Chapter 10

House sat at the kitchen table studying the information on his laptop computer. He had been researching several medical sites regarding his patient's symptoms….his other patient….and had come up with some diagnostic possibilities. The results of the current tests he ordered had arrived early that morning. Those results, along with the data he had found in the New England Journal of Medicine, could lead to a definitive diagnosis.

Noting that it was seven-thirty he decided to shower and get dressed before waking Wilson at eight. He turned off his laptop leaving it on the kitchen table, grabbed his cane and limped to the bathroom.

He was back in the kitchen within twenty minutes, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt layered under a white button-down shirt. Sliding the laptop to the other side of the table he did a quick job of setting the table. Wilson would eat a decent breakfast if he had to force feed him.

"Good morning."

"Whoa!" House almost fell over a chair. He turned around to find Wilson leaning on the kitchen counter, his hair mussed, sleep still in his eyes. "You scared the hell out of me."

"That's something I seem to be doing lately," he said, scratching his head. "What's going on?"

"Setting the table for breakfast."

The younger doctor made a face. "Not hungry."

"Too bad, you're eating. Even if I have to hold you down and shove the food down your throat, you're going to eat."

"That sounds appetizing."

House pulled a chair out from the table. "Sit."

"There's no reason to be snippy." Wilson sat down and slid the chair under the table. "What are we having?"

"How about eggs, toast and oatmeal?"

"I'd rather have bismuth."

House shook his head, sitting down at the table. "What do you want to eat?"

"How about just the toast."

"That's all?"

"That's all I can handle."

The older doctor nodded in understanding. "Okay," he said, as he stood and began preparing the toast and boiling water for tea.

House watched as his friend ate his breakfast, noting that he obviously wasn't enjoying it. "Does your stomach hurt?"

"No, just don't have an appetite."

"That's no excuse. Eat up." Wilson rolled his eyes, but continued to eat his small breakfast.

The older man studied his friend reminding himself of the previous evening, how he had been told by Cuddy that the younger doctor had died in a car accident and his startling reappearance two hours later. He thought about the events that followed…how Wilson had leaned on him, completely lowering his defenses and letting him in. Was it because his injury had made him particularly vulnerable or was it because he wanted to get closer to House? Or maybe it was both. House didn't know, but what he did know was that he cared very much for the young man sitting across the table.

"Okay, I'm finished. Do I get a gold star?"

"What?" He realized that Wilson was waiting for an answer. "We can talk about your prize later."

He stood and began clearing the table. "Foreman called this morning. Apparently there's a problem with the test results that only I can fix…go figure. Anyway, I have to go to the hospital for a couple of hours. I also spoke to Cuddy. She said the police want you to call them."

Wilson scratched his head. "I wonder why they didn't talk to me last night."

"Because I wouldn't let them."

The younger doctor silently acknowledged his friend's protectiveness but thought it wise not to comment. "Did she give you a number?"

"It's here somewhere." House shuffled through some papers on the kitchen counter. He found what he was looking for and handed his colleague a sheet of paper with a name and phone number scribbled on it. "Do me a favor, tell them I'm eternally grateful for the awesome news they delivered last night. And if they ever need medical care, tell them to ask for Dr. House."

"So… you do blame the cops."

"No, I blame you."

The younger doctor rolled his eyes again. He thought a moment. "Why don't I go with you? You can drop me at the police station and…."

"How will you get back here?"

"The station's only a couple of blocks from the hospital. I can walk there afterwards. I'll meet you at your office and we can come back here together."

House tilted his head. "You sure about the walking part?"

Wilson placed his hands on his hips. "I'm fine. And it's only two blocks."

"Alright, but we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

"I'll get a fast shower." The oncologist stood and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Wait a minute," he said, turning around. "I have no clothes."

House made a point of scrutinizing his friend up and down. "I think you look quite chic."

"House, I can't go out like this."

"Fine. Get yourself a pair of jeans and a shirt from my closet. And hurry up."

Wilson rushed out of the kitchen, returning about fifteen minutes later wearing a light blue button down shirt and faded jeans that were a bit too long.

"How's this?" he asked.

House glanced at him. "Fantastic. Let's go." He headed for the door. "What time do you think you'll be at the hospital?"

Wilson held out his wrist as if he were checking his watch, forgetting that it had been stolen the night before. He let out a sigh.

"Here," the older doctor said removing his watch from his own wrist. "Wear mine." He held out the watch.

"Don't you need it?"

"Not really. I just wear it for show… you know, Tag Heuer."

"Right, you're all about image and what people think." He slipped the watch onto his wrist. "Thank y….."

The other man shot him a cautionary look. Wilson shrugged. "I guess we should go."

House gathered up his belongings and the two friends left the apartment.

tbc