Title: Cabin Fever

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Right at the end of Babies and Bathwater, Cuddy got a conscience, Vogler took his $100 million and left. What if Cuddy never got to see House in action that last time?

Disclaimer: I don't own House or anything. In fact, I own nothing at all. I am a poor, pitiful person who just enjoys torturing innocent, smart-mouthed doctors.

Author's Notes: Onwards and upwards. Honour roll at the end.

Chapter 2

Vogler had House's neck in a death grip. He raised his free hand with a feral grin, eager to bash the other man's brains in. House winced as the hand descended, and nearly fell out of the chair when his head knocked remarkably like a door. It took several deep, cleansing breaths to chase away the feeling of impending doom. He finally levered himself out of the chair with the help of his cane and all but yanked the door open.

"Don't you know it's," House checked his watch. "12:30 in the afternoon?"

"I can read digital watches as well as the next man," Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Then you know decent people could have been sleeping."

"What was keeping you awake, then?"

"What else?" House muttered. He shuffled aside to allow Wilson room to enter the flat.

"I heard from Cameron," Wilson said quietly as the door clicked shut. "And to let you know, 'What else?' is not an answer."

"Cameron can't keep her mouth shut, and to let you know, is too," House retorted.

Wilson let the topic of Cameron go for the moment, certain he could steer it back later. " 'Fraid not, House. What's bothering you? Or maybe it's who-"

"Vogler doesn't bother me!" House snarled.

"Vogler? I wasn't even talking about Vogler," Wilson answered innocently.

"Yes, you were. You were just going to pretend you weren't so it would seem like I'm the one with the problem."

"Aren't you? You can't get along with anybody. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for your impecable people skills."

"Exactly. I don't tolerate stupidity. I'm impecable at it. Thought you'd figured it out by now." House turned around and all but stalked to his chair. He kicked his foot onto the coffee table and left Wilson to his own devices. The flickering TV screen was Wilson's cue to take a seat on the couch and get comfortable. He'd been around House long enough to correctly interpret his silences. The TV meant, "I'll talk when I feel like it."

"Vogler had it out for me," House muttered after awhile.

"He doesn't like your music," Wilson agreed.

"The Temptations?"

"Of course."

"So close. At least it wouldn't have made a difference if I'd worn a lab coat," House shrugged.

"I think he might have been a bit angry when you bad-mouthed his product," Wilson pointed out.

"And you're going to drive this home by telling me we'd still have jobs if I'd sucked it up and humoured him."

"It would have been nice, yeah."

"Is this the part where I say, 'I'm sorry,' and atone for all my sins?"

"You wouldn't mean it. Besides, I highly doubt you'd be able to atone for all your sins. Not in this lifetime, anyway."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," House grumbled.

"You wouldn't repent. It gives you too much happiness to piss Cuddy off!"

"You sick man, are you implying that I get off on Cuddy's displeasure?"

Wilson gave House a disbelieving look. House called his glance and raised him a "Don't you trust me?" stare. Wilson shook his head and watched the beginning of the next soap in silence. They'd established a firm friendship on silence.

"Why did I find out the news from Cameron instead of you?" Wilson asked suddenly.

"Ssh, we're going to find out that Nick isn't the real father," House replied.

"How do you know that?"

"Look at them? They look nothing alike."

"House, they're actors. They aren't going to look like a family."

"Oh, and the blond hair isn't a give away. The casting and makeup people would do a better job than this," House scoffed.

"You don't know that."

"Jamie, I have something to tell you. Nick is not your real father," Angie on television sniffed dramatically. House glanced at Wilson with a raised eyebrow as she continued. "His eyes...his hair...they're all different than yours-too different. You must have noticed during your life and now...now I'm telling you why."

"I did notive," Jamie whispered sadly.

"This is a repeat, isn't it?" Wilson asked skeptically.

"You don't trust my medical know how?"

"Yes, but you cheat."

"I do not cheat!"

"No?"

"No!"

"So how could Cameron get the info before I did?"

"Yes, this is a repeat," House answered airily.

"You're avoiding the question," Wilson warned.

"But I'm answering the accusation."

"Which is much less important than the question."

"Well we can't always get what we want, can we?"

Wilson rolled his eyes as House got up. he made his way to the liquor cabinet to inspect the contents. The cabinet looked to be nearly full and boasted a decent selevtion. Wilson guessed that House had done whatever constituted "shopping" not too long ago. There might even have been something substantial in the fridge. He also knew that if House didn't take care of himself, all the food would go to waste and his alcoholic stash would be empty in a matter of days.

A bottle was set before Wilson which startled him out of his bleak thoughts. He glanced guiltily at House before grabbing his bottle and opening it. It didn't stop House's narrowed, true-blue eyes from boring into the back of his skull.

"You're thinking again."

"It's kind of hard not to think when that's what you've been told to do all day."

"No, you're worrying."

"And if I am?"

"Don't."

"House, you have to think. You never took cases that didn't make you think."

"So? I'll watch Jeopardy."

"You're going to be bored."

"Why don't people naturally assume that I'm going to find another job?"

"Maybe because you don't take initiative unless it's going to annoy someone?"

"You clearly haven't hung around me long enough. I work just fine on my own."

"Okay then, assuming you did find a job, who would take you?"

"I'm brilliant, who wouldn't want me?"

"My point exactly," Wilson said wryly. "Are you so sure you can find a job that will give you the freedom Cuddy did?"

"Maybe. Haven't exactly started looking yet, have I?" House took a healthy swig of whisky. "Why'd you come over here, anyway?"

"I'm not going to say it."

"No, really, why did you? I'm curious."

Wilson glowered at House. "To make sure you haven't killed yourself yet."

"You worried about me? I should be flattered, but don't you have your own job search and failing marriage to attend to?"

"It can wait."

"So can't mine."

"You're just waiting for Vogler to leave."

"He'll get bored and move on like a plague of locusts. Watch, he'll get tired of waiting for the cure for cancer, get fed up, and walk away."

"Has Cameron found a job?" Wilson asked. He didn't want to talk about Vogler anymore. If House did, Wilson suspected it might turn into an obsession.

"How would I know?"

"You talk to her. You like her."

"I don't like her."

"You told her you got fired."

"I thought she wanted to gloat. Or feel sorry for me, I never can tell with that girl."

"You'd never give anyone either of those privileges. You like her, like her."

"Who said anything about liking her, liking her?"

"You're implying it right now!"

"If you're going to disturb my daytime TV, you can leave now. And since you can't tell me a patient's about to flatline, I win."

Wilson shook his head. house was either going to come out of this pitfall totally clean, or very dead. He wasn't quite sure which, yet.

JJJ

Foreman picked up the note fore the third time and read it. It might as well have been written by a man long since dead.

The Kaplan kid has a thymus problem. DiGeorge Syndrome. Start it on immunoglobin replacement and it'll be fine. Tell the police and Child Services and let the parents have their kid back. Tell them sorry or something, you're good at that. Make sure Cuddy doesn't poke her nose into other people's business anymore.- House

The first time Foreman had read the note, he hadn't believed House could still give a damn in the midst of getting fired. The second time, Foreman realized that this was why he'd opted to stay at Princeton-Plainsboro under House, even when the man became unbearable. Foreman started Olive Kaplan on immunoglobin replacement and as predicted, she'd begun to improve almost immediately. The third time Foreman read the note...he started to wonder what became of House.

He'd vacated the office quietly enough, and it had fallen to Chase as Vogler's favorite pet. Chase looked lost in that room, but Foreman was past caring about Chase's woes. He had neither gained nor lost favor in House's absence and Foreman intended to keep it that way. But before Chase could take residence in House's office, Foreman demanded first dibs on the stuff left behind. He had come away with a new TV and a note detailing the treatment for a miraculously shrinking baby. Chase hadn't cared, so Foreman took the case and a last communication attempt from ex-Dr. Gregory House.

While Foreman worked his shifts and steeled himself against Chase's increasingly annoying behaviour, he began to wonder if he shouldn't have invested in a WWHD bracelet.

JJJ

House let Wilson finish the last of the pizza. Shop special, no olives, extra cheese. Neither of them had had lunch, and House never got breakfast. Together, they'd downed a large pizza and were now settling into the evening TV rotation.

The best cable could offer was Survivor or some stand up comic on Comedy Central. Wilson seemed apathetic, so House left it on Jeff Probst teasing starving people with cheeseburgers.

"These people need to be eaten by crocodiles," House muttered.

"Don't you think that's a little harsh?" Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"They get kicked off the island-which isn't even an island, I might ass-if they whine too much. There's no drama. If you whine too much, you should be fed to a crocodile."

"I can see the participation they'd get for that show."

House frowned at the empty bottle of alcohol. It was a little late for beer, but he had to conserve what liquour he had left. He had the sinking feeling that it'd be pretty sparse in the coming weeks. he popped a Vicodin instead and limped into the kitchen to fetch two cans of beer. He tossed the first to Wilson before maneuvering back to his chair clutching the second.

"You shook it, didn't you?" Wilson asked suspiciously.

"Does it look like I did?"

"No, it doesn't, and that's exactly the point."

"Open it over the sink if you're going to be a baby about it."

Wilson did get up and pull the tab over the sink. House shook his head as he cracked his own can open. It definitely didn't have the kick the whisky had packed, but it was adequated to get drunk with. Or even further inebriated, as the case may be.

"I hope you didn't drive here or you're never making it home tonight," House called.

"I never said I was leaving tonight." Wilson took a seat on the couch again, beer in hand.

"I'm saying you're leaving. I'll be fine."

"What if your pills run out?"

House paused, giving the bottle a shake. Damn Wilson. He was right; the number of pills in the bottle was definitely not one that House considered safe. Well...he'd lasted a week before. It had been a really long week, but he'd made it through okay. House could last a simple night, if it came to that.

"It's 9, what trouble can I possibly get into now?"

"Plenty," Wilson maintained.

"If I run out tonight, I'll go over to the hospital tomorrow. Sound reasonable?"

"I'm not worried about your pills not making the night. I'm worried about you."

"Now you're starting to sound like Cameron. Do you do each other's nails at night?"

"That's not the point."

"Do you want to call the cab, or should I?"

Wilson sighed and stood up. He left a twenty on the counter for the pizza and alcohol and trudged to the door. He stopped just shy of the door. "I'm calling you bright and early."

"I'll wait with bated breath. Good night." House returned to the show as Wilson lingered.

"Good bye, House."

The door shut behind him. House twisted around in the chair to make sure it wasn't a ruse. His entryway was vacant.

House checked the Vicodin bottle again, taking the pills out and counting them individually. There were exaclty four left. There was enough for tonight and if he was careful, most of the next day. Not for the following night though. He'd have to run to Princeton-Plainsboro to get a prescription. No self-respecting pharmaceutical company would trust the word of an unemployed doctor.

Just thinking about the schematics made his head hurt. He slid further into the recliner to ease the leg pain and eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

JJJ

2 A.M. Infromercial. Leg hurts. Head hurts. Dry mouth. Hang over.

If I can make it to the sink, I'll be okay.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!

No sink. Vicodin. I've never needed water before.

Damn it!

Three left.

No more moving tonight. Just rest. Lots of rest.

Honour Roll: Mayorst: Yay! You like it! You really like it! Heh, I kid, I kid. Hope you enjoy the coming angst. boredandhomealone: I would have updated earlier, but...complications. And House refusing to talk to me for putting him in this situation. He's a wee bit stubborn. Merrie: I hope you have more than enough reading material in the coming weeks. Hence the push to get this out, you see. We haven't even scratched the surface of the angst. I hope... MagickalStar135: And we finally get around to chapter 2. That's a good thing, right? Wilson's in for the long haul and the other ducklings are starting to open up. They'd better after all this.