A/N: Thank you to those brave souls that are reading a fiction without a dominating 'ship. I just spent the last year writing CSI fic, and I am afraid I am shipped out for the time being. I am not against House 'ships just not ready to write one. Rather, this fic is an ode to the House/Wilson friendship. There might be some lovin', but I am not sure what that will look like. It won't be slash. Hard to write slash for characters who are not gay. And I love me some Wilson. I am used to getting more reviews, but am very happy writing for this smaller community because this is so much fun to write. Thanks for taking the time to let me know what you think.

Sheila

Heart Cancer

Chapter 4

He smiled when he saw her. If nothing else, he had to admire her nerve. She paused awkwardly outside his office, hesitating at the glass door to his office. She heaved a big sigh and pushed the door in, walking straight up to his desk.

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. "Well, if it isn't Jezebel."

She was a study in perfection. Her suit was a light gray silk and her white blouse was decorated with tiny rosebuds, complimenting the delicacy of her light features. Her hair was neat, curly tendrils loose about the nape of her neck, and she wore fine, tasteful gold jewelry including a wedding ring that clung to her long, delicate finger. She worked on her bottom lip as she stood before him. "It's taken me three days to get up the courage to come see you. I have imagined many ways in which you might insult me, and am sure that are many more I didn't think of, but I'm here and we need to talk."

"Very brave speech, Julie. I imagine it has taken something to get you in my office. What I can't imagine though, is why."

"He won't talk to me."

House chuckled. "And this perplexes you?"

She looked away for a moment, and then she seemed to make a decision. She pulled up a chair, crossing her long legs primly. "I am prepared to play your games with you, but, for a moment, why don't you just relax your amazing wit and hear me out."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not bad, Jules. Go for it. You have the floor."

She blinked as if unsure to trust him. Then she took a deep breath. "You think I'm here to get him back."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you're here for the cafeteria food. Eating hospital is all the rage these days, and you are all about the 'in' thing. Maybe the fact that his office is ten feet away from mine is not a factor at all."

"Well, the problem is that he doesn't want me back, and I'm not sure it's worth the fight to get him to change his mind. I think it would be smarter for me to just come to terms with the fact that we don't want the same things in a marriage."

"Easy come, easy go."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she dabbed at the corners. "I'm sure that's what you would like to think. I'm just ready to move on, right? Maybe for just one minute, imagine that I want to hold onto him with everything I am, but the reason I don't is because I think he would never want me in that same way, and I don't have the guts to survive the truth of it."

He let out a rush of air. "Twisted in all of that melodrama is some kind of logic, I'm sure, but I still don't get where I come in."

She squeezed her wet eyes shut, but was unable to control the emotion within. "He's sick, and I can't sleep. I think about him all the time. I want to help."

House looked around the room, his eyes landing on anything that wasn't the crying woman before him.

"I know he's sleeping at your house, but that can't last. He likes his own space. And he can't be getting the right foods at your house. I'm trying to imagine that he is, but I can't."

"Okay, let's imagine for a moment that he could be getting better rest and healthier nutrition; what do you have in mind?"

"He can have the condo. I…I'll stay with a friend. I won't bother him. I promise. He can change the locks."

"You'll stay with your new boyfriend."

She looked away. "Sure. Whatever. Think what you want. There's a woman who comes into to clean. James never sees her; he's always at work when she comes, but she's a good cook, really good and he likes her food. I talked to her, and I think she could handle any kind of special diet he needs. You just need to give me an idea what that is."

"It kills you that he is staying with me." House cocked his head at her.

She started to laugh, "Yeah, its pure jealousy. You won and I lost, and I can't live with that. That's all that's going on right now 'cause you can assure me that staying with you is the best thing for him, that he's eating well, he's getting rest, and that staying with you isn't one step above living at a frat house. You can assure me that he gets better than your constant sarcastic bitterness. You and I both know we don't have much to play with here. Either the chemo helps or it doesn't. The only factors we can impact are his emotional and physical health. So, in that regard, we're doing everything we can, right?" Furious, she bolted out of her chair and started to pace.

"You think I care about you want?"

"This is about him. He's special. You know he is. Why else do you spend so much time with him? You're too arrogant to put up with ordinary. He's special and he means a lot to you. It's your worst kept secret, House."

He rubbed his chin for a moment and then looked up at her. "I'll talk to him."

She nodded and turned to leave. "Julie." She stopped and waited. "Wilson doesn't know that love isn't always enough to make a marriage work. In fact, it rarely is. It's amazing really. He is brilliant in so many other ways, but it's like he's an idiot savant when it comes to relationships. Three marriages and he's probably no smarter about women than the first time he walked down the aisle."

She smiled softly, "Why do you think we all wanted to marry him? It's one of his best qualities."

…………………………………………………………………………………….

"So, do you want your place back? Julie says she's moving out no matter what you decide." House sat at the piano, his fingers dancing aimlessly through different chords.

Wilson laid on the couch playing House's gameboy. "I saw her coming, you know. I slipped inside before she saw me. I was prepared not to answer the door. Thank God I don't have a glass door like you do."

House took a sip of the scotch on top of the piano. "I have to say I was rather impressed with her. She's either playing the game at a higher level than I ever gave her credit or she honestly just wants to help."

Wilson looked over at him. "She just wants to help. She's a good person."

House rolled his eyes. "The tumor has destroyed your emotional center."

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "First off; not funny. Second, believing good things about people is not pathetic."

His blue eyes popped open. "It's only been a week!"

"She had some good points. I am the one who screwed up the marriage. And how is it that I can't forgive her for something I myself did. It's hypocritical."

"So then why were you hiding from her?" House did a dramatic roll across the keys.

Wilson put the gameboy down. "Because I would have gone home with her if she asked, and even I know how stupid that would have been."

"She's says I'm not feeding you right."

Wilson stared up at the ceiling, his hands raised in wonder. "You are not feeding me at all. You are not my caretaker. I eat when I want, sleep when I want, and I'm capable of all other independent activities as well. What is it with all of you!"

"Chase has been researching a macrobiotic diet for you. What do you think?"

He sat up on the couch and shrugged. "It's a smart idea."

"Then why are we just starting to talk about it now?"

"'Cause it is always a better idea when it is for someone else. Brown rice, oatmeal, vegetables, ugh."

House glared. "So you're going to be six years old now. We're going to have to chase you around about the basics?"

"I'm not a robot. This is a process for me just like anyone else. I just happen to know enough to hate this crap before I have to try it."

"Some nurse named Melvin called to remind you that you have chemo in the morning. You say you don't want me to be your nurse maid, but then I end up taking your phone messages for you."

"Her name is Mel-veen, not Melvin, and she most definitely doesn't like you."

House scowled. "What did I do to her?"

"Nothing. She's seen you with others. It's a pre-emptive strike."

"Well, I hope you defended me to her. Remember what I always say, 'Bros before Hos, Man!"

Wilson grinned. "Right. Say that when you see her. She'll like that. Her perceptions of you will change."

"She wants you in the chair by 7:30 tomorrow."

Wilson groaned. "You know, now that I have experienced chemotherapy, I've decided to never use it as a treatment again. There has to be something less grueling than poisoning your body."

"My guess is that your batting percentage with patients will go down markedly."

"Sometimes our cures are as likely to kill as they are to save patients. What is that! We laugh about medical treatment from the middle ages when, in today's age, it feels like we are just as bad."

House sighed, "Wilson I am happy to fight with you on any number of issues, but don't make chemo one of them. It sucks, but it is our ace in the hole right now. Cameron says that there has been some success in even upping the dose more than what we have right now. You are young and strong with no chronic complaints. You're a perfect candidate for this."

Eyes closed, he leaned back on the couch. "I can't ask my patients to do what I am unwilling to do myself."

"That's beautiful. I'm going to print up t-shirts."

"Shut up already. I'll do it."

"Good. I already called in the new orders."

"I am going to be an ugly, bald man. Probably going to keep my eyebrows though. Chemo's funny like that. Gonna end up looking like Groucho Marx."

"You're not going to fight me on this?"

"No, I've been thinking we should up the dose for a couple of days now. Just haven't had the guts to take the plunge." Wilson rubbed at his face and picked up the gameboy again.

"And they say doctors shouldn't treat themselves," House chuckled and returned to his keyboard, gently moving into a piece by Bach.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You have a best friend?"

Foreman's eyebrows rose from the textbook he was reading. "Why?"

"Just wondering. I never really got the point of it, I guess. The whole idea sounds fraught with responsibility if you ask me." Chase returned to the article he was reading online.

"Why are we having this conversation?"

"House and Wilson. Doesn't it intrigue you even the tiniest bit?"

Foreman chuckled. "When I first came to work here, I was always really wary of Wilson. I kept trying to imagine what personality mutation he had that caused him to enjoy being around House."

"I didn't get it either, at first."

Foreman swiveled in his chair, "But you do now?"

Chase shrugged. "I think they each wish for what the other has."

"Go on."

"House wishes he was likeable and dependable like Wilson is. And Wilson wishes he had House's nerve to disrupt the world around him, no matter what the cost. They're both brilliant, they like to talk to one another, they respect each other; I think Wilson keeps House contained, centered, and I think House keeps him challenged."

"I think House would be lost without him." Foreman sighed.

"Think how many times Wilson has run interference on our behalf. I am not looking forward to a world without him around." Chase ran his hand across his stubbled chin.

"Well, that's what we're here to prevent."

Chase snorted. "You really think we can make a difference?"

Foreman gave him a look. "We're both about to bust our butts trying, got it?"

Chase threw his arms up in surrender and returned to the notes he was taking from the online journal.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Melvine kept him behind a curtain in a private room. Nurses and doctors had long since learned that poking their head in for a sympathetic look was going to be met with a steely glare from the strong willed nurse.

The first few times, Wilson brought in journals or files to review, but he couldn't truly concentrate, so now he just laid there and closed his eyes and let memories of his short and proper life wash over him. He thought about Sunday afternoon football games with his brothers, and long walks with his mother when the fall leaves were at their zenith. He remembered the exhilaration of new loves and how full of hope each relationship began. It was as if his mortality was hooked up to his central vein, and he was allowed a portal to a past he had never before found time for. Sometimes, emotion caught in his throat, but he never let it stop him from the memories.

One day there was a loud commotion outside his door, and his eyes popped open. Melvin disappeared out the door, and quickly came back in, urging him back into his seat and assuring him that nothing was wrong. She disappeared again for a long time. When she finally came back in, she was evasive and he found her staring at him with her brows furrowed.

The next time he came to chemo, she prepped him, and then announced that the clinic could no longer afford to staff her one on one with him. Wilson was about to protest that he had never intended to take up all of her time, when she slipped out into the lobby and returned with a mother and her three children.

Wilson sat up. "What's going on?"

"The clinic gave me another troublemaker. No reason why I can't handle the both of you together." She steered the woman into another chair and began to prep her arm. Her children found seats and the oldest one pulled out a tattered copy of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel and began reading to the two youngest.

A wave of annoyance rose up in Wilson as he watched his solitude be dismantled around him. "Can I at least have my own room?"

Melvine stopped hooking up her patient, and the woman leaned across her to get a look at him. Wilson was struck by her fierce, dark eyes and the wild, black hair that danced around her head. "Absolutely, doctor." Her voice was cold. She looked over her shoulder as she began to remove the line from the woman's vein. "The only other room is on the other side of the clinic so you will have to forgive me if I have to run back and forth between my two troublemakers."

Wilson rubbed at his forehead. "Wait! I'm sorry. I'm in a mood."

Melvine put her hands on her hips and waited.

Wilson nodded. "Yes, yes, I am a selfish jerk. Of course, I do not want you to have to run from one end of the clinic to the other, and I am sure Ms…., I am happy to have the company."

The woman looked at Melvine as if to launch her own protest, but the nurse ignored her.

"I apologize for my behavior," Wilson offered, sitting up in an effort to get a better look at his roommate.

The woman nodded at him warily and laid her head back in the chair. On chairs against the wall, the small children continued to stay enthralled by the story the oldest was reading to them. Wilson laid back himself, but couldn't focus. The faint scent of flowers wafted over him. The smell of women was his weakness. It was probably a main reason he liked to be married. He loved the smell of a woman next to him in bed. He loved the perfume in her hair and the smell of musk in her skin. The scent of a woman intoxicated him.

"What's your name?" Her voice was strong with a hint of Bronx in it and it startled him out of his reverie.

"I'm James Wilson."

"You're a doctor?"

He nodded at her.

"You don't look like a troublemaker to me," she said.

He allowed himself a smile. "Melvine says all doctors are troublemakers."

"That's right," the nurse said as she adjusted his line.

"Well then, I guess you belong." Her voice was thick and drowsy although Wilson doubted she was sleepy.

He ventured a question. "What's your name?"

Her chin shot up. "I'm Consuela Sandoval. People call me Conni."

"What's your claim to troublemaking fame?"

Conni looked at Melvine for a moment, "I was yelling at my doctor. I told him he was no good and I deserved better."

Wilson's eyes widened. "Were you right?"

"I think so."

"What's his name?"

Conni looked at Melvine again before answering. "Dr. Johnson."

Wilson looked at Melvine, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. She busied herself with his chart. Wilson knew he was treading on thin ice. Johnson had long been a thorn in his side. The man had been around forever and had tenure, but he was short with patients and much more interested in sailing boats than in any advances in cancer treatments.

"Can you tell me more?"

Conni narrowed her eyes and regarded him for a moment before responding, "I got no good insurance. I gotta take what I can get. He found cancer in my thyroid, but he keeps screwing up my treatment. He forgot the orders for chemo and I lost a week. Then he puts me on a new dose without saying anything, and I can't stop throwing up for days."

Anger rose in Wilson and he turned away.

"That's right. All doctors stick together. I'm sure you're thinking that the little Puerto Rican lady didn't understand what the doctor was saying to her." It almost felt to him like she was spitting the words at him.

"No, it's not like that. I'm really sorry he treated you badly. You should switch physicians."

She rolled her eyes at him, and he noticed freckles on her nose. "What do I know about oncologists? I have been to the hospital four times in my life; when I was born and for each of my children."

"Let give you some names. I know…some of these doctors." Somehow he wasn't ready for her to know him as the head of the department. He was certain it would shut her down.

Melvine pushed her glasses down her nose and looked at Wilson. She shook her head, and went to sit next to the children. The youngest was nodding off and Melvine pulled her into her lap and rested the child's head on her ample bosom.

……………………………………………………………………………………

TB

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