It had been a disappointing weekend, even though Gregory House would never have admitted it to himself that he expected anything from anyone, anymore. He wasn't sure what was going on with Wilson. Hadn't he tried to act social by inviting the man to have dinner with him? Hadn't Wilson told him to make an effort - - have a pizza, whatever, and here when I do, he rejects me.
This whole scene was taking place in the corridor, leading to House's office at PPTH. He was just about to use his key to open the door; his flame cane thrown over his wrist so that he could maneuver the door, when he noticed something really strange. First of all, Gregory House was not open to questioning the actions of people around him. They were so much on the periphery of his existence. Well, maybe that wasn't completely true; every once in awhile Wilson managed to batter himself through the walls, but Greg House squinted as he realized that he was actually THINKING about James Wilson!
Not only that, but he was thinking about why James Wilson had been so . . . unfeeling . . . so uncaring about House. He actually seemed to not feel any remorse whatsoever over the gazillion things that Hector had destroyed while under House's tender care. This was James Wilson, the man who felt guilt about everything . . . wouldn't even tell those parents what they needed to hear about their sons . . . what a coward!
Suddenly, House stopped: one thing bothered him that was cerebral - - Wilson had seemed upset when House had said that to him. Oh well, I apologized, didn't I?
The other thing was very real and a thousand times more disturbing: the door to Wilson's office - - the name on it was being removed and another name was being put up!!!
Without giving a thought to the keys in his own office door, House limped over to the man in overalls who was putting up the name, SYLVESTER CRUIKSHANK, MD. Staring at the door for a moment, House blurted out, "Where's Wilson?"
The man in overalls looked at him as if he were crazy. Either that or it could have been because House's voice had increased by several decibels. Finally, the older man shook his head, indicating that he was unsure what House was asking.
Quickly the thought that the man had escaped from the psyche ward crossed the scruffy doctor's mind, but trying to keep his temper, he repeated carefully, "Where's Wilson, the doctor whose name you just removed?"
The custodian shook his head, "Don't know, pal. Don't know this Wilson. Was just told by the head of Maintenance that this was the name that went on the door."
House's blue eyes sparked as he turned to do battle with Lisa Cuddy. The battle turned into a skirmish, however, as Cuddy seemed to be waiting for him. House popped a couple of vicodin and yelled, "Where's Wilson?"
"Calm down, I would have thought he would have told you, but well . . . he's in Boston."
Shore.
Greg House didn't know why that name popped into his head, except that he really did. Several months ago, Alan Shore from a Boston legal firm had needed a consultant in oncology. Wilson had been recommended to him, and the two men had gotten on like a house on fire. (no pun intended) Wilson had spent a few days in Boston then, what was he doing up there now?"
Lisa Cuddy was a clever woman and she could often read the mind of her most troublesome doctor. She had known House during his infarction and she had even made James Wilson a candidate for a possible sperm donation. She prided herself on being able to read what was going on in that friendship. She was surprised, however, when James Wilson came to her last Friday and told her that he had changed his mind. Dave Stevens in Boston had offered the PPTH Oncology Department the chance to present some of its new ideas in a month long seminar. Sylvester Cruikshank had agreed to go, but now Wilson was planning to go instead.
Lisa Cuddy's usual neutral policy between House and Wilson tipped, however, when she thoughtlessly burst out, "What's House going to say about that?"
Cuddy knew there was trouble when the sensuous brown eyes looked at her frostily as Wilson replied, "Who cares? Cruikshank is a good doctor. He can put up with House for awhile."
And so James Wilson had left. And for a month, PPTH had Greg House off the leash while the office next door was occupied with a man the "genius" described as a moron! Lisa Cuddy felt a headache coming on as she explained all of this to House: Wilson was gone for a month and that Cruikshank would be acting in his place, not only as acting head of Oncology, but doing any consults that House needed.
House's blue eyes got a deeper color as he listened, but before Cuddy could finish he whirled and rushed from the office, muttering, "One moron replacing another!"
The armistice held because neither Cruikshank nor House saw each other. Even though their so-called "houses" (offices) were made of glass, they avoided each other completely. Without his ducklings, House did more clinic duty and less diagnosis of patients, but the DMZ was shaky at best.
One week later, Sylvester Cruikshank confronted House in exam room 2. House had been his usual haphazard self in noting some information in his original exam of a patient that had ended up in Cruikshank's care. The conversation had become sarcasm, heated, and personal. Two seconds later: Sylvester Cruikshank was on the floor from a right cross launched by Greg House.
Dr. Gregory House had had recent experience with the inside of a Princeton jail, but this time there was no James Wilson to bail him out. It was fortunate, therefore, that Cruikshank decided not to press charges, perhaps because some of his words involved the Head of Oncology at PPTH, and such slander would not look good on Cruikshank's record.
On the other hand, Lisa Cuddy could not permit her doctors to be brawling so Greg House now found himself on suspension, without pay, for the next three weeks. The time off didn't really bother the pugilist; it was just one more thing to hold against that moron, James Wilson.
End of part 2