7

A/N: Are you still there? Sorry, I have been missing in action. The end of the semester is upon me and it has been nothing but work, work, and more work. I have had no time to even think about this chapter, but I had a couple of free hours, and threw this together instead of study for my statistics test. I hate statistics. I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend, and I hope to get back on track with a weekly chapter very soon.

Sheila

Heart Cancer

Chapter 10

Wilson looked up from his book at the sound of screams. He smiled at the scene below him; three little girls splashing in the surf with Hector. The young, burly man was trying to fend off a water fight launched by all three of them. Beside him, Conni sat in a chaise lounge wearing a sun hat and dark glasses. She turned to him, "Let's go down there."

Wilson shook his head. "You breathed into too much sand yesterday, and you coughed all night. Your lungs can't afford that kind of stress. Today we sit by the pool and enjoy them from afar."

She lay back, and reached for his hand. "This has been one of the best weeks of my life."

He squeezed back. "Sometimes I forget what's really happening."

She looked off over the horizon. "I know."

He sighed. "I think Marta will do a great job with your girls. She's amazing."

Conni chuckled. "Can you believe how calmly we're having this conversation?"

James smiled. "I didn't even think about it."

"We can't stay here forever."

"Yeah, I know. I did some calculations this morning. It turns out that I can only afford this place for another 159 days."

"We have to get back."

"We could get jobs here and stay. I think I would like to park cars for a while. The tips are good if you have the right attitude, and I think I have a real trustworthy face. Maybe you could be a Concierge, and we'll put the kids in school, and Hector can fix cars and Marta can go to nursing school. What do you say? Try it for a year?"

"Yes, I think you would make an excellent valet. But for me, I think I would like to be a lifeguard."

He shook his head, a serious look etched comically into his features. "I would be too jealous for all that. I think you'd better stay with something a little more respectable. We're definitely not sharing those long legs with the rest of the world."

She slapped at him with the style section of the New York Times. "Seriously, James, we have to go home. There are things I need to do. I have been thinking about my mom. I would really like to spend some time with her in San Juan."

"Okay, just a few more days. My tan is finally starting to set."

"Okay, but do you really think your skin is going to do anything other than get that red, blotchy color?"

Wilson surveyed his arms. "You don't think they look good? I think they're sort of sexy in a second degree burn kind of way."

She giggled and shook her head. He smiled back, and climbed out of his chair. Her forehead creased for a moment. He grabbed for his cell phone. "I need to do a few things for a friend. I'll be back."

She nodded and returned her attention to the beach below. Marta had joined them now, and she and Hector were chasing the girls down the beach. Despite the warmth of the midday sun, Conni felt a chill running through her. She closed her eyes and wished for a way to capture the moment and make it last forever.

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Chase's eyes widened when he walked into their office. Streamers, balloons, and decorations littered the room. Foreman sat in the midst of it with a wary look on his face.

"Did you do this?" Chase said in disbelief.

"You're joking, right?" Foreman replied. "I found the room like this."

Chase looked around. "Do you think Cameron did this?"

"She says no. She went down to the nurse's station to find out if they knew."

Cameron walked in with a large bouquet of flowers with a Happy Birthday sign in it. She pulled out a card. "Yep. This is definitely for House. Here's a card and there's a little note attached to the back." She blinked. "There is…a note for me."

"Read it," Chase said.

She did so, silently. He grabbed for her arm. "I mean out loud."

She backed away a couple of steps. "You're not going to believe this one."

"Try us," Foreman said with a scowl.

"Okay, it says, Dear Cameron, it's House's birthday. You'll be confused by this because it is House's birthday whenever he doesn't have any cash and he wants a free meal. Ask around. He always tells his mark to not tell anyone else because he's embarrassed about his birthday."

Cameron looked up. Foreman nodded. "I took him out for Thai food three months ago. He said he didn't like to celebrate, but he would because he knew I wouldn't go overboard."

"I took him for French food about six months ago. Expensive damn meal. Said that his birthday always depresses him because Stacy left him around that time." Chase didn't meet their eyes.

Cameron smirked.

"Aw, come on. He got you too, didn't he?" Foreman asked.

"Nope. Never pulled it on me once." She returned to the letter, scanning the words. "He's pretty mad at me right now, but I do take him out on his real birthday every year. I probably went overboard, but I was thinking the three of you and maybe Cuddy could take him out. My treat. I have reservations at the Galaxy Room, and a bottle of his favorite expensive scotch waiting there. Get him drunk. Let him call me a 'bastard' as much as he wants. Just let him have a good time. It's probably best not to tell him I was involved in this at all. Wilson. P.S. I am doing well. Will be back sometime soon. But I am very happy right now. I recommend it. Happiness, I mean."

"Wow!" Chase shook his head. "I never would have believed that Wilson would be someone who colored outside the lines. I really thought I had that guy pegged."

"Well, I for one, am not amused. We have been working double time trying to figure how to pull that tumor, and he takes off, probably screwing up our timeline for good."

Cameron turned to him. "We still have time. We don't know what that tumor is doing. He could be back in a couple of days, and we almost have the procedure nailed."

"Man! It's going to take you guys some time to clean this up. Better get started." House cocked his head at them and smiled as he surveyed the balloons and streamers.

Cameron stepped forward. "Ah, Happy Birthday, House. We, uh, thought we'd put together a little party for you."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You mean, Wilson thought he would throw me a little party."

"No, ah—"

"Save it, Cameron. He's overcompensating. Not even you would decorate the office. Besides, he's the only one besides Human Resources that knows my actual birthday."

She bit her lip and then held up the note. "He's says he's doing well."

"I know. He's been calling." House leaned his cane next to his desk and dropped into his chair.

"So you've been talking to him." Foreman got up.

"No," House swung one leg up and then carefully pulled the other one up on his desk. "I said he's been calling."

"You won't even talk to him." Chase said.

House shrugged. "He says he's happy. He's got a tumor crowding his brain, and he says he's happy, running off with some terminal woman and her kids. It's ridiculous. They're probably planning a deathbed wedding or some other crap."

Cameron looked away.

Eric Foreman looked at him. "This isn't about you. I'm pissed he's run off too. But this is about him and what he wants. When is it ever about what Wilson wants in your world? He's always cleaning up after you. Now he needs your understanding and you're acting that this is all about you. Wilson's the one with the tumor, not you."

The room grew silent. Eric shook his head and walked out. Cameron stood there with her mouth open. House stared after him, and then turned to the rest of his team. "Have all of this out of here by the time I get back." Then he got up, grabbed his cane, coat, and disappeared out the door.

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The headache crept up on him, coming slow and planting itself deep. For the first few hours, he was able to hide the pain. He let the girls drag him down to the beach, and he cooperated as they planted him near the surf, using a combination of dry and wet sand to build a sand castle. They put him in charge of the actual construction while they ran off, and returned with buckets of sand. After a couple of trips, Maggie sat down next to him, and started to help him build. She grinned up at him, wet, tangled curls plastered to her chubby cheeks, and for a while, he could forget the pain pounding at his temples.

The girls were surprisingly focused, and he and Maggie were shaping castles for most of the morning. At one point, he shaded his eyes and looked up to their villa. Conni waved down at him from her lounge by the pool.

The pain beater heavier, and he found that he couldn't countenance the bright sun. Maggie started to get whine about being thirsty, and he figured this was a good moment to get the girls back up the stairs. At the stairs, he had to lean on the railing to climb. He felt a sense of relief when they were safely on the deck. He sent them off in search of Marta and Conni who were making lunch, and he closed his eyes, resting for a moment against the wall. A shadow settled on him, and he looked up to find Hector standing before him. He wasn't sure what he said, but the big young man put his arm around his neck and helped him inside. Wilson pointed at his bedroom, and Hector brought him in, and gently helped him onto the bed. Wilson asked for his bag, and some water. He dug out an orange bottle, and shook two pills into a shaky palm. Then he closed his eyes, and let the pain take over his consciousness.

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House came back later and found the card still on his desk. He ignored it for the rest of the day. No one said anything more to him; even Cameron knew to give him his space. She did tell him about the Galaxy Room, and House told them to go and enjoy it themselves. Cameron started to protest, but Chase pulled her away, and together with Foreman, they left early. House sat at his desk, pushing the card back and forth for some time. Finally he picked it up, turned it over, and slid his forefinger under the flap.

He smiled. It was written in Wilson's distinctive chicken scrawl, but House had plenty of experience with his friend's cramped writing. It was only a few sentences, but House took time to read it a few times.

He sat back for a long time before he picked up his cell. He hit Wilson's number and waited. This time, no one picked up. He waited for the beep. "Do you think I'm a 14 year old girl? Balloons and flowers are a bit of an overkill, don't you think?...I'm not mad…well, I am, but at least I know I shouldn't be. Maybe you want to give me a call, and I can get some sense as to when you are coming back. I think we have a plan that you're going to like…And, yeah, we're going to have to talk about happiness one of these days. I would like to know what you think you've discovered about it. I'm a pain. I know that. And you've put up with a lot. I do appreciate it. I know it doesn't feel like it, but I do. Call me."

He rested his head against the back of the chair, and placed the phone on the desk in front of him. Then he waited.

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Wilson couldn't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. He was taking double the recommended pain medication, but nothing seemed to touch it. Conni came in, worried, but he reassured her that everything was okay. He asked her to pull the shades.

At the point that he added another pill, he knew he was in trouble. His stomach rebelled, and he never made it out of the bed. Some time later, he was aware of Conni and Marta rolling him over and changing the sheets. Conni said things to him, but he couldn't seem to understand her words. He tried to tell her he would be fine, but her worried face hovered and she kept talking into his face. Finally, she drifted away, and he remembered thinking that he could finally get some sleep. A darkness descended, and he welcomed it.

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House jerked forward when the phone rang. He pulled it to his ear and listened. His face scowled at the unfamiliar voice. Then he sat up, and started firing questions at the woman. He grabbed a piece of paper and began to scribble. He told her exactly what to do, and hung up. He stuffed the note into his pocket, grabbed his cane, and hobbled out of his office at a trot, ignoring the screams of protest rising from his damaged thigh.

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TBC