Chapter 12

The call came when Wilson was just about to leave the house. He didn't recognize the number but the area code was as familiar as his own date of birth. Princeton.

But it wasn't House. The lady on the line introduced herself as Rosalyn Mercer, DA, and asked if he had time to talk. He didn't really as he was on his way to work but since this had to be about House, he knew he had to make time.

He asked for five minutes to phone in at work and reschedule his appointments.

For some strange reason, he felt nervous waiting for the DA to call back. He told himself that he had nothing to worry about.

But this isn't about me.

"Doctor Wilson, thank you for taking the time to talk to me," said the DA a short while later. "I'm looking into Doctor House's case. I take it you're willing to answer a few questions."

Wilson settled down on the couch.

"I gather that you have known Dr. House and have been his friend for years."

"Yes, we've known each other for more than fourteen years now, and we worked together for most of that time." Had it really been that long?

"Until you both left your last place of employment in Princeton two years ago?"

"That's right. Two years and seven months, to be exact." This, however, seemed like yesterday.

"Why is your memory so precise here?"

Wilson thought it best to assume the DA knew nothing. "Because of why we left. I left because I was dying, and Dr. House left because he was dead. Or so he wanted people to believe."

"Please elaborate. This isn't a court hearing, feel free to tell your side of the story."

Wilson was relieved to hear House wasn't on trial. "In May that year I was diagnosed with a stage II thymoma. I'm an oncologist, I'm very familiar with this diagnosis, its progression and possible outlook. I refused treatment…"

"Sorry for interrupting – why?"

He squirmed a little.

"Because the outcome often isn't positive, and the treatment is tough. No cancer is a walk in the park, but every oncologist knows there are the easier ones and the tough ones. While mine wasn't a hopeless case, the prospects weren't good. I had seen enough patients go through this. And not many came out the other end smiling, if you know what I mean."

The DA paused for a moment. Then she asked, "How did your family and friends react?"

"I didn't tell my family. Not then. And my friends… well, Dr. House didn't react well."

"Please, explain."

"He told me I was an idiot," Wilson said, still vividly remembering House's initial reaction. "He tried to persuade and manipulate me. He was his usual self, just… just more so." He clearly saw this now with hindsight.

"More how?" the DA asked.

Wilson thought for a moment. "It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't know him. He even went as far as telling me that he needed me, didn't know what to do without me. As far as House goes, that was probably as close to the truth as you'll get."

"How did you react?"

This clearly hadn't been his finest hour. "I… I told him that I wouldn't let him make my illness about his needs, that everything had always been about him. That this was about me, for once."

"How did your other friends react? Your family?"

"At that point, I hadn't informed my family yet. My colleagues at the hospital knew, but none of them openly voiced an opinion. They weren't privy to the details of my diagnosis."

"But Dr. House was?" She waited for Wilson to agree.

"Okay. So Dr. House was the only person close to you at that time, is this right?"

"Yes." He thought for a moment and wondered how much he should tell her. "Not just at that point. When you mentioned friends before… I only have the one friend. There have been some other friendships over the years, but nothing that lasted. Nothing of great importance, really."

Wilson knew House might hear of this conversation. He could be listening for all he knew. He hesitated but then continued. This was about House's future and, by extension, his own.

"Dr. House is the only person I would call a friend."

"Okay. When speaking to me yesterday, Dr. House's counsel mentioned that you tried chemotherapy. How did that come about? I thought you didn't want any treatment?"

Wilson knew he had to come clean now. "Early on after my diagnosis, I thought I would give it one shot. I went for double the dose recommended for conservative treatment of a stage II thymoma."

"At which hospital was this?"

"Um… none. I was going to do it at home. Alone." He pictured the DA's face right then. "Yes, I know. But I didn't. Dr. House stopped me."

He paused, not sure how much he should divulge. What he and House did that weekend wasn't exactly legal.

"He persuaded you to do this at the hospital?" The DA prompted him.

"Not exactly. We did it at his apartment instead."

"At Dr. House's apartment? Without any medical supervision?"

"Well, we are both doctors," Wilson set the record straight.

"As far as I know, such treatment is supposed to be conducted under an oncologist's supervision. But in this case, the oncologist was the patient, so Dr. House was the responsible physician here. Were you aware this could cost him his license? Was he aware of this?"

Wilson squirmed a little in his seat. "I guess. I don't know. To be honest, I didn't think. I was relieved I didn't have to do this alone. I didn't ask if he was aware of the consequences. He was known for his unconventional treatments and his disregard for rules."

"Yes, I have been fully apprised of Dr. House's reputation." Wilson detected a little amusement in the DA's voice. "I doubt any of his regular patients were aware of the regulations or knew when a medical license can be suspended. You, however, did know all this."

Wilson had known. And he hadn't cared. He had just been relieved that he didn't have to do this by himself and that House would be taking care of him. Yes, that was it. He sat up straight as if the DA could see him. Time to come clean, not just with the DA but also with himself.

"I was relieved to be going into Dr. House's care because I knew he gave his all for his patients, and I was 100% sure I wouldn't be any different. I knew he would fight tooth and nail for me. It's widely known that Dr. House is a remarkable physician, but he has also been a good friend to me. That fact is less known. And that's because it suited both of us."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Wilson took a deep breath, then continued. "People who know both of us usually assume that I'm the one who is putting up with him and his antics. I think this suits both of us. Most people overlook that I'm not just putting up with him. He is not some child I have to take care of. Although God knows, I've treated him like that more times than I'd like to admit. Friendships, like relationships and marriages, are a give and take. Although I never seem to have understood this where my marriages were concerned."

"So, what you're saying is that your friendship is balanced. If that's the case, what are you getting out of it?"

Wilson should have anticipated this question. He wasn't sure that he knew the answer. Or, if he did, if he wanted to give it. At times, House's friendship was a burden, but it was also a gift.

"Doctor Wilson?"

"Um, yes. What I get out of this is probably acceptance. I don't have to pretend. Dr. House's friendship is pretty much unconditional, as long as I pay for take-out and drinks." He suppressed a laugh. He had never really been bothered by House mooching off him. He knew it was a game. "I also know that our friendship is important to him. In fact, he'd risk more than just his career for me. This whole story we're talking about here, with Dr. House faking his own death, he put his life on the line for me. He did that for me."

"Has he ever told you as much?" the DA asked.

"No. He didn't need to. It's clear to me why he did what he did. He's not exactly known as the caring type – because he doesn't brag. His actions speak for themselves, though. He didn't want me dying alone while he was in prison. So he threw his life away to be there for me. It was a gift for me."

"And what did you do with this gift?"

Wilson smiled to himself. He still had fond memories of those months, even though there were also some memories he could do without. He remembered getting soaked by rain, being so exhausted at night that he was asleep before he even pulled the blankets up, showering in tiny cubicles with motel shower curtains clinging to his legs, the cough starting and his back hurting. But he also remembered Chinese take-out on motel beds, crappy porn on even crappier TV sets, smoky bars – and openness. Wide skies. Excitement.

Finally, he said: "What I did with this gift was what I should have done a long time ago. I started to live. I stopped caring about what impression I made on people and started caring about what I wanted. House left most decisions up to me – where we'd go, what we'd do, how long we'd stay."

The DA took a moment to phrase her next question. "Were you happy?"

He hadn't anticipated that question. In fact, the thought had never even crossed his mind.

"I hadn't thought about that before. But, yes, I think I was happy."

"So Dr. House's gift was appreciated and put to good use?"

Had it been appreciated? He'd certainly never thanked House for putting his life on the line, not in so many words.

"Yes, it was appreciated. In fact, it was appreciated so much that I ended up changing my mind about wanting to die."

There. It was finally out.

"And do you think that, maybe, this had been Dr. House's plan all along? That you would enjoy life on the road, a life of freedom, so much that you'd change your mind?"

Wilson smiled to himself. He had figured that out a while ago. And he wondered how well the DA had come to know House in such a short time.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that was his plan. He was playing the long game, even though he was under pressure. I had been given five months; he didn't exactly have all the time in the world."

"So how did he react when you told him you had changed your mind?"

Wilson clearly remembered that morning about two months into their trip. He remembered telling House that he would like to look up Dr. Webber in Seattle, and House had just nodded, stuffed more bacon into his mouth and finally said, 'Sure. Let's get packed after breakfast and go.' House would've probably shown the same reaction had Wilson suggested they go to Disneyland next. Inwardly, he must have been so relieved, though. Wilson had never thought about how much House must've been hoping for him to make this decision.

"He stayed outwardly calm and agreed to drive to Seattle with me."

"Outwardly calm? Do you think he really wasn't?"

"No. He can't have been. He must have been relieved. But he never said anything. I know I was scared of what lay ahead of me, so I think he must have been too."

"You two don't talk much, do you?" The DA sounded amused.

"Yes, we do actually. Just not about the important things."

There was a pause at the other end.

"I have one final question for you, Dr. Wilson, and I expect you to answer it honestly. If you were in my position today, if you had to make the decision about what's going to happen to Dr. House's future, what would you do?"

Wilson didn't have to think long. "This is hard. And at the same time, it's incredibly easy. You probably want him to experience the consequences of his actions, some form of punishment maybe. Well, I think the last two years have been enough punishment for him. He spent the last two years with me. I won't go into too much detail, but rest assured that it wasn't pretty. This man, who is in chronic pain by the way, slept in hospital-issue recliners and never really left my side for almost two years. He didn't work, he didn't play his music, he had no home, no friends, no family, not even his name. I think he's paid his debt; he's done his time."

All that had come out in one long breath. He leaned back and hoped he hadn't overdone it. It had been the truth, though, nobody could accuse him of making anything up.

It took a while for the DA to come on again. "Impressive words, Dr. Wilson. Thank you for your honesty and your time. May I phone you again if I have further questions?"

"Sure. I'll be happy to help with anything that comes up."

Just before she ended the call, Wilson thought of something.

"Actually, if you don't mind, there's something else I'd like to say. It's important, to me anyway."

"Okay, go ahead."

He took a deep breath.

"I don't know what you believe in. But I believe that true character comes out in moments of crisis. For as long as we've known each other, from the moment we met, Dr. House has always been there when I needed him. I haven't always acknowledged that, and it took me years to realize it. The time after my diagnosis was probably the second-biggest crisis he has ever faced. And I believe that he acted admirably. Yes, he broke laws. But he stood by a friend. And he saved that friend's life. I wouldn't be here today if not for him. I would've died a lonely death in some hospital. Dr. House knew I didn't want that. He knew that if he complied with the law, I'd die alone. He knew that if he didn't comply there would at least be a small chance I wouldn't die at all. And even if I did, at least it would be on my terms. I believe that for him there really was no choice but to act as he did. And I'm damn grateful that he broke the law."

Rosalyn Mercer thanked him again.

Once the call was over, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He didn't feel like going straight to work - he was too wound up and exhausted at the same time.

So he made a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. He was tempted to call House but he didn't know what exactly was going on over there, so after deliberating for a while, he finally sent a text.

Good luck today! Let me know how things go.