Chapter 11

The song of the birds

Language unbroken

Singing sweet, melodious hymns

Be mine….stay…

Until we meet again

"Not again!" House whispered as he watched the soccer game on his TV. He laid back and shifted himself sideways to ease pressure off his leg. The orders came to have the IV and monitors removed so at least he was less constrained. He looked up and from the hallway walked Wilson towards his room. He sat there staring at his friend as he approached.

"Hey, I'm from the welcome wagon bearing news," Wilson said, closing the door behind him. He sat next to House's bed and folded his arms.

"And I thought you were Candi from Shangri-La," House said disappointed.

"Your test results came back," Wilson started.

House, shifting again with contortion on his face asked, "So am I good or am I staying? Much as I'd like to stay they don't exactly have the channel selection here like at my place. No offense, Wilson, but you're not exactly eye candy for me."

"Is your leg bothering you," Wilson asked, standing up after noticing the expression of pain on his face. He moved the sheet from his leg and examined it. "It feels rigid. You know I can use that to keep you here," Wilson said, smiling.

"Sooo then I take it the tests came back clean and you have nothing to keep me here with," House asked, smiling, knowing he was right.

Wilson sat back down and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes back up and put his head down in his hands.

"Wilson," House got up from his bed and steadied himself against Wilson's chair. He put his hand on his friend's back and leaned over to his level. Softly he asked, "Wilson….where does it hurt?" House knew instinctively that his friend was in pain. He knew it just from watching him walking down the hallway that something was bothering him.

Wilson didn't answer right away which concerned House. But House stood next to him for a few minutes looking him over. "I don't think the salad is sitting well," he whispered, closing his eyes again.

"What about your head?" House knew again, intuitively that his headache has yet to go away. Wilson shook his head as to convey, 'No'. He sat back quickly and felt nausea settling in. He rocked back forward as House stayed close by him.

"Take it easy James," House told him instructively, holding his shoulders gently. Judging by the sweat from his forehead and his expression of discomfort House understood that he was nauseated.

House turned around and grabbed another chair to be closer to Wilson. "Keep your eyes closed and put your head between your knees," House ordered.

"Can't," Wilson responded. "Can't throw up in your room. I won't have any leverage then to keep you here." House felt very eased when he heard Wilson joking.

"Nah, you'll just tell them that I did it," House replied gratefully that Wilson was still coherent. He steadied his grip again on Wilson as he obeyed his instructions to put his head down.

For the next ten minutes, House stayed next to Wilson as he rocked in his chair slowly. He held his stomach hoping the nausea would subside. When Wilson began gradually to sit back up in his chair, House took over and carefully eased him back.

"Want to tell me what just happened?" House asked as he himself sat back in his chair.

"I wasn't hungry but I ate some of that salad anyway. I also took a high dose of ibuprofen after that," Wilson answered. "I just won't order the salad next time."

"Tell me how long you've been having headaches," House asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Off and on, just when stress starts to build. It's just my body's reaction to stress, Greg," Wilson assured him.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" House asked.

"You have enough to worry about," Wilson laughed. "Who's wearing the hospital gown?"

"You know why you brought me here. To get a chance to see my ass in this gown," House said wryly.

"Ugh…House, I successfully deterred vomiting once. Please don't make it come back," Wilson said, closing his eyes.

"You going to be okay? Why don't you let me take your vitals," House suggested, not breaking his glance.

"Actually I'm going back to your apartment to sleep. I get to be your escort back home," Wilson told him.

"Cuddy put you up to that, didn't she?" House said, walking slowly to get his clothes.

"No, I just want to be there if you get weak again," Wilson said.

"Wilson?" House asked.

"Yeah?" Wilson responded.

"If you got that sick from salad, when we go back to my place please don't eat the fruitcake," House said sarcastically.

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I hope everyone still likes where this is going. Please review! I've got Chapter 12 began.