12
A/N: Sorry for the wait. The next few weeks are going to be crazy, and I will not be moving very fast on this. However, three weeks of Christmas vacation gives me wild opportunity for writing. We are getting to the last four chapters. I hope you are enjoying. I still love this story despite its melodrama and somewhat unsound medical practice. Thanks for responding to it. This is always what inspires me to keep writing.
Sheila
Heart Cancer
Chapter 12
His hand felt warm, and he wondered how long House was going to hold his hand. It seemed a little inappropriate, but James was willing to let it go. The rules had changed. Nothing was it was. He was no longer the person he had once been. He'd betrayed every stereotype he had ever embodied. If House wanted to hold his hand, well that was just fine. It was the least of his worries.
Wilson let his head roll over and opened his eyes. House was suddenly quite beautiful. His blue eyes had long lashes and the most precisely applied black eyeliner. His long, dark hair was something quite new. He was especially surprised by House's pearl necklace. He reached over to touch it, and a well-manicured hand shot out and grabbed it.
"Hey James, do you know where you are?"
House's voice was suspiciously odd, and James focused better to find that his House looked a great deal like Lisa Cuddy.
"Did you come to Hawaii?"
She smiled wide. "No, James, you're back home."
He looked around, eyes blurry. "I don't remember this. How did I get here?"
"House brought you in last night."
Wilson furled his brow. "I don't remember anything after getting on the plane."
She licked her lips. "Well, you slept most of the way. Apparently you didn't even stir during a refueling stop in Los Angeles. But you did wake up over the Appalachians, and you had a seizure."
He closed his eyes and was silent. Her grip on his hand tightened.
"House being House was prepared. He had a syringe taped to his thigh. He was able to sedate you for the rest of the flight."
Wilson nodded, eyes still closed. "Did anyone see him?"
Cuddy snorted. "Yes, people noticed that he produced an illegal syringe in the middle of the flight. The flight attendant called it in as a possible terrorist attack. He was arrested once the plane landed in Newark."
Wilson groaned. "You gotta do something, Lisa."
She smiled. "Already covered. Stacy and House are down at the U.S. Attorney's office right now. He's pleading guilty, and has to pay a $10,000 fine and perform 1000 community hours. I've offered to let him do it at the clinic."
"Is he alright?" He couldn't calm the feeling of dread in his gut.
She put her other hand on his shoulder. "He's fine. I think he loved it a little. You know, House the criminal; adds a little bit of danger to his crabby mystique. You know him."
He looked around the stark whiteness of a hospital room. Despite blankets, it felt cold and confining. He wondered if these four walls would be the last scenery he would ever see. The sounds began to drift in as he noted the intercom from the hallway, and people's voices. It hit him how amazing it had been to be in a place where the sounds were primarily of waves breaking and the laughter of children. That had felt so alive to him. This felt final.
"James" Cuddy broke his reverie. He blinked at her. "Your friend, Consuela, came back this morning. She's in with her oncologist. She wanted me to page her when you were awake."
He suppressed a shudder. He didn't want to see anyone, and he certainly didn't want to say good-bye to the fantasy of Conni Sandoval. He didn't say anything for a couple of moments. Then he turned to her, "The tumor's too big, isn't it?"
She hesitated, as if searching for certain words. "The surgeon thinks so, but Foreman disagrees. They're talking about it right now. Chase and Cameron are in there too. I would be surprised if that surgeon gets out of this hospital in one piece if he doesn't agree to do it."
He smiled at her discomfort. "Life takes funny turns, Lisa. Who would have thought I would lying here like this, having this conversation with you."
She bit her bottom lip.
He nodded slightly and sighed. "I think this is where I find something brave and comforting to say to you; something that shows you that I'm ready for this, but I'm not. I'm sorry. I wish I could do better."
She shook her head sharply, brushing her fingertips under her eyes. "Hey, this is not finished. We have plenty of time. Do me a favor. Tell me something I can get for you. I am at your service. Hell, if you miss Hawaii, I'll have a juice bar and palm trees in this room within the hour. You just name it."
He reached for her hand again. "Alright, I'm going to take advantage. Find me some freshly squeezed orange juice with a dash of fresh grapefruit. Then find me the most recent films they have on me. I want to see for myself."
"You sure that's all?"
"That would be perfect right now." He smiled at her with as much warmth as he could muster. "Tell Conni to go home and rest. I think tomorrow is a going to be a better day for me."
The pain in his head was starting to build, but he was reluctant to take medication right now. He had spent enough of the last four days in a fog. He kept his smile steady for Cuddy until after she left. Then he felt his pain settle itself in his temples. He closed his eyes to it. An odd feeling tugged at him, and he struggled to identify it.
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"Dammit! I was only gone a few hours!" The cane swung up and for a second, Cameron wondered if it would land on one of their heads. "I can't believe you let the surgeon go!"
Foreman rolled his eyes, and folded his arms against his chest. He didn't even attempt a response. Chase, on the other hand, was trying desperately to get a word in.
"The films show us nothing good. He didn't have a—"
"Enough!" Chase jumped a bit at his harsh tone. "I don't want to hear it." House advanced on the offending films. He looked them over perfunctorily before turning toward them again. "You have to look for what's not there. Find the exception. If it's so big, why is he still functioning? Why isn't he in a coma?"
"He could be any day now," Foreman said quietly.
House flashed ice blue eyes at him. "Well, he's not, and that's a piece of information we have failed to explore."
Cameron walked toward him slowly. "None of us have had more than a few hours of sleep in the last three days. You haven't probably slept at all."
He turned toward her. "Always trying to get me into bed, aren't you? Get a life already."
She steeled herself against his assault, and glared at him. "Knock it off, House."
"I'll make a deal. You start acting like you give a damn about this case and I'll—" He never finished his sentence. Her hand shot out like a bullet, and slapped him smartly across the face. The sound, like a crack, filled the room, and it seemed to have an echo in the moments that passed in silence. They looked around at each other in shock, and Foreman rose from the table and walked toward House as if ready to restrain him if he advanced on Cameron. Chase came up behind Cameron and put a hand on her shoulder. She brushed it off and looked at House again. In a voice shaky with emotion, she said, "Don't ever accuse me of not caring. Say anything else you want. Make fun of my feelings for you. Humiliate me about my weaknesses, but don't ever say that I don't care. Do you understand?"
House stared at her, his mouth hanging open. It wasn't clear if he was hearing her or not.
She nodded once, and grabbed her coat. "I would apologize. I should really, but you have deserved that for such a very long time that I really can't bring myself to right now. I'm going home, and I am going to sleep for 7 hours. Then I will be back, and I will be able to see those films with fresh eyes." She waited for a moment as if expecting a reply, and then shook her head. She turned to her colleagues. "I suggest you all do the same thing. We're really in no position to make a decision about anything." Then she brushed past Chase and disappeared out the door.
The three men looked at each other, and without a word, each grabbed his coat and made his home.
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Her eyes grew red and soft as she spoke, and Wilson squeezed her hand again. "And I slapped him really hard. I did. I knew he was tired. We were all tired, but I hit him as hard as I could. I can't believe I did that. It was really stupid…"
She had snuck into his room in the early morning hours, and when he woke, he found her snoring softly, sleeping in a chair, her head resting on his mattress. He woke her gently, and she started in with her story almost immediately. He got the feeling that she was using him as a confessor, and he wondered if he should joke about being her Jewish/Catholic priest.
"…and so I went home and slept a few hours, and then I couldn't anymore because when I closed my eyes, all I could see was the look on his face when I did that to him. I came here, and I thought maybe…it's stupid, I know. You of all people do not have time for my problems. But I'm here anyway."
"Okay, Cameron, that's enough." He patted her hand, and forced her to meet his gaze. "You didn't suffocate a baby, okay. You merely slapped House. Please. Lots of people do it. I am sure he had it coming, and it usually shuts him up. He'll be fine."
She grimaced as she struggled to hold back tears. "I shouldn't have done it."
"Nonsense, Allison. Really. He deserved it."
"You can't know that."
"I've known Greg House for nine years. I am absolutely sure that he pushed you too far. He's scared, and when that happens, he bullies people and he doesn't stop until someone stands up to him. I've seen it before."
She rubbed her forehead. "Why? Why does he matter so much? Can you explain it? I mean, being his best friend ought to qualify you for a Nobel Peace Prize."
"I have been asked that question so many times," Wilson said, shaking his head. "There is no real secret. We're just a couple of overly bright nerds who enjoy the same things, and aren't that good at relating to the women in our lives. Hanging out with House is where I get to totally relax. I suspect he feels the same."
"You can forgive him his excess, his mistakes?" She studied him closely.
Wilson shrugged. "Sometimes, I can. I know him well enough to know that his need for answers is a compulsion. It's what makes him good at what he does. He can't let up, and that means, sometimes, he goes too far. The more I stand up to him, the better he understands the line between what is acceptable and what is not."
"He doesn't trust my motives for wanting to be with him. Do you?"
Wilson grinned. "Sure, I tried being with House once, but he's all hands, you know, and it made me feel like an object. Plus, he never wanted to talk about my feelings."
Cameron giggled. "No, I mean, do you trust my motives for being with House?"
His smile faded and he sighed. "Allison, I trust that you care about him. I don't trust that you can survive him. Stacy is one of the strongest women I know, and she came out of it a mess. You are very strong as well, but I am not sure you see him yet for who he really is. You need to understand his unhappiness better."
She blinked. "Well, that gives me food for thought. I…uh, should probably go. Everyone should be here by now, and we need another chance to look at those films."
She got up, and he caught her hand. "Allison, I want to thank you for coming to talk about something not related to my disease. It was nice not being "man with massive tumor" for a few minutes. I appreciated the distraction."
She smiled at him, and leaned over, kissing him softly on the cheek. "Thanks for being there."
She was almost out the door when he called out to her again. She leaned back in.
"Could you tell House to stop by? I have a thought…I don't know, maybe…just ask him to stop, okay?" Wilson let his head drop back into his pillow.
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Wilson woke up to find House sitting in the corner of his room staring at him. Wilson ran a hand over his face and focused. "Are you worried that I'm contagious or something?"
"Last time I sat close to you, I was arrested on federal charges of terrorism," House mumbled before getting up and approaching.
"Yeah, how was that?"
"Do you wanna see where the handcuffs cut into my wrists?" House leaned his cane against the bed and rolled up his sleeves. Wilson looked at the undeniable bruises.
"You must have resisted arrest."
"Naw, those people just have no sense of humor about this terrorist stuff. They jerked me around like a puppy with a chew toy." House dropped into the chair next to Wilson's bed.
Wilson's eyebrows rose. "That's intense. Are you okay?"
"Yup, and they might put me on a watch list. Cool, huh? If they do, we have to get some of the posters and put them up in the hospital. It would be cool to be a mug on watch list one minute and someone's doctor the next. It might get me out of clinic duty. What do you think?"
"I think I'm happy to be back at Princeton-Plainsboro, and that wouldn't have happened if my best friend wasn't the crazy Dr. House. Thank you."
"Twas nothing, Jimmy. Any time."
Wilson spotted an angry red mark high on his left cheek. "Jeez, she really got you, didn't she?"
House touched it self-consciously. "I'm telling people the FBI beat me up while I was waiting for Cuddy's lawyers."
"It can be our little secret."
House winced a little when he pressed it. "I really sort of deserved it, you know. I hope you told her not to beat herself up about it."
"It's going to sound better coming from you."
House blew out a rush of air. "Well, we both know that's not going to happen."
Wilson struggled to balance himself on his elbows. "Listen to me. I have one thing to say, and then I will not talk of this again. House, if I don't end up being around—"
"I'm not worried, Wilson. We have plenty of road left here."
Wilson put up a hand. "Listen. I'm serious. Let me talk. Don't interrupt."
Something about the exasperation on Wilson's face shut House down, and he hung his head, glancing at his friend like a petulant child.
"If I don't end up being around much longer, you really have to think about reaching out, letting people in. You can't close yourself off. It's not good. You need friends, and you have people around you who care. I'm talking about Cameron and Cuddy, even Chase and Foreman. It's gotta to be a lot of work acting like an ass so much of the time. So why don't you relax and let people get to know you a little. Start with the pretty brunette with the sharp right hook. I doubt she's going anywhere anytime soon. You think she's hung up on saving you. Well, I think you're hung up on not being saved. So which one of you is really the one with the ulterior motives."
House took a deep breath. "Are you finished?"
"I guess so."
"I particularly enjoyed the part best you said this was the only time you were ever going to bring this up."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I really appreciate your willingness to see another perspective."
"Anytime," House got up and retrieved his cane. He started toward the door.
"Hey!" Wilson struggled to sit up. "I had a patient once with a brain tumor, and it was inoperable because of where it sat, and he went home to enjoy what was left of his life, and he went horseback riding and was thrown."
House looked at him warily. "You're telling me a story about someunlucky joe. Okay.?"
"Because of a possible concussion, we did another set of films. Amazing thing happened. His tumor had shifted. It had broken free of where it was anchored. A neurosurgeon was cutting him within a few hours, and I still get a card at Christmas from him."
House frowned at him.
Wilson put his hand on his temple. "Before we left Hawaii, my pain was here." He brushed his fingers back a couple of inches. "Now it sits here. When I seized on the plane, how hard did I rock?"
House stared at him, his blue eyes bright. "You were jumping around like a chicken off the butcher's block."
"Nice visual, thanks. When I have time, I will be sure to think about that with some mortification." Wilson grimaced.
House reached over and grabbed the receiver off the room phone. He barked into it, and soon an all page went up for his team members and Cuddy. "We're doing all the tests over. If this tumor has changed, we're going to know about it in the next three hours."
"Don't get too worked up. It's probably nothing," Wilson said as House disappeared out into the hallway, and started rounding up nurses to prep him for an MRI. He didn't acknowledge Wilson, but it didn't matter, House could no longer hear him.
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He was in a foul mood as the nurse wheeled him back toward his room. Tests sucked. He was going to make sure there was a memo to that effect circulated if he ever got out of this mess. He felt like a laboratory rat constantly being pushed through doors in a maze.
She pushed him into his room, and he was immediately swarmed by female Sandovals. Maggie made straight for his lap, and the rest of them, Conni, Marta, Isabella, and Melinda, descended on him, hugging whatever they could get hold of. The nurse tried to fend them off as one would some pesky pigeons, but they were immune to her words. James waved her off, and let his pigeons help him into bed. It was overwhelming but also exhilarating to have all of this uninhibited good will directed at him.
Finally they had him situated, and, as expected, Maggie had found a way onto the bed and sitting next to him, patting him on the shoulder like he was the family dog. The rest of them settled themselves about the room, Conni sitting in the chair next to him. He smiled at her, noticing the lines of weariness etched into her beautiful face. She was paler than he had ever seen her, and he wondered what she learned from her oncologist. A sinking feeling centered in him that their little adventure might cost her time.
She noticed the concern of his face, and smiled at him, shaking her head as if she could actually read his mind.
"You look good," Marta chirped from across the room. He smiled at her, but everyone stayed silent as if realizing that her statement was forced.
As if in retaliation, Maggie shot, "Well, he's sick and needs some pills and orange juice and toast without the crust." She patted him harder as if outraged that these medical necessities had not yet been provided.
Conni folded her hand into his, and leaned into him. "Thank you for the most beautiful adventure. We will remember it always."
"It was my pleasure," he murmured back at her, stung by the formality of her statement.
Marta jumped up. "Girls, let's give Mom a chance to talk to James without all of us around." Maggie pouted and clung to the bed. Wilson hugged her as best he could in his exhaustion, and allowed Marta to pluck her from his arms. Melinda kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for playing in the sand with her. Isabella stood there, silently, the eldest of the three. 7 years old, and it was already clear that she was not going to be the beauty her mother was. Long faced and thin, she had always been the most serious and quiet of the three, often buried in a book two or three years beyond her age. She looked at him with a sadness that tugged at his heart. In her eyes, he could see comprehension of all that was happening. It had never occurred to him that this small child would understand the events unfolding around her. She rested her head on his chest, and he could feel the hot tears falling onto his thin gown. He rubbed her back and told her that everything would be fine. Finally Conni had to peel her off of him, and send her outside with her sisters.
"She's so smart, Conni," he said as she settled back into the chair beside her bed. "How can she handle all of this?"
"Part of being smart is learning strength. She learns by example and I have been writing a journal for her. Marta will show her in a few years."
He reached over and clasped her hand. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."
She frowned slightly. "Not one bit of it, James. It was a wonderful thing for all of us. Taking a risk was a good thing. I will see their laughter and smiles for the rest of the time I have left."
"My getting sick must have scared the girls."
She smiled, "Maggie kept ordering you orange juice and animal crackers. She had the staff wrapped around her fingers, and unbeknownst to me, kept them busy with a number of demands. I think she imagined that I was going to feed you animal crackers, and you would be up and out at the beach again in minutes."
"Sounds like the makings of a doctor."
She looked around the room. "Actually I think Isabella will be the doctor, Melinda will be a teacher, she has the patience of Job, and my little Maggie will be a princess, I think. She has such a regal air."
"What did your oncologist say?"
She shrugged, "Nothing encouraging."
"You should think about going to your mother's. It may be the right place to be with your girls right now."
"We will. I just want to stay with you a little. I want to make sure you're okay."
He chuckled. "Okay, you've seen. I'm not okay. Neither are you. We can't do much for each other. Don't wait for me. Go. Take care of yourself and the girls. I have House and my friends."
"He will be kind to you?" Tears appeared on her cheeks.
"Amazingly, yes. He can be quite wonderful under the right circumstances. You just have to learn how to find it."
"Well, we'll go, of course, but we'll wait a little. I would fee better knowing what's going to happen next for you."
Wilson felt a stab of impatience in his gut. "There is nothing to wait for, Conni. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing remarkable is going to happen. I doubt I will ever walk out of this hospital again."
She drew in breath sharply and looked away.
"The reality is ugly, Conni. So we shouldn't wrap ourselves in this fantasy any longer. It will crush us both. Neither one of us is in much of a position to help the other. The best we can do is right now is take care of ourselves."
She rubbed at the moisture the stained her face and looked at him. Before she could say anything, House burst in. He took a look at the current circumstances, raising his eyebrows some, but abandoned the possibilities for sarcasm, and blurted out his news, "
Get ready. We're operating in two hours."
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TBC