CHAPTER 2: Morning

Slowly consciousness seeped in as Wilson opened his eyes. The first sensation was of pain, he took a deep breath and knew immediately that it was his lower back. His daily care of House demanded that he help him shower, wash up, pick him up and ease him back down into a chair or, more often, onto the floor. All the lifting, despite House's relatively light weight, had put a strain on Wilson's back.

He looked down without moving and found what he had suspected, he had fallen asleep next to House on the air mattress. He could see the smooth, almost plastic like appearance of the mattress as it met House's head which was presently in Wilson chest. House's hair, which had become matted as he sweat in his sleep was tickling Wilson's chest, just below his neck. Wilson moved slightly so as to not disturb House, but he already knew that the man beside him was awake.

Wilson could feel the uneven breathes that had become characteristic of House. Even in his sleep, nightmare free, House's body never quite relaxed. Consequently, House never got a good amount of sleep at any moment and had to catch up during the day, taking two or more naps when Wilson was working in the other room or in the evening.

"You ok?" Wilson whispered as low as his voice would allow. House didn't move. Wilson tried to turn to see what time it was, but the nightstand was too high and the clock too far away. The sun was up, Wilson could see, but it didn't look like it could be more than 8am. Wilson moved his shoulder, wincing as he tried to sit up. He knew that he shouldn't try sleeping on the floor like this, but if it let House sleep sound enough to stay the way he was, pressed up against Wilson, all night, then it was worth it.

"Need to get up here. Are you hungry?" Wilson asked even though he knew the response: silence.

"Pancakes?" Wilson asked trying to ease House off of his chest. House's hand was beyond repair, the other gone. Wilson tried to think of House's favorite foods, but they also had to be something rather simple to eat, since House would barely hold anything, let alone a fork or knife. Finger foods were best, even if they weren't always supposed to be finger foods.

House's head was heavy as Wilson placed it onto the pillow next to him. Wilson pushed on House's cheek slightly so that they were eye to eye, but House refused to look Wilson in the eyes. Instead, he chose to look through him. It was quite haunting actually. Blank, icy, blue eyes, glazed over and glassy.

"You need to pee?" Wilson asked looking away, and getting out of the bed, only to end up on his knees on the floor. House didn't move, didn't reply. Wilson slowly got up, stretching his back carefully until he was convinced that the ache was dulling. He padded to the bathroom barefoot and opened a box sitting on the floor.

It contained any items Wilson thought would be used in the bathroom including towels, a couple pairs of House's underwear and pants, catheterization kits, bandages, latex gloves, enema kits, and adult diapers, something Wilson hoped he wouldn't need very often. He took a catheterization kit out of the box, as well as, a pair of latex gloves.

Placing them on the counter, he looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed his face. He looked old, he thought, as he passed a hand over wrinkles that had developed in the corners of his eyes. He blinked, once, twice and the dropped his left hand to join his right on the edge of the sink. He washed his face quickly and then dried with a towel that hung next to the sink. It would take a lot more for him to feel human again, but this would have to do.

"House," Wilson said, a fake cheer in his voice that even he hated now. He imagined that House hated it to. Wilson recognized the tone as upbeat and coinciding with a medically painful or embarrassing task. He hadn't meant to plant that seed that would no doubt create a Pavlov dog-like reaction from House, but it had happened all the same. If House recognized that, he made no sign.

"Come on buddy, let's get you to the bathroom," Wilson said, getting onto his knees to help House sit and then helping House stand, as Wilson slowly, but firmly pulled House up with him. No wonder Wilson's back hurt. House was uncomfortable standing and Wilson immediately moved around House's body so that his support was on House's right side and his left arm was wrapped around House back so that his hand lie on House's left hip. It was a tricky move, since House could hold very little weight on his own and Wilson had to perform this quickly.

"You ok?" Wilson asked and House responded with an uncomfortable grunt. They shuffled to the bathroom as they did every morning and Wilson slowly seated House on the toilet lid. Standing up to full height Wilson took a couple of steps back to see the clock on the nightstand. 7:55am. He had been interviewing people the entire week so that he could go back to work, at least part time. The search had not been going well. Most applicants were women and had come thinking that this was a babysitting job.

Upon finding that the 'baby' in question was a 52 year old man, most ran in the opposite direction. He had placed a notice on the hospital's service, looking for a trained nurse, one that could lift and possibly carry more than 130 pounds, but was gentle enough not to alarm a middle aged man who was jumpy 24 hours a day. The list was pretty short. There was one man, Clarence, he said his name was, that sounded good on paper. All that was left was for him to meet House and for House to meet him. He would be here at 10am.

"Ok, lets get you more comfortable," Wilson said moving back over to House. He pushed down House's underwear and jeans, which Wilson had never re-buttoned before falling asleep last night. House groaned quietly. "Maybe comfortable wasn't the right word," Wilson joked to House's reaction. He opening the catheterization kit and donning the latex gloves. House for whatever reason still had urine retention. Wilson had investigated it farther, but found that it was probably only a side effect to the anticholinergics that House was taking as a smooth muscle relaxant.

Wilson took the kit and sat on his knees, on the floor. He tore open the betadine package and squeezed out enough to cover the cotton gauze next to it. "It's cold," Wilson said, like every time before, and swabbed the tip of House's penis. House didn't make a sound, only a slight wince in his eyes showed his continual surprise at the cold sensation. Wilson threw the gauze into the trash can and pulled the flexible rubber tubing out of the white, plastic casing. He connected the tubing to the collecting bag with ease that only comes with practice and looked up at House who was looking down at him. Well, not exactly at him, but in his direction. Wilson wished that for just a moment, House would look into his eyes. He felt like a parent with an autistic child.

"Just try to relax," Wilson said looking back down at his work. As soon as Wilson began to thread the catheter into House's urethra, House began to move, wiggling back and forth in what Wilson perceived to be an involuntary movement, at least something that House's couldn't completely control. Wilson stopped for a moment and looked up to see House's eyes were shut tight.

Not wanting to inflict any unwanted pain, Wilson preceded quickly but cautiously. He could feel a bit of resistance as the tube passed House's prostate. House moaned, low and deep in the back of his throat as Wilson gently moved the catheter another inch before urine began to flow. House grunted again, this time Wilson was sure it was out of relief as the urine quickly drained from House's bladder. Wilson put the tubing down, and let gravity do its job for the next couple of minutes. He stood up and placed a hand on House's shoulder, feeling it relax under his touch.

"I'm sorry," he said, a general apology.