CHAPTER SIX: Distance
Cuddy pauses, key in hand, at the door to House's office when she hears Wilson's voice, and its tone startles her. He's really angry; she can't believe he'd speak to House like that right now. "You are a fool," he says. "You saw this coming; we all saw this coming, but you were the only one who could have done something to prevent it! You ass." This last is hissed bitterly. Cuddy quickly works the lock.
When she enters, she's surprised. Wilson apparently hasn't heard her come in, and is continuing his castigations, his back to the door. But House is clearly not the subject of the stream of cruel words, as he's breathing evenly, asleep. She makes note that he's wearing a nasal cannula, and frowns, and then she returns her attention to Wilson. The rant is directed at himself. "Dr. Wilson?" she says, and when he turns to her raw anger is alive in his eyes.
"I shouldn't be doing this anymore," he says. "I've lost my objectivity and it cost him. I was so busy being his friend that I forgot to be his physician." He relates the incident with the fruit juice, leaving out House's meltdown, ending his story with the second 10mg dose of morphine he's just had to administer, "the dose that he wouldn't have needed if I hadn't agreed to the juice in the first place and then compounded the whole damned thing by hesitating on the anti-emetic! And he was so damned agitated by the time it was over that he'd compromised his breathing. He wasn't happy about the O2, but I pulled rank, which of course overjoyed him…." He slams his hand down, hard, on House's desk.
Cuddy and Wilson turn in tandem towards House. The sharp noise hadn't disturbed him; the meds are doing their job and he sleeps peacefully. So Cuddy returns her gaze to Wilson. "Look, James. You're tired, you're stressed, you're…concerned. Get out of here for a few hours. Go home. Take a shower. Relax."
Wilson opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off. "Doctor's orders," she says sternly, then softens the words with a smile. "Look, all you need is a little distance. A few hours away from here, away from seeing him like this, and it'll be much easier to remember how annoying, how exasperating, how all-around miserable he is."
Wilson is actually able to laugh at the vehemence of Cuddy's words. And he should check on House's damnable rat, Steve. He runs a tired hand through his hair, updates Cuddy on their patient's condition, and leaves the office quietly. He doesn't want to actually leave the hospital, but as he walks through the night-silenced halls he reminds himself that his cases have been transferred to others for now, and that he really is free to concentrate on the one patient who needs him most. And to that end, there's something he very much needs to do before he can head home.
As he drives to the address he's scribbled down, he considers Cuddy's words. "Go home," she'd said to him. Home. Most people hear that word and feel comfort. All he feels is a confusion that isn't rooted in the geography of a building. An old quotation floats through his head: 'Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.' Robert Frost, he thinks. And he knows that there's been only one place in his adult life that fully fits that description. House, you're more of a friend to me than you realize—more of a friend than I've ever given you credit for.
As he arrives at his destination, he says aloud, "Okay, let's just get through this. Then, I can go home." He savors the word.