An Ill Wind
Lisa Cuddy stopped scanning her e-mail. "Are you serious? You'd really do that?" She asked, peering at him over her reading glasses.
House rolled his eyes, "don't make me say it again. You approve, right?"
She nodded, "Yes. If they agree, I agree." She inhaled deeply and asked. "Don't you want to go too?"
He waved off the question, too academic, too theoretical. "We also serve who only stand and wait," he cryptically on his way out the door.
Three heads turned towards the door as it opened. Cameron jumped up, "So? What did she say?"
House sank into a chair, "Get packed, you're all going."
They smiled at each other and turned to House.
"Sure, you're excited now; you're going on an adventure. Let's see how much fun you're having a week from now. All grungy from the heat and humidity. Everything will stink of mold, mildew and worse. Everyone you see will be hot, sick, and stressed out." He regarded them and wished... "Never mind. It'll change you, as doctors and as people. Well? Go ahead! You've got things to wrap up before your plane leaves on Saturday." He dismissed them with a wave and turned to his cell phone.
After three attempts, he was able to get through, "Hey Jacques, they're on their way. Right, you'll meet them in Houston then? Anything you need from us? Great. Yeah, me too. Okay then. Keep an eye on them for me." He closed his phone and looked up. Cameron stood in the doorway.
"Dr. House?" She hovered, waiting for permission to enter.
He sighed in exasperation, "What?"
"Thanks again for letting us go. You're doing a good thing." Her eyes sought his.
He avoided her gaze and looked at his display, pretending to scan his text messages. "I'm not doing anything."
"But you are. You'll be covering for us while we're gone, you'll be handling cases and all of our clinic hours." She seemed at a loss to express what she really felt. "Thank you."
He regarded her in her earnestness. "You'll come back impatient," he said simply.
"Excuse me?" Confusion played across her features.
"When you work with people who have nothing, who have lost everything, who are pathetically grateful for something small, like a smile or a kind word…you'll see."
"Isn't that why we became doctors? To help people?" She put her hand in the pocket of her lab coat. He seemed distant, disconnected. "House?"
House sat quietly, lost in the past, somewhere far away. "Hmm? Yes. I suppose it is. You know, you don't have much time, don't you think you ought to get going?"
"I'll see you…I guess I don't know when I'll see you again." She paused, thinking. "May I have a hug?"
"No." He sat in his seat, "you've got things to do."
She didn't budge.
"Do them." He pointed at the door.
She walked over to him and embraced him from behind. "Thank you," she whispered and she squeezed his strong shoulders.
He sagged a bit. "Take care of yourself." He admonished.
She left, her lab coat swishing behind her.
House sat in the dim evening light, thinking about his adventures.
Wilson poked his head in. "Cuddy said you were back here. So they're all going?" He sat down at the table opposite House.
"Saturday they're off to Houston." There didn't seem to be more to say than that.
"Cuddy's thrilled to have you in the Clinic." Wilson tried to jolly House out of his funk.
"Cuddy is a sadist. But enough fun and games. You going home?" House got up and walked into his office to turn off his computer.
"Not if you've got a better idea." Wilson called from the conference room.
"Sushi?" House offered.
"We can get half-priced burgers at Snooky's, it's trivia night." Wilson countered.
"Fine." House reappeared with his computer bag on his shoulder.
"You gave in awfully easy." Wilson observed as they walked towards the garage.
"It's only food. I guess it doesn't much matter." House said, shifting the heavy bag so as not to be so off balance.
"Oh, survivor's guilt again?" Wilson asked; pausing at the corvette as House slung the bag into the trunk.
"Get in." House ordered.
Wilson slid into the seat and buckled up. The retro-fitted seat belt awkward across his lap. "I don't even know why we bother with these." He said as the buckle made a sharp, ker-chunk sound. "Sierra Leone?"
House backed up, causing the tires to squeal on the smooth concrete. "You know, you really need to learn when to drop a subject." He griped as they pulled into the street.
"You need to learn to share your feelings." Wilson countered.
"I'm getting old. Apropos of nothing." He slid the shifter into neutral as they pulled up to a light.
"Oh, passing the torch are you? Do you think that they'll learn as much in Louisiana as you learned in Africa?" Wilson turned down the radio, the fossil rock station's endless Zeppelin tribute getting on his nerves.
"I don't know. I think I expected things in Africa to be grim. I don't think that they're prepared to see the things that I saw in a third-world country, against the backdrop of Wal-Mart and Bank of America. There's something very wrong with an entire geographical area being wiped off the map." House pulled into a handicapped space in the front of the bar.
"What about the Tsunami?" Wilson said as he hopped out of the passenger seat.
"That's different. Again, in less developed parts of the world, you expect to see structures to disappear in the wrath of nature. Besides, who expected Sri Lanka to attempt an evacuation? Tidal waves aren't as predictable as hurricanes." He waited for Wilson to open the door. "We have resources here, the idea that we could have done something and didn't, that will be much harder to reconcile."
Wilson slid into the booth and grabbed a menu. "Even so, you wish you were there. Right?"
"I wish a lot of things. I'm donating what I can. Ultimately we can only change the world one person at a time. So I'll be seeing a matron with diarrhea in the clinic, so that a baby with dysentery can see a doctor in a church basement. I'll have those maddening conversations with people who think that their asthma inhalers are optional, while some old lady gets her first dose of insulin in ten days. I've made my peace with it." He ordered a scotch and a burger from the waitress who had been standing at his elbow.
Wilson ordered and turned to House, "You haven't made peace. You're still fighting. And when you can't fight, you're empowering your team to do it for you." He toasted with his water glass, "your health."
"Salud, amor, diniero y tiempo para gustarlo." House replied.
"You've always got to top me." Wilson sighed.
Author's Note: I work for the telephone company. In the South. This came to mind as I've been working twelve hour days for the past 2 weeks, helping establish emergencyservices forgovernment and relief agencies. I think I'll be doing this for the next few months. No matter how bad you think it is, it's at least ten times worse than that. Do what you can.