Chapter 7: Anatomy of Apathy

Disclaimer: I don't own House MD. All rights go to David Shore and the Fox Production company.


Wilson stared blankly at House. He realized too late that his mouth had been hanging open. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought that comment had come directly from the old House. But, of course, the unusual sound of his voice coupled with the fact that House was about as prone to admitting to his own short comings as he was to reading to the blind, reminded Wilson of the situation at hand. Wilson quickly closed his mouth.

"You..." Once again Wilson found himself debating whether to soften the truth. Everybody lies. A sardonic voice said in the back of his mind that sounded eerily like House. No. I won't lie to him. He wouldn't lie to me! Not about this, anyway. He reminded himself once more. "Yeah. You were an ass." He said in a low voice. "But you were more than that."

"It doesn't sound like it." House commented, his eyes looking distant. He was now aware of the scrabbling of Dr. Hennessy's pen, and glanced in her direction. Her brows were furrowed as she read over what she had just written. He wondered what the young psychologist would have to say when they exited House's room.

"House, you have to understand... like I said before, you were a genius. Absolutely brilliant. You were the best doctor in this hospital. You could solve cases that no one else could solve, you could see connections where other people just saw blank space. Your mind had a knack for solving impossible puzzles and enigmas."

"And your brain wasn't the only thing that was good about you. You were witty and sarcastic, and you always managed to make me laugh, at least. You weren't a... terrible friend. We had a lot of good times, and you were generally fun to be around. You were spontaneous, I've known you for twenty years and you still have the ability to surprise me." Wilson realized after this that he had unfortunately run out of nice things to say about House. Some friend I am. He thought, loathing himself in that moment, but continuing none the less.

"But, yeah... you were an ass. You mocked everyone. Co-workers, friends, anyone who didn't live up to your twisted idea of integrity. You were arrogant, and had a superiority complex that made you treat almost everyone around you like their lives weren't even worth living. You were brutally honest, the idea of handing someone a comforting lie, or letting them take solace in their beliefs... you'd find that appalling. You were always on your own obsessive, never-ending quest for the truth, yet ironically when you found the truth hitting you over the head you blatantly ignored it. You were the champion of not dealing with your problems. You weren't an emotional man by any means. That's not to say you didn't have a temper, because you did. You weren't easy to get a rise out of, exactly, but you were very easily irritated or annoyed."

"You hated people, but you still found human behavior interesting. You were a self-proclaimed misanthrope. You could care less about them. You didn't become a doctor to treat patients, you became a doctor to treat illnesses." Wilson paused, raking his eyes over his friend. "According to you, treating patients is what makes most doctors miserable. I don't know if it's what made you miserable. Because you were miserable. I don't know if it was the chronic drug addiction, the alcoholism, the narcissism, the loneliness, your past, your self-loathing, your atheism, or your habit of explosive self-destruction. Despite thinking you were God compared to the common man, you still hated yourself. Every time something went wrong, you just threw the whole world to hell and broke down. You would never come to anyone for help, though. Your instinct to preserve what you considered to be pride came before your instinct of self-preservation."

"You had periods where it almost seemed as though you could change, stop hating life, stop being miserable... branch out to other people even. Because Cuddy and I were the only ones that would ever put up with your crap and stick by you. But every time it seemed like things were getting better, something would go wrong and you'd be straight back to square one, and I'd be there to pick up the pieces, like always..."

"So, you weren't perfect by any means. But I still don't believe you were a bad person, House. Somewhere inside of you, you cared about people. I even believe that you cared about me. And..." He sucked in a small breath. "I'm really glad that you're awake." He added, somewhat lamely in his opinion. Wilson ran a hand through his hair, blinking his eyes blearily after a peek at the clock. It was four in the morning, Wilson realized.

"So... I'm a genius doctor, but I'm also a self-destructive, egotistical idiot who is pretty much doomed to being miserable and alone because I hate people." House speaking immediately jerked Wilson's eyes back to his friend. "Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't woken up, or one of my other near death experiences had managed to kill me."

House jumped in surprise when Wilson quickly seized his hand.

"Don't say that, House. Just don't. You have people who care about you. I don't know what I would do if I lost you." He commanded, hoping that this House would at least listen to him, unlike the old House. House tilted his head slightly, looking quizzically at Wilson.

"Why do you keep calling me by my last name?" House asked as he shakily lifted his arm to run a half open hand over his face.

"Oh. The day we met... when I asked you what your name was, you just said 'House'... so, even though it's your surname, I've just always called you that. You've always called me Wilson." House raised an eyebrow at this as Wilson removed his hand from his friend's.

"Seems kind of impersonal for best friends." He commented nonchalantly. Wilson shrugged, unsure of how to respond. He looked to Dr. Hennessy now, whose eyes were no longer glued to her notepad, but instead glued to House. "Where do we go from here, doctor?" He asked her. Her grayish green eyes jumped to Wilson, and Wilson had to admit, the young doctor was pretty.

"I'll need to talk to him for a moment." She stood up. "Obviously, he has no secrets to hide, so you can stay for this. If you're comfortable with that, Dr. House." She added to House, who nodded after briefly glancing at Wilson and seeming to deem him worthy of staying. He wondered briefly what his best friend's first impression of him was.

Dr. Hennessy trotted towards House.

"Alright, Dr. House, we need to see how bad the rest of your brain has been damaged. Now, you're speaking perfectly fine, so that's one worry off the table. Your psychical therapist will be in soon enough to worry about your motor function, but what I want to focus on is short term memory, procedural memory, and emotional memory. Now," She paused, "I'm going to ask you a few questions."

"First, I need you to remember this number for me. Five-hundred and eleven. I'll ask you what number I told you to remember in a few minutes."

"I think my short term memory is fine. I remember everything he just told me." House protested, waving a hand at Wilson.

"Well, it is a process." She answered. "Alright, Dr. House, when Dr. Wilson was telling you about yourself and your life, did anything feel familiar? Like it's within your reach, but you simply can't remember?" She asked. House stared at her as Wilson hitched in a breath.

"No. It doesn't seem familiar at all..." House trailed off, his brow furrowing with concentration. Wilson's heart dropped. If House didn't even find any of this familiar, didn't find him familiar, was there really any hope for him waking up?

"Are you sure?" She asked. House nodded, closing his eyes for a long moment. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Waking up here, with him sitting next to me." House said, jerking his head towards Wilson. Why doesn't he just say my name? Wilson wondered. "Wait." House said as Dr. Hennessy went to write a note in her pad. It seemed that he spoke more loudly than he intended, since he immediately dropped his voice with a look of mild embarrassment.

"I think it was just a dream, but... I remember sitting on an empty white bus. With a young woman. That's the only thing I remember other than what's just happened." He explained, a note of frustration in his voice. A bus? It couldn't be...

"What did the woman look like?" Wilson asked quickly. House closed his eyes, no doubt trying to visualize his 'dream'...

"Honey blond hair," Could be Cameron... "blue eyes," Still could be Cameron... Wilson didn't know why he was desperately hoping not to hear her name come out of House's mouth... "she was tall, almost my height. And she had on a red scarf."

Wilson choked back a sob, and was surprised to find his eyes wet. House did remember something. Or someone.

House remembered Amber.

"That's the woman I told you about. Amber, the one who tried for a place on your team and I dated for several months." He paused, his voice sounding distant and nothing like his own. "She's the one whose dead."

House's eyes went wide, and Wilson was stunned to see genuine concern in them. The diagnostician averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He muttered quietly, no doubt seeing the fresh pain in Wilson's eyes. Wilson did a double take. House... just said... sorry?

Wilson could think of perhaps two times in the entirety of his friendship with the older doctor where House said he was sorry for anything. He had never said it as a comforting word, that's for damn sure.

"It's okay, House. But... it's a good thing. You remember something. Maybe that means you can get your memory back at some point." He didn't know who he was giving more false hope, himself or House. House simply nodded. Dr. Hennessy glanced between the two men, looking puzzled, but then continued on.

"Dr. House, do you feel any tangible emotion when you think about the blond woman, or Dr. Wilson? I'll be asking you again when you meet the other people waiting for you. We need to see if you still have the same feelings and emotions towards people as you did before, even if the memories are gone."

House bit his lip lightly, and his eyes darted up to meet Wilson's. House looked at Wilson for a long time. It seemed like the moment froze, and the rest of the room seemed to melt away. No longer were they in a bleak hospital room, with the thrumming of the heart monitor in the background and the light scratching of Dr. Hennessy's pen, but instead a blank space that consisted only of the two men. Wilson was hoping beyond hope that one of two things would happen. One, he would wake up from this nightmare and it would turn out that the accident and the past month had just been some horrible dream, or two, House would look at him and say, "April fools, I remember everything!" Just staring into the clear depths of House's eyes, he still saw the brilliant and vibrant man who had lived there before. However, now there was also a palpable air of confusion in them, and a slightly lost look that caused a pang in Wilson's chest. He waited for House to speak.

"I... I feel like I can trust you. Like you won't hurt me." House said in his new, strange voice. The statement came with a nearly undetectable note of fear, and sounded almost as if a child had said it. "And the blond woman, Amber... I feel... guilty."

Wilson quickly had to stem a tear with his hand, not wanting to look weak in front of Dr. Hennessy. House's emotional memories were faint, perhaps, and the only reason House might feel as though he could trust Wilson was because Wilson had told him who he was, but he liked to hope that buried deep within, House still was his best friend.

Along with it came the very faint hope that maybe someday, things would return to normal.

"That's a good sign, Dr. House. Your amygdala isn't as damaged as it usually is in cases of severe amnesia. Now," She looked at the whiteboard and narrowed her eyes at it. "Dr. Wilson, does Dr. House's old team conduct differentials in here?" She asked.

"Yes. They thought maybe House would be able to hear them, even if he was in a coma."

"That does happen in some coma cases. It's actually convenient it's here. We can see how well Dr. House's information sorting and storing faculties are." She turned back to House. "Can you read the words on that board?" She asked. House nodded.

"'Janice Carmichael. Lower-limb paralysis, late onset epilepsy, and blindness.'" House read. Wilson let out a sigh of relief. Learning to read again would have been a difficult hurdle, and not to mention it was a good sign that House's mind had still retained much of it's knowledge. "'MS, SMA, SDD, TM, Von Hippel-Lindau's.'" House continued reading. House's eyes flashed with irritation, his forehead crinkling.

"Von Hippel-Lindau's doesn't make any sense." He muttered, and Wilson jumped in surprise, and so too did Dr. Hennessy.

"Wha- what?" Wilson fumbled over his words as House leaned forward slightly in his bed.

"Von Hippel-Lindau's. It doesn't make sense. If they're testing for MS that means her RBC count must be low, or they wouldn't even consider it because blindness is rare in MS cases. Von Hippel-Lindau's always presents with high RBC." House elaborated. He seemed surprised the words came out of his mouth. "How do I know that?" Wilson didn't know if he was asking himself or not. Wilson looked at Dr. Hennessy.

"How does he know that? He has no memory left, how does he remember his medical training?" Wilson asked, shocked. Dr. Hennessy was staring intensely at House, her pen in her mouth.

"Curious." She murmured. "This is almost unheard of."

"Care to share with the class?" Wilson asked.

"Well, in some very rare cases, a person can retain almost all of their general and procedural knowledge, despite having no memory. In case studies," she explained as she jammed her pen back into her notebook. "it appears that how much knowledge an amnesiac's brain retains is almost directly proportional to their IQ. The higher the patient in question's IQ, the more information they remember. You see, it's likely that because of Dr. House's intelligence, he committed information very easily to memory. When you first learn something, it's processed by your hippocampus, but the more times that knowledge is reiterated or revisited, it slowly becomes part of your general knowledge, which is held in your pre-frontal lobe, an area of his brain which was clearly undamaged. It seems Dr. House's general knowledge and medical knowledge are one in the same." She looked at House with a mixture of awe and interest. "It's really quite remarkable."

"Does this mean he could still practice medicine?" Wilson asked, standing up out of his chair, although not really meaning too.

"Well, you would have to take it up with the licensing board and Dr. Cuddy... it's a possibility. We still have to check his procedural memory before you can hope for that, though. If he can't perform medical tests..." Dr. Hennessy drifted off, before diving into more questions. "Dr. House, how do you perform an lumbar puncture?"

House considered this for a moment before answering. "You palpate the fourteenth vertebrae, and then inject lidocaine to numb the area. Following that you insert a needle about the length of my hand, making sure it doesn't nick the spinal cord, because that could cause paralysis. You remove a sample of the spinal fluid by pulling back on the plunger, and then carefully remove the needle. It's not a difficult process." House commented. "They would have had to do it to check for MS." House said as he waved at the whiteboard.

Wilson looked hopefully at Dr. Hennessy. She smiled weakly.

"Once again, if you take it up with Dr. Cuddy and the licensing board after he's all healed up, and have a convincing enough case, who knows? But," She said, her smile and voice dropping. "keep in mind Dr. Wilson, one of the things that makes good doctors is experience. Although Dr. House had all his medical knowledge, he's essentially at the level of a first year resident. No experience whatsoever." Wilson laughed quietly.

"Well, Dr. Hennessy, in all honesty I would rather have a first year resident House treat me than another doctor who'd been practicing for twenty years." Dr. Hennessy's lip twitched with amusement.

"So, what's the final verdict on his mental health?" Wilson asked, feeling much more upbeat now.

"Well, only time will tell fully, but in all honesty, he's in the best shape he could be considering the circumstances. The fact that he's awake at all with how he got bludgeoned..." She trailed off, then met Wilson's eyes. "Dr. Wilson, are you a religious man?" Wilson shrugged, surprised by the oddly personal question.

"I... I'm Jewish. But I don't practice or keep Kosher." Wilson now noticed the silver cross necklace dangling slightly below Dr. Hennessy's neck.

"I try not to impress religion upon any of my patients, but this seems undeniably like divine intervention. The very fact that Dr. House survived the accident was a miracle in itself. And the fact that he's up, talking, and his mind is very much in tact... I haven't been a psychologist for very long, Dr. Wilson, but this is truly amazing."

Wilson doubted very much that if there was a God that he would be looking out for Gregory House, but all of this did seem slightly astounding to Wilson. House should be dead. Wilson thought suddenly. He suddenly found a rush of gratefulness to something for the fact that House was alive and functioning, even though his memories and life were forgotten. We'll build new memories if we have to.

He realized he hadn't asked two of the most important questions that needed asking.

"Dr. Hennessy, if his hippocampus was damaged badly enough to cause him to lose all his permanent memory, whose to say he won't be able to hold memories at all, forgetting everything every few hours?" Wilson asked, a slightly shaky note creeping into his voice.

"The brain is a complex thing. Generally when damage is done to certain areas of the brain, it self-corrects itself, building new neural pathways to substitute for those that have been damaged. Dr. House's long term memory should be fine from this point forward, because during the past month his brain has been finding new ways to work around the damaged area in his brain." Wilson nodded, glad to hear that telling House his life story wasn't a complete and utter waste of time.

"You sound like a neurologist." Wilson commented. Dr. Hennessy gave him a lazy half smile.

"I am. Double specialty." Wilson returned her smile slightly, then cleared his throat and pressed on.

"What are the chances his memory will return?"

"Well... we'll need to do an MRI soon, but generally amnesia is a tricky thing to gauge. It's safe to say that if an amnesiac doesn't regain their memory within in two weeks of receiving the brain injury, it's generally safe to say it won't return period..." She stopped their, a look of deep sorrow coming upon her face that surprised Wilson.

However, Wilson was stopped dead in his thoughts of the young psychologist.

It had been a month since House's accident.