Twice the Man Chapter 4, a house, m.d. fanfic

TWICE THE MAN

Part IV

Summary: Wilson/House centric. Paranormal-ish. Episodic, sort of. Implied character death. Wilson suspects there is something very wrong with House.

Pairing: House/Wilson Bromance.

Rating: General. Some language.

Disclaimer: Gregory House is not mine, dammit!

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Sorry about the delay on this, but I'd rather do it well than quickly. Genie

"Wilson."

Wilson spun at the familiar and commanding voice of his boss. Cuddy was standing right there, almost on top of him, bumping into the stack of files he was carrying and sending them in a cascade to the polished floor.

Bending to help him pick them up, "You're jumpy." She remarked.

He sorted papers into files haphazardly. "Do you blame me? My best friend is on the rubber ward, losing his mind." Wilson didn't mean to snap but he was angry at her for sending House to the sixth floor and angrier at himself for letting her talk him into it. He knew he was being unfair. House seemed just as unstable to him as he did to Cuddy.

"Wilson," They stood up together and she handed him the files she had gathered. "House just might get better up there. That's a good thing."

He nodded, accepting the files and walking away to do his doctor duties. Or House might never be well again. I made him stick an electrode into the only part of his body that still functioned at a hundred percent and now it's misfiring too. His pager beeped for his attention.

Wilson greeted him simply - "Chase?" He knew the young doctor had news for him about House. DNA news; the real deal on Houses' condition; beyond the psychological.

Chase handed his former bosses' best friend the results. "Nothing."

Wilson stared at him, down at the read-outs, then back at Chases' calm expression. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"I mean nothing. There's absolutely no genetic abnormalities for ALS, MS, MD, Huntingtons or any other neurological/muscular disorder. It doesn't mean there can't be anything else going on - we can't test for everything there is - but it does mean there's no genetic predisposition for any of the above."

Wilson held onto that fraction of good news. "So whatever it is, is probably neurological but in the psychological sense."

"Don't know but there's no markers for ALS, or anything similar."

Wilson sighed wearily.

"You were hoping..?"

"Of course not, it's just that, ALS doesn't always show a marker, but it would sure be simpler if it did."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it could still be ALS. But as far as I can tell, House is still just an ordinary, crippled, angry, drug addicted jerk."

Wilson shook his head. Okay, so what the hell is wrong with House? Because House was wrong. His intuition, instinct or his bizarre and brilliant mind wasn't just off, it was way off. So House was sick, just not sick the way they had thought.

The universe does have a sense of irony - House would turn out to be the man no one could diagnose.

Chase nodded. "I'm sorry." He said in that inflection that meant Them's the breaks. Chase walked away. His job was done.

Wilson held onto the print-out in his hand with a tight fist. The results said a lot, but not everything. It was time to see Duhlman and get the low down on Houses' high flying mind.

House watched Hadley move around the room.

"You lost the bet, huh?"

"What?" She asked, stopping her wandering by his left bed railing.

"To make the token visit to the crazy boss. You lost."

"I came because I wanted to."

"Sure."

"Doctor Cameron asked me to come." Hadley admitted. "She's got her hands full this week covering for another Doctor. But I don't mind."

House shrugged. "This place isn't so bad. Three squares and if I play sick, I get a sponge bath.' He pointed to the end of his bed. "Check my chart. I've been on good behavior and I want to know what's for lunch."

Hadley retrieved the single paper clipped to the end of Houses' bed. "Chicken cutlet, whipped potatoes, peas and apple Jell-O."

"Wow." House said. "I really hate this place." He looked away to ask the next question. "Wilson still mad at me?"

"He was never mad at you."

"Stuck me in here."

"That's because he especially cares, not that you deserve it."

"If everyone always deserved it, caring would never be especial. How's the kid?"

"Stable but no different. His family's with him."

"So - he's worse."

"We're missing something."

"Ya' think?"

"Kutner thinks it's an allergy."

"Kutner's an idiot."

"Doctor House - " Psychiatrist Doctor Duhlman began his verbal list with a great sigh.

Wilson could imagine the battle of wills that had occurred between the two physicians since Houses' admittance several days previous into Duhlmans' world. The psychiatrist looked haggard.

" - is a royal pain in the neck." Duhlman continued "He's egotistical and self-centered. He displays outrageously inappropriate humor including bigotry. He is also defensive and though he wouldn't admit it, I believe he displays many of the classic behaviors of an adult survivor of childhood physical and perhaps even psychological abuse. He refused all cognitive therapies and juggled his food including," Duhlman looked especially perturbed, "the pudding. In short he is, in my medical opinion, an enormous ass."

Doctor Duhlman closed the thick file in his hand, leaned back and shifted his posterior into a more comfortable position on his important looking, padded chair. "However the one thing he is not is crazy."

Sitting across from him with a certain expectation of dread Wilson blinked, not sure he'd heard right. "Not crazy? But-"

Duhlman opened the file again and turned to the psychological profile he had painstakingly gathered and tested out for himself. "Though you may or may not realize it, Doctor House is, despite his childish antics and rude behavior, a rare genius. His ability to retain and associate divergent information - to bring together seemingly opposing ideas into a cohesive sense, is extremely un-usual." Duhlman explained not without admiration.

"We already know he's smart." Wilson insisted.

Duhlman removed his glasses thoughtfully, replaced them and read directly from the file. "His innate intelligence combined with his very obvious extensive and diverse education makes him almost a savant, particularly where his specialty is concerned. Although it appears that he is able to make leaps of logical based on intuition alone, he does in fact utilize the many facets of his brain, both logical and abstract to reach the correct conclusions. That combined with very astute observations of human psychology and his twenty or more years as a physician makes him for lack of a better description, a born Diagnostician."

"So you're saying he's too smart to be nuts?"

Duhlman addressed Wilson. "Not hardly." He said frankly. "I'm saying such a person is often perceived by others as a little off-balance and such observations are often correct. House is an eccentric individual and without a doubt an emotionally isolated man. He acts insane. He's a man who gives all the appearances of someone who now and again, loses touch with reality, sometimes intentionally in my judgement, but is he in fact crazy? No."

"But the hallucinations, the talking to himself, the violent rages - the clumsiness?"

"Yes, the clumsiness." Duhlman frowned. Wilson got the impression he had insulted the doctor in some way. "Taking into account the pain Doctor House lives with daily, the pain med's which naturally exert some influence over his bodies motor controls, and that he is forced to amble with a pronounced limp, is all anyone would ever need to be occasionally clumsy. And, other than being somewhat unsteady on his feet, House actually moves very well for a man with such a disability." Duhlman brought that part of his lecture to a hard close with a clearing of his throat.

Wilson could almost hear the unspoken you idiot! with his name on it. "I k-know House has pain-"

"-a lot of pain, Doctor Wilson." Again Wilson heard the unspoken chastisement sent his way via Duhlmans' quiet manner. You're an oncologist, Duhlman seemed to be implying. How can you not understand what pain can do to a person? "Pain can alter perception, do odd things sometimes to ones' mind. The cumulative effects of chronic pain, fatigue, over-work, stress, all of it can lead to what I think Doctor House is suffering."

"What is he suffering?"

"Why depression of course."

Again Wilson heard the idiot! He suddenly felt lost. "House says he isn't."

"Well, naturally he would deny it."

"Why deny it? Why not get help?"

Duhlman suggested quietly, "Perhaps he's afraid he would be locked up?"

Duhlman, in a gesture of forgiveness to his rather dim-witted visitor, leaned forward again and finger-fiddled his thick glasses. "Doctor Wilson, whatever is causing these other symptoms," Duhlman continued, "they are not the result of any psychological disturbance that I can determine. In my opinion their origin is purely physical."

While Wilson chewed over the frustratingly opposing results of Chase and Duhlmans' tests, Duhlman flipped to near the end of the thick file in his hand. "My conclusion is," Duhlman read his own words aloud: "that because Doctor House has suffered a recent and very serious head injury and has struggled with ongoing health issues for many years, not least of which is an addiction to prescription pain medications and, according to his fellow physician Doctor Wilson, has attempted suicide twice within the last two years..." Duhlman removed his glasses again and extemporaneously summed it up. "Could House use some counseling? Absolutely. He's depressed, possibly even clinically so, but he's not crazy."

Wilson rubbed his temples.

Duhlman added thoughtfully, "There is one possibility - a way to account for the hallucinations - the visions if you will..."

Wilson attempted to massage away the headache behind his eyes. "Yes?"

"Palinopsia. It's a visual disturbance that causes an image to persist to some extent, even after its corresponding stimulus is no longer present. Most people with normal vision experience this at one time or another. You've probably done so yourself - looked at an object or photo under bright light, your mind then seeing the negative after-image of that object on a wall?"

Wilson nodded.

Duhlman held out one raised palm of warning. "Now, remember this is just a possibility, but a person with a severe type of Palinopsia experiences this effect to a significantly greater degree, to the point where the images become difficult or impossible to ignore. This often results in mild to severe anxiety and/or depression or it can develop as a result of brain injury and the confusion, the sense that one is seeing things can convince a person he is losing his mind or convince others that he is. Because of the stress this can bring, the disorder itself can become a causal factor in depression."

"House would recognize it if he was experiencing Palinopsia. The things he is seeing and hearing he insists are real."

"If not for his recent very serious head injury, I would agree that it is unlikely Doctor House is confabulating false memories from real memories but I would also encourage you at this point, Doctor Wilson, not to rule it out as a possibility. From the medical file Doctor Cuddy provided, it is clear that physically Doctor House is a mess. He is only just recently gaining back some relative health. It is certainly possible at least that he's experiencing sensory hallucinations that all seem very real to him."

"But he displayed nothing of the kind until lately."

"He may have been hiding it. Or it may not have manifested itself to this extreme degree until now. Trauma, by the way, is also a causal factor in this type of visual hallucinations - feelings of terrible confusion can surface. You must understand, Houses' on-going pain, the vehicular accident, which he is probably reliving nightly during sleep, these kinds of traumatic episodes often have long term physical and psychological consequences - ones often dismissed by the medical community.

"In Houses' case, it may not be Palinopsia at all, it may simply be some residual photo-manifestations of the traumas in question, coupled with pain, stress - it is not all that unusual for a crash victim to get memories mixed up in his head. House could be confusing events of that day and those that followed with things happening now. The human brain is a remarkable machine but it is vulnerable. Once physically damaged, that damage is irreversible."

Wilson nodded, accepting Duhlmans' gentle insistence that he was probably a grand idiot for not considering any alternative other than House going crazy while they watched. "So he's messing up his memories and maybe seeing things that were there but now aren't?"

"Possibly and, if so, technically they're not hallucinations. Some of those memories might simply be too painful for him to face."

"He might be hiding from something?" What to House would be worth hiding from? Wilson asked himself.

"Perhaps from things he doesn't want to see. So the question is: What is it Doctor House is so desperately trying not to see?"

Wilson could only guess but all he knew is they were back to square one. House was at the very least, emotionally ill and they had no idea to what extent.

Duhlman continued. "But as far as his mental state, he's as fit as you or I, and so I'm releasing him. I have written him a 'script for Seconal to help him resume a more normal sleep pattern. My advice to you is to have Cuddy grant him a leave of absence, keep an eye on him and make the man get some proper rest. Then if we need to, we can go from there."

Wilson took a deep breath and entered Houses' room. House was already in his jeans and was pulling a tee-shirt over his head. Before Wilson could say a word, House said, "Yeah, I'm sprung."

"Duhlman told me."

"Did he also tell you I'm not crazy?"

Wilson nodded, feeling a little guilty but his worry over Houses' sensory confusion or auditory hallucinations or the combination of the two that House had experienced were still cause for worry. "Any more hallucinations?"

House threw dagger blues at him. "Oh, you're a piece of work."

"It's a simple question, House."

House pulled on his sneakers without lacing them up, the laces having been removed by the orderlies for safety reasons. "Duhlman's almost as annoying as you but he was easier to get rid of."

Wilson asked, "Did you lie to him? Is that why he's setting you loose so soon? Did you agree to counsel or shock therapy because honestly, House, we can't tell anymore whether you're crazy or just a pathological liar - and I'm not sure which is worse."

"I'm going on a bender - "

"Terrific. Perfect way to help yourself: get shit-faced and vomit all over your car." Wilson looked at his shoes and folded his hands in front of him in a subconscious plea for House to stay or listen. It was all he had left. "House, we had good reason to be concerned - you were talking to yourself."

When Wilson looked up again, House was already gone. "And now me too."

Kutner called. "House, the kid's way worse."

"You mean worse than just a minute ago or worse over night?"

"Just a minute ago, actually."

"So I have time to stop on my drive in? H won't die in that time?"

"Yeah, I mean no."

"I'll bring bagels. Low-fat for you, right?"

House tossed the bag of bagels at Hadley but with a nod at Kutner. "Don't give the weight challenged guy more than one."

"I'm not fat." Kutner protested.

"Right. I may look tall, but you're just sitting down."

"Jerk." Kutner remarked.

"See? I just needed to prove the point that I'm perfectly normal." House said while pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Kid?"

Taub said, "He's like his doctor - not normal. His heart rate spiked an hour ago and we're keeping it near normal with esmolol hydrochloride but now he's developed a rash."

"Fever?"

"That among other things is why the parents brought him in but the fever's gone."

House stared, amused, as the pagers for all three of his underlings beeped. Taub read his aloud. "Kid's fever is back."

"And his heart rate's rising again." Hadley added.

"Mmmm." He reached out and snatched Kutners' bagel from his fingers. "Breakfast can wait. Get a blood gas test and scratch him."

"Scratch him?" Kutner wasn't up on all of Houses' particular medical short-hand.

"Poke a lot of holes in him and see if he itches, swells, rashes out or hurts. And when I say hurts, I don't mean because of the holes."

House waited thirty minutes then followed them, munching on his second bagel.

Kutner looked annoyed when House entered, half eaten bagel in hand and the bag in his other.

"When you buy them, you get to decide who eats first." House said. "Blood gas?"

"Within normal range." Taub answered. He had a stethoscope against the unconscious boy's thin chest.

Taub said "Heart rate's one-fifty-two."

"That's high, even for a kid his age." Hadley said. She had the boy on his side and was busy with the allergy test. "No reaction so far."

House nodded. "Any visiting friends? Favorite toys? Girly stuffed animals?"

"No one's been here but the family."

"Are you sure they didn't bring in anything?"

Kutner and the others exchanged glances. Hadley spoke for them, "No, but so far the scratch test is giving all negative results."

"Wow, you're quick." House looked at Kutner. "See that? It's because she's thin."

"I may look fat, but only because you're skinny." Kutner answered evenly, recognizing from his short experience working under him that House was bored with the case and was trying to amuse himself.

"Touche." House said. "Finally."

"Touch-ed."Kutner muttered back. "His sister's been the most frequent visitor."

"Is that supposed to mean someth-?" House stopped. "Tell me you checked whether or not she was sick?"

Hadley shook her head. "We already thought of that."

"Did you think he might have an allergy to her?"

"Person to person allergies are extremely rare." Taub said.

"Rare means few and far between, it doesn't mean never. If it did, you would have no cause to say rare. Hey- Mister Big Boned." House tossed the bag of bagels to Kutner. "Get the sister in here. Check him against her sweat, saliva and any other bodily fluids they might have exchanged. Kids still play doctor these days, don't they?"

"How's the patient?" Cuddy asked. House watched her seat herself at his desk, across from him. "And by patient, I don't mean Elvis."

"Elvis isn't a patient anymore. And by Elvis I mean me - which I wouldn't have been to begin with if any of you idiots had just listened to me."

"We did. That's why you went to Psyche'. And I meant your actual patient - the boy?"

"He's better. Allergic to his sweet sisters' sweat. Increased heart-rate, swelling, rash and fever. Easy to see it if you look in the right place and by that I mean not at the patient. No one else caught it because he had a sickness with no obvious cause. See what I did there? I spoke about him but again I actually meant me."

"He's getting treatment."

"He's actually sick." House leaned back in his chair. "He was sick, but she was the patient. Weird, huh?"

Cuddy didn't smile. "Are you all right?"

House was staring passed her, beyond her to something she did not see. Not the way he seemed to see things. Not the way House thought of things. Cuddy could almost discern the lightbulb popping into view above his head. House was having one of his wide-eyed moments of revelation. "He was sick but was not the actual patient." He muttered.

"You already said that."

"I know." House looked back at her and Cuddy was shocked to see the transformation in his expression. Smugness to shock in two seconds flat. "Elvis lives."

"What?"

"And he never left the building."

XXX

Part V ASAP