A/N: Edited for clarity! Also, yeahno, don't own that danged thing called House M.D.
Three days pass too slowly for him, but it does pass. It passes with shiny balloons, small teddy-bears, two three foot get well cards, another three dozen regular, sappy cards, and then there are the flowers.
His nose wrinkles in distaste as the nurse eyes them appreciatively in her arms before walking out, barely missing Wilson walking in.
"Where are all your gifts?"
"Cuddy's office."
"I guess," Wilson mutters as he sits with his lunch.
They eat in silence, like everyday this week. He's been the only faithful visitor.
"You guys seem pretty chummy."
"Who?"
"You and Cameron."
Wilson stops, his spork mid-air, as realization begins to dawn.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You've given her a ride home every night, and she hasn't seen me."
Wilson presents a forced smile. "A lot of people haven't seen you."
"A lot of people haven't been giving pregnant women rides home."
"I'm so not having this conversation with you," Wilson says, his head turning towards the t.v.
"Why?" he asks, more than curious at Wilson's sudden turn of secrecy.
"I," he stops, looking at the man sitting in bed, remembering looking at him lying down in bed, never knowing if his friend would limp again. Wilson sighs, his moment of weakness quickly approaching, but fighting it all the same.
"You've...got to be careful about this, House. Don't ask if you don't really want to know."
He waits, wanting and at the same time, not wanting House to keep the pressure on. There's a momentary shift in his eyes, and Wilson knows that something's changed. He watches his friend go back to eating his lunch, not saying another word, and so he follows suit, wondering when Pandora's Box would open.
He sleeps, though at this point, it's more like he's waking. Physio's exhausting, though he'd never tell a soul. In this limbo-like state, he thinks about what brought him here. Some punk kid, high on Tina made from his basement, is the reason he's lost almost a year of memories.
Foreman's given him the facts, though the evening in question is nowhere close to being remembered. It frustrates him, almost more than his physio because he's always prided himself on his mind.
The whisper of clothes swishing together makes him still his thoughts. The smell of citrus wafts to his nose, and suddenly there's something needling its way through. It's like having that useful word on the end of your tongue, there but not there, playing you.
"You're pathetic."
"Excuse me?"
His eyes open, his head turns, and he looks at her. "You couldn't resist, could you?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why are you here?"
She blinks, his harsh tone more abrasive than she remembers.
"Fine, I'll leave."
Bracing herself on the chair, she begins to pull herself up.
"Just sit down, sit down. I'll never hear the e-end of it from Gina if you pass ou-out from exertion."
She sits heavily, her breath already coming fast.
"How's the physio going?"
"I'll be running by next week."
"I guess," she replies, her fingers interlocked over her stomach.
Without thinking about it, he fingers the bald, thin slant in the curve of his eyebrow.
"You haven't remembered anything?"
He wonders where the sudden tentativeness in her voice comes from. "Nope."
Realizing what he's doing, he drops his hand.
"How's the E.R.?"
"Busy," she shrugs her shoulders, "sometimes not so busy."
"Like your hair."
"Blonde is my natural color. And I don't care if it makes me look like a hooker, so don't call me one."
His frown makes her realize that she's gotten ahead of herself. She wonders if she'll ever get used to it. She also wonders what she's going to tell him when he does remember, if he does.
"You told me that...when you first saw me after I came back. That, and that my job was too beneath me."
"It is."
She smiles wryly, her head shaking. He never could get over that. He also can't seem to get over her burgeouning abdomen.
"Quit asking people who the father is of my child."
"I'm just curious as to who-who's genes are swimming in there."
She stands while holding her breath, not wanting to miss her doctor's appointment upstairs. "I'm not going to be your little puzzle because you're bored and lying holed up in bed."
"What else is there to do?"
At the door, she turns slightly. "Think about what to say to your parents when they come tomorrow. That should keep you occupied."
Through the glass panes, he watches her walk away, and he's not the only one. Chase is also watching her departure in another room across the hallway before averting his eyes back to the patient in the wheelchair.
He knows that look. It's love, though more accurately, it's called longing.
Then it clicks, somewhere, somehow. Cameron and Wilson had said, 'I guess' in exactly the same tone. He forgets he'd also said it three days earlier.
"Where'd Dr. Cameron go?"
"E-bay. Checking the bid on the kid."
Gina looks pointedly at him before making sure his IV machine is dispensing the correct amount.
"I swear. The only woman who'd eat lunch with you every day, and you say something like that about her. Tsk."
"Excuse me?"