"Hello?"
"TB guy."
"Dr. House, I presume?"
"Are you sure you're not psychic? First this, plus knowing all those millions of people have TB."
"I bet all the people in the world gave a huge sigh of relief when you woke up from your coma."
"Oooh, psychic gets another one right."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Is Cameron really having your kid?"
The pause on the other end gives him time to rest his feet on his desk.
"If she was, I don't think I'd tell you considering it's none of your business. Why do you care?"
"I love her."
House can hear the pure shock from thousands of miles away. "If you seriously believed that, you are no longer my number one psychic."
"You know what?" Sebastian sighs exasperated. "You need to quit being a jerk and leave her alone about this."
"Concern over her welfare? Easy since you're in Africa and not here with her, right?"
"You don't have any right--."
"Neither do you."
"House, believe me. If she'd have me, I'd be there or she'd be here. Now, I have a job to do. Let's not do this again any time soon."
"It just makes no sense."
"Why not?"
"She's not...stupid enough to fall for Dr. Charles again."
"How would you know? You don't remember how she was."
"Besides the point!"
Wilson shakes his head and they keep on walking down the hallway.
"He's a charming guy, House."
"Never trust a man who smells like poo."
"Why is this bothering you so much?"
"Would everyone stop asking me that? For the love of--I was in a coma! I want to hear the gossip again."
Stopping in his stride, Wilson looks back at House.
"Almost three months before you went into the coma, Sebastian Charles came to New Jersey because he was protesting the rising costs of the TB meds. You, being you, went to the conference and asked him how much he valued you saving his life. Of course, he took the high road. Thanked you."
"As he should have."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Let's keep walking."
They take up their trek again.
"And then he came here to see you. He actually wanted you to help him."
"What?"
"I know, right? One of the kids he was treating wasn't responding to the medicine, or any medicine for that matter."
"So, he wanted a consult?"
"Yeah."
"And the whole Cameron thing?"
"Catch-up dinner."
"And?"
"And what?"
"She does not put out on the first date."
Wilson raises an eyebrow. "Just because your first date with her--."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is Cameron we're talking about."
"He was here for a week while you tried to diagnose the girl."
"Did I?"
He takes a long time to exhale his breath, and House already knows the answer.
"I didn't, huh?"
"Everything you tried made her worse. The third day, she developed ascending paralysis. There wasn't enough time. Autopsy was inconclusive."
"Symptoms?"
"Do you want the symptoms or the low-down on Cameron?"
"Fine. Go on."
"He stayed another two days, telling the story of Aida, the girl to the press."
"It wasn't TB, though."
"No one else knew that."
"And people think I'm an ass."
"You are. Anyways," Wilson shrugs his shoulders as he finally stops walking. "He left. She stayed. This time they kept in contact."
"Ah, so she had her damaged needs fulfilled."
Wilson doesn't bother to respond to the comment. "He came back for a check-up. She told him she was pregnant. He left. Now, we're here."
House leans on his cane, expecting some type of vague realization to come over him. It doesn't.
"That's it?"
"Pretty much. Why?"
Not saying anything, he shakes his head, looking over the railing.
Frowning, Wilson looks around them. "Where were we going?"
"My leg hurt."
"That's good, right? You said it only bothered you more than usual if you were remembering something."
"I'm not remembering..." The smell wafts to his nose, strongly and commanding. Turning around, he doesn't see anyone nearby, but does see the janitor's cart.
"That was not good!"
"What? It's only 13. Where were we?" He can taste the exposed area of her neck and his hands love the feel of her smooth, bare waist.
She pulls away, blonde hair slightly tussled because his hands always gravitate to the strands.
"We're doctors," she screams as a whisper, trying to push away from him. "And if Cuddy--."
"You made out with Chase in the closet."
"That was different," she huffs, reaching behind him to grab her blouse.
He sits back against the wall, carelessly watching her fluid movements while the smell of cleaning chemicals permeates his senses.
"House? You okay?"
House shrugs his friend off, not taking his eyes off the janitor's cart. Another vicodin finds its way into his mouth before his hand goes down to his thigh.
"Are you remembering something? House?"
"I...can't be."
A/N:Confused huh? Hopefully this clears it up a little. And the pace is slow. I know. I've known since Chapter 8 that I needed to speed things up, but I'm a detail orientated person. Details interest me. If it's going too slow for you, then by all means, wait until this is finished and then catch up. That's what I do with some stories.
And, I'm taking a break from this fic, starting now. I post as I write, thinking of the story as it goes along, which is usually good motivation for me to continue the story. But this time around, I thought about it too much. I know what's going to happen...which kinda means the story is already over for me so...it's kind of like, 'Okay, I'm okay with it.'
Hopefully, if I don't think about it, then one day soon, the inspiration to finish it will be too much for me to abandon. Right now, though, I'm meh about it all. Sorry. For those who really want this finished, I will, just not right now. I am working on another House fic though. Thanks for reading so far. And hopefully, thanks for waiting with me.