A/N: I finished my finals. YEAH! So I found time for a quick chapter. Please read all the way through before throwing things at the computer screen. Okay?

In other news, I saw Brokeback Mountain today. It was such an amazing movie. Who knew Heath Ledger would steal the movie? It was hard to come back here and not write Brokeback Hospital in this chapter. Maybe a little bit found its way in.

Your feedback is tremendous and it feeds me. Thanks for taking the time.

Sheila

Heart Cancer

Chapter 14

House felt someone shaking him. He focused on the face, and made out the shape of Lisa Cuddy. She didn't look right. He could see it right away, and his stomach dropped. She tried to find words, but her quivering mouth wouldn't cooperate. House pulled himself up, and pushed past her. Pain shot up his leg, but he didn't stop for his cane.

Chase's face appeared, and he was talking, but House wouldn't stop to listen. He pushed through the door to the recovery room, and found a red-eyed Cameron leaning over James Wilson. She was telling him how sorry they all were. Foreman was marking his chart, sighing and shaking his head as he wrote. House gripped the edge of the bed, and looked at Wilson's face. It was him just as he always knew him, but his color was fading; a grayness had emerged, taking with it the once vibrant color of a life.

Foreman began to outline all the measures they had taken to try and save him. House shook his head and turned to them. "Out! Get out."

Foreman wrapped an arm around Cameron's shoulders protectively and steered her toward the door. House didn't bother to respond to the glare Foreman pointed his direction.

House waited until the door shut behind them. The pain in his leg was too much, and he slumped into a chair beside the bed. For a moment, he could do nothing more than stare at the floor and try to compose himself. He swallowed hard and spoke, "I should be sorry, but I'm not. You were right and I was wrong, but I'm not sorry. This was truly the only option left, and I would do it again with the same odds."

House stopped and worked at fighting the emotions in his face. He settled for a painful grimace. "I don't know what I am going to do with this. I never allowed myself to imagine the possibility."

He rubbed at his eyes. "Dammit,Wilson! Dammit!"

"What am I going to do without the one person in my life who accepts me for who I am? Hell, life is lonely enough as it is."

He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the deep ache in his thigh. He brushed his hand against Wilson's forehead, and felt how the skin had become dry and cool. Wilson looked so tired, and worn; there was none of the peace House hoped to find in his features. The bandage on his head reminded him of the book cover of an old copy of The Red Badge of Courage, and a vision of Wilson as a soldier emerged.

Carefuly, he pulled the blanket up from where it was gathered about his waist. The chill of the sterile room and Wilson's cooling body was too much for him, and he absently tucked the blanket under Wilson's chin. He laid his palm on James' cheek.

"So I think I'm going to be angry with you. It's my new plan. It's best to stick with emotions I'm used to. I'm going to tell them that you should have tried harder; I'm going to say that running off to Hawaii was the dumbest thing you could have done. I imagine that will raise the hair on the back of Cuddy's neck. I don't care though. I don't think I could stand their sympathy right now. You'll understand though, you always do. You'll disapprove, of course, but you'll understand."

House collapsed back into his chair, and dropped his head into his hands. It took a few minutes before he could speak again. "Mostly, I'm going to be angry that you left me. Isn't that pathetic? There's no one to keep me out of trouble, no one to talk to, and I'm going to have to blame you, and the cancer that stole you from me."

He raised an eyebrow, unable to resist one last quip. "One of the consequences of this plan is that Cameron will probably hit me again. She's gotten a taste of how satisfying it can be to let out all of that pent-up frustration, and I can only imagine that it will get more violent from here on in."

Then Wilson reached out and shook his shoulder, and House shouted.

"Hey! Hey! House, wake up. It's me, Cameron. You were having a nightmare."

House shrank back, eyes wide, breathing hard.

"You dreamt that Wilson died, but its okay, he's still with us."

"What!" House blinked.

She sat down on the couch next to him. "You were exhausted. The nightmares took over."

House swallowed. "He's alive."

She sighed and nodded. "His vitals are not good, but he's with us. Chase is sitting with him."

He looked around for his cane. "I shouldn't be sleeping. How long have I been out?"

She looked up at the wall clock wearily. "6 hours maybe."

He regarded her with blurry eyes. "You haven't slept at all."

"Foreman is sleeping now. Chase needs back-up. I'll sleep this afternoon."

He put an arm on her shoulder. "You'll sleep now. Here's the key to Wilson's office. I'll back up Chase."

She looked at him. "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

She started to get up, and then stopped. "You really think I enjoy hitting you?"

He blushed a little at the thought of all that she might have heard. "You wouldn't be the first to act on that impulse."

She looked down. "I probably am, but I shouldn't. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He pressed the keys into her hand. "Go."

She got up, looking as if she wanted to say something more, but shook her head and walked away.

House let out a deep breath. Emotions were sitting on the surface, and it was getting hard to control them. He struggled with his stiff leg to get upright, digging into his pocket for a couple of Vicodin.

He found Chase sitting next to the bed, looking exhausted. He came in quietly and nodded at Chase. Then he looked at his friend. This Wilson did not look like someone from a civil war novel. He was pale, but definitely alive.

"Vandalous out of the New England Journal of Medicine recommends adding increasing amounts of IV fluids in the first nine hours. He's tolerating it well. His blood pressure should be stabilizing by now though so I'm a little concerned about that." Chase sat up straight, his tie loose and stubble showing on his chin.

House nodded. "Get some sleep. I'll sit with him now."

Chase raised his brows. "Okay? But I can make it a few more hours. This is a critical time. I can just—'

House put a hand up. "Really. It's okay. The couch in the waiting room is only 100 yards from here. Believe me. You'll know it if I need you."

Chase got up, blonde hair in his face, and stumbled out to the waiting room. House waited until the door closed. Then he reached out and rubbed Wilson's shoulder. "You gave me quite a scare there, my friend. So the joke's over, okay? It's time to start getting those vitals up."

Wilson didn't move, but House didn't mind. He was alive, and if there was a way in this world, House would make sure he stayed that way.

"Feeling a little beat up? I bet you are. They really spent a good bit of time inside your head. I saw the tumor. Size of a grapefruit. Swear to God. The surgeon did a good job. He's still not worth a pile of crap, but he knows his way around an operating room. Don't worry. I was contrite. Apologized for my behavior and everything. He was feeling pretty righteous by the time he left, but it was worth it."

House stopped to check his pulse. "Not bad, James. But let's get it moving a little faster, alright?"

He grabbed the chair and turned it so it faced Wilson. He sat down. "So I figure you could use a little entertainment. We still have a couple of hours before All My Children, but that's okay 'cause Maury has "Who's my baby daddy?" and there's a Jerry Springer rerun after that."

He reached for the remote and flipped on the television hanging off the wall. "Here's the deal. I want that pulse rate to go up two beats by the time Maury's over, and I want a spike in that blood pressure by the time "All My Children" starts. You don't follow through, and I'm going to shut off the TV, and spend the rest of the afternoon going through your marriages and reminding you of all the times I told you so. Deal?"

He sat back in the chair and swung his feet up on the bed. He began a running commentary on Maury, building a pretty good system of prediction of whose baby was whose. He kept his hand on Wilson's wrist, and took a breath only to count beats. After awhile, he slipped his hand into Wilson's and squeezed. Then he cleared his throat loudly. As he-men, of course, we will never speak of this. You just need a little reminder that we're out here waiting for you."

House kept his hand in Wilson's, and returned his attention to the screen. "Look at that. None of those sleazebags fathered her child. I can tell without even seeing the baby. Look at the blank looks on their faces. I mean, really."

………………………………………………………………………..

Foreman stood at the door looking in. Cuddy came up behind him. "He doesn't want a break yet?"

"Nope. He's been in there for hours."

"Maybe I'll just go in and sit with them."

Foreman arched a brow. "He'll just glare at you. He's holding Wilson's hand, and is just waiting for someone to say something about it."

She tried to suppress a smile. "I'll take a chance, Eric, but thanks."

She slipped into the room, and came up behind House. "How's he doing?"

House looked up, startled. "He's taking his time."

She nodded, looking over his shoulder at Wilson. "He should be awake by now, you know."

"He'll get there."

"Yeah," she put a hand on his shoulder. "You could use a break. Something to eat?"

"Not yet. Just want to give him another couple of hours." House shifted in his chair.

Cuddy swallowed. "Remember when he got his own department. He worked 14 hours a day. He was certain someone was going to snatch it away from him."

"It ended his second marriage."

She nodded. "That and the affair with the nurse who ended up as Mrs. Wilson number 3. Hard to believe that a guy this sincere has gone through that many marriages."

"Yeah. Well, he's got you all fooled. My boy here is a real scoundrel." House smiled softly.

"Foreman's worried that he's not going to wake up. He doesn't wake up in the next 8 hours, and we're going to have to do an MRI."

"He just needs us to have a little patience."

"I can sit with him for awhile."

House shook his head. "We have the Thursday night line-up on NBC. It's an unforgettable ER. Can't miss it, Cuddy. What can I say?"

She nodded. "I'll bring you a sandwich."

"And some beer. Newcastle is Wilson's favorite."

She shook her head and squeezed his shoulder before she left. House leaned forward to Wilson after the door closed. "Did you see that blouse she wore? She wants me, Jimmy. She wants me."

…………………………………………………………………………………..

House heard someone calling his name and he woke up to find the lights dimmed. He was still leaning against the bed, his head on Wilson's arm. He sat up and looked around. The TV was off so people had been in the room. He looked around for the wall clock and found it reading 2:00. It was clearly the middle of the night, and he had trouble orienting himself.

He was still clasping Wilson's hand tightly, and so he reached over with the other one, and took a pulse. A smile grew as the beats came strong through his veins.

"House."

He blinked, and turned.

Wilson smiled up at him, and then looked at his hand in House's. "Does this mean we're going steady?"

House grinned. "No way. You're a heartbreaker. I'd never recover."

"I made it."

"They got it all too. You should have seen them. Everyone was brilliant."

"God, I'm glad that's over."

House stretched out his legs. "I'm going to need double the dose for the next couple of days. Better get ready to write me a new script. You got me all cramped up with your little drama."

Wilson nodded. "You should go home and rest. I'm fine."

House winced as he unwound his cramped hand from Wilson's. "Jeez, you got a grip. Feels like I was glued to you."

Wilson managed something akin to a chuckle. "Get out of here. You look like hell, and you need a shower."

House stood with some difficulty. "I'll get someone to check on you."

Wilson closed his eyes and House waited. It wasn't until he could detect the movement of oxygen lifting his friend's chest that he was able to leave the room.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Foreman had stuffed him in a cab rather unceremoniously before going into to check on Wilson. House found himself at home with a tumbler of scotch seated in his leather armchair, unable to contemplate a return to slumber. It had been five days since he had boarded a plane to Hawaii. He probably didn't sleep more than fifteen hours that entire time, and yet he was wide awake.

The events of the last week played themselves over and over in his head. He swallowed three Vicodin and took a big swig of scotch. Then he leaned his head back and waited for it all to take effect.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, tears started to roll down his cheeks. A man alone in his house can sometimes let himself feel exactly what he is feeling. He didn't wipe at them. Rather, he picked up the remote, punched in a soft jazz station, and settled back into the deep, brown leather, letting his body release the grief he packed inside.

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TBC