Chapter 37
With his head still resting in his hands, House hears the glass door to his office open. "Get out," he says, without looking up.
"What did I do now?" Wilson asks in exasperation. "I made a vow to myself to steer clear of this. And I did. At least for the most part."
"Sorry. Had you mixed up with a rumpled, old, unnerving Shiksa."
"Arlene's here?"
House nods briefly before focusing on the file Wilson is carrying. "You're relaxed."
Wilson nods. "No signs of sepsis." He hands the results from Cuddy's blood work over to House.
"Yet," House stresses, skimming over the numbers on the sheet.
"Why did you call her mother?"
"Because she never tells her mother anything," House deflects. "Why were you informed about her blood work?"
"There's a warning sign next to your extension on every phone in this building," Wilson deadpans.
House sneers at him.
"People think twice before they call you, and try to come up with an alternative." He raises his arm in the form of a semicircle, pointing at himself with his outstretched hand. Heaving a sigh, he drops his shoulders. "Have you eaten anything today?"
House shrugs, focusing his eyes back on the test results. "Found a Tootsie Roll in my drawer. No idea how long it's been in there. Kept my intestines occupied for quite a while."
"Let's have dinner. I'm buying."
"That's stating the obvious."
"Come on."
House rises to his feet and lifts his backpack off the ground with the handle of his cane. "Sure."
Wilson wavers. "Why the backpack?"
"Saves me the trip back up here." House switches off his computer, and kills the lights on his way out of the office.
Wilson trails along behind him. "You're going home?"
"Why wouldn't I? Don't have a patient." He reaches the elevators and presses the 'down' button.
"What about Cuddy?"
"She's all set. Diagnosis, family, nurses… I think she's being fed, too." They step inside the elevator.
"You're serious?"
"Yep."
"What if she gets worse?"
House leads the way to the cafeteria. "I'm sure she'll come up with something. She used to be a doctor, didn't you know?"
Wilson keeps his mouth shut while they order their food and settle down in a booth, but House can tell he's processing and thinking. Which is why House picked a sandwich: easy to grab and make a quick exit.
"So, that new lady doctor in cardiology…" House attempts to move the conversation to another topic.
"Dr. Simmons?"
House smirks and points his finger at Wilson. "I knew you'd already have her name memorized. Since her eyes are so mesmerizing," he teases his best friend.
"I'm not looking for a new—" Wilson starts to defend himself, but backtracks. "No. I'm not biting."
House sighs, dropping his head in annoyance. "She's not my girlfriend. I'm not expected to sit there and hold her hand."
"How many times has she done the same for you? Before you were even anywhere near a relationship. She's your friend!"
"She's an idiot with a gigantic guilt complex. She took on the role of care-taker when I didn't have anyone else." House chews on his sandwich without tasting anything. "She has plenty of Elses, so…"
"And yet she wants you."
"Then she shouldn't have fucking dumped me," he barks across the table at Wilson.
The words hang in the air for a while, both men taken aback by the sudden outburst.
The flames of anger clawing up their way from House's gut irritate him. He crumples his napkin in his hands and sips from his soda. "She made her own bed," he adds in a more collected tone. "Let her lie in it."
"House, she has an infection. She might die. You really think this is the best time to get back at her?"
He remains quiet.
"And this is not just about her. Your baby's at stake, too."
"Which would be relevant if I had any say in the decisions about her treatment," he grouches.
Wilson sighs and rubs his temples with both hands. "You know she cares about you and your medical opinion. She made a rash choice, breaking up with you right after what you'd both been through."
"She had plenty of time to rethink."
"Your behavior as an ex-boyfriend wasn't particularly prepossessing." In an attempt to appease he adds, "She misses you."
House shakes his head. "She's not gonna change her mind."
"Why not?"
"Because… We didn't work."
Wilson wipes his mouth. "Well, maybe it's time for both of you to realize that relationships don't just work. They are work."
"That's somewhat ironic coming from a three-time divorcee."
"What I learned from those, and from Amber, is that the secondary battlefields are conjured to create smokescreens. To avoid the actual war zones." He rises from the table, leaving half of his dinner on his plate. "Stop running from her, House. Don't allow her to run from you, either. You're going to have to deal with each other. Probably, no, hopefully, for the rest of your lives."
"So much for steering clear of this."
Wilson shrugs. "Let's not overwhelm you with too much change at a time." He grabs his jacket from the bench and walks off.
"You know that this getting up and storming off in the middle of conversations just to have the last word is real juvenile?" House shouts after him.
Wilson turns around briefly, flashing his teeth, and lets House have the last word.