Chapter 10
Open Your Eyes

"My bones ache, my skin feels cold,
And I'm getting so tired and so old…"
______________________________

"And then she went running to you?"

"Stop pretending you still don't know her. Took me hours to drag it out."

"Good for you, having so much free time at work."

"Look who's talking."

House seemed to find his own digits very interesting: he kept fiddling and examining them.

"You know… actually, I've never thought your wreck could keep up with my baby for this long. Must say I'm impressed."

"Well I could have lived without this spontaneous car pursuit. I was freaked out you'd wind up on my windshield."

"Too bad for the polish, huh?"

"Yes, among others."

They sank into an almost comforting silence before Wilson spoke up.

"I was pissed off." – he confessed.

"So you found it a good idea to smear me on a tree? Or two?"

"I just wanted you to fuckin' stop and face me like an adult."

"Watch your tongue, Jimmy, I might learn it and Mommy won't be pleased!"

"Oh please."

"Are you still pissed off?"

Wilson had to think for a second.

"No. I think not."

"No problem; feel free to give me near-death experiences anytime I happen to annoy you."

"Maybe I will, thanks." – He paused. – "You?"

"Me what?"

"Are you…?"

Now it was House's turn to think.

"You really didn't pee on my grass?"

"For God's sakes, stop referring to her like that! …Gosh, sometimes I don't understand myself, why I keep trying to be any good to you."

House wiggled his eyebrows.

"Because you can't resist my charming, intellectual personality? Plus, of course, nice ass, too…"

"Oh yeah, and I'm also getting enough of gay jokes. Don't you think it's childish?!"

"Oh careful. Words can hurt, you know?!" – he spectacularly squeezed a hand over his heart. Then he left the eye-rolling Wilson be.

"Anything else you can't bear about me?" – he asked after a while, quietly.

Wilson looked at him, with something close to friendly eyes.

"Tons. But nothing I can't take for a couple of years longer without freaking out, I suppose."

House's blue glance flickered at him for a moment, then he nodded, hardly noticeable. Wilson huffed loudly, and started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He only stopped at House's sudden voice.

"Now that's settled," – he declared nonchalantly – "what's for dinner?"

Wilson stared at him, then after him as his friend got out of the car. He only let his smirk crack into a full-blown smile when House was already busy with examining his beloved bike throughoutly.

*

Another ordinary day started at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. The ER dealt with the most urgent cases, then patients were either sent home or forwarded to various departments. The clinic was crowded as usual; white lab coats appeared from time to time in the colorful mess of people, nurses were on the phone at their station in the middle. The comforting sound of chitchatting filled the brightly lit cafeteria, and promising scents from cooking lunch already lingered in the air. Burning red maple leaves cast shadows on higher windows and on the faces of some poor souls behind them, making them wonder whether the sight would be one of their last memories.

The day started as usual for Dr. Robert Chase. He took his time in preparing for the day, as he knew his direct boss wouldn't show up before ten. He splashed cold water on his sleepy face, then applied some moisturizer. There's a difference between metrosexual and simply well cared, he thought. He got dressed and briefly brushed his hair. He'd put much less effort in keeping his hairstyle perfect than House thought, he smirked, and shrugged a shoulder. Nothing but a gift by nature. He took his car and, after peeking around for a possible superior, he slumped down on the chair next to Foreman in the diagnostics room.

The day started as usual for Dr. Eric Foreman as well. He turned off his alarm clock, and after a few pushups, a shower and a throughout shaving, he put on the clothes prepared the evening before. He was already sitting at the glass topped table and had read through their patient's latest test results by the time his younger colleague arrived. The only thing he was missing was coffee; otherwise said…

The day started almost as usual for Dr. Allison Cameron. After waking up, she allowed herself a bit of lazing, spread out on her bed. She enjoyed the excitement in her stomach, and smiled at the world like a little girl on her birthday morning. Her mind lingered around her mission and her fellow conspirator, and she felt warmth around the heart. It felt so good, being back at high school in spirit. …She stirred up in panic when she realized that she'd slept back. She got ready in ten minutes, but arrived at the hospital after half past nine anyway, followed by her colleagues' reproachful glance, both clutching their empty mugs. They immediately looked more pleased though when she pulled out the bagels she'd brought as conciliation. While the boys were chewing on them contentedly, she got herself busy with the coffee machine, cursing herself for being late for the second time in a month.

This morning was nothing to usual for Dr. Gregory House. The familiar old hatred towards the world was there, but now accompanied by a multiplied ache in his thigh and, as novelty, a sharp pain in his shoulder for several days. The latter had been worsened by Wilson's annoying remarks, insisting it was his conscience, not his arm. Last time, he'd hit him on the calf with his cane, and asked with a fake sympathy when his friend had doubled over in pain: "Oh you feel bad about sleeping with Cameron, too?".

He groaned and rolled to the edge of the bed. He steadied himself with his good leg in the last instant to avoid tumbling over to the floor, to his shame. He felt about for his Vicodin on the nightstand, and sighed relieved after swallowing two. His leg made impossible to take the bike, so he got in the Corvette instead, a second of gratefulness crossing his mind to some rather sympathetic Mafioso for it. On his drive to the hospital, he was thinking about their new case, irritated: a defiant teenage orphan that resisted confessing drug use, despite his record. Why do people keep lying even if they know we know the obvious? Idiots.

*

House set forth his new theory about drugs being stored in fat tissue, then released into the system in case of weight loss; with his ducklings hanging on his words before recoiling when he got to the point about the unconventional test to prove his right. As usual, he looked unimpressed; he was fiddling with the strap of the medical sling he'd been prescribed to relieve his aching shoulder some. He almost jumped when Cameron stepped to him to help fix it, with the most annoying expression of care on her face. He gave her his scariest death glare, but she didn't even flinch. He'd have to get a crucifix. Or garlic. On second thought, the latter could actually work.

After the three doctors left (fuming but obedient) towards the sauna to sweat a seizure out of their patient, House decided to go and find some lunch. And, as usual, this process required locating his best friend and its purse first.

Wilson's door opened to an empty office, so House went down to the cafeteria. Finally something lucky: he spotted his friend in the first third of the longish queue. He joined him without a moment of hesitation, deaf to the sounds of indignation coming from behind.

"Why I keep thinking I can escape…" – Wilson sighed, resigned, while mentally saying goodbye to his potato chips. A second later, the chips bag was already rustling in House's hand.

"Is that rhetorical?" – House retorted, showering him in chips crumbs. After a while, he declared out loud, making sure the cashier woman heard it:

"See, how generous I am: I'll only have salad to your conto." – meanwhile, he did his best in arranging the vegetables on his plate so that they covered the piece of steak entirely.

Wilson shook his head and paid for the meat as well, with an apologetic look and a slight blush. Then he followed House to the table.

House finished eating first, and busied himself with tearing a paper cup to stripes, to fold a flower of it later. When a petal he'd already fixed let go and sprang free, he slammed the remainder down on the table, mumbling something about damn environmental friendly restaurants and their lack of proper plastic cups.

The unusual impatience caught Wilson's attention. He put his fork down and waited for his friend to speak up. House took a look around first, then announced with a hint of fright in his eyes:

"I'm telling you, she's been pursuing me." – To the twitch of his friend's face, he shook his head. – "No kidding; she's everywhere. Sometimes I get nervous opening my closet. Things are getting creepy…"

Wilson swallowed the laughter that started bubbling up inside his chest.

"Why so surprised? You sang me anthems yourself about your irresistible backside…"

House just managed a grimace, when a scrubs-clad Cameron, wet hair combed off her face, joined them at the table. House threw Wilson a panicked look.

"Ah, Dr. House. Jack's seizure in the sauna was proven unrelated to the circumstances. He's been having them every 15-20 minutes. Sorry to disappoint, but it was nothing but a coincidence."

"You know my point about coincidences, don't you?"

"Yes I do. And you know my point about Jack loving his siblings, don't you?"

House looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

Cameron switched to a tone making him run for his money.

"Love is an emotion certain people experience, similar to happiness." – She paused. – "No. Maybe I should give a more relatable example."

"Oh snap!" – House only managed to say, while Wilson almost fell off his chair from amusement.

"See?!" – House turned back to him when Cameron had left. Only then his brain registered the telltale glance between the two he'd caught from the corner of his eye. He sat up higher in his chair, eyes wide, and he only could gape and point his finger vigorously at his friend, to express his indignation.

"You… you… traitor, you… Jimmy Wilson, you godforsaken turncoat! What did you tell her?!"

Wilson made the most exaggerated innocent face on Earth.

"What do you mean? I hardly speak to her since you declared your territorial rights!"

"You enlighten me right now if you don't want your soon-to-be-ex-wife to find Cuddy's panties in your glove box."

"Wait; how would you… never mind. Well I… maybe I mentioned something about you being a stubborn coward, who would need to be hit on the head with a baseball racket to finally realize what he's missing."

House stared at him with an expression as if said hit had had actually happened.

"You told her not to leave me alone?! Please, next time just unleash hounds on me."

"Please, House, don't be theatrical. She's not some ferocious beast. She's a beautiful, smart, funny young woman, who could keep your ass out of danger, or, I don't know… make you happy?"

"Again with the Hallmark crap." – House snapped – "I'm fine!"

Wilson searched for his gaze, and shook his head a little:

"I don't want you to be fine… I want you to be happy." – He smiled. – "Or should I give a more relatable example?"

"I'm so lucky to have my personal Dr. Phil. Don't you have some random nurse to keep your romantic mind busy by the way?"

"House, the last thing I wanted was to get involved in your chaotic love life, you can bet on it. But, sad but true, you two guys seem to be my closest friends, and from the way you've been circling around each other from day one, I got a crazy idea about you fitting each other right."

House seemed to have no comments on the issue, so Wilson went on.

"You know, when I first talked to her about you after… the conversation in my car we don't talk about… I still wanted to give her the same advice I'd give to any healthy woman: to stay away from you as far as possible. But I couldn't get out of my mind how you'd spoken of her. Before that… grass… metaphor, of course."

Much to his surprise, House still didn't say anything. He hardly could recall a time when he'd kept his mouth shut for this long.

"Stop trying to protect her. She hates that. What she feels for you is nothing like a crush, but she's also learnt how to take care of her heart. If you don't want to hurt her, then simply don't. But don't push her away. She's still human; and if you keep shutting her down, sooner or later she'll give up on you. Try to look at her putting your fears aside for once, and you'll see what I'm talking about."

It seemed like he'd reached House's discomfort zone. The man stood up and left with his tray in his tied up hand. The fact that he was actually about to return it told Wilson that something really big was about to happen.