CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

House flagged Wilson down in the hallway. "I need your help. This is important." He pulled Wilson into a private room.

"Is everything alright with Henry?" Henry had become a favorite among the hospital staff. Though a cranky old man, understandable given his deteriorating condition, he was a remarkable storyteller who had lived quite an amazing life. He told the doctors of his daring does as a soldier in WWII. He told the sweet young nurses of his love affair with Jan Beane, the woman he knew he would marry the day he met her, he impressed anyone who would listen with stories of life as a war correspondent, his job after leaving the army himself, tales of his travels around the world and he did so with such detail and enthusiasm it was as if he were taking them on a tour of another time, reliving every moment.

"He's in a coma. Does that sound like everything is alright? But this isn't about him. It's about Cuddy."

"Is she alright?" Wilson was confused but concerned.

"I'm taking her away for the weekend, it's supposed to be a surprise and I need you to set it up."

"Where are you taking her?" Wilson was giddy, but tried unsuccessfully to hid it.

"I'm sure you'll think of somewhere good." House turned to leave, hoping to avoid more questions but his damned leg failed him.

"You want me to plan your romantic weekend with your girlfriend?" Wilson waited for his friend to turn around. "And what's in it for me?"

"A weekend to yourself."

Wilson thought about that, and it sounded kind of nice. "Fine, I'm in. But you can't complain if you don't like what I plan for you."

"Then plan something I'll like." House turned and left successfully this time, aided by his pager which had begun to beep frantically. "Gotta go."

Wilson headed to his office to work out the details of his friend's weekend. He would have appreciated some input by House, but he would have been an idiot to have expected any.

He felt someone watching him and looked up from a bed and breakfast website to see Cuddy standing in his doorway. "Hi," he said guiltily.

"What are you doing?" She walked over and peered over his monitor.

"Nothing." Wilson quickly clicked his email open to disguise his true work.

She smiled at him. "I know you're trying to plan House's weekend getaway." He blushed. "Do not send us to Atlantic City."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Wilson had more sense than that, which is why House had asked him to make arrangements instead of doing it himself.

"What are you dreaming of?" She stuck her nose once again over the top of his monitor, but he hadn't taken down his email and she was faced with a long line of messages.

"I was thinking of a nice bed and breakfast on the shore."

She nodded approvingly. "There's a place in Old Greenwich I read about, Harbor House Inn I think it was called."

Wilson smirked. "I'll see what I can do." His words were dismissive. He wanted her to leave so he could get back to his work.

"Okay," she said hesitantly, trying to decipher the look on his face. "But no gambling, no crowded places, I want something romantic, near the water, peaceful…"

"I got it. You can go now." Wilson did not like his new job as travel agent, but since House had assigned him the task, he was going to do it his way.

"I'm just saying…"

"I hear you. Now get out." Wilson had stood up, hoping that would help make his point.

While Wilson was dealing with Cuddy's intrusion, House was dealing with Henry's awakening.

Kutner and Taub were hovered over Henry's bed, checking his eyes for dilatation, his pulse for quickening and his heart for irregularities. Henry, his ever charming self, was complaining about all the attention.

Taub noticed House and looked up. "This would be a lot easier if we had a third doctor helping."

"You want my help?" House asked, not moving to help them.

"He was talking about 13," kutner said, not looking up from his work.

"I'm working on finding a replacement," House informed them, knowing that they wanted him to beg 13 to return.

"Great," Taub said unenthusiastically.

"Now can we talk about the patient?"

"The patient," Henry interrupted before either doctor could speak, "is fine, other than these two clowns poking at me."

"You do know you were in a coma, right?" House wondered just how far Henry's psychosis went.

"Really? I thought I was on vacation in the Bahamas."

"What year is it?" House was starting to develop a theory based on Henry's mood and topic of discussion.

"It's 2009. What year is it where you are?"

"2009." House smiled. "I'll come back when you're more agreeable." He headed out the door.

"That's it?" Kutner hurried after him. "You don't want to check him yourself?"

"I trust you."

"He just woke up from a coma House. Don't you care?"

"I find it interesting." That wasn't necessarily the same as caring, but it was House's version of it.

"Interesting how?" Kutner had taken this job to learn from House. Instead he felt like he was House's assistant, doing the work House couldn't be bothered doing himself.

Taub, having finished with Henry came and joined his colleagues. "Are we discussing anything important?" If they were, he didn't want to be left out.

"I was about to tell Kutner why I find our patient interesting." House took a moment, hoping that one of them would figure it out.

"And why is that, Dr. House?" There was a hint of patronization in Taub's voice that, among those who have worked for House only Taub could get away with, do to their closeness in age and years of experience.

House opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then said "I'll let you figure it out." He was trotting down the hall before either of them had time to process what he'd said.

Wilson was on the phone when House interrupted him. "Is that about this weekend?" He didn't wait for Wilson to end his call, but sat down and started nosing around and asking questions.

"Yes," Wilson said with his hand over the receiver. Then he gave a series of affirmative grunts into the phone before saying "I see, well, I don't think that's going to work then. Thank you for your time." He hung up.

"What's not going to work?" House said intrusively.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Wilson shuffled some papers, conspicuously burying something.

"Why'd you do that?" House nodded in the direction of the conspicuous activity.

"What?" Wilson played innocent.

"You hid that paper." House reached over and pulled it out from the other side and looked at it. "Is this one of the candidates for 13s job?"

"She's not qualified." Wilson tried to take the resume back but House was too fast.

He looked over the paper carefully. "No. But according to your notes she's stacked." House turned the paper toward Wilson and pointed at something. "I'm assuming this doodle here is supposed to be breasts. Or are those mountains? Were you daydreaming about the Rookie's during her interview? Girl must have been boring."

"She wasn't boring."

"Right, she was hot." House looked at the overly flourished H O T drawn into the margin of the resume beside the name Cara Tanner.

"She's not right for the position." Wilson succeeded this time in taking the resume away from his friend.

"Then why do you still have her resume?" House was curious and suspicious.

"I…" Wilson began to sweat under House's accusing glare.

"You're going to ask her out," House teased.

"Did I mention she's hot?" Wilson was embarrassed, but he knew House would understand. It was a guy thing.

"No, but I think I read it somewhere." House grinned. "Now stop using my candidates as a dating service and find me a new doctor."

"Yeah, I'll get on that, and planning your weekend getaway, want me to do your taxes while I'm at it?"

"Would you?" House perked up.

"No." Wilson said definitively.

"You'd probably screw them up anyhow. I'll just have to beat tax guy at poker again this year."

"You get your poker buddy to do your taxes? Your LOSING poker buddy?"

"Yeah, how do you get yours done?"

"H&R Block." Wilson thought it was a more logical choice.

House groaned. "Don't tell Miss Rocky Mountains that. You don't want to bore her to sleep before you make it to first base."

"Where did you rush off to?" Wilson had learned over the years that the best way to derail House's snark was to simply change the subject.

"Patient came out of his coma."

"That's great." Wilson was genuinely pleased. Then again, Wilson genuinely cared about people. "Shouldn't you be checking on him?'

"I did."

"You were gone for ten minutes." It had been longer than that, but Wilson was rounding down, way down, to make his point. "Why don't you want to work on this case?"

"I am working on this case." House was insulted by Wilson's accusation.

"House, what's going on with you?" Wilson had seen the change in House, ever since he started working on this case.

"I think Henry Rose is jumping through time." House said stoically.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You started TiVoing Lost again, didn't you?"

"I was thinking more Slaughterhouse Five actually. Billy Pilgram, horrors of war, mind dislodged, that sort of thing."

"Still, that's a bit sci-fi isn't it?"

"Science fiction is based in science."

"But it's also fiction."

"I'm not concerned with the fiction part of it." House was lost in his thoughts, trying to decide what it meant.

"Are you thinking Alzheimer's?"

At one point he had, not now. "No, that's too simple."

"Sometimes medicine is simple House. Sometimes it is just Alzheimer's. I know that's not stimulating enough for you, but he is an old man talking to his dead wife who seems more comfortable in the past than in the present. It sounds like Alzheimer's."

"Well, if it SOUNDS like Alzheimer's, let's call it a day and go get some beers."

"Okay, so you don't think it's Alzheimer's. What do you think it is?"

"If I knew I'd be treating it."

Wilson threw out several ideas which House quickly and adeptly shot down. Still, seeds were being planted slowly in House's mind. Little grains of what Wilson said were growing into diagnostic possibilities.

"Anyway, I don't want to drive any farther than three hours, nothing with stairs, and something by the water would be nice." House rose to his feet. "And not too expensive."

His talk with Wilson had been fruitful. Wilson was a good sounding board when House needed to bounce ideas off something to see what would stick. But could this be just Alzheimer's? It seemed too simple a diagnosis and House didn't trust simple.