CHAPTER NINE: Trouble With the Truth

Wilson's got a lot to think about on his way back home. He wishes that he'd thought to ask Dick for a copy of the voice recording from their session—he doesn't want to be passing on such vital information to Cuddy second-hand, but he's excited about what he's learned, and he's relieved as well, and Cuddy deserves some of that same peace of mind. He decides to call first thing in the morning and have Dick's office email the voice file.

"Now all I have to do is find a way to tell House what I've done," he says aloud. "Should've asked Dick for some suggestions. I'd like to just put this off until House is stronger, but I don't dare keep this from him. All I've got working for me right now is his trust; if I lose that again, it'll be gone for good…."

He hits the hands-free on his cellphone and calls the apartment. Cuddy answers on the second ring.

"You two both alive and in pretty much the same condition as when I left?" Wilson asks her.

Cuddy laughs. "Yeah; he's still pretty subdued. Earned himself a gold star on his behavior chart. Not a member of the Clean Plate Club yet, though," she says, looking pointedly at House, who's listening intently to her side of the conversation. "How'd it go for you?"

House sees Cuddy's face grow serious; then she turns her back to him and lowers her voice. "He said that?" "Yeah… no, have them send the entire file… make certain they encrypt it… patient confidentiality… no, you know I'll help in every way I can… try not to worry… it'll be okay, we'll get it worked out somehow… you're not alone in this…." Cuddy turns back around, resumes speaking in a normal tone. "Drive safely; we'll see you in a little while."

After Cuddy disconnects the call, House asks, "So, what did daddy have to say? Gonna be home in time to tuck me in?"

Cuddy looks distracted. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry…. He should be home in about an hour," she answers. Her mind is clearly elsewhere.

"Cuddy?" House says. "Everything okay?"

She forces herself to focus on House. "Fine… just fine. New patient, that's all."

"What's up?"

"Don't worry about it, House. I'll let Wilson tell you about it if he wants to. Up to him."

This isn't a satisfactory answer, and House is ready to resume questioning Cuddy when she turns away from him abruptly. "I'm gonna go get the stuff for vitals; be right back," she says, and leaves the room.

---

When Wilson returns, the first thing Cuddy notices is he's exhausted. She's just given House a half-dose of Compazine, and he's drifted off, so she motions Wilson into the kitchen.

"You look done in," she says to Wilson. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, grabbed a sandwich at a drive-through. Just worn out from the trip, and not happy about having to tell House what I've done, that's all. He needs to know as soon as possible; don't wanna stir up all those trust issues again. Just wish he were doing better, physically."

"Me too. And that's gonna bring up another problem. He's not going to be ready to go back to work in five days, is he?"

Wilson sighs. "I'm afraid not." He thinks a moment. "Give 'im a bad case of the 'flu…. Hell, give me the 'flu. Chicken pox. Plague. I don't care. Just find a way to keep the kids away from this apartment."

"I can do that. Good thinking. Are you gonna tell him tonight? He already suspects something's up."

"I don't see how I can avoid it. You know how he is when he thinks he doesn't have all the facts; he'll just worry it until the fool who's withholding information spills his guts. And he's exceptionally skillful at getting information out of this particular fool." Wilson smiles dolefully.

"Don't envy you. What are you gonna say?"

"Don't know yet; still working on that. If I'm lucky, he'll stay asleep until I come up with a plan…. Any chance of him staying asleep for the rest of my natural life?" He looks at Cuddy hopefully.

She smiles at him. "That would be a 'no,' I'm afraid. I gave him only a half-dose of the Compazine; he specifically requested to be awakened upon your arrival."

As if on cue, a voice calls from the living room. "Cuddy? Who are you talking to? Wilson home?"

Cuddy and Wilson roll their eyes at each other and head to the living room. "Goodnight, gentlemen," Cuddy says. "I'm outta here." She blatantly ignores Wilson's 'you coward' look

House waits while she gathers her things and goes out the door. Then he turns to Wilson. "Where the hell were you?"

"Yeah, I missed you too, House," Wilson answers dryly. "How ya feeling? I heard you were a very good boy today, and frankly, that worries me." He approaches House and grabs a wrist, tightens his grip when House tries to yank it back.

"I'm fine. Just dandy, in fact. Now it's your turn. You answer my question." He tries again to pull his wrist back and glowers at Wilson when he fails.

"You are not fine." While he's got the wrist, Wilson pinches up the skin on the back of the hand and glowers back at House when the skin stays tented. "I'm reattaching the IV. How'd you talk Cuddy into disconnecting you? And when do you plan to start taking your fluids the classic way?"

House scowls at him. "Apparently, you didn't hear me the first time. I make it a rule not to repeat myself, but in your case, I'll make an exception. Got your listening ears on? Where were you this afternoon?"

As Wilson secures the line to the heplock, he keeps his expression carefully neutral. He sits on the couch next to House and regards his friend thoughtfully.

"House, got a question for you. This is really important, so don't just blow it off."

Something's wrong, big wrong, House thinks. Wilson looks... scared. And there go the hands again. House notices that Wilson's hands have that fine tremble he's seen several times in the past few days. And he's pale, and he won't meet House's eyes. A frisson of cold fear moves inexplicably through House's body.

"You have my attention," House says, with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Wilson finally looks at House. "I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to think about your answer. Take all the time you need, but make sure of what you're gonna say."

House nods wordlessly, never removing his eyes from Wilson's. House sees fear there, and trepidation, and maybe even a plea? For what?

Wilson pulls in a breath. "What would you do if I were... sick? Very sick, and maybe... well, just... I need to know. How far would you go?"

That frisson of fear has just engulfed House's body. Jimmy. No. He was gone almost seven hours. Long enough to have all kinds of tests, the big tests, the serious kind. Cuddy said a new patient, said Wilson would tell me about it if he wants to. I'm an idiot. No! Jimmy… no. Great diagnostician I am, didn't even notice that my best friend--

Wilson interrupts his racing thoughts. "I'm gonna go make some coffee, House. Think about what I've asked. Really think about it, 'k? It's… important." He walks into the kitchen, leaving House and his racing thoughts alone.