The hours passed with agonizing slowness. Kelly had the yellow chair brought down from House's office for Wilson. He didn't sleep, but rested fitfully, until morning when Cuddy came in and put a hand on his shoulder. He jolted to full consciousness with a gasp and a growl.
"He's holding his own," she stated before he could ask. "I'm not sure I can say the same about you."
Wilson scrubbed his hand over his face. "I'm, I'm okay." He sighed, and pushed his hand through his hair. "He had a quiet night."
"Surprising, after the stunt you tried to pull."
Wilson closed his eyes. "I'm not going to let him die here. You know, you know he wouldn't want that."
"He's not going to die, James."
"We don't know that."
Cuddy reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know it. Alexa and Adira know it. They told me so. Adira dreamed about angels watching over him." Wilson mashed his lips together and looked away. Cuddy squeezed his hand again, then let go and walked over to the window as if she cared about the view beyond the glass.
Wilson got to his feet and stood at the side of the bed. He reached up with his uninjured hand to run his fingers through House's hair. "He wouldn't want to wake up from this," he said softly, emotion catching his words.
"Don't say that," Cuddy answered. She turned, back to the window, to face him. The promise of tears shone in her eyes, and she sniffled in an effort to keep the tears back.
He lay his palm flat against the bristles of House's beard. "You know it's true." He brushed his thumb across House's mouth. "His lips are so dry already. You know how he hates that. After the infarction…"
"This isn't the same…"
Wilson kept his eyes turned down to House, but his eyes were closed. "No. This is worse."
Cuddy pulled a deep breath, though it did nothing to settle her nerves. She pushed off from the window and moved around to slide her arms around Wilson. "We'll get him through this."
Wilson bent to kiss the top of her head, then turned down to kiss House's mouth. He whispered something against House's lips, pressed his forehead to House's forehead for a moment, then stepped back and away from Cuddy and away from the bed. "I can't…can't do this. I'm…I'm sorry." He stumbled back, scrambling away from the side of the bed.
"James?" Cuddy put a hand out to him. He shook his head, and turned fully around. House's heart rate bottomed out right then, as if he knew. The monitor sounded its alarm, and Cuddy knew that for the moment she had to let James go. She knew he needed time to think, to adjust to the situation. Whether or not House survived, James' life had been changed forever, and deep down she knew he was right. House wouldn't want to wake up to the life that awaited him now.
That wouldn't stop her from doing everything she could to keep him alive. He'd learn to live without his arm, without walking. It would be an adjustment for everyone who loved him, but she would fight for him. And with him.
"He'll come back. He Just needs time. You know how he is." Cuddy stroked House's cheek. She stepped back, grabbing as many of his toys as she could, so the response team could get to him easier.
He flat lined, and Cuddy could only watch in numbed shock as they shocked his heart back to life.
He took the stairs, rather than the elevator, so that he could keep moving. He couldn't stop. He knew everything would crash down on him, crush him, once he stopped running. He ran through the hospital lobby, despite the sound of several people calling his name. He went through the front doors, into the parking lot. Across the street to the dealer where House bought his motorcycle.
He wanted to scream at the injustice of it. Motorcycles were death traps, or worse. Definitely worse, because House wasn't dead. Except that he was. He would be cold and dead inside, when he woke up and realized he'd lost an arm, and the use of his legs he'd fought so hard for just a few years earlier.
Wilson ran harder, faster, to silence that voice in his head.
A little farther down the main road, to the day care where Alexa and Adira spent the day while Cuddy worked. He checked in on them, watching through the one way window until the class went outside. Once he hit the front door, he started running again, as if he were being chased.
He kept going until exhaustion burned in his muscles. He had no idea how long he'd run, or how far. He could easily lay down right where he was, but he kept going, pushing himself until he found a roadside motel. He had enough cash to pay for a couple nights, and he signed in under the name Gregory House.
The room felt like a hospital room, and he felt as if the walls would close in on him. He stood for a long moment just inside the door, shoulder to the wall. Finally he straightened, scrubbed his hand over his face, and walked into the room. He showered, then settled on the bed with the television on. House always had the TV blaring, or the radio, sometimes both. He liked white noise, to drown out everything else.
By the time House was settled again, all his toys were on the floor. The red lolly pops had been crushed under feet, and his iPod had been kicked to a corner. Cuddy was on her knees, gathering the things, and when someone said her name, she jumped and bumped her head on the chair from House's office.
"I'm sorry, Dr Cuddy."
"It's fine." Cuddy got to her feet and dropped what she had gathered into the chair. She looked at the nurse expectantly, but she was afraid to hope Wilson had come back.
"Your daughter's day care just called. Adira's complaining her head hurts."
Cuddy nodded and pushed her hair out of her face. "Thank you, Jennifer. I'll take care of it."
"Is there anything else, Dr Cuddy?"
"No. Thank you." Cuddy started arranging House's toys on the small table beside his bed. Once she had everything settled, she leaned in to kiss his cheek, then headed down to her office to call the day care.