Chapter 39

Week One

"I hate this freaking walker," House snapped as the rear leg of the walker got tangled in one of the conference table chairs for the third time that morning. He jerked the walker hard and almost overbalanced.

"Right, the walker has it in for you," Jasper said. House shot her a glare that could have stripped the paint of the walls. She smiled apologetically and House narrowed his eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled and blushed. House continued to glare at her until she dropped her eyes.

"Which one of you is doing my clinic duty today?" House asked as he tried to balance himself against the sink while juggling the coffee pot and keeping one hand planted on his walker.

"I am," Price volunteered. He stood up and made as if to help House with the coffee but quickly backed off when House growled at him. "I think I'll go right now and finish your hours early," he said as he hastily retreated.

"And I'll just go and troll the ER for something interesting," Jasper said as she too exited quickly from the wrath of House.

House sighed in aggravation. He wasn't upset with Price or Jasper. They'd been nothing but helpful and supportive. In fact, everyone had been nothing but helpful and supportive. The nurses were polite and caring, the lab techs were thorough and prompt, hell even his Rubens had been pickle-less for the past three days. It was driving him nuts. He was tired of everyone treating him like he needed coddling.

House ripped open the bag of pre-measured coffee beans violently and it sprayed its contents in a mocha scented explosion.

"Aaargh!" House shouted. If he could have hopped up and down in frustration he would have done so.

"Give me that," Wilson commanded as he walked into the conference room from the hall. He'd seen Price and Jasper fleeing and figured it was time for House to release a little pent up frustration. Wilson could draw out pent up Housian anger and channel it away from the innocent masses. Like a lightning rod.

"I don't need your help to make a simple pot of coffee," House snarled at Wilson.

"Clearly," Wilson said dryly. "Just give me the damn pot before it gets smashed."

"The only way this pot is getting smashed," House said in a warning tone, "is if I crack it over your meddling head."

"Good thing I'm in a hospital then," Wilson said. He grabbed the pot out of House's hand and stared at him until House made his way to the nearest chair, thumping his walker loudly on the floor as he went. "You make crappy coffee anyway."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"I'm sick of everybody coddling me," House complained.

"I'm not coddling you, I'm making coffee," Wilson said.

"Because you think I can't make it myself," House said.

"I don't coddle you," Wilson reasoned. He'd finished cleaning up the spilled coffee grounds and opened another bag. He poured them into the filter and then opened one of the drawers, taking out the secret stash of cinnamon for flavoring. "I've never coddled you. Cajoled, chastised, conspired with, coerced and co-habitated. But never coddled."

House chuckled. He had sorely missed this sort of banter with Wilson and now more than ever he needed that normalcy. It was lacking nearly everywhere else. Even with Cameron. She was trying her hardest to treat him like always, but she was inevitably bearing the brunt of his recovery at home. And their new living situation meant there was no hiding anything from her.

"Fine. You don't coddle me. And as long as we never get to cuddle or consummate, I think we're good," House relented.

"Then we'd better never go to Mardi Gras again," Wilson said.

"I have got to hear about this Mardi Gras trip," Cameron said from the doorway. She had been leaning there listening for the past few minutes, but neither of them had noticed her.

"No," House said quickly.

"Sure," Wilson said amiably.

"Wilson!" House shouted. "We swore a blood oath. Do I have to remind you of the penalties for breaking said oath?"

Wilson paled. "Sorry, Allison."

"I'm going to hear this story one way or another," Cameron said determinedly. "That's not why I'm here. Greg, I have a case I want you to look at."

"I don't want to take a new patient right now," House said quietly. "I can still only manage a half day of work or so."

"I know," Cameron said. "I don't want you to take the case; I just … need an opinion."

"He's got lots of those," Wilson interjected.

"Excuse me, A and B conversation here. C is not required. Besides don't you have some plan …ts to take care of?" House saved himself from revealing their 'plans' by the barest of margins.

"Plants?" Cameron asked suspiciously.

"Plants, right. Uh, plants. Yes, Lisa's planning a garden for the backyard. She wants something she can see from the nursery. I'm supposed to be taking care of some plants she wanted ordered," Wilson managed to make it sound almost convincing. "I'll just go do that then."

House and Cameron watched him walk out of the conference room. They turned to each other and each looked away quickly. These next few weeks were going to be harder than either of them had imagined.

Week Two

Cuddy shifted on her office couch for the third time in as many minutes. A set of toes was currently hooked into her ribs and was driving her crazy with discomfort. She twisted and turned in every possible direction she could think of.

"Lisa, you okay?" Wilson asked as he entered her new office.

"Your daughter apparently plans to be a trapeze artist when she grows up," Cuddy moaned as she finally stood up hoping to get some relief.

"Swinging from your ribs again?" Wilson leaned down to speak to Cuddy's stomach. "Abigail, haven't I asked you nicely not to torture your mother until after you're born?"

Cuddy lifted her eyes to the heavens and asked God to remind her why she was doing this. Wilson leaned in closer and placed the softest of kisses on her abdomen and then straightened to place the sweetest of kisses on her cheek. Cuddy smiled. That's why, she thought.

"How are things coming along?" Wilson asked.

"Everything's good," Cuddy said cautiously. "The event planning couldn't have gone any easier. Allison is so meticulous; once I hinted I needed a little help this year she practically took over. I just took care of the, uh, private details."

"And how many of the private details is she privy to?" Wilson asked. Cuddy sat back on the couch and Wilson quickly joined her.

"Just what was strictly necessary. The less she knows, the easier it is for her to lie about it," Cuddy said. "She doesn't have the best poker face."

"No, and he's an expert. I'm surprised you let her know anything at all," Wilson said. "What about the honored guests?"

"Ah, well, numbers one and two are confirmed," Cuddy said, reverting to the code they'd established. House had ears all over the hospital and for something like this Cuddy didn't even feel safe in her own office. "Number three was one of those private details that she had to know about. She should have heard by now, actually. Maybe you could check with her?"

Wilson nodded. He leaned in to give Cuddy another kiss on the cheek but she caught him half way there and seized his lips hungrily. He responded with equal fervor for a minute or two and then pulled away breathless and frustrated.

"Lisa, you have to stop doing that," Wilson said softly. "You know Dr. Huntley said we have to wait until after the delivery."

"I know that. But that doesn't mean you have to stop touching me all together," Cuddy replied. She shook her head sadly. "A kiss on the cheek every other day … I miss you."

"I miss you too," Wilson stressed. "But …ah, I really didn't want to talk about this with you. It's too much stress, especially now."

"James, please," Cuddy begged.

"I miss you too. A lot. I mean really, really a lot. If I don't just stop completely … I don't want to screw this up. This time I don't even have a wedding ring to scare them off," Wilson said. He rubbed the back of his neck viciously with his right hand. Cuddy grabbed his left and squeezed.

"Good," Cuddy said. "I mean, not good that you don't have a wedding ring … not that I'm looking for a proposal. I just meant good that you're worried about it. I'm glad you're taking this so seriously. And I promise to stop tempting you."

"Well that's completely impossible unless we don't see or speak to each other until after she's born," Wilson said and Cuddy smiled. "But thanks."

"I can't believe you have a secretary and I don't," House said from behind Cameron. To her credit, she barely even flinched. She was standing in hall outside the PICU, staring in at the patients. House stood beside her and pushed his walker into her leg.

"I said, I can't believe…"

"You would go through assistants faster than Lisa," Cameron said distractedly. House watched her for a minute and decided she wasn't just staring at the PICU; she was staring at a particular patient.

"Yours?"

Cameron nodded. House waited for her to elaborate but she didn't seem to want to talk about it. He had just about decided to start making up wild and random stories when she started speaking.

"That file I had you look at last week," Cameron said. "He spiked a fever; they brought him in. He's got pneumonia. It's a mild case, but …"

"But you still don't have a diagnosis," House supplied.

"No. It's not DiGeorge, it's not his thymus, it's not lupus or anything else I can even remotely think of," Cameron said in frustration.

"Maybe it's genetic," House mused. He was mildly interested in the case himself. Cameron had been her usual thorough self. In fact, all of the doctors this kid had been dragged to were pretty thorough. Obviously they'd all missed something.

"You're probably right," Cameron said.

"What does the history suggest?" House asked, knowing almost immediately what Cameron would say.

"No history. He's an orphan. No living relatives and only sketchy medical records from his parents," Cameron answered dejectedly.

"Abandoned?"

"Bus accident. Parents weren't well off; they both worked at the same place and took the bus to save money. They were on their way to pick him up from day care and the bus got broadsided, flipped over and went up in flames. The only medical information we have on them at all is from the ER that pronounced," Cameron finally tore her eyes away from the boy in question and looked at House. "Any ideas?"

"None that I didn't give you last week," House said. "So, I get why you want to help him. Why are you standing out here?"

"I'm just … oh, I'm just making sure he falls asleep. He doesn't like hospitals," Cameron admitted.

"So why not go in?" House pressed.

"I don't want to get too attached," Cameron said, letting a tear slide down her cheek.

House brushed it away. "Too late."

Cameron just chuckled. "Yeah, I was kind of a goner from the start, huh?" House gave her a wry smile. "Come on in, I'll introduce you. He hates hospitals, but he loves doctors." House looked confused. "The social worker thinks it's because doctors are the only ones who give him individual attention. He has too many medical problems for most foster parents, so he lives in a group home."

House frowned at that as he followed Cameron inside the PICU. He liked kids. Especially really young ones. They didn't lie; they didn't know how or why they should. But he always had a soft spot for kids living bad childhoods. It was just too familiar. And no kid should have to live without at least one person who cared about you.

"Hi Devon," Cameron said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

"Hi Cammin," Devon responded enthusiastically. "I'm 'most all better!"

"You think so?" Cameron asked as she sat beside him on the bed.

"Yup," he answered. "Nigel said I'm goin' soon."

"Oh did he?" Cameron asked playfully. "Well then it must be true, because we know Nigel would fib to you."

"Nigel?" House asked. He knew all of the male nurses on staff at PPTH after having drafted several of them during 'Pricegate' but he didn't know a Nigel.

"Chase," Cameron clarified for House. "I asked him to keep on eye on Devon for me while he was here. The PICU head didn't mind. And Devon here says that Chase reminds him of a character from one of the Disney movies."

"Talk funny," Devon giggled.

"Apparently whoever Nigel is, he's Australian," Cameron said.

"I'm Devon," the boy announced proudly to House.

"Oh I'm sorry," Cameron exclaimed. "Devon, this is Dr. House."

"Owz," Devon attempted.

"Close enough," House said. "Listen, Cam, I've got clinic hours and Wilson threatened to cane me if I made Cuddy try to waddle me down. I'll stop by your office later."

"Okay," Cameron said over her shoulder, preoccupied tickling Devon's feet.

"Bye Owz!" Devon yelled.

Wilson knocked on Cameron's door and walked in without really waiting for a reply.

"Hey Allison, I was wondering if you heard from your da…" at Wilson's entrance Cameron's head snapped up from her desk and flew to the corner of the room, where House was currently sprawled out on her couch. Wilson followed her eyes and his own widened. "…uh, daffodil supplier."

"Daffodil supplier?" House sat up on the couch and looked at the two intently.

"For Lisa's garden," Cameron jumped in. Now House was completely confused, since Cuddy's garden was just a cover Wilson had used. Did Cameron know something?

"Right," Wilson agreed readily. Too readily, House thought. "So, um, will he be able to take care of that order we wanted?"

"No," Cameron said, and House thought she seemed sad. Why is she sad about daffodils?

"No?" Wilson echoed and the disappointment in his voice set off alarm bells in House's head. Why in the hell is WILSON sad about daffodils?

"It's okay. I had a feeling that he might not be able to help us out. He's not always the most reliable fa … farmer. Anyway, I think I might have a back up." Cameron caught herself just in time. Thank someone it was only two more weeks of this.

"You have a back up daffodil supplier?" House asked slowly.

"Uh, yeah, what he said." Wilson said.

"Not daffodils. But I think that he'll, I mean they, will serve our purpose," Cameron said, hoping for Wilson to just leave before she said something she wasn't supposed to. "Daisies," she added hastily.

"Okay," Wilson said. "Well, just let me know when you find out." House shot him a look. "In case Lisa needs to change the color scheme for the rest of the flowers."

House rolled his eyes and watched as Wilson retreated. He then turned on Cameron.

"Daffodils?"

"Wilson," Cameron scoffed, convincingly she hoped. "He's such a girl." House nodded and Cameron sighed, but neither felt good about it.