A/N: Heartfelt thanks to Angelfirenze for steering me back to canon, and to AtreidesHeir for (inadvertently) providing the idea for the start of the three-way dialogue! And to everyone for your (kind) honesty concerning the first chap 29, and your subsequent patience with the revisions—again, my thanks. mjf

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Détente

As Cuddy and Wilson enter the room, House looks over at Wilson and says roughly, "You look like hell. Cuddy must have some scrubs in her magic Mary Poppins bag over there," he indicates the supply cart with a tilt of his head. "Go dry off, get changed. Take your time—give us a minute."

Wilson doesn't respond, doesn't even really look at House. He just takes the scrubs that Cuddy hands him and leaves the room without speaking.

"Cuddy, you're my physician of record."

"Yeah, for all the good it does either one of us. You haven't seen me in that capacity in years. You don't even come to me for your scrips, guess I'm harder to con than Wilson."

"So…would it bother you if he handled the day to day stuff? I'd let you keep the title; I know I'm a catch."

"Bother me? I'd be ecstatic! Maybe he'll even be able to talk you into that employee physical you're only five years behind on. But why not bestow the esteemed title on him? Trust me; I'd eventually recover from the crushing blow."

"Can't do that. Anything…big…ever happens, might need you to…make decisions. Don't wanna put him in that position."

"Gee, thanks, House, put me there instead." But she understands, and nods her head. "Okay; consider it done."

Wilson returns then. His hair is damp, and unruly for once, and the House-sized scrubs swallow his smaller frame. Cuddy even notes bare feet peeking out from beneath the puddles of cloth.

He looks so young, she thinks. Just hand him a teddy bear and he's ready for bed…. This isn't an office; it's not even a makeshift hospital room. It's a daycare center, and I'm the damned director! Oh, Lisa, suffer from 'babies on the brain' much? Shut up, clock.

House regards Wilson, who's meeting his gaze straight-on. "Wilson, you're a moron."

"House!" Cuddy explodes. "I wasn't expecting a chorus of Kumbaya, but you two could at least pretend to like each other." Both of them are now studying opposite walls. "Or if that's too much, pretend you know each other. House, this is Wilson. Wilson, House." She heaves an exasperated sigh, tosses her hands in the air.

Wilson turns to House. "Why do women have to be such emotional people?"

"It's a whole different language, Jimmy. Don't try to figure it out; just when you think you get it, they lapse into this incomprehensible dialect—they call it 'PMS', I think."

Cuddy glares at them. "And why do men have to be so stubborn, so…so… obtuse? You two are unbelievable!" Guess I get to be the fall-girl here. She smiles to herself—everything's going according to plan.

"Now, where was I when I was so rudely interrupted?" House asks rhetorically. "Ah, I remember—my insightful character assessment." He looks at Wilson and repeats, "You're a moron." Wilson notes that House's voice is weakening; he moves to the bedside chair so House won't have to try so hard.

"Why are you killing yourself for me? I'm not worth it." House states this flatly, as fact. Wilson knows that he's not fishing for kind words; he's asking the question because he's genuinely curious, and because he sincerely believes he's not worth it.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "Every time I'm sure I have it figured out, you throw me a curve ball. Which I drop. And then, I'm back to wondering why, myself. I only know that I do it because I want to do it, and maybe that just has to be good enough. For both of us."

House's eyes are closed now; this conversation is costing him his small store of strength. But he's determined to continue. "Can you do…this…and come out of it alive?"

"House, I've survived three ex-wives; you're not that bad, I don't have to try to read your mind 'cuz you're pissed I left the toilet seat up, I don't have to write you a monthly check, I don't even have to remember your birthday. I think I can handle it." As long as you come out of it alive, I'll be just fine.

"Then you're hired." It's almost a whisper now. But he's still fighting to stay awake; he seems almost fearful of sleep.

"As my first official act as your personal physician," Wilson says, keeping his voice light—but the tone firm— "I hereby decree that it's naptime in the land of House, where I will stand guard against all devils and dragons and clinic patients and other scary creatures."

House smiles faintly. "And the Evil Witch, too?"

"I'm still here, House," Cuddy laughs. "But you're in luck; I need to go order your new and improved Vicodin from the pharmacy, and deal with a couple of pesky staffing issues. So I'm departing the kingdom right now. The next time you see me, you'll be getting ready to leave too. For an entire week; that should give you happy dreams."

He doesn't answer, and Cuddy and Wilson exchange a satisfied look when they see that he's asleep.

"Thanks, Cuddy," Wilson whispers to her. "I don't know how you fixed it, what you said to him, but…thanks."

She smiles. "Let's see if you're still thanking me about midway through this next week. You may be begging me to let you come back to work, and reminding me that I'm his physician of record. We may have won this battle, but something tells me it's going to be a very long war…."

"That's the plan," Wilson says. "I want this war to last at least another thirty years. More, if we keep the battles interesting, and maybe let him win one or two, here and there."

"If anyone can pull this off, it's you," Cuddy assures him. "Just…don't let him get to you so much, okay?"

"I could say the same to you. But we both know it's too late. He's…House. The rules are different, and they change every day. People who care about House are just…along for the ride."

"Yeah, and hanging on for dear life!" Cuddy laughs. "Look, you've only got about 45 minutes of peace left, and I want to have the new meds up here when you wake him. I'm gonna get going. You'll be okay?"

Wilson looks into Cuddy's warm, concerned eyes, looks over at House, safe and sleeping soundly. "For right now, Cuddy, I couldn't be better." And he means it.