Wilson stomped into the ER at PPTH, still shaking off the cold from the outside. Immediately he sensed a disturbance, and it didn't take much to guess what it was. Sure enough, glancing round, his eyes came to rest on House, blocking the door to trauma 2 with his cane, surrounded by a group of flustered nurses and doctors.
"He's my patient, and I say who's coming in here," he said to the crowd in a patronising tone, as if explaining to preschoolers.
"Dr. House, this isn't your department, and I'm afraid you don't control the E.R." responded a doctor, a somewhat rounded, greying woman whom Wilson recognised as the head of the E.R. Wilson stepped forwards to diffuse the situation, one of his favourite ways of spending a night with House. Or at least one of the most common.
Luckily, Wilson was aware that Dr. Gweeney had long harboured something of a crush on him. He stepped into her line of sight. "Dr. Gweeney, how nice to see you!" he exclaimed. Dr. Gweeney turned a slight shade of pink, her anger almost visibly evaporating as her features formed into a sickeningly bashful smile. Behind him, Wilson was aware of House putting his fingers to his mouth as if to mimic vomiting, and he stepped back slightly, pressing down hard on House's foot.
"How's your sister, has she gotten over her cold?" Wilson asked, injecting a note of concern into his voice. Dr. Gweeney could be quite a gossip in the staff room, until she became aware that Wilson was there. The woman's ears began to turn a slight shade of pink. Feeling that the confrontation was passing, some of the surrounding doctors and orderlies, gathered more at the chance to witness a scene than to be of use, drifted away.
"Oh yes, she's quite well now. How sweet of you to remember Dr. Wilson!" Gweeney squeaked excitedly. Wilson flashed her a smile.
"Now is Dr. House causing a problem?" Wilson asked. Gweeney peeped over Wilson's shoulder, remembering again the cause of her annoyance.
"I was just trying to explain to Dr. House that this is my department, and all patients have to be treated by my staff." She informed Wilson, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Of course, I quite understand that," Wilson smiled back knowingly, "but perhaps Dr. House hasn't fully explained. We've been treating this patient for a while now outside of the hospital, and he really gets quite anxious in hospitals, so we'd really like to be able to personally handle his case to avoid any unnecessary aggravation to his condition." Gweeney faltered, faced with the full force of Wilson's charm.
"Oh…" she stuttered. "Well in that case, yes of course, I agree… Wouldn't you like someone to help you?" She asked, clearly hoping for a personal invite.
"Thank you very much Gertrude, but really, we'll be quite alright." Wilson answered, backing into the room behind him. House opened the doors and the two slipped inside, leaving Gweeney standing alone outside, wondering quite how she'd managed to lose her footing.
Inside the room, Wilson's face slipped from charming to serious, and House's from childishly insolent to business like.
"I take it no one has realised who he is yet, then?" Wilson asked, turning to House. House shook his head in response and limped closer to the bed. Wilson avoided asking him if, and how, he planned on keeping that from everyone, in favour of joining House at the bed head. Chase's face was largely covered by an oxygen mask, and his hair and forehead were obscured by the protective head and neck padding put in place by the paramedics. In his current state, covered in stubble and looking significantly worse for wear than usual, it was no real wonder that no one had recognized him yet.
"He's already on warm saline and oxygen. We'll get him on Zosyn and Gentamicin intravenously to combat the pneumonia." House pulled down the sheet, revealing Chase's chest. Wilson let out a gasp as he saw the freshly forming purple bruises that marred the otherwise perfectly formed chest.
"How…?" he muttered, leaving the question unfinished.
"Looks like Chase found some new friends whilst he was out playing," House remarked.
"Or not," Wilson answered back, gently probing the area. "Feels like he has a broken rib or two," Wilson commented. "You should send him for x-rays. At least there's no distension of the abdomen." House remained silent, allowing Wilson to discover for himself what he had already found out. "He should really be in the I.C.U., House. Broken ribs, pneumonia, hypothermia, severe blows to the abdomen, still recovering from an Elavil overdose… He could suffer from multiple respiratory or cardiac problems at the very least." Wilson said, finishing his examination and glancing up at House.
House pursed his lips. "I'm taking him up to the private room three doors from my office as soon as I'm satisfied that he's stable."
"House, there's no way you can deal with this all alone. And you're not going to be able to hide the details. Cuddy is going to be on your back for one thing, I'm guessing as soon as she hears about the little upset you caused in here earlier. That combined with the fact that you've actually been seen out of your office, treating a patient without some inexplicable disease, and you're actually with the patient, is sure to attract her attention." Wilson argued.
He should have known by now that it was fairly useless to argue with House. "Chase has had the flu. He went for a little walk in the park to clear his head. In his weakened state, with his wits dulled even further than usual, he tripped over a badly placed log, bruising his ribs, where he lay for a number of hours before I heroically discovered him on my way back from the liquor store."
"Well that adds a note of reality," Wilson muttered under his breath
"And now he's developed pneumonia," house continued, "probably from the shoddy conditions in this hospital. And he wants to be in the familiar surroundings of the diagnostic floor, near to his new hero, aka me. The pneumonia should be enough to get Cuddy eating out of the palm of my hand. She's really never learned to appreciate the beauty of law suits," House finished, reaching for Chase's file.
Wilson simply sighed at House's predictable audacity. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it, shutting it again. A moment later, he started once more, only to again shut his mouth without saying anything.
House looked up from the file, amused. "Are you a goldfish, or are you actually going to say something?" he asked.
Wilson frowned. "And how are you planning on keeping the Elavil overdose from everyone?" He asked. House stroked his chin, eyes tilted upwards, as if deep in thought. Then his eyes lit up exaggeratedly and he held his finger up in the air, signifying in a cartoonish style that he had an idea. Deliberately placing his finger in the file, he ripped out a page with a flourish and scrumpled it into a ball before shoving it in his pocket. "What overdose?" he asked innocently.
"It'll still be on the computer," Wilson pointed out.
"Who's going to bother looking at the computer when we have the hard copy of his notes right here? Besides, I'm his physician now. Nobody else has the right to look up his notes. Confidentiality and all that." House checked over the monitors attached to Chase, then went to arrange the transfer downstairs.
Wilson leaned in against the bed rail, studying the sickly face of the man before him. "I don't know what you've done to him," he said simply, shaking his head, before setting about tending to the young man's wounds.
A/N: I'm sorry about Gertrude Gweeney, I just couldn't help slipping someone faintly ridiculous into the mix.