CHAPTER 4
Wilson unlocked the door to the loft and flicked on the lights. Angel let House in before her, and then gazed around the loft. "It's beautiful! Wow," Angel grinned. "I wouldn't know what to do with so much space," she laughed. House's piano caught her eye. "Oh House….your piano is magnificent. Maybe…you'll play something?"
House wasn't pleased when Wilson told him Angel was coming for dinner. Trouble was, he wasn't sure why. She was working well, though asked a lot of questions. Kept to herself for the most part. Her wardrobe was a bit, well, alluring and House had to remind himself that she was his employee and…well, whatever she was to Wilson. Was that it? Her relationship with Wilson?
"Maybe. My leg hurts and I'm tired," House replied a bit on the surly side.
House's attitude didn't improve any during dinner while Wilson and Angel chatted and laughed over things House just wasn't interested in. Angel tried to include him in the conversation but he wasn't in the mood. Before dessert, he abruptly announced he was going to bed, bid a curt goodnight to them and went down to his room.
Angel looked a bit dismayed. "James, I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have come." He put his hand over hers and smiled.
"Don't mind him. Just takes time for House to get used to people." Wilson was a bit irked at House's manners but it wouldn't do any good to try to deal with him tonight. "Hey, how about we relax on the couch?"
Wilson poured some wine, turned on some music, and the two of them curled up on the couch together. Angel's heart fluttered; perhaps his shyness at the hospital had simply been that—afraid to show affection at work. Halfway through their glasses of wine, Wilson was feeling relaxed and began kissing Angel's neck. His hands began to roam over her body as her lips met his, enjoying the warmth and taste of the wine on his mouth. Wilson slowly began to unbutton her blouse, kissing her skin as she moaned softly.
"Wilson!" The two of them jumped. Angel started rebuttoning her blouse. Thankfully House didn't come down the hallway. "I need you for a minute." Wilson took that as a sign he needed morphine.
"I'll be right back." He kissed Angel's head, then grabbed his bag from his room and went into House's bedroom.
"Morphine?" Wilson rolled out his meds. House sat on his bed, glaring.
"No. How about some earplugs though? I have to live here too, you know. Can't you two….do that…somewhere else? It's bad enough you had her over for dinner." House grumbled like a petulant child.
"First off, this is our loft. You are free to invite someone over just as I am. And for Pete's sake….turn on the TV or radio," Wilson replied, flustered that House had heard them making out.
"Ok, I do want the morphine. But she better not be here in the morning," House continued to growl. Wilson refused to respond. He gave House his injection and shut the door without a word.
By the time Wilson got back out to the living room, Angel was asleep on the couch. Wilson stood and watched for a moment, noting how lovely she was, though he was a bit concerned with how pale she continued to look. Gently he covered her with a blanket and sat at the end of the couch.
Angel began to mumble in her sleep and toss a bit. Wilson thought this was a bit cute until a frown covered her face. "Connor….Connor, where are you? Please come back…." The pleading sound in her voice gave Wilson a lump in his throat.
He knelt next to her and softly shook her. "Angel? Wake up, you're just having a bad dream," he said, trying to comfort her. Slowly she blinked her eyes, a bit disoriented.
"James….what….did I fall asleep?" He nodded, her cheeks got pink. "Oh I'm so embarrassed." She softly laughed and sat up. Wilson sat next to her. She noticed an odd look on his face. "What is it?"
"You….were talking in your sleep. I think you were having a nightmare. You kept saying the name Connor." At that word, Angel went from pale to white and began trembling head to toe.
She stood up, flustered and began to cry. "James I need to go, I'm sorry, but I have to leave." He tried to take her arm, but she pulled it away, walking backwards to the door.
"Angel, wait, I don't understand, what is it? What's wrong? Please talk to me. At least let me drive you home," Wilson tried to reason with her. Her sobbing got louder and she seemed more disoriented than before.
"What the hell is going on?" yelled House from down the hallway. Slowly he limped out to see Angel having a complete meltdown and Wilson frantic to stop her from leaving.
When Wilson's attention shifted briefly to House, Angel ran out the front door. "House, not now!" Wilson ran his fingers through his hair, and then saw her coat and cane. "Damn." He grabbed his coat and car keys, then her belongings.
"Just where do you think you're going?" House snarled. "She's obviously a nutcase."
"I'm not going to let her wander around out there, especially without a coat. I'll be back….later." Wilson's irritation with House quickly faded as he drove the streets slowly to her apartment, watching the temperature dipping.
Angel ran from their building, tears blurring her vision and burning her cheeks. At first she just wandered, not caring where she was or what happened to her. But when she heard the church bells chime, she knew where she had to be.
Angel couldn't remember the last time she'd been here. The gate here was never locked, so she slipped in and wandered to the back. Even in the dark, she knew where he was. When she arrived, her legs gave out and she slumped to the cold ground. "Oh my baby," she whispered, new tears falling, now feeling like ice.
Her shaking hand reached out and traced the letters etched in the small black marble headstone:
Connor Ethan Hoffman
February 28, 2004-March 14, 2007
My Beautiful Guardian Angel
Mama Loves You
"Oh Connor, I'm so sorry, baby." Angel wept until she felt like her heart would just stop from the pain. She wished it would. She put her head down, curling up. The cold started to hit her, making her teeth rattle but she would not leave him. Between crying herself into exhaustion and the dropping temperature, Angel felt sleepy. She closed her eyes, wishing she could be reunited once more.
Wilson got to Angel's apartment with no sign of her anywhere. Something was terribly wrong and he had to find her. Though he didn't see a light on in her apartment, Wilson knocked anyway. "Angel? Are you there? It's James. Please let me in, let me know you're ok." His heart was pounding.
The door across the hall opened and an elderly woman peered out suspiciously. "What are you wanting with Ms. Hoffman?" the small woman bristled with a thick Irish brogue.
"I...I'm a friend of Angel's and she was very upset when she left my place and I'm trying to find her. I'm just worried about her. I work with her at the hospital," he added, hoping that would garner favor, and it did. She introduced herself as Mrs. O'Reilly.
"Oh! You're the one she talked about! I haven't heard her come home though," she replied, a flash of worry crossing her face. "I try to help her out, she has no family, but she wouldn't even stay over after they shut her heat off." She tsked like a mother hen.
"Wait…..what? They shut off her heat? When?" Mrs. O'Reilly told him last Saturday…the morning he'd been here…and she'd never said a word all week. No wonder she looked so worn out.
Wilson handed her a business card. "When she gets home, no matter what time it is, would you please call me? I'll feel better knowing she's home. And don't worry about her heat—I'll take care of it," assured Wilson, who got a hug from Angel's neighbor.
Wilson drove slowly back home, willing to find her, willing for his phone to ring. He fell asleep on the couch somewhere around midnight, exhausted with worry.
Somewhere around 2a.m. Wilson's phone rang. It was Mrs. O'Reilly.
House awoke to the sounds of Wilson rapidly grabbing a bag of things. "Wilson?" He blinked at the brightness of the lights.
"Angel's on her way to PPTH via ambulance. Her neighbor just called. Angel collapsed outside her apartment door and was unresponsive. I'm on my way there." Wilson replied wearily. House grabbed his arm.
"Don't. She's not your project. And she's not your patient." House tried to reason with him, but Wilson would have none of it.
"House, I care about her. And whether you like it or not, I'm worried and want to make sure she's ok. I'll probably be staying the night so you'll have to take the bus to work." And with that, Wilson left.
Wilson phoned ahead to PPTH to expect a hypothermia patient en route in need of external warming; he'd meet them in the ER. They were taking her out of the rig as he pulled up. Wilson ran over to her; were she not breathing, he would assume she had already died. The pallor on her face was frightening; her lips blue, her hands colder than ice.
Wilson stood back and let the ER docs work on her, answering questions on her meds, and what he knew of her behavior before she left. They placed warming blankets over her combined with hot water bottles around her extremities. They also added warmed saline in her IV. Wilson knew it was just a matter of wait and see. There didn't appear to be any damage to fingers, toes or organs; Wilson said a silent prayer of relief. As soon as she was stabilized and her body temperature back in the normal range, they moved her to a room. Wilson settled into a chair by her bed and softly stroked her hair.
"James?" A soft raspy voice woke him; he opened his eyes to see Angel's, looking around confused.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, relieved, kissing her hand. "It's ok; you're going to be ok. You're at PPTH. Do you remember what happened?"
Angel struggled to clear the cobwebs from her thoughts. Dinner at James' place…Connor...oh God, Connor…Angel started to hyperventilate, setting off her monitors. Wilson rubbed her hand, trying to calm her, but finally resorted to a sedative. She was calmer, but continued to cry.
"Angel, whatever it is…please….I can't bear to see you like this," Wilson kissed her cheek.
"You'll hate me….I can't….." The rest of her words became incoherent sobs. Wilson gave her more sedative; slowly her words made more sense, though he could see how numb the medication was making her.
It's probably a relief, he thought. "Angel, who's Connor? I promise, I won't hate you. You can trust me," Wilson looked into her eyes, stroking her cheek.
She looked away; Wilson decided not to push anymore right now. But then she began softly, "Connor….was my son." She looked back at him, a faraway look in her eyes. "He died 3 years ago. He would have been six."
Wilson felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He held her hand as she continued. "He got sick, and it was nothing and then….it got worse." She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. "I didn't have insurance, and the hospital wanted me to pay up front. I went to my boss and begged him but….he didn't have that kind of money sitting around." Angel's chest heaved feeling the pain fresh as if it were yesterday. "He died in my arms, and it's my fault."
Wilson felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "It wasn't your fault. No hospital should ever deny anyone treatment. I know we don't. But all these years you've blamed yourself….Oh Angel." He wrapped his arms around her, she pushed him away.
"I was his mother! I should have done everything to save him and I didn't! You should hate me," she sobbed into her hands. Wilson gently took them and felt his own tears fall, for her, Connor, Amber, and for himself.
He wrapped his arms around her once more; she was too exhausted to fight it. "Of course I don't hate you….but…what about your family? Connor's father? Didn't they help you see it wasn't your fault?" He felt her entire body tense, and looked at her face. She looked…afraid?
"I left home when I was 15. Started out bussing tables at…..at a strip club. I was stripping by the time I was 16. I was good at it, but I was young and stupid and didn't think about things like saving money. I got my GED, took some business classes….One night I was leaving and a prominent customer wanted a private show. I politely declined and……" Angel's voice choked up, she had to fight to catch her breath. "He threw me down and raped me behind a dumpster. By the time I found out I was pregnant….I wanted Connor." Angel gave Wilson a sad smile.
"That's why you didn't want the police the other day….." Wilson asked. She nodded, looking down.
"Back then, the cops would have laughed if I had reported it. My boss was kind; he made sure this guy stayed away from me when he came to the club." Angel shuddered.
"I had to stop stripping…I wanted a better life for my son. So I started working in the office. But a lot less money….and well you know the rest." She fell silent. Wilson felt sick to his stomach. So much he didn't know about Angel's life, but what he did….and yet, she was kind, sweet and loving. The horrible things in her life hadn't made her hard and calloused to the world.
"I'm….so very sorry about your son, Angel. No one should lose a child, and never that way. We have…grief counselors if you ever need to talk to someone…." Angel shook her head, looking scared.
"You're the first person in my….new life…that I've ever told. After Connor died, I drifted around, doing odd jobs, until that last medical job. But I stayed to myself. Look…I know I lied a bit on my resume and I promise I'll tell Dr. Cuddy the truth, but please, let me do it," Angel asked, her eyes begging him.
Wilson caressed her cheek. "Absolutely. Though considering the circumstances, I don't think it will matter to her."
"So…when can I get out of here? I have to work and don't want to run up any more bills," Angel looked at the clock and fidgeted nervously.
"Whoa there, you need to rest today. And don't worry about the bills; they'll work it out so they take a little out of your paycheck at a time." He saw Angel bite her lip and held back saying anything about knowing her heat had been shut off. "Everything will be ok." She looked up and smiled, but fought to stay awake. Wilson had slipped a bit more sedative into her IV; he wanted to make sure she was absolutely stable before going home or, god forbid, going back to work.
"Ok," Angel submitted, yawning.
Wilson smiled, came over and gave her a long, warm, lingering kiss that she felt to her toes. She wrapped her good arm around his neck and kissed him back, adding her tongue and teasing his.
Neither of them saw House looking in the room, glowering. He was cold, he'd had to take the bus, and his leg hurt. He was really pissed off.
