Summary: Wilson attempts to unravel a chain of events surrounding his best friend and is quite surprised with the outcome. H/C
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to or affiliation with the Fox TV show House:MD. And I thank the powers that be that this sort of fiction falls into the grey area of copyright infringement since I find it so damned enjoyable.
Better check the Date on that Diagnosis
Thursday
"It was digging in somewhere very uncomfortable during our latest night of crazy sex. That or she threw it down in a fit of passion, choosing her dashingly gorgeous boss over a page about the outbreak of the Ebola virus at Princeton-Plainsboro," House said and rolled his eyes as Wilson gawked. "Or maybe I grabbed Cameron's pager by mistake… nah, that, couldn't be it."
The last comment was clearly meant to make Wilson feel like an idiot but his incredulous look remained firmly in place because of the three scenarios House had presented, the third was the least likely. First of all, House's pager was black and Cameron's was silver- House, the man who never made mistakes- would not have made that mistake. Secondly, Wilson could see the telltale outline of House's pager through his shirt pocket, which meant that it was not in Cameron's possession. Thirdly, he'd overheard Cuddy berating Cameron yesterday for not answering a page the day before. Surely, a case of mistaken pager identities between people who relied on them so heavily would have been resolved in better than twenty-four hours and would not have taken three days. "Try stealing her panties next time," Wilson suggested, "just as creepy and obsessive but less weird."
House rolled his eyes, and then looked at the shiny silver pager in Wilson's hand. "I'll go long," he suggested and began limping for his office. "Let's see that Hail Mary of yours."
Wilson didn't move. House was behaving as he always behaved but the fact remained that Allison Cameron's pager had somehow made it into House's house, if she had been there it was highly unlikely that Wilson himself wasn't there too or that House wouldn't have mentioned it. Unless of course House didn't want him to know….
Wilson had heard it going off at 10am after he'd returned from his dentist appointment. The pager was wedged between the couch cushions and bore the initials "A.C" in black marker. He had taken a half-day off and didn't need to be into the office until noon but he was in his car in less than five minutes after that little discovery.
"Come on Jimmy," House, who now stood fifteen feet away, said impatiently. "I know you're supposed to be Jewish and all but that's going to be a pretty pathetic salute to the good virgin if you don't walk in the other direction."
"I think I'll give it to her myself." He was determined to get to the bottom of this. Wilson followed in House's wake to the Diagnostics department.
Once there, House made his way to his desk. "Cameron or the Virgin Mary?" He glared at an offensive stack of paperwork that he obviously hadn't stacked himself because in that case "stacked" would not be the proper term. His expression of annoyance seemed to soften for just an instant when his gaze fell on a seemingly innocent mug of coffee that was waiting for him next to the papers. House sat in his swivel chair and began punching at the keyboard. Wilson peered through the glass walls into the adjacent office but he only saw Foreman and Chase.
"I thought you were under the impression that they were the same person. Where is Cameron by the way?" Wilson didn't get an answer. House's eyes were busily scanning his monitor. The fairly miraculous technology of the 21st century meant he could be looking at anything really but the simple fact that he was Greg House severely limited the possibilities. "How much does Cuddy pay you per hour now to look at porn?"
"I pay her. I'm all about the feminism. I think it's right to pay a woman for her work."
At least he had House's attention, "Where's Cameron?"
House swiveled away from his desk and made a great show of zipping up his jeans, "I'm hiding her under the desk."
"Crude. Even for you." Wilson commented.
"You're right," House said. "Silly me. The desk was last week. Now I'm keeping her in the clinic, there are beds there and less danger for her of early onset arthritis."
"The clinic?" Wilson was already heading for the door. "Why's she there?" It was March 30th and Cameron always finished her clinic hours at the beginning if the month.
"Lost a bet." The grin on House's face indicated exactly who had won that bet.
Cameron was working away diligently on the constant flow of people that trickled into the clinic. "Oh, maybe this was exactly where it belonged after all," Wilson quipped, nodding at the tag on Cameron's lab coat that read 'Dr. House.' "And here you two had finally dropped out of the rumor mill and you go and elope. That'll get your name mentioned at the water cooler."
Cameron looked guilty. She looked far guiltier, in fact, than someone who'd just convinced a dozen patients that she was someone else in order to make good on a bet with her boss. Okay, far guiltier that someone who worked for House and had just convinced a dozen patients that she was someone else in order to make good on a bet with her boss.
"Thanks." Cameron took her pager back and Wilson thought her blush had made its way all the way down her arm and even her hand looked pink but that might just have been the bad hospital lighting. "And- I lost a bet."
"So I've heard."
Wilson didn't get to talk to her any further that day since it was now noon and he had a consult with a patient.
Friday- 11:50 pm
"Okay, it's almost midnight and fashionably late is not even her style." Foreman glared at his watch as if it could reveal Cameron's whereabouts.
"Maybe I should call her again." Chase dug in his pocket for his phone and his date looked sullen.
"We already her called three times," Foreman reminded him and the frown on the face of the girl Chase had brought to the party deepened. "I don't get it. She always answers her phone." This fact was one of the axes of their whole professional world. If they needed to get in touch with someone on the team, Cameron was the sure bet. She had once answered her phone in the middle of a movie theater-Chase had heard the people around her hushing her- the phone had been on silent. After that they had all just accepted that Cameron's cell was hardwired to her brain.
"Not when she's avoiding us." Chase said, "Remember when she had the flu and didn't want us to find out? I think she actually turned it off then." Chase's tone indicated that he still couldn't quite believe it.
She's avoiding us? At any other time and on any other Friday night Foreman would have hoped that this meant his friend had something better to do than attend this stuffy party that was being held to congratulate the handful of doctors who had just received tenure. But on this particular night Foreman had brought his youngest sister along and Cameron had seemed really excited to get to meet her. If she had a date he would have been all too happy for her but this was Cameron, she should have called- she would have called.
"Come on," Chase said, picking his coat up. "She lives fifteen minutes away." He smiled at his date, "Let's go pick her up and we can all go somewhere less boring." The poor woman -Megan?- seemed to be unsure of whether she should be flattered by his sudden attention or pissed that he was suggesting that they go get Cameron. Well, at least the mystery of how Chase could be such a pretty rich boy and perpetually single was solved. The guy's game was erratic at best.
Foreman retrieved his keys and his sister's jacket. "And you try to tell me you're not overprotective of me," his sister said, "but you're overprotective of everybody."
"Hey, she doesn't have any brothers of her own," Foreman replied. At least none she had ever mentioned.
Wilson stopped them on their way out of the hotel's minor ballroom that the hospital had rented for the event. "Got somewhere better to be guys?"
"Yeah, we're going to hunt Cameron down and then go bar hopping." Foreman joked.
"Cameron didn't show?" Wilson had an extremely odd expression on his face.
"What?" Chase and Foreman asked together. Foreman half expected Wilson to tell them there had been an accident or a shooting with an unidentified victim on her street.
Instead Wilson said, "Neither did House."
"I'm going to assume that's a non sequitor." Chase said. "House isn't really the black tie event type."
Wilson shook his head, "He always comes to steal cigars." Wilson looked like his eyes might leap out of their sockets. "I found Allison's pager between the cushions of his couch yesterday."
"What!" Foreman and Chase were in stereo again. "You're not saying that you think they are –not here- together, are you?"
"I think I might be."
Saturday 12:00 am
Foreman and Chase headed for the parking lot while Wilson called House. Chase quickly informed the girls why this whole thing was so weird before the four of them parted ways to separate cars.
When they pulled up in front of Cameron's building, Foreman saw that her car was there. He tried the handle. "Door's locked," he told Chase and peered in the window, "keys are in the ignition."
"Why didn't she just call us?" Chase sounded relieved.
"Her cell is on the front seat next to her purse. She probably doesn't have our cell phone numbers memorized."
"Right. I'm just going to check on her then." Chase buzzed her apartment and waited. There was no answer. He buzzed again. Still no answer.
Foreman ran his and along the underside of Cameron's car on the rear passenger's side. His fingers found the little magnetic box that held Cameron's spare key in case she did lock herself out of the car and needed to get inside to call a locksmith. By now, she would have naturally retrieved the second spare she kept in the kitchen and put this one back under the car so she wouldn't forget.
"Eric, what are you doing?" His sister poked her head out of his the car window.
"Exactly what I'd do to you under similar circumstances." He replied.
"I hope she keeps a baseball bat next to the door." His sister pulled her head back through the window.
Cameron did not keep a bat by the door she did however keep one next to her bed which Foreman discovered as he searched the apartment for his friend who was decidedly absent. "Foreman! Listen to this!" Chase called from the kitchen.
When Foreman entered, Chase hit the button on Cameron's answering machine. The first message was from a Locksmith's office that said their emergency smith (aka nightshift guy who charged exorbitant rates) had two other calls and would call "Ms. Cameron" when he was available. The second message was from House.
"Cameron. Pick up your phone or I will leave you stranded in your own comfortable home to miss an incredibly boring party. And that would be too nice. You'd be cramping my sty-"
"House?" asked Cameron's voice and the recording cut off. Apparently she screened.
The third message was from the emergency locksmith saying he was in the area. Cameron did not interrupt this message.
Foreman checked his watch again. It was well past midnight now. "That message was from 7:30."
Chase, of course, knew which message he meant. "So she left with House. And they didn't show up."
"And I thought you were the one that was incredibly stupid."
Saturday 12:45 am
Wilson had made it back to his friend's townhouse at quarter to one in the morning. He opened the door, shouting "House!" and slammed it shut again.
"Busy!" House had shouted back and cranked up his stereo to a volume that would mean his neighbors had to either be deaf of out of town if they didn't complain. But just before the sound went up Wilson thought he caught the beginning of a stifled female laugh.
House's keys were on the coffee table and so were two ticket stubs to "V for Vendetta" and the Ford Theater. That explained House's absence at the party. House had mentioned that movie was opening last night at the Ford, a theater that had been built in the forties and had only one screen. It was House's favorite theater and as far as Wilson could tell the movie involved things exploding and thus provided a sufficient excuse for House to miss the hospital function.
There were also two empty bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade on the table. In the week and a half Wilson had lived there he found that Mike's Hard was the only thing House wouldn't touch if Wilson left it in the fridge. So the Scotch tumbler that was leaving a ring on a medical journal was House's but the bottles were certainly not. Now the only question was whether or not they belonged to a certain immunologist.
But then again, House did have a friendly relationship with a working girl or two in the area and Chase and Foreman hadn't called to say Cameron wasn't at home. They hadn't called to say she was either but he thought they would certainly call if she wasn't. There was no purse or any other remotely girly item in the House so Wilson decided to shower and waylay his questions until morning.
Saturday 11:00 am
Wilson woke at eight o'clock. He went for a run, showered and dressed for the day. He didn't think there were any strange cars parked on the street but he hadn't been around long enough to be sure. He cracked seven eggs and scrambled them with a whisk that had probably never been used before. When the eggs were done. He topped them with crushed tomatoes, mozzarella and basil and put the dish in the oven to bake.
He knocked on House's bedroom door. There was no answer. He knocked louder and expected to be told to shut up. Instead in a few minutes, the door opened six inches, wide enough to reveal a glowering House and narrow enough to block Wilson's view of most of the room. "What?" His expression clearly said 'shut up' if his mouth didn't.
"Breakfast?" Wilson offered.
"Sleep." House answered and shut the door in his face.
Wilson didn't know whether to be happy or nervous. He was now fairly certain that whoever had been here the night before was still here. The strange thing was that the House that came to the door did not look like a House that had just been woken up from a spontaneous fling with some woman. He had come to the door to shut Wilson up instead of shouting and remained in his room even though he was clearly wide awake. House was not the type of man who kept quiet or stayed, bored, in his bedroom to protect someone else's sleep or modesty.
Wow. Wilson ate his own breakfast rapidly and left a large portion in the warm oven. He got his car keys and made a quick and loud exit. If that was Allison Cameron in House's bed and House was going to all that trouble to let her save face that the least Wilson could do was make sure she knew he was out of the house so she could make her escape.
Monday 8:30am
Wilson never got a chance to pry the details of Friday night out of House. When Wilson returned that afternoon House was not home and there was a note in his handwriting that said, "Thanks for breakfast." It wasn't in Cameron's handwriting but it certainly wasn't House's sentiment either.
Wilson dialed House's cell number. "Where are you?" He said by way of greeting.
"Trying to fix a really big mistake," House said and hung up. He still wasn't home at midnight and Wilson was tired of waiting for him. So, he flipped House's note over, wrote, "We need to talk," and taped it to his friend's door. Then he went to bed.
House didn't come home the next day or night for that matter. That must have been some mistake. It was either taking extremely long to resolve or was being compounded. Either one of them doesn't show up to work today or they show up together. It seemed some part of Wilson's mind had convinced itself that Cameron was the mystery woman. If they show up at all. At this point, for all he knew, his comment to Cameron about elopement might have been prophetic.
"You're not going to believe it," Chase said when Wilson entered the Diagnostics department. "Cameron wasn't home. But her leys were locked in her car and there was a massage on her machine from House."
"Apparently," Foreman continued, "she called House to pick her up." Clearly they thought that House would with hold this information form Wilson, which, if House had actually seen Wilson at all that weekend would not have been true.
"And then," Wilson said in his best conspiracy voice, "they went to a movie and came back to his place."
"What!" Foreman's eyes were bulging and Chase looked ready to choke. "Not the thing to tell a guy when he's a got a mouthful of hot coffee!"
"I didn't see him all weekend." Wilson told them.
"Who? You're invisible friend?" House said, announcing his presence. "That's because he's-wait for it- invisible."
"And yet standing right here." Wilson stood shooting House his clearest "what the hell?" expression. "You slept with Cameron!" Wilson accused.
"Shhh," House whispered like this was one of his jokes, "someone important will hear you." But Wilson knew it was an act.
"Oh no, we know what happened."
"Cameron didn't show up to the party." Foreman offered.
"And she hasn't answered her phone all weekend." Chase said.
House threw up his hands like this was still his joke, "You said it, not me."
At that moment Cameron came in, looking as fresh and put together and House did rumpled and tired. A look passed between she and House that none of them missed. "We're caught," House said, "Game's up. My mother's going to be so disappointed that I didn't invite her to the wedding."
Cameron only missed a beat, clearly this was expected if not rehearsed, "Your mother? Mine will disown me. For marrying you," she clarified, "not for neglecting to invite her."
"Nice." House said. He caught Foreman's eye before looking back to Cameron. "Mad props for that, boo." He said, changing the focus to watered down racism. "New patient today kids and she's related to someone famous!"
Wilson walked out without saying another word.
Monday 5 pm
Wilson entered into House's office. Only it's owner was currently in residence. "House."
"Busy," he said, punching at his Game Boy with extra ferocity.
"You did sleep with her."
"Busy!"
"Fine, You know you'll tell me later." Wilson turned and headed for the door.
"Wilson!" House called without looking up, "Better check the date on that diagnosis."
Date? Friday was the 31st… that makes Saturday April 1st. Idiot. Cameron was standing on the other side of the glass with Foreman and Chase. She was biting back a smile, the men were outright laughing.
"You were in on this?" He was almost shouting.
Cameron shook her head, "They were casualties of friendly fire. I filled them in this morning."
"We were planning an Internvention," Chase said, grinning. Cameron rolled he eyes.
Foreman said, "Apparently, this was payback for a prank you pulled on House…."
"Payback?" Then it dawned on Wilson, "That was four years ago!"
"Must have been a good one."
"Oh, it was," Wilson said proudly. "I can't believe he waited all this time." But then he looked at the smiling Dr. Cameron and though he still felt like an idiot he thought he might not have been totally wrong.
Monday 5:30
House's team plus Wilson had lingered outside of House's office for half an hour, laughing and presumably discussing the events of the weekend. House preferred to revel in his maniacal brilliance alone. He could gloat to Wilson later.
There was a light tapping of House's door. Cameron entered before he answered which was a good move on her part since he wouldn't have actually answered. "There should be a hospital record of the best April Fool's pranks."
"We'd top it." House put his magazine down and crossed his hands behind his head in satisfaction even as he mentally cursed the English language and words like 'we' that implied connection between the subjects. "You make a fine super secret agent Dr. Cameron."
"You're not too bad yourself." She pursed her lips, "So what did Wilson do to deserve that?"
"Long story."
"It is not. Or, if it was you would have had plenty of time to tell me over the weekend."
House's face broke into a compulsive grin. "Let's just say that getting him back and seeing that look on his face was worth sacrificing my weekend to you."
"It was a great look." Cameron and House were both smiling like four-year-olds. They exchanged expressions. It was a great weekend.
He and Cameron had devoted a whole three days plus a week of planning to pranking Wilson. It had almost been ruined when they overslept Saturday morning and nearly had to face Wilson- things would have been much less amusing if Wilson hadn't been in agony all weekend. It had been fantastic joke but as Cameron held his eyes, House had the distinct impression that the joke was on them. "Good night Dr. House." Cameron said, "And you owe me a movie with fewer exploding things."
"Noted." He said, "Goodnight Cameron."
Note: The prank Wilson played plus what actually happened that weekend is all mapped out. Should there be a companion or is it better off a mystery?