He sat by the window watching the rain beat down on the parking lot below. The people getting in and out of their cars amused him, huddling under umbrellas or hurrying across the pavement with something held up over their heads to avoid exposure to the downpour.
If he shifted his eyes just right, he could see the room behind him in the glass. Empty bed, silent television, a woman in the doorway. He didn't react to Dr Lisa Cuddy's presence, except to close his eyes.
He closed his eyes as his mind jumped back in time – suddenly he was the patient, and Dr Cuddy stood next to his bed, adjusting the IV tube that somehow got tangled among the wires from the monitors behind him. "There's extensive damage, Greg. We removed a lot of the dead muscle and tissue. You're going to need intensive physical therapy, and it's too soon to know of you'll ever be able to walk on it." Like he needed her to tell him that. He was the one laying n the bed, dead leg and all.
He jumped at the sudden touch, her hand on his shoulder. He hadn't heard her cross the room, and the sudden jerk when he started caused his leg to tighten up, breath caught in his throat. His hands moved to his thigh, gripping the dead muscle, forcing a breath through his clenched teeth.
Cuddy sat on the window ledge beside him, ready to assist, but unwilling to interfere. She knew House well enough to know he'd shut down on her if she over stepped his bounds. She waited until he relaxed somewhat and leaned back in his chair. His hands were still on his thigh, gently massaging.
"When is Dr Chase planning to remove the IV?"
Blue eyes fixed on her. "When I can eat without sharing the contents of my stomach with him."
"How's that going? Have you had anything to eat today?"
"I'm sure one of my protégé will bring me lunch in a paper sack later today," House answered. He tugged on his pant leg to raise his leg up to the ledge. Cuddy watched the process, then turned away for a moment.
She looked over at the wall. "I want you to go get that X-rayed."
"It's fine."
"No it's not. You're a stubborn bastard, house. And one of these days it's going to cost you."
"It's my leg, Dr Cuddy." He sounded slightly more pathetic than he'd intended. Images of himself, flat on his back, unable to move, flashed through his mind once again. He pressed a hand to his eyes to ward it off.
"I'm well aware of that, Dr House. Can you even walk on it?" House gave her a dull eyed stare. "Right now. If I told you Dr Wilson asked for a file from his office, could you go get it for him?"
"If Wilson wants something from his office, I'll make sure he gets it."
"That wasn't the question."
His eyes drifted shut and he leaned his head back. "I don't know. I really don't. It hurts like hell." He left off the part about needing Chase to help him get up and down, just to go to the bathroom. Left out the part about Dr Hicks threatening to admit him and restrain him if he tried to accompany Wilson for his tests.
"I want you to have it X-rayed so we can see what's going on. And then I want you to talk to Lara in PT. Dr Wilson will be starting a program, if it makes you feel better, you can join him. He's scheduled for the whirlpool tomorrow morning. You could benefit from that too."
House rubbed a hand over his face. Helplessness rose like bile in his throat. He blinked away memories of the past, focused on the present. He didn't look at her, but nodded slightly. His voice was quiet, nearly threatening when he spoke. "Fine. Get me a fucking wheelchair and a bag to put over my head and take me to get an X-ray."
House was half asleep in the chair when Wilson was brought back from his testing. He watched thru slit eyelids until they had Wilson resettled in his bed. "Have you been poked and prodded enough?"
Wilson turned to look at House. "God, yes. Everything seems to look better." He held up his splinted hand. "Took x-rays. It seems to be healing. Funny, I can't remember…."
"You will. You know. it's the body's way of protecting itself. Imagine how much worse you'd feel if you did remember." House rubbed his face. I remember enough for both of us."
"I'm sorry"
"For what? Being an idiot and wanting to go slumming? It really wasn't a place for someone who screamed money. You were ripe for the picking, or so the police say. They trashed my car."
Wilson groaned. "Oh, god."
House waved his hand in the air. "Nice as it is, it's replaceable unlike you."
"Yeah. I heard you had your leg x-rayed." Maybe not the greatest change of subject, but he needed to know.
"Is anything sacred in this place? It's fine," House insisted.
"Is that why you can't get up by yourself?" Wilson asked, eyes boring into House.
House sighed. "You weren't supposed to notice that," he said softly.
"I'm not stupid, only beat up."
House smiled slightly. "What muscle I do have is pretty bruised, and my hip is a mess. The hip's the problem right now. It's healing, thanks to Dr Chase's. I'm going to do therapy with you tomorrow. We can be swim buddies."
"Yeah? We could go skinny dipping like the good old days."
"In the whirlpool?"
"Why not?"
House laughed. And realized Wilson's hand was on the Foley. "Why are you playing with that?"
Wilson looked down. His left hand was trying to readjust the uncomfortable tube. He hadn't even realized he was doing it.. "This thing is driving me crazy. If I could get up I'd have you take it out."
House sat up. "You can feel it? Shit." He picked up his pager from the table and called Chase. "Do you have any feeling in your legs?" He swung his own legs to the side of the chair and reached for his cane.
Wilson raised his head. "Don't you dare try to get up. No I can't feel anything except the Foley.. " He laid back when House rested his chin on the cane.
"Leave it alone." House scolded.
It didn't take long. Less than five minutes, and Chase came in the door followed by Foreman. House looked up. "Think you're going to need help?" His gaze flickered from Chase to Foreman. "Get me on my feet. "
"I just looked at your x-rays, you shouldn't stand on it," Chase answered as Foreman set a paper bag on the table. House didn't ask, but assumed it was his dinner. Dinner could wait.
"Okay, I won't put any weight on it. Now, help me up."
Chase helped him to his feet and let him lean on him until he was standing at the end of the bed. House's eyes met Wilson's, they exchanged a look for a long moment before House reached down and pulled the blanket from Wilson's feet. Inwardly he took a deep breath before running his finger along the sole of Wilson's right foot. There was no reaction. His gaze remained on Wilson as he repeated the gesture on the left foot.
"Do it again." Wilson raised his head to watch him.
"Did you feel it?" He was afraid to believe that he had, There had been no automatic reaction to his finger.
Wilson smiled, "Yeah, I think I did, only slightly but it was there."
House didn't say anything but he had to steady himself with a grip in the bed rail. Foreman tapped House's arm, Chase pulled his chair to the bedside and he gratefully sank into it while Foreman repeated the procedure once more.
"It's no that I don't trust you," Foreman said with a half smile at House. House rubbed his hand over his face.
"No, it's…do what you have to do." House answered.
"Think you're ready to get this IV out?" Chase said to House, but was interrupted by the appearance of Dr Cuddy. She carried a dinner try for Wilson, and pushed the paper bag over in order to set the try on the table.
House looked up at her. "Great, it's party time. Did you bring the beer and hookers like I asked?"
"Glad to see you're feeling better," Cuddy gave House an intense look. He just grinned at her.
Foreman said something to Wilson House didn't catch. Wilson answered 'yes' and Foreman stepped up to the side of the bed, pen light at the ready to check his pupils. Grunting with approval, he stepped back and asked a series of questions. Name, date, where are you? What happened? Who are these clowns in the room with you? All of which Wilson answered without hesitation.
"Are you hungry?" Cuddy asked, reaching up t touch Wilson's arm. "I brought a dinner tray."
Wilson groaned. "Please tell me there's nothing green on it. All the kitchen seems to make is green jello and split pea soup"
House leaned forward to lift the cover from the soup. "Bingo!" Wilson groaned, House laughed. "If you eat all the jello like a good little patient, I'll share whatever Foreman brought me." He gestured at the bag.
Cuddy glared at him. He gave her no reaction, but pulled the top off the jello and reached for the spoon. He grimaced slightly at the pull against his hip, but shifted to take the pressure off his side.
Wilson sighed. "Could we do this when there aren't so many people gawking at me?" House paused, spoon in hand.
"We were just going," Chase said. "It's good to see you're doing better, Dr Wilson." Chase patted Wilson's leg before he and Foreman made their exit.
Cuddy watched House offer the spoon to Wilson. Wilson begrudgingly leaned forward to meet it. "Is there something else you wanted, Dr Cuddy?" House asked.
"Julie called again. She wants to…" House tapped the jello with the spoon. That was not what he wanted to hear.
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. "I…yeah. Might as well…tomorrow?"
"You don't have to see her right now, Wilson."
Wilson's eyes drifted to House. "No. It's okay…"
"Give it a few more days. You're still very weak."
"She's my wife, Greg."
"No, she's not. She filed before she knew what happened."
Wilson closed his eyes and swore under his breath. "All the more reason for me to see her now and get it over with then."