Hope you enjoy this - I think we're getting near the end!

Chapter 4

House was woken the next morning by the sound of his alarm going off, something that hadn't happened for at least two weeks. He reached out with one arm and switched it off before looking down at Wilson. His lover was just opening his eyes and Wilson gave him a small smile.

"I see my insomnia cure works."

House rolled over and sat on the side of the bed. "It'll do," he said, his amusement clear.

He glanced over at the pill bottle sitting on the bedside table as he reached down to pick his cane up from the floor. He'd made something of a promise to Wilson the previous night and he felt that he probably should try and keep it as much as he could. But since he always took one when he got up, he didn't change that particular routine this morning.

As he limped towards the bathroom, he heard Wilson get up and head out of the bedroom. He started the shower and climbed in, quickly washing himself then standing under the hot water with his hands braced against the tiled wall, weight tilted onto his good leg and the water pounding on the back of his neck and shoulders. Wilson's worry over his addiction and the promise he'd made in response to that was churning through his mind. In part he was irritated that he'd allowed himself to be manipulated in such a way except that he knew that it hadn't been done with any kind of malicious intent. It was a manipulation, he doubted even Wilson would deny that, but it was a manipulation designed to keep him alive and well. Something which Wilson now had a vested interest in.

House sighed and closed his eyes. The irritation wasn't actually a large part of what he felt. The problem was he wasn't sure he wanted to define what he felt. After the infarction and Stacy's arrogant, albeit well-meaning, disregard of his wishes, he hadn't wanted to let anyone close to him. Wilson had rather stubbornly refused to be pushed away and Lisa Cuddy had done much the same, though the two had very different reasons for ignoring his attempts at alienation.

He'd never really examined his feelings for Wilson either before or after the infarction. Wilson was his friend, for reasons that House didn't really understand but seemed to make some kind of sense to Wilson. He'd acknowledged the other man's attractiveness, both physical and otherwise, when they'd first met but had then promptly tucked those thoughts away in a box. Wilson had been married and he'd met Stacy shortly afterwards. He had no reason to think that Wilson had any interest in men and therefore no reason to reveal his own bisexuality. But when Wilson had stuck around after the infarction, to the detriment of his own marriage, House had on occasion taken those thoughts out of their box and examined them. He'd always tucked them away again with a sense of frustration and irritation until he became aware of the imminent failure of Wilson's marriage to Julie and the other man's almost constant regard. He didn't object to Wilson watching him all the time; when you were in your mid-forties, greying, crippled and with an abrasive personality to boot, you generally took whatever appreciation you could get. But the constant regard had encouraged him to make the move that he had.

Of course, now he had to deal with the other side of having made that move. The fact that Wilson did care about him, quite likely more than just cared if his half-spoken statement last night was any indication. And if House was honest with himself, which he did generally try to be as much as possible, he was more than a little…afraid of actually finding out how Wilson felt about him or of admitting how he felt about Wilson. He'd loved Stacy after all and look how that had ended up. While there was a part of him that could understand intellectually why she'd done what she'd done, he had made his wishes plain to her and her disregard of those wishes had felt like a betrayal of his trust and love for her. It had also shattered that relationship beyond repair…

He heard the bathroom door open then the door to the shower opened and Wilson climbed in.

"You're thinking so loudly I could almost hear you in the kitchen," Wilson said ruefully as picked up the soap.

House turned around and leaned against the wall of the shower. "Would you have made the same decision that Stacy did?" he asked abruptly.

Wilson looked at him with surprise, water running down one shoulder. "What brought this on?"

"Just answer the question," House said with a frown.

Wilson continued washing himself though much slower than before as he thought back to those horrible days.

"I don't know," he said absently. "You went into cardiac arrest, you were clinically dead for over a minute, you were in a medically induced coma and all indications were that the bypass and restoration of blood flow to the damaged muscle tissue weren't working. We all knew you wouldn't accept amputation but we all knew that if you went into cardiac arrest again we probably wouldn't be able to get you back. When Cuddy came up with the idea of removing the damaged tissue, I have to admit I thought it would be a good idea."

His eyes drifted down to the ruin of House's right thigh. He didn't wince or look away sadly, he just stared at it with something that could have been regret.

"Then she said you'd probably be left with a permanent limp, the possibility of reperfusion injury and maybe other side effects and I wasn't so sure anymore," Wilson continued. He looked up at House. "I don't know what I would have done, House. I remember being glad I didn't have to make the decision which was probably a bit cowardly of me." He sighed and put the soap down. "House…Greg, I honestly think I would have made the same decision as Stacy. It didn't look like the bypass was working and given the choice of having you live or die, I'll take the former. Maybe that's selfish of me but none of us anticipated the kind of pain you'd end up with." He paused again. "But I think even if I had known that I'd have made the same decision. I…"

Wilson looked like he wanted to say something else but instead fell silent and finished rinsing off the soap.

"Perhaps the only thing I would have done differently would have been to discuss the possibility with you before they put you in the coma," Wilson said over the sound of running water. "They probably wouldn't have accepted any decision you made in the circumstances, considering the amount of pain you were in and the drugs you were on, but I would have wanted you to know what we most likely going to end up having to do. To give you some time, however little, to prepare yourself. To not spring such a…huge change on you without any warning."

Wilson looked over at House and almost shivered at the closed expression on the older man's face. He wasn't sure what had prompted the question but he had decided very quickly not to lie.

House considered Wilson's answer and had to appreciate his honesty, even though the answer wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. It was the last part that made him once again appreciate his lover because that was exactly what had made it so hard when he woke up. That it had been done without his knowledge and he'd just woken up to find his thigh gouged apart and the consequences left for him to accept as best as he could. He looked over at Wilson and was surprised at the slightly apprehensive expression on the younger man's face. Then he realised that for Wilson the question had come completely out of the blue with no apparent cause.

He braced himself against the tiled wall of the shower until he was sure of his footing then he limped the few steps it took to back Wilson against the opposite wall. He planted his hands on either side of Wilson's shoulders and shifted most of his weight onto his good leg. He then leaned forward and kissed Wilson as warmly as he could. After a couple of seconds of surprise, he felt Wilson's arms come up, partly to embrace him and partly to steady him and then Wilson was returning the kiss. When they broke apart, House rested his forehead against Wilson's and closed his eyes.

"Just thinking," he said in response to Wilson's unspoken question.

"So I gathered," Wilson replied, sounding bemused.

Just then the water started to cool and the two men carefully got out of the shower. They dried off and dressed without much conversation then headed out to the kitchen for breakfast.

As they drove into the hospital in the Corvette, Wilson looked over at House.

"Are you going to tell me what prompted that question?" he asked curiously.

House was silent, his eyes on the road. "Not right now."

Wilson nodded, not entirely happy with that answer but realising that he'd have to accept it for now. "I should have those scans for you this morning," he said instead.

"Good," House replied as they drove into the hospital carpark.

Once he'd parked the car, they climbed out and headed inside, only separating when they reached their respective offices. Wilson had long learned to recognise House's moods; this odd, silent brooding actually didn't occur too often. While House often brooded over medical problems, that was different from this particular mood. Wilson knew the only way of dealing with it was to give the other man time and space to think through whatever was bothering him.

House caught Wilson's arm before he could go into his office. "Your solution worked by the way," he said abruptly. "I feel better."

Wilson blinked then smiled. "Good. It was honestly no trouble at all."

House snorted with amusement at that then he turned and headed for his own office. Wilson watched him go then walked into his office; he had some scans to chase down.

House pushed his turbulent thoughts into the back of his mind and limped out into the conference room where his team were drinking their first cups of coffee and talking quietly. They looked up when he walked in and Cameron got to her feet and poured him a cup of coffee. She hesitated only briefly when she walked over to hand it to him and he saw her gaze drop to his throat then take on a slightly embarrassed, slightly betrayed tinge.

House ignored her reaction to Wilson's enthusiasm the previous night and turned to Foreman and Chase. "Have those test results come back yet?"

"I called when I got in," Foreman said, looking disgruntled. "We should have them within the hour."

"Have his symptoms worsened?" House asked as he drank his coffee.

Chase nodded. "He's starting to get very confused about where he is and what's happening and he's got a rash."

House nodded. "Anything else?"

"No. Should there be?" Chase asked. "You look like you know what's wrong with him."

"What gave you that idea?" House said archly.

"The big circle around thallium toxicity on the whiteboard," Chase said promptly and with a smile.

House snorted then looked up when Wilson walked in.

"The scans," Wilson said as he set them up to be viewed.

House limped over with his ducklings trailing curiously behind him.

"Damn!" Wilson breathed as he saw the CT scan of the brain.

"Cerebral abscesses," House said without surprise. "No empyema in the chest scan. Good."

Wilson closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. "Systemic infections, headaches caused by cerebral abscesses. It's not a fungal infection, it's not further malignancy. Damn! It's Nocardiosis, isn't it?" he said, sounding chagrined. "I didn't even consider that."

"Why should you?" House replied. "He's been in hospital for the last four weeks. Nocardia is a bacteria that lives in the soil. The incidence even among immunocompromised patients is sporadic at best. However the question of how he got it is one we'll have to answer quickly."

"Why?" Foreman asked.

"Because if he picked it up from somewhere in the hospital gardens then that means we have a big problem," Wilson replied. "Everybody, not just the patients, would be at risk of at least cutaneous nocardiosis and any of the immunocompromised patients would also be at greater risk of the disseminated infection."

"He'll need high intravenous doses of a sulfa-based antibiotic," House said as he looked at the scans. "Bactrim would be the best or Septa. Make sure the trimethoprim component is at least 160mg. He may need surgery to drain those abscesses as well but see how he responds to the antibiotics first. And he'll need ongoing antibiotic therapy." He paused. "Presuming he survives the cancer."

Wilson grimaced and nodded. "Anything else? You'd be more up-to-date on this than me."

"Better do an echocardiogram to rule out vegetations," House said as he peered at the chest CT. "Also get a CT and sonographic exam of his abdomen and pelvic area. You'll need to check for intra-abdominal, hepatic, splenic or renal abscesses as well." He turned and looked at his team. "While we're waiting for our results, you lot can keep yourselves busy. Cameron, go and speak to…" He looked at Wilson.

"Mark Carter," Wilson supplied with amusement.

"Go and speak to Mr Carter and find out where he's been lately," House continued. "Chase, you and Foreman can start testing the soil in the gardens. Start with the outside area at the cafeteria and the areas where the patients most often congregate. You might want to speak to the nurses in Oncology and find out if there's any spot preferred by their patients. And get the lab to find out which Nocardia strain we're dealing with."

The three doctors nodded with a hint of world-weariness. Chase and Foreman immediately headed out to gather the equipment they'd need while Wilson spoke to Cameron for a few minutes. After she'd left Wilson looked over at House.

"You know, I could have spoken to Mark," he said.

"Just keeping them busy," House replied. "They were starting to annoy me."

Wilson chuckled though he sobered when he looked back at the scans. "I don't know why I didn't consider Nocardia as a source for the pneumonia, particularly when all the usual suspects came back negative."

House scowled. "As I said before, why would you? Infection by Nocardia is rare and he's been in hospital and presumably away from potential sources of infection for four weeks."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Wilson muttered. "I'd better go and get things started with his treatment."

"You should have warned me," House said suddenly as Wilson turned to go.

"About what?" Wilson replied blankly.

House gestured towards his neck and Wilson looked at it for a moment then grinned.

"Cameron got all…thingy about it," House said with an irritated look.

"Good," Wilson said with a slightly possessive air and House raised an eyebrow at him.

Wilson glanced over his shoulder at the corridor then walked over and pressed himself against House. "Mine," he said simply before giving House a brief, possessive kiss.

House raised the other eyebrow. "This is a new side of you." He paused then let a small smile curl his lips. "I think I like it. However, if you start going cavemen on me, I'm throwing you over for Chase."

"I think that's an empty threat. He'd annoy you too much," Wilson said as he headed for the door again. "But I'll keep it in mind."

"Do that," House growled.

He watched the younger man leave with an intrigued look. He had indeed liked the sudden fit of possessiveness that Wilson had displayed. At its most basic it was flattering that someone felt that way about him but it was also rather amusing to see Wilson react like that. He wondered what kind of reaction they'd get from Cameron if Wilson did that in front of her. He considered that highly entertaining thought for a moment then tried to work out a few possible scenarios as he headed for his office and his Gameboy.

He sat down in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, his cane propped against the desk, as he half-heartedly tried to kill Martians…or some kind of critter at least. But the events of the previous night and this morning kept coming back to him and distracting him.

There was a fairly large part of his brain that just wanted to run away from all of this…so to speak, to say cruel things until he'd even driven Wilson away, to crawl back into his self-imposed solitariness where everything was safe and predictable, to go back to a life where there was no risk of being betrayed or hurt again.

The sound of an explosion from the Gameboy drew his attention and he grimaced before tossing the machine onto the desk. He swivelled his chair around until he was facing the windows and stared out at the view.

But driving everyone away led to the path of loneliness and he'd had enough of that over the last five years to last him a lifetime. While it was true most people annoyed him, he didn't want to spend all of his life alone. So there was his choice, let Wilson in even further and risk being hurt or betrayed again or be lonely. He sighed and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Not much of a choice really.

He almost absently reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his bottle of pills. He'd just popped the lid off when he paused and looked down at what he was doing. He frowned and rattled the pills slightly. Maybe Wilson had a point; he'd done that so absently he'd almost not been aware of his own actions. He eyed the pills suspiciously for a moment then very firmly put the lid back on. His leg wasn't hurting so much that he couldn't wait a bit longer.

He turned his chair back to the desk and picked up the Gameboy again. While he certainly hadn't dealt with everything the previous night had roused in his mind, he'd settled enough to get his concentration back where it ought to be.

He'd just made it to level eight when Foreman pushed the door open.

"We've got the test results back," he announced.

House sighed. "Damn. Just when I was getting somewhere," he muttered.

He turned the Gameboy off and tossed it on the desk. He grabbed his cane and levered himself to his feet, drawing in a deep and somewhat surprised breath when his leg flared more than usual. He paused, his hand clenching around the head of the cane, as he waited for the pain to die down slightly. This was the downside of keeping his promise to Wilson. Once the pain settled to something approximating its usual level, he limped towards the door where Foreman was watching him with a thoughtful frown.

"Planning on standing there all day?" he asked abrasively. "'Cause I'm going to find it a little difficult to work if you are."

Foreman blinked then quickly moved out of the way. "There's more than one door to your office," he said, sounding half-hearted as though he was trying to work out what was going on.

House ignored him and limped out into the conference room. "So what do the results say?"

"Thallium poisoning," Chase reported, handing him the file.

House flipped open the file. "I guess that means Foreman wins."

"Hey, I came up with heavy metal toxicity first," Chase said indignantly.

"Yeah but you abandoned it when your first choices didn't pan out," House replied. "Foreman picked thallium so he wins."

Chase gave House an irritated look as Foreman smirked.

"Okay," House said as he snapped the file shut. "Take him off the thiamine. He doesn't need it. Now who can tell me the treatment for thallium poisoning?"

"I'm tipping that standard chelation therapy for heavy metal poisoning isn't the answer," Foreman said as he thought.

"Correct," House said with asperity. "Now do you know the answer?" He waited for a minute then rolled his eyes. "None of you bothered to look it up? How long have you been working for me?" He tossed the file onto the table. "It's an alternate form of chelation therapy. Use Prussian blue to bind to the thallium. He'll probably need repeated doses."

"Prussian blue?" Cameron said dubiously. "Isn't that a dye of some kind?"

"Is that even a pharmaceutical agent?" Chase said, equally dubiously.

"I think they use it in the lab," Foreman said. "Isn't there something else we can use?"

"Well, you could be boring and use activated charcoal," House replied. "But Prussian blue is more effective and considering his symptoms what say we go for the effective over the easy? Go down to the lab and ask them if you can use their Prussian blue." He paused and frowned. "Also, start him on dialysis. I don't know exactly how much it'll help but it certainly won't hurt."

"How much of the Prussian blue do we give him?" Foreman asked. "Same dosage as activated charcoal?"

"I should make you look it up except the patient shouldn't pay for your laziness," House growled. "250 mg/kg, orally, four times a day."

The three doctors nodded and headed for the door.

"And when you get back I want to know what's happening with our Nocardiosis patient," House called after them.