Chapter 21: Baby Steps
Author's Note: This takes place roughly two weeks after the last chapter.
Disclaimer: I still don't own House MD!
House rolled over in his bed, pressing his face into his pillow as he fumbled around blindly for his alarm clock, adamantly keeping his eyes closed against the early morning sun. The incessant beeping sound ceased, and House yawned loudly. According to Wilson, he had always been a night owl. That apparently held true for the present as well.
He finally peeled one eyelid back, taking in his room in Wilson's apartment. The room wasn't very personalized at the moment. After all, he was still trying to figure out his personality. A dresser sat against the wall, the top drawer hanging open from when he had grabbed his pajama pants the night before. On top of the dresser sat his blue backpack and a single picture. Wilson had given it to him shortly after he moved in.
It was a picture of him, Cuddy, and Wilson from Sanford Wells' wedding a few months before the accident. Wilson had said it was taken shortly before his disastrous proposal to Sam. House was in a tuxedo, his gray and brown hair messy and a lazy smirk on his unscarred face. Wilson stood next to him, grinning, and Cuddy was beside Wilson. Cuddy looked beautiful in an aqua dress, he noticed, and he looked at the picture for several minutes, like he did each morning.
The rest of his room was unremarkable. He had a bedside table with an ornate lamp, a desk with his computer on it, and his guitar and case leaning in the corner. Other than that, the room was bare.
He didn't want to be who he was before, but he just wished he remembered. It was like he had only been alive for three months, because that was as far back as his memory stretched.
He stretched his sore limbs, sitting up in bed. He glared at his alarm clock. It was six thirty, the time he usually woke up.
They had discharged their second patient since he became head of diagnostics yesterday. Multiple sclerosis. His epiphany, but it was Chase who got him on the track to right idea.
Hopefully Cuddy would have a case for him when he came in, or one of his team had found something in the ER.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing. His leg pain was always the worst in the morning, especially now. He massaged his thigh and reached for his bedside table. He took out a bottle of aspirin and dumped three into his hand. He tossed them into his mouth and downed them with a bottle of water he kept next to his bed.
He placed his bare feet on the cold floor. He braced himself against the bed and pushed himself up.
He stood, his legs shaking under the strain. They managed to hold him up though, and he smiled slightly to himself. His wheelchair was a few feet away. He shuffled forward slowly, a hand on the wall, putting most of his weight on his good leg.
House reached his chair and sank into it. He massaged his thigh, excited for when he would finally be able to move without it being a huge production. He wanted to speak with Dr. Harmon today to see if maybe he could get on the cane. He had managed the day before to walk from one end of the physio gym to the other without supporting himself (though it had been incredibly difficult) and he thought that proved that he was ready for the cane again. If he moved slowly and didn't walk long distances, he believed he'd be able to manage.
He grabbed his usual clothes from his dresser. A white concert tee, a light blue button up, and dark jeans. He wheeled himself to his bathroom, lamenting that he had the bedroom with only a shower, and not a bathtub. He had stopped using the bathtub in Wilson's room as soon as he was able to stand. He needed to practice standing on his own, both literally and metaphorically. He couldn't rely on Wilson for everything.
He switched on the water, letting it blast for a few minutes so it would warm up. He slowly stood up from his chair, placing one foot in the slick bottom of the shower, then the other. His legs trembled under him, but held his weight.
He bathed quickly, lathering up and drenching his limbs in the near-scathing water. He would like to stay and relax under the beating water, but his legs couldn't support him for very long, and he wasn't about to sit in the shower.
Stepping out carefully, he dried himself off with a towel, pausing on his mutilated thigh like always. With a careful finger he traced the cavernous remains of his muscle, biting the inside of his lip as he did so. This is what started it all. The thin scar traced through the middle showed when he had tried to operate on himself. Whether that bathtub surgery disaster was the start of his road to his memory loss or the original infarction, he wasn't sure.
He shook his head slightly, scattering water droplets as he let his towel drop to the floor and pulling on his boxers and jeans. House stood in his bathroom, shirtless as he examined himself in the mirror. Compared to how he had looked when he had woken up, he was a super model. He had cut his hair short, so the gray wasn't as pronounced as it had been. His beard was neatly trimmed, and the muscles on his abdomen and arms stood out quite a bit. His tan was slowly fading with the arrival of autumn, unfortunately. Thankfully, it did help his scar seem a little less gruesome. He experimentally smiled at the mirror. It caused his scar to contort and made his features look rather feral. He quickly let his face drop, sighing and running a hand through his hair as he stepped to the sink to brush his teeth
He thought he looked good. A lot better than both before and directly after the accident. But the scars it had left, both mentally, physically, and emotionally, would never completely fade.
House gave his teeth a quick brush, then slid on his tee shirt and stepped out of his bathroom, deciding to try and move around without his wheelchair for a little while. It was a quarter to seven now, and he needed to leave by seven thirty, just in case traffic was bad. He grabbed his brush off of his dresser and quickly raked it through his hair, which basically only required a bit of smoothing down. He heard the telltale whine of Wilson's hair dryer, and knew his friend was up. He quickly put on his over shirt and buttoned it up. He scrounged in his dresser for socks and found a warm gray pair, then put them on.
He moved slowly out of his bedroom, keeping a hand on the wall just in case. He had taken a few mean falls since he started trying to move around on his own, and he definitely didn't want to start of the day with falling on his ass.
He rested when he reached the kitchen counter, breathing deeply. He put as much weight as he could on his arms, not wanting his legs to give out.
"House." He heard Wilson's voice from behind him. He turned to see his friend, dressed for work in his usual attire and with his hair neatly combed, looking at him with pity. House rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine. Baby steps." He said quickly, hating the look Wilson was giving him. Wilson sighed.
"I just don't want you to go overboard." Wilson said as he walked into the kitchen, scooping his keys out of the key tray and tossing House his driving gloves, which he deftly caught. "Come on, we're a little ahead of schedule, lets go grab some breakfast." House pulled on his gloves, but his own suspicions stopped him. He narrowed his eyes at Wilson, who looked at him innocently.
"You don't want me walking around for another forty five minutes. You're trying to coddle me without me knowing it." He theorized. He stopped leaning on the counter and stood on his own two feet. He gestured with his arms at himself. "Wilson, I'm on my own two feet. I can handle shuffling slowly around the apartment for a little while."
Wilson frowned. "You're still too perceptive for your own good."
"I'll take that as a compliment." House said, limping towards the cupboard. He swung it open and brought out the bagels, taking one and placing it in the toaster. Once inside, he turned back to Wilson. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine." Wilson looked at him for a long moment, his brown eyes soft with care and worry. House appreciated his friend's concern, but he was worried that Wilson's neurotic nature was going to send him to an early grave. He had enough to deal with without House adding to it.
Wilson turned his back and walked wordlessly out of the room. House was tempted to follow him, but there was no way he could catch up with Wilson in his current state. House sighed, returning to the toaster to pull out his bagel. He quickly slathered some butter on it and threw it on a plate, heading to the couch in the living room. He stopped when he saw Wilson in there, holding out a cane to him. It had a long metal length, with a handle that looked to be made of maple. It had been used before, but not for long.
"It's from a couple years ago, you stole it from some old man at the hospital." Wilson explained quietly. House stepped forward slowly, putting his breakfast down on the coffee table. He wrapped his hand around the handle and took it from Wilson, turning it over in his hands. "You're right, as usual."
"Harmon hasn't given me the all clear yet." House mumbled as he placed the bottom of the cane on the floor. He nearly sagged with relief. It made standing infinitely easier on his weakened legs.
"Well, the old you didn't tend to listen to anyone else, and there are a few things about you that I'm pretty sure have remained the same." Wilson said, his lip curling into a small smile. House twirled the cane in his hand, blue eyes flashing. House put it back on the ground, leaning on it and crossing his legs.
This... felt familiar. Like playing the piano or guitar did. It felt like he had done this thousands of times before. Hennessy had said that was a good sign, but House was of the opinion that the familiarity just came from his undamaged procedural memory. House looked at Wilson.
"Thank you." He said.
xxxxxx
Cuddy was walking back to her office, coffee in hand, when she saw him walk through the doors of the hospital.
Walk through the doors of the hospital?
She did a double take, blinking rapidly to make sure she saw what she was seeing. House limped through the glass doors of the entrance, a blue backpack almost identical to his old one slung over his shoulder, a new leather jacket over his usual button up and jeans.
If not for the scar on his face, and the fact that it was eight in the morning (the time House was supposed to show up for work) she would have thought she had fallen back in time to before the accident.
She placed her coffee on the reception desk and trotted towards him, high heels clacking on the hard floor. He and Wilson were only a few feet in before she stopped in front of them, unable to suppress a smile.
"You got your cane back!" She proclaimed, failing to think of something else to say. House flashed her a smile and hefted his cane up.
"Yep. No more wheels for me." He said, eyes not immediately raking up and down her curves, but instead focusing on her eyes. Cuddy grinned.
"I'm happy for you. This is great!" She stated. House tilted his head and pursed his lips. Wilson raised an eyebrow and glanced between the two of them. Cuddy's smile faltered, realizing that House was thinking.
When the old House would think, that was generally a bad sign.
The new House, well, she still wasn't sure. They didn't have a patient, so House hadn't just had an epiphany. She waited for him to say something. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.
"You want to get dinner later tonight?" He asked, leaning on his cane and considering her. He looked slightly worried, like he was afraid of rejection.
Cuddy stopped dead. Her first reaction was to scream "YES!" at the top of her lungs, but then her rational side came over and reasoned with her love struck idiocy. She felt almost like being involved with the new House would be a betrayal to the old one... like he wasn't good enough for her, but the new brain damaged version was...
You don't even know what he means by dinner. Stop over thinking things.
"You know. Like a date." House clarified, seeming to read her mind. She felt her cheeks flush. Damn, he can still read me like a book.
Wilson gaped at the two of them, and he stood stock still, waiting for Cuddy to respond. House waited patiently, and Cuddy realized that her mouth was hanging open slightly. She gulped, and then decided quickly to throw caution to the wind.
"Sure. Where and when?"
xxxxxx
Wilson had insisted on following House up to his office. The team was already there, so House shot them an apologetic look before heading over to his desk and dropping his bag on his desk. He turned to look at Wilson, who was looking at him with amazement.
"That was... inspiring." He commented, leaning against the wall.
"I just asked her out. I didn't seranade her." House said with a shrug. It really wasn't. He had been planning to ask Cuddy out once he recovered, and now that he was back on his cane, he felt that now was as good a time as ever. He hadn't planned on doing it, the impulse just kind of hit him in the moment.
Wilson had always said he was unpredictable. Some things don't change.
"Did you plan that?" He asked. House shook his head.
"Nope. Just kind of winged it."
"Wow." Wilson commented, eyes wide. House sighed, slightly amused and exasperated at Wilson's sudden fascination with his love life.
"Is there any chance we could gossip about this later?" House asked, motioning towards his waiting team. "I have this nutty thing called a 'job'... you have one too, right?" He asked. Wilson grinned.
"Alright... lunch?" He asked.
"Now who's winging it?" House responded sarcastically. Wilson shook his head, noticing that House's sarcasm, although still sharp and witty, had lost it's condescending, snarky edge.
Wilson waved a hand at him and left him alone in his office. House ran a hand through his hair, slightly nervous for the night. He was picking Cuddy up at her home at seven, and taking her to dinner at La Berge. It was technically his first date, since he didn't remember any of his other ones.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. As he had so deftly pointed out, he had a job to do.
He used his cane to push open the door to the differential room, and was met by Taub, Chase, and Thirteen's shocked faces.
"You're walking!" Thirteen proclaimed from next to Chase. All three of them smiled at him.
"How're you feeling?" Chase asked.
"Better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow." He answered.
"Did Harmon clear you for the cane?" Taub asked.
"Wilson pointed out that I don't always listen to others." House joked before pointing at the whiteboard with his cane. "I see we have a patient." The words "Seizures" and "Akinetopsia" were written there.
"He was checked into the ICU a few hours ago. Vision tests show that the akinetopsia is intermittent, CT was clean, and the EEG shows only mild epileptiform waves..."
xxxxxx
"Well, how do I look?" House asked, motioning at himself. He didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, but he did want to look nice. Wilson narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, observing him with a keen eye.
"Not bad, actually." He said. "Of course, I say that in the most heterosexual way possible." He added. House laughed, then turned to the mirror to examine himself.
He wore black chinos complemented by his only pair of dress shoes. Up top, he had a white dress shirt he had borrowed from Wilson and a dark blue tie. His suit jacket lay folded on the couch, waiting to be put on. His hair was neatly combed, and he had trimmed his beard and sideburns just moments before.
"Yeah. For a fifty something with a history of near death experiences and drug abuse, I look pretty darn good." House cracked, straightening his tie. His legs ached from being on them for the entirety of the day, even with the help of his cane, but right now he had much bigger fish to fry.
"You nervous?" Wilson asked as House picked up his jacket and slid it over his arms.
"Kind of goes without saying, doesn't it?" House asked. "I mean, she's beautiful." Wilson blinked.
"House, I do believe you're being romantic." He said, smirking.
"Oh, well, I wasn't going to make a move on you until the third date, but since you're being so abrasive." House quipped, grabbing his keys and wallet off of the counter and his cane from where it had been leaning. Wilson looked like a proud father, standing there.
"Good luck, House." Wilson said.
"Thanks." He said as he opened the door and shut it behind him. He took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."