Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for fun, no profit being made... you know the drill.
"Where's Chase?"
"Aw, kitten need a new mouse?" Wilson asked, sarcastically sweet. House's murderous look actually scared him this time, and Wilson looked around quickly. They were outdoors at one of the cafeteria tables, and though no one was near enough to hear them if they moderated the volume of their voices, Wilson was certain if he screamed someone would help him out. It never struck him as strange that he feared violence from a cripple.
"I sent him to you four hours ago. Where is he?" House asked again. "As his employer, I have a right to know."
Wilson couldn't refute that argument. It surprised him often, how conforming and logical House could be when he put his mind to it. "I sent him home." After House repeated the words incredulously, Wilson explained, "He had the flu, and the fact that he looks like a thirteen-year-old girl didn't help."
House adopted one of his patronizing, falsely interested looks. "I didn't know influenza presented in that area. So tell me, is he a natural blond?"
You… Dammit, House, one of your team is badly ill and you don't give a crap about it, do you? "Unless there's some underlying cause for his malnutrition, which I would have found, he has anorexia. Seeing as I don't, would you mind letting me finish my lunch?"
House's eyebrows shot up. He fell into the chair opposite Wilson. "I hired an anorexic? I hired a third-floor boy?"
Of course. Wilson couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Any reasonable person would lighten up, give Chase a break. House would probably fire him now. "Look, he wasn't when you hired him and the loss of appetite could easily be a symptom of his influenza."
"It could be… but it isn't," House replied.
Wilson considered for a moment. Telling House about Rowan would probably give him more to mock Chase about, but not telling him could lose Chase his job. Either way, it was Chase's head on the block. "You know about Rowan, I assume?" Wilson asked.
"Of course I know. Chase just doesn't seem stupid enough to starve himself to go join daddy. Especially given that I don't think daddy ever hugged him enough."
"If I let you eat my French fries, will you at least consider what I have to say?" In response, House helped himself. "Okay, I'll take that as a yes. First off, I don't think Chase is trying to kill himself. It doesn't work that way. Death isn't hurting him, it's distracting him and that is what's hurting him."
"Sounds like stupidity to me," House replied.
"Second," Wilson continued forcefully, "emotional development in those early stages can be severely stunted if contact is denied. Small children grow into ridiculously damaged adults--"
"If they're not held often enough? I'll tell Cameron."
Wilson took his plate back. When House protested, he replied, "Your considering what I have to say was part of our deal."
"I considered it and found it inaccurate. That's still considering." House was not fighting about French fries. He needed to be right. This was the quality Wilson feared in House as a doctor and hated in him as a friend. As a friend, it made him annoying. As a doctor, it made him potentially dangerous. Luckily House usually was right.
"Has it never occurred to you that friendship goes both ways? I'm asking you for a favor, a big favor, just once. Even if you couldn't care less about Chase--which, by the way, I think is untrue--could you listen for my sake? Because I'm your friend, and that's a damned thankless job?"
House scowled at Wilson. He lunged forward and took back the plate. "Go on, Cameron."
"Name calling, nice. Chase really hurt you, didn't he? Why is that? Is it because you trusted him and you were wrong? I don't think he meant to hurt you, House, but could he possibly have succeeded as much as you're hurting him? Is it possible that beneath that thick skin you pretend to have, you're even more vulnerable than the rest of us?"
"The teasing does not make you sound less like Cameron, in case you wondered."
"You hate killing patients."
"I prefer not to blame myself quite so much. I'm not the one who makes them sick."
"You're killing Chase."
"Chase has the flu. He'll get better. You're overreacting."
"He's not going to get better so he can come back to work and be tormented by you!"
Before House could respond to the effect that he had never before seen Wilson lose his temper, they were interrupted by Cameron. "For a few seconds there, I almost thought you were going to hit each other," Cameron said, skipping any semblance of an apology for interrupting. "Good thing we're in a hospital, isn't it? Lab results are back. She has no signs of rabies--"
"Rabies?" Wilson interrupted. "I thought you had the headache woman from the clinic."
House rolled his eyes and reached for his cane. "We do. Cuddy assigned her to us because she showed unusual signs of confusion. But about the time the photophobia and vomiting started, we decided it was more than just a headache."
"Encephalitis?" Wilson asked.
"Probably," Cameron replied. "But there isn't have any reason for it. She has no rabies, measles, mumps or meningitis."
"Herpes? Syphilis?"
"She says she's not sexually active--"
At last Cameron earned House's attention. "She says?" he demanded. "You didn't test for it?"
"No, I--"
"Go run the tests."
Cameron opened her mouth, but Wilson predicted the question and warned her against asking with a slight shake of his head. Cameron said, "Right."
House rolled his eyes to look at Cameron. "You're still here," he observed.
"Right," Cameron said again, as though surprised to find herself present. "I just thought, since none of the obvious causes show up on the tests, maybe Doctor Wilson should test for cancer. Encephalitis would result from even a minor infection with a compromised immune system, which could be caused by a tumor."
"It is possible," Wilson admitted, "but anything you haven't noticed on the MRI isn't likely to have suppressed the system." Cameron nodded, clearly in disagreement with Wilson's response. "I don't think we should do the scan. It's a diagnosis based on exclusion, a shot in the dark. But if nothing else is coming up and the patient wants it, I'll have a look anyway."
"Thank you. And, where is Chase? Foreman and I haven't seen him since this morning, and if the patient gets any worse, having an intensivist on the team would be a great help."
"Yeah, too bad he has the flu," House replied, thickly sarcastic. "Go run your tests." He seemed surprisingly unconcerned, perhaps because encephalitis was an almost routine diagnosis--one he and his team were wasted on. Cameron left without further comment.
House stood. "Can I just ask one thing, and have an honest answer?" Wilson asked.
"Yes. Satisfied?"
"Do you even care that Chase is sick?"
"Do I look like Cameron?" House asked. Seeing from Wilson's expression that he had not caught the full implications of the sarcasm, House added, "Of course I care. I don't like him, but I don't want him to suffer. Too much," he amended quickly.
A half-hour later, Wilson found Cameron in the lab, running tests. "Alison?" He felt the catch in his throat ease when she turned to face him, and realized he had feared that she was crying. That was foolish, he scolded himself. No one who worked for Greg House wept to be treated harshly. "You're worried about Chase, aren't you?" Wilson asked.
"And you're not?" Cameron retorted, somewhat more harshly than was completely fair. "I'm afraid he's going to die because he can't be bothered to take care of himself, and he won't let anyone else do it." Her mousy face scrunched slightly, forcing back tears.
Wilson didn't think he completely deserved her anger, but given that the only reasonable alternative target was House (because Foreman would hug her and she would cry), he was perhaps the safest outlet. "Well, I was going to drop by his place after work, see how he is. I thought you might like to come?"
Earthdrago: If you insist upon sarcasm, do not disregard basic grammar. 'I can't be bothered pile' should read 'I-can't-be-bothered pile' to indicate where one phrase ends, so that one is not left wondering what could possibly bother a pile!
Bessie: Your questionsshould be answered in this chapter. As for length, I don't do long chapters. I don't think they add anything to the story itself and they make it far more difficult for me to update.
Elli: Physically speaking, Chase really just has the flu.
And thanks to everyone, I really do love getting reviews! I'll try to make the next update a bit quicker.