Chapter 7:

House walked out of the examination area that he'd left Maria in and went to look for Wilson. He ended up in the exam area that he'd last seen the oncologist in but said man wasn't back yet. Instead he'd found Chase who had apparently been waiting for him.

"Where is he?" House asked hoping to fake nonchalance.

"Radiology then he'll be admitted overnight for observation." Chase answered succinctly. Over 8 years of working with House had allowed him to understand that his boss didn't like fodder, especially when it came to Wilson being injured.

"Damage?" House asked with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

"A hairline fracture of the left cheek and left hand. His right wrist is badly sprained and his right shoulder had been dislocated. He has two broken ribs and several cracked ribs. His right knee had been dislocated, I'm assuming at the same time as his shoulder but it's hard to say. They've got him in radiology right now to determine if he'll need surgery to repair the damage done to his knee and to make sure that all of his other injuries are correct."

As he finished, Chase's phone beeped shrilly. The blond man picked it up with the training House had drilled into him and watched as the message flashed upon the screen. "They're done in radiology but Wilson will need surgery for his knee."

House gave a nod letting the intensivist know that he had heard him. They both knew that the surgery wouldn't be able to be performed right away – not until the swelling had gone down a bit, and so there wasn't any need for Chase to continue his sentence.

"House?" Cameron's soft, hesitant voice called.

House spun around to face her, giving her a look of great impatience.

Hesitant blue eyes turned steel grey with determination. "I've finished examining Maria. She's on her way to X-Ray right now. She'll be kept overnight for observation but she'll be fine." Cameron informed her former boss. "She has four broken ribs and almost every single one is badly bruised. There was no major damage done from the blows to her face or back, just bruising."

"Put her in the same room as Wilson." House instructed, not bothering to correct her that there had been no blows to Maria's back. He knew the bruising was from when she'd landed on the ground but that wasn't important at the moment.

Knowing it was futile to argue that neither one of them controlled those things, both Cameron and Chase nodded then walked away, leaving House to walk to his office on his own.


House's eyes fluttered open with startled quickness. The Mexican Hat Dance on his phone trilling loudly announcing someone calling him. Groggily he picked up his and checked the caller ID. "Yeah?" He asked when he answered his phone.

"Wilson and Maria are both settled in their room," Chase answered.

Something in Chase's voice caught House's attention. "I'm guessing one of them isn't so settled," he led then patiently waited for Chase's agitated sigh which shortly followed.

"We were having trouble keeping Maria in bed so we gave her a low dose of Ativan."

House smiled at the annoyed tone in Chase's tone. He could just imagine the blond standing in the hall with his head down, the dirty yellow hair flopping thickly over his forehead, with his spare hand on his hip.

He knew Maria would be stubborn enough to try to sit by Wilson's bedside instead of staying in bed where she belonged. The Ativan shot didn't surprise him any more than her stubbornness.

"And you need me there to hold her hand?" House sniped.

"No," Chase answered allowing his own agitation to creep into his voice, making his accent thicker, "Wilson is awake. Just thought you'd want to know."

With that, Chase hung up. He wasn't in the mood to listen to House's sniping or snarking today. He was standing by the nurse's desk with his arms across his chest, waiting for House when he arrived.

He gave a smirk when he looked at the time and noticed that House had made down to Wilson's room in less than two minutes, which for a crippled man, was damn fast. Unbelievably, the man really did care about, and dare he say love, Wilson.

House threw Chase a look that clearly said Shut up then walked into the room, sliding the door open and closing it behind him.

Maria lay in bed, sound asleep thanks to the drugs in her system. He limped quietly over to make sure she was doing okay before he made his way over to Wilson's bed.

Wilson lay semi-upright, supported my mounds of pillows, taking the pressure off his injured ribs. His left hand was lightly wrapped and laying on his stomach. The right hand lay propped on a pillow and heavily bandaged. His left knee was splinted and raised on three pillows.

The injured oncologist painfully turned his head to the left where House stood staring. "Hey," he croaked with a wince. His throat was beyond dry and it hurt to talk.

Unable to see the man he loves in any form of pain, House poured Wilson a cup of room temperature water, placed a straw in it and held it up to his mouth.

Wilson gingerly turned his head straight then drank greedily from the cup, relishing in the feel of the smooth liquid trickling down his throat, re-hydrating it.

After he set the cup back down, House grabbed Wilson's chart and scanned it. Chase had apparently left out an injury. Wilson had a mild but still painful case of whiplash which he guessed happened when Daniel had punched him. It didn't surprise him. He thought he'd heard Wilson's neck snap with the force alone.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked once House had sat back down.

House rolled his eyes, "You're the one in the hospital and needing surgery and you're asking me if I'm okay?"

Wilson offered a pained smile, "What can I say? I care."

Unable to stop the laugh that bubbled to the surface, House lightly caressed Wilson's right cheek, careful to avoid the fractured left cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Wilson answered with a sigh, "I'd be better at home."

"Nope, sorry. You're both stuck here over night to make sure you don't have brain damage." House settled back into his chair, placing his feet on the end of Wilson's bed while avoiding contact with the left leg.

"How is she?"

"She'll be fine. I had to force her to get examined then they had to drug her to keep her in bed."

"Why?" Wilson shifted painfully in bed to get a better look at Maria.

"Stay still," House growled warningly. "I already told you she's fine. She wanted to make sure you were okay but her broken ribs weren't having it."

"Broken ribs?" Wilson asked, concern and alarm coloring his tone.

"You're brother packs quite a wallop."

Wilson grimaced, "Don't remind me." Whether the grimace was from pain or the memory House didn't know; he suspected it was from both. "Any other injuries?"

House shook his head in the negative, "Just the broken and bruised ribs and multiple bruising over her back and face."

Wilson nodded sadly. He felt bad that Maria had been injured because of his brother but he knew there was nothing that could have been done to stop him.

Pain seared through his body drawing him out of his thoughts with a pained groan. He turned his head away from House in an effort to disguise the grimace that covered his face though he knew it was futile.

House lowered his feet and stood up to check Wilson's chart once again. He looked at the clock and rolled his eyes. "Bloody incompetent nurses," he cursed as he limped over to the med cart, unlocked it and pulled out Wilson's next dose of meds which were almost an hour late.

Ice flowed through Wilson's veins, calming the fire to a dull, tolerable throb. The tension in his muscles melted like chocolate in a fondue pot and he quickly relaxed into the bed once again.

He looked over to find House still standing within easy reach of the med cart, concern and anxiety in his bright blue eyes. "Thanks," he said, relief warming his voice to thick molasses.

House offered a nod and waited for the heart monitor to slow down before he resumed his position by Wilson's bed. He checked to make sure that Maria was still out before he once again placed his feet on the bed and slouched in the chair.

He grabbed Wilson's left hand gently in his, merely placing it on top of his palm. He noticed with a small amount of guilt as Wilson's face scrunched slightly with pain at the action. When he moved to let go, Wilson's hand closed loosely around his stilling his movements.

"How bad?" He asked his friend.

"I'm fine," Wilson answered with a sigh. In truth he wasn't; his head throbbed dully, his side burned, his knee and wrist throbbed deeply and the hand that House was currently holding ached sharply.

"No you're not. How bad?" House asked, running soft fingers over Wilson's arm.

Realizing that House wasn't going to back down, Wilson decided to just answer the question honestly, "About a 7 before the meds and a 2 after."

House nodded, not pleased with the answer. It took a lot for pain to register with Wilson's mind so the fact that, at worst, Wilson's at a 7 speaks volumes to him. "What still hurts? Do you want more meds? I think I've got some Vicodin here."

Wilson smiled appreciatively, "I'm okay for right now. Everything hurts but it's nothing I can't deal with." When House once again moved to take his hand away Wilson squeezed it again this time much tighter, giving a hiss and groan when it aggravated his injured hand. "Don't," he growled, his voice low with the effort to control the pain racing through his body like thoroughbred horses, "I like it there. Even if I can't do more than just lay on top."

"Isn't that all you do anyways?" House asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Wilson laughed involuntarily, groaning when his side protested.

"Wilson?" Maria's voice called. Her heart monitor began to speed up slowly but surely and House went over to her bed as quickly as he could. She was already easing herself up by the time he got there.

"Lay back down, you aren't going anywhere. Wilson's fine." House admonished, gently pushing her back down. It took more force than he'd like and just as she started to lower herself down, he began to wonder if he should just press on one of her many bruised ribs.

"Just help me sit up," she commanded with a heavy, frustrated sigh.

Realizing it was the only way House was going to get her to stay in bed, he complied. He helped reorganize pillows so that her rib cage was supported as well as her back and head.

She turned her head to look at her friend who lay in the bed to the right of hers. Concerned, anxious and sad honey eyes met pained, tired ones. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Wilson answered with a dismissive wave. He tried to hide the wince the action produced but being surrounded by the two people who knew him the best, it was futile.

"You're in pain," Maria countered. Pain laced throughout her chest making it hard to draw in breath.

"Yeah, that happens when you have broken ribs, a hairline fracture of the hand, badly sprained wrist, and a recently dislocated shoulder and knee which requires surgery to fix." House snapped before his mind reminded him that he wasn't actually that mad at his charge.

Horror widened Maria's eyes to the size of black golf balls. She hadn't realized just how badly Wilson had been injured. "I am so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt."

Before Wilson had a chance to do what he does best and sooth and placate her, House spoke for him, "Then maybe you shouldn't have snuck out so that we'd have to follow you."

Maria collapsed into the bed, resigned to his hatred and anger, both of which were justified. "I didn't want either of you involved." She whispered while fiddling with the blanket threads.

"You were talking to my brother," Wilson interjected angrily, "why shouldn't I be involved?" He attempted to sit up but couldn't manage it without help. House, who had stepped away from Maria's bed and had gone back over to Wilson's, standing in next to him almost possessively, helped raise the head of the bed slowly.

Maria waited until Wilson was settled and as comfortable as he could get before she answered his question. "I had had every intention of bringing you into this but the more I spoke to him and got him to speak to me, I could tell that that would be a bad thing." She paused to take in a deep breath but gasped, groaned and wheezed with the effort. She began again, taking shorter, panting breaths. "Any time he spoke about his brother there was a fury there that spoke of the amount of harm he wanted to cause and I didn't want that to happen," she drew in another wheezing breath, "not to you."

"So you lied and it happened anyways," House concluded, his anger still present but concern creeping in as well. Her breathing was becoming more and more labored which worried him immensely. Sure, she'd had four broken ribs but none of them had had a chance to puncture a lung until they'd been set and bound.

"I didn't lie," she defended angrily. "I told you every time you asked where I was going." Pain shot through her side and her chest squeezed threateningly as she attempted to draw in a deeper breath. She curled her hand around her side and did her best to hold her breath to calm her breathing.

Unbeknownst to her two friends and guardians, she was actually used to having trouble breathing. It was a common occurrence.

"You should have told us so that we wouldn't worry about you." House lectured.

Maria laughed tightly causing her to wheeze even more and cough painfully.

Both House and Wilson waited patiently for Maria's coughing to cease and her breathing to return to normal but after a few minutes neither one happened.

House limped over and held his stethoscope to her lungs, listening to her breath sounds on each side. After listening for thirty seconds, he pressed the nurse button on the bed.

"House, what's going on?" Wilson asked in alarm noting how serious his friend had become.

The nurse entered the room in a light jog, looking between the three occupants to discern what was wrong.

"I need a nebulizer and kit now," House snapped at the awaiting nurse. She ran out of the room to grab the requested items while he grabbed the oxygen mask and turned on the fresh O2. He placed the mask over Maria's mouth and held it there while he instructed her to try and slow her breathing and take deep breaths.

"House, what's wrong?" Wilson asked louder this time while he attempted to shift so he could see what was happening. Pain lanced through every part of his body hot and bright.

"Stay still," House instructed sharply while he continued to hold onto the mask. "She's not getting air to 50% of both of her lungs." He summarized. "I think she's having an asthma attack."

"She doesn't have asthma," Wilson countered arguably.

The nurse re-entered holding the needed nebulizer and began setting it up. By the time she'd finished, House had switched the oxygen mask out for the breathing apparatus attached to the nebulizer.

House waited patiently for the steroids to take effect before he went back over to Wilson's bed and sat down in a chair next to it. "Why didn't you tell us you had asthma?"

"House," Wilson objected but Maria answered after she pulled the breathing tube out of her mouth.

"Because..it…wasn't…important…" She answered panting heavily. She drew in as deep a breath of the medicine as she could before she continued. "I've…had…it….since…I…was…in…third….grade," she paused for another breath, "I…know…how..to…control…it…and…didn't….need…to…bother….you…"

She placed the breathing tube back in her mouth and continued to draw the medication into her lungs. The combination of pain, panting and breathing caught up with her and she collapsed back into the bed in exhaustion.

"It's not a bother," Wilson assured gently.

Maria opened her heavy eyes and looked at him, "Yes it is."