floor then quickly brought his other leg around and began scooting off the bed just enough to put his right foot onto the floor, silently testing how well his knee would hold up with actual weight bearing. When his knee didn't give out immediately, he slowly placed more weight on the leg, wincing when it twinged but soon he was ready to actually stand.

Realizing that Wilson would need help, Cuddy walked over to her friend and silently slid under his left side, wrapping her hand around his waist and holding on for life as he heavily leant against her. Cuddy considered herself a strong woman but Wilson was not a small man. He wasn't fat by any means but he was a solid guy and therefore weighing down her slender frame. Thankfully she'd put the wheelchair close enough so that she didn't have to hold him up for long.

They got him settled into the chair with a lot of noise and no little amount of groaning on Wilson's part. After making sure that his ankle was elevated and resting on top of a pillow, Cuddy quickly pushed her head of oncology towards the exit while her head of diagnostics followed closely behind. Wilson's breath hitched with every bump they hit making her wish the flooring was smooth so she didn't have to hear the pain but they eventually made it outside where House's car still sat at the entrance.

She helped Wilson out of the wheelchair and into the car then turned to House, commanding, "Don't leave," before she disappeared back into the hospital. When she returned the hospital provided wheelchair remained outside Wilson's car door and House had crawled in the driver's side, peering out Wilson's door with impatience burning brightly in his eyes.

Cuddy opened the back door to House's car and placed the two, silver/grey crutches she'd grabbed into the back seat with a loud clunk. She moved up to Wilson's door, checked to make sure that all body parts were inside then shut the door, leaning down as the window was rolled down. "I'm not sure if you can use them right now but you will be able to by the time you come back." She paused, frowning in thought. "Do you want me to put the wheelchair in the trunk?"

"No, thank you Cuddy but I think I'll be okay with the crutches," Wilson appeased with a half-awake smile. In truth he wasn't sure he'd be okay with the crutches but she'd done more than enough for him already and he didn't want her doing any more; he just wanted to get home and if it meant using a sore shoulder, wrist, and knee to do it then so be it.

"I'll call you tomorrow to check on you," she promised with a smile.

"Don't you trust me to take care of our little Jimmy?" House asked faking hurt at her suggestion.

"No, I don't," Cuddy answered easily and truthfully. The innocent hurt look on House's face changed to the real thing. She knew that House was going to take as much care of Wilson as he could but she also knew that right now, that wasn't a lot and Wilson would need to keep relatively still in order to prevent causing further damage to his ankle. Much as she didn't like to admit it but when he was injured, her head of oncology DID seem to be a bit accident prone and she didn't really need that right now and neither did Wilson.

"Good night Cuddy," Wilson said in an effort to ignore the mood change and segue into leaving. "Thanks for your help."

The Dean gave a small smile of assent then stepped away from the car, watching as her two most famous (for different reasons) department heads drove off to their shared apartment. She heard House say, "Bitch," just as he drove off but she let it slide, understanding that he was hurt and upset by her lack of faith but she also knew that later on when he was trying to get to sleep, the diagnostician would come to understand her reasoning for asking and answering the way she did and maybe even admit to himself that she was right.

Gregory House could not take care of James Wilson in the way he needed.

TBC


Sorry for the wait! My brain is becoming fried with all the fics I have going so it's taking me longer to update as quickly as some of you would like. I do promise that this will be updated but it certainly won't be speedy. Don't forget to click that little button below that says "Review" and tell me what you think!