Disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.

The next day. The medicine in this one, while not probable, is actually possible. It's also kind of sketchy, but remains something that could potentially happen to House. (For reference, a neuroma is a tumor that forms on regenerating nerve cells. They are typically benign. Also, morphine causes urinary retention.)


Answers

"What's taking so long?" House griped. His sense of time told him he'd been inside this white coffin of a machine for over twenty minutes. The quality of Wilson's banter had seriously diminished over the past ten minutes, too.

Wilson pressed the microphone's button from the other side of the glass. "Getting some finer cuts," he answered. "Double checking."

House stared at the concave off-white ceiling and spoke as if he were addressing God. "The nerves are regenerating, aren't they."

Never surprised that House knew a test result before the test was over, Wilson pressed the button down again. "Looks like it. I think the scar tissue is interfering with the reformation of the pathways. Paged a radiologist a few minutes ago—should be here soon. Might be another ten minutes of scanning, though. Holding up okay?"

"Bored," House answered. "Gotta pee."

"You said you didn't have to go earlier."

"It's the morphine."

"Everything's the morphine," Wilson retorted. "Think you can make it?"

"What else are you looking for?" House questioned.

Wilson hesitated. "You've got two neuromas," he answered. "They appear to be benign but I want to get a good look."

House nodded to himself. A neuroma made the most sense given the nature of the pain. He'd been reading up on them while Wilson was at work. Part of his reluctance to get another MRI was the possibility of the neuroma being malignant. That idea was worse than the pain. Wilson would know too much and worry too much. But when Wilson had come home yesterday afternoon, he'd had realized just how much Wilson was already worrying. Suddenly, the choice had become so easy.

"Know what your problem is?" House said. "You're too good for me."

"Yeah, tumors are great for you," Wilson replied. "Stop interfering with the scan."

"I'm serious," House countered. "If you hadn't started feeding me right, I'd still be on Vicodin."

"You're welcome," Wilson said. "Shut up."

The door to the control booth opened and a harried middle-aged man entered.

"Radiologist is here," Wilson relayed.

"Keep the mic on," House instructed.

He listened as Wilson and the radiologist discussed the scan in progress, piecing it together in his mind based on the locations and slice sizes they spoke of. At the same time, he was conflicted about this new development. Neuromas meant surgery, but the surgeon could remove the scar tissue that was blocking nerve regeneration while he was at it. Once the neuromas were gone, much of the new pain would be gone too, but nerve regeneration was a lengthy process and there was no guarantee new neuromas wouldn't form in the coming months. All of it meant more pain while the nerves were regenerating. If they kept regenerating. His age was against him. The nine years since the original surgery were against him. But his environment was for him—otherwise, he was convinced, this wouldn't have begun in the first place. Good food, good moods, good sex, and plenty of each was such a drastic change for him… He smiled to himself: Wilson was taking it the wrong way. This was going to hurt for a while, but once it was over he'd be better than he'd been since the second ketamine treatment had worn off last year. And if—

The noise of the machine ended abruptly and he was lurched forward out of the white coffin. Why the hospital had yet to get an open MRI was beyond him. He made a mental note to bark at Cuddy about it.

As soon as he was clear of the machine, he sat up and swung his legs off of the table.

He nearly ran into Wilson and the radiologist at the door.

"Move or I will pee on you," he growled at the radiologist.

The man scowled but moved out of his way.

"Wilson," House called, already several long strides down the hallway. "Bring the scans." He glanced back at the radiologist. "You can come too."

The radiologist scowled again and Wilson shrugged apologetically before following House to the men's room.

Too used to House's quirks to comment, Wilson simply stood next to House at the urinal and held one of the first scans up to the light so House could see it.

"The others aren't ready yet," Wilson said. "But this gives you an idea."

House squinted at the bundle of nerves and muscles in front of him. "Huh."

"What you expected?" Wilson asked.

"A little more than I expected," House answered. He glanced sideways at Wilson. "The neuromas?"

"Positioned relatively well," Wilson answered. "Shouldn't be hard to excise."

Uncomfortable, Wilson looked down at his shoes. "I'd probably have the biopsy done before you woke up."

House nodded faintly, then frowned and looked down too. "Dammit." He shifted and shook his head. "Could you…turn on a faucet or something?"

Wordlessly, Wilson went to the sink and turned both taps on. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"That gown does wonderful things for your legs," he quipped.

House's shoulders shook once, but he was otherwise occupied.

Wilson found something else to look at. "We do this today," he began, "you could have all of it out of your system by tomorrow night."

House was silent for a moment, intent on the problem before him. Then he turned his head slightly to the left and spoke. "What makes you think I want to do it today?"

"Because…the sooner you do it, the sooner you feel better," Wilson said slowly, answering as if the question were inane. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," House replied, "I—oh, thank God." His head tipped back of its own accord and he let out a small, happy sigh.

Wilson waited for the subtle change in posture that told him House was done, then spoke. "You should get a prostate exam once this is over."

House reclaimed his cane and turned toward the sink. "Will you do it? Please say yes." He leered with exaggeration at Wilson.

Wilson sniffed a laugh and smiled.

Once House had finished drying his hands, he stopped and leaned on his cane, purposefully eyeing the floor.

"Who do you think you could get today?"

His eyes flicked up at Wilson as if in supplication, then back to the floor.

"I don't know," Wilson answered. "I haven't seen the schedule yet."

House took a deep breath, then nodded to himself. "Get someone with good hands."

With that, he left the room.

Wilson lingered for a moment, smiling to himself, then pushed off from the wall and followed House.