Title: Instant Messaging and Its Consequences (2b/2)

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: For mature adults

Genre: slash

Words: 3882

Notes: This completes the mainline story.

Summary: House gets recognition.

Allison Cameron was on top of the world. It was strange how things could go from down-right ugly to wonderful in the space of a few hours. It had been an absolutely horrible day for the Diagnostics Department at PPTH. The head of the department had been in a formidable, tour de force bad attitude since he had arrived that morning. His work schedule had been filled with hour after hour of clinic, and his three assistants had been assigned other jobs so that the scruffy faced doctor could not employ them as substitutes.

In addition, there had been no "special" cases that needed House's brand of bedside manner from afar so the day had gotten longer and longer. Even more strange, Dr. House had not sought out the refuge of his best friend's company to alleviate some of his less- than-charming presence from almost overwhelming one and all.

Then . . . then, a miracle had occurred. Dr. Gregory House, world famous diagnostician and Monster Machines' lover had asked Allison Cameron for a date! Well, not really a date, but he had asked to be her escort to the get-together in the hospital cafeteria to recognize the achievements of the past year.

Allison Cameron had had two . . . two dates with the handsome doctor, and now she was to have another one. She knew just the dress that she was going to wear. She spent the rest of the day in ecstasy, pushing away any consideration of the question: why wasn't House going with Dr. James Wilson?

For Dr. Greg House, it had been a hell of a day and worse. He was still seething from Cuddy pulling rank on him and insisting on him attending the little shindig that was planned for the cafeteria. Why didn't they have it in some high school's cafeteria - - that surely would have been even more chic?

In truth, however, Greg House was really seething over something far more personal and intimate - - James Wilson had betrayed him . . . and with Cuddy. It didn't make a difference if House had slept with both of them - - not at the same time or even the same decade, of course, but James Wilson had chosen . . . that woman . . . over Gregory House, best friend and world famous sarcasm wizard. Well, they would get what was coming to them!

So what if House would be rapped over the hands at 8:00 tomorrow morning . . . James Wilson was sleeping with Cuddy, and he was just divorced . . . for the third time!

Talking to himself, House mumbled, "Boy, wait 'til they see me with Cameron tonight! Be civil . . . be civil! I'll be so charming; it will be like molasses poured over the whole hypocritical crowd."

And so it came to pass, Alison Cameron was attractive; Greg House was handsome in his very neat suit, and when the two entered the much decorated cafeteria later that night, all eyes turned toward them. They were escorted to their table where the rest of the ducklings finally appeared, but as House surreptitiously glanced around the room, he could not find the one person that he truly wanted to see.

The evening, surprisingly, went well and quickly. Each department and group of personnel who had been designated speaking time, spoke well and proudly of their achievements. The only department that seemed to be ignored was the field of Diagnostics. It was true that the Head of Oncology had not risen to give an overview of the department's year, but the substitute had done well.

It was obviously near the end of the program when Dr. Lisa Cuddy took the podium. She was dressed elegantly in a dark burgundy gown with matching jewellery. She smiled and, seemingly without any prompts, began to speak:

"You might have noticed that one department has not had a chance to tell of its achievements; that is because we have taken this opportunity to give it special recognition and certainly its department head deserves our appreciation."

Cuddy looked directly at where House was sitting and smiled slightly before continuing.

"Approximately one year ago, Dr. Gregory House wrote a paper called, "Good Diagnostics, The Best Weapon A Doctor Has." Many of the staff here at Princeton-Plainsboro realized that it was an extraordinary paper. The Board discussed ways to use this paper to further the cause of better medicine. Recently Doctor House was sent to a conference where he delivered an abbreviated version of this paper. It goes without saying that it was well received.

Brief applause occurred at this point, but Cuddy continued, "It is my great pleasure to announce that Dr. House has been recognized by a division of the American Medical Association for his work on this paper and his department's remarkable achievement in the field of diagnostic medicine. Every doctor wants to save lives, but this past year Dr. House and his team have contributed to the diagnosing of over 100 patients who were deemed "special cases". Many of those patients are now living lives free of the medical problem that brought them to this hospital."

"The American Medical Association does not hand out this type of recognition every day. Approximately eight months ago, Dr. James Wilson came to me with a request that Dr. House's paper be brought to the AMA's attention. After readily agreeing, Dr. Wilson carried forth with this project with a steadfast dedication, the results you see tonight.

I would like Dr. Gregory House to come forward to receive the certificate and letter of recognition that the American Medical Association has sent in recognition of Dr. House's paper."

For a moment there was complete silence then as House stood, the applause became thunderous. The walk was short in distance but long in acclaim. Finally, House made it to the platform, obviously flustered and uneasy.

He stood for a moment, looking over the crowd, looking for the one individual who meant everything to him, but he wasn't in sight. He could see the ducklings applauding, especially Allison Cameron. She was practically bouncing up and down.

He looked at Cuddy who shook his hand and handed him the letter and certificate then moved back.

Finally, House found his voice as the applause quieted, "Thank you. Those of you who have heard my other speeches know that I have a tendency towards sarcasm." Here a brief wave of laughter broke out. "I'd like to thank the board for this get together and, of course, Dr. Cuddy for her support. I really believe that every doctor can do more, and I hope my paper can help in some way to open new paths for all of us."

House wiped his forehead; his leg beginning to ache. Then in a hoarse voice with incredibly sad eyes, he continued, "I'd also like to thank Dr. James Wilson for his efforts to get this paper some recognition, and for putting up with me all these years. Thank you."

Swaying slightly, House stepped down from the platform and headed towards the ducklings, shaking hands on the way. The evening wrapped up swiftly after that. There were a considerable amount of people wanting to shake hands, but Lisa Cuddy carefully maneuvered them past the recipient rather quickly. Finally, near the end of the receiving line, Greg House heard the voice that he had been longing to hear all evening,

"Dr. House, congratulations, thank you for the nice words, but you deserve the praise - - after all you wrote it." With a nod, James Wilson walked past and out into the night.

House said nothing. It was all too obvious that he was in pain, but whether it was his leg or his soul was very hard to tell. Lisa Cuddy managed to cut short any further greetings so that Cameron and House were on the road within a few minutes. House felt sterile, devastated as if he couldn't feel. He barely heard Allison Cameron, asking him if he would like to come up for a cup of coffee. He almost didn't wait for her to shut the car door before pulling away.

Wilson wasn't home. House drove by there and then tried calling . . . nothing. It was an incredibly long night, but Greg House was in Cuddy's office at exactly 8:00 am.

"Dr. House, I asked you to come here to discuss your report. I've read it; even though I'm sure you thought I wouldn't. It's excellent. I do have some questions, but I'll prepare them in written form and then we'll discuss them later."

Cuddy waited for House to say something, but the man only looked at her with his sad blue eyes.

"I want to add my personal congratulations about your paper. I know you think that I'm only interested in the PR that this kind of thing can bring us, but I am very proud of this as you should be."

House merely nodded his head, saying nothing.

"Now, as much as you deserve praise for your paper and your work in your department, I feel that something has to be said about . . . your accusations."

"Where's James Wilson?"

Cuddy looked vaguely mystified, but answered, "He's asked for a leave of absence, and I granted it."

Although House didn't show it, he felt as if his heart had just gone through a car crusher. "When?"

"I don't understand."

Expecting a sarcastic answer, Lisa Cuddy waited and was surprised when sarcasm failed to appear. "When did Wilson ask for the leave?"

"It was sometime late yesterday afternoon . . . after he spoke to you."

Suddenly House's face seemed to crumble then Cuddy could see him fighting for control. "Did you talk about me . . . and you?"

"Doctor, I have long known about you and Dr. Wilson when you were younger." Reading House's look of indignation and surprise, Cuddy hurried on, "And no, Dr. Wilson did not tell me. You did."

House's left eyebrow shot up in disbelief, but he held his voice.

"Of course, you didn't know you did, but when you were coming out of the chemically induced sedation, you said . . . some things. It became obvious what kind of relationship you two had."

With the first hint of cynicism that Cuddy had heard that morning, House queried, "Is that why you told him about . . . us?"

"All right, it wasn't very professional, but it was perfectly innocent. It was after you had had the week without Vicodin. Dr. Wilson came to me because he was worried about the effects of such abstinence on your health. We got to talking about you and some of the incidents that occurred as you were recovering. Wilson's face took on a look that I had never seen him have before. He was talking about you with such affection. He mentioned how you two met, and I guess, I just sort of blurted it out by asking him if you slept together. He wasn't ashamed of your intimacy, and as we talked I did him the courtesy of not denying our few times together. That's all it was."

"You aren't sleeping together, are you?"

"Doctor House, I don't have to answer that, but I will - - no, definitely not. Dr. Wilson is a remarkable man who cares a great deal about you. I don't know what you said to each other; he wouldn't say, but whatever hurt you've felt is nothing to what he's feeling. Now, Doctor, I hope that ends this kind of behavior on your part. I feel some statement must be made about such accusations so you will serve an extra 10 hours of clinic duty for the next month, and you will be suspended for the next 3 days."

House's head shot up in amazement, but he rapidly changed his belligerence as Cuddy continued with, "And I sincerely hope that you find something important to do with all your free time."

The visual image of James Wilson on leave suddenly popped to mind. Indeed, he would probably need three days and maybe more to repair the mess that he had created this time.

HWHWHWHWHWHW

Greg House pounded on Wilson's door for what seemed like the thousandth time and still no answer. He knew that Wilson was in there. He FELT that Wilson was in there. House leaned his forehead against the door, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't really blame Wilson for not wanting to talk to him, but his Jamie had never refused to talk to him before.

Finally, a small slip of paper appeared under the door. House reached over and picked it up, it read:

IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU MUST BE A MORON. I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU.

Signed, The Man Who Is NOT Sleeping With Cuddy

Despite himself, House smiled. That was his Jamie - - God, how he loved the man. Why hadn't he told him that instead of ranting and raving and letting his jealousy get the better of him?

Finally, the door opened a tad and one brown eye stared out, as if checking to see if the unwelcome visitor had gotten the hint. A tiny moan was heard before the door opened completely to show a fairly disheveled James Wilson.

"Can't you take a hint? Read my lips, House, I don't want to talk to you. My feelings right now are about one inch shy of punching you in the mouth, so go away!"

Instead of following this very sensible advice, House continued to lean there with his blue hound dog eyes messaging his unhappiness. "I'm sorry for what I said. I just wanted you to know. You know you're too good to be my friend. I malign you and take advantage of you. I take you for granted, and you always come back for more. I have never understood why you've put up with me. I don't deserve you. You're smart to dump me."

"Well, you've got that all right, House."

The sad eyes got sadder. House nodded his head in agreement. "I'll leave; I just wanted you to know that I love you."

With those words House began to turn around but stopped when Wilson asked, in a somewhat hesitant voice, "What are you doing here? I mean, why are you here now; shouldn't you be at the hospital on clinic duty?"

House stopped, partially turning, "I've been suspended for my remarks. Frankly, I'm surprised Cuddy didn't do it a long time ago."

Wilson stepped forward, enraged, "SUSPENDED? What'd she do that for? It was a personal attack; I can't believe it. You've said a lot worse. You aren't going to take that, are you?"

Now, House turned and looked fully at his friend. "I thought it was a good idea. You're on a leave of absence and I'm suspended for three days; I hoped that we could use the time to talk . . ."

Suddenly Wilson backed up, looking very suspicious. "Talk . . . just talk?"

Blue eyes looking less sad continued to stare, "Yeah, don't you think we need to?"

"Yeah, well . . . maybe," Wilson made the first move back into the door and open it further for the injured man to gain entrance, but just as House was starting to cross the threshold, Wilson began to close the door more, using his body to block the door.

"Just a minute, I just remembered; I'm MAD at you. You don't get away with saying that I'm sleeping with Cuddy, and to top it off that I've made lousy choices in wives . . ." Wilson stopped for a minute; his face blushing faintly and a puzzled wrinkle appearing between his brown eyes. "Hey, wait a minute, did you say you loved me?"

"Well, so much for intelligent design, my dear doctor Wilson. I would have thought my snide remarks, and my uncouth behavior, let alone my raging jealousy would have all been clues . . . and then my asinine attempt at showing off my 'I-don't-care-policy' of bringing Cameron with me to the get-together should have been enough hints."

House stopped there, totally out of breath and waiting . . . waiting for the axe to fall. Instead, James Wilson stood there while his face softened as the affection he normally showed his scruffy-faced friend, reappeared. "Well, I guess you better come in then." Wilson stopped abruptly as he was opening the door again and whirled, "This doesn't mean that I've forgiven you, but I am willing to . . . talk."

House nodded quietly and limped into the room. Finding the chair that Wilson kept especially for him, but never advertised it as that, he collapsed in it, gratefully accepting a can of beer. After Wilson took a seat on the sofa nearby, House studied his friend for a moment before saying, "You look tired. Would you be willing to let me buy us some delivery?"

Dark brown eyes studied House; then Wilson shook his head. "You don't get out of it as easily as that. "What did Cuddy say . . . about your suspension?"

House rubbed his forehead as he took out his Vicodin bottle and popped one pill in his mouth. "Pretty much what you'd expect. She was angry but kept her temper better than I did. She explained why she told you about our hopping in bed. I guess I called your name a lot when I was sedated. I needed you so bad. I'm glad you two were able to . . . talk. That's something I've never been able to do that with anybody, but Stacy . . . and you." House smiled grimly but continued on, "Well, you know how that worked out with Stacy, but I haven't . . . until now, that is . . . really talked about things with you."

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

The scruffy faced man shook his head in frustration, "My name is House, but it should be castle or fortress or something like that. You've met my parents. If your own parents were disappointed in you plus you were a cripple, what do you think I would feel about other people? You know my parents - - you're the son they would love to have - - not some misfit, square peg in a round hole."

James Wilson smiled in fond remembrance of the first time that he had met House's parents. It was too bad he couldn't get his friend to see himself the way that House's parents saw their son. As House lay dying due to the infarction, they insisted on spending all their time there, until James Wilson arrived. Then . . . they left to return on a more normal schedule. James Wilson's badly bruised heart still remembered the words that had given him such hope. "James, you know how much we love Greg, but you're the one who should be with him now. He needs the one who loves him best, if he's not to leave us."

Blythe House had kissed James Wilson on the cheek, just as she had done her son, but it was John House's firm handshake and sweet words as he left that revived Wilson's spirit."

If only House could have heard those words.

Wilson broke out of his reverie to stare at his friend. He smiled, "Your parents love and adore the son they've got. I'm no prize as my wives will gladly attest. You expected Stacy to trust your judgment and go along with your wishes; she didn't but saved your life. She should have told you her thoughts. Trust is one of the most fragile things in the universe. It's especially difficult if you put a person up a pedestal and expect them not to waver and fall off. None of us are superhuman or divine. I know I've disappointed you many times. I know that when I married Julie, it hurt you, but I needed something . . . someone. I guess I took it one step further than you did when you flaunted Cameron in my face."

Wilson, thinking for a moment. "I wanted to be in the forefront when Cuddy called your name for the recognition. You deserve all the praise and every honor. You're a genius, Greg House, even if you are flawed . . . as we all are. Cameron is fighting a losing battle to want to fix you. You are broken, but I wouldn't change you for a million dollars . . . well, two million maybe, if Julie's alimony demands go through."

Wilson stood up and walked the few steps over to where House sat. A tiny smile peeked out on the handsome mouth. "Thank you for telling me that you love me. I needed to hear that so badly. I guess . . . I hope that you need to hear the same. Greg House, I love you, and I have ever since you walked into a certain room and propositioned me into your bed. I didn't mean what I said about that being a bad choice; it was the best thing that I ever did."

Carefully and hesitantly, James Wilson held out his hand to his friend. House smiled, his eyes slightly dreamy as the effects of the Vicodin began to make itself felt. House reached forward, unashamedly using Wilson's strength to lever himself out of the chair. The two men stood breast to breast. After a moment, their lips met in a gentle kiss.

After their breath gave out the two men moved apart, but as James Wilson started to step back, his friend moved closer pulling the younger man to him as if House was fearful of any distance between them. Leaning his head on Wilson's forehead, the older man asked, "How come you sent in the paper; you know I don't need that."

James Wilson smiled sweetly, giving his friend a quick kiss on the cheek. He drew back just slightly to look affectionately at House. "You might not need that because you're safe behind your knowledge that you're a certified genius, but we, who love you, need to see other people recognizing that genius. 8 months ago we were coming into a really rough time of our lives with Vogler. Cuddy told you that you weren't worth $100,000,000, but she was wrong. To me, to those who love you and all those patients you've helped, you're priceless."

Moisture appeared in Greg House's blue eyes; he clasped James Wilson hand tightly, giving the palm a tender kiss. In an emotionally charged voice, House whispered, "Thanks, now help me into the bedroom so you can tell me about your plans for our leave of absence."

James Wilson winked as he put his arm around the older doctor's waist. "You bet. Wait 'til you see what I've got planned."

Might post short epilogue about the leave of absence.