Part 5

Stacy explained the contents of the binder and folder to Wilson, and as soon as she mentioned an abandoned research project from the summer, he knew it had to be on Ketamine. He gave Stacy the rundown on the shooting and subsequent Ketamine success and failure. Her eyes were moist when he finished, and he knew that whatever it was that they were doing, it wasn't going to be easy on any of them.

House listened intently to his music, letting the Vicodin he had taken and his exhaustion lull him into a light nap.

Stacy and Wilson poured over the material in front of them. Wilson was shocked by the chart in front of him. It was information he had tried hounding House for for years: Vicodin dosages; alternative pain management methods sought; pain scale ratings over time using the visual analog scale and the typical 1-10 scale; possible explanations for increases and decreases in pain over time and throughout the day. House had been meticulous about documenting just about everything he had absolutely refused to share with anyone since the infarction. The file even included House's personal thoughts on the pros and cons on various pain management methods. Wilson was dumbfounded. He thought he had known his friend so well, but the fact that House had considered and even tried various pain management methods over the years without saying a word had come as a bit of a surprise. He immediately realized it shouldn't have.

He sighed heavily, as the magnitude of all those failed attempts, all the fluctuations in pain, the consultations, and the self-medicating began to hit him. House's righteousness about the Vicodin went far beyond an addict trying to protect his access to his drug of choice, it really was borne of knowledge, experience, and worst of all suffering. He was beginning to understand, and felt guilty that he hadn't understood before. If only, House had shared some of this, any of this sooner.

Some of the entries were downright painful to read. Such as the one documenting increased breakthrough pain dating to before Stacy's departure the year before. He remembered House coming to him for help, and rebuffing him, telling him it was all psychological. Or the entries, scribbled in an angry hand, foretelling the return of the pain when the Ketamine began failing. The line about knowing muscle aches from physical therapy and running and how this differed from the type of pain he was experiencing, the type of pain he had a long-standing history of and so recognized easily, really stung. Wilson was starting to feel sick with himself again.

Stacy paused and looked at him questioningly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he replied. "How's it coming there?"

"I've got some questions."

Stacy and Wilson discussed the articles and other information that House had given them at length.

"Well, I'm beginning to see what Greg was getting at. There's a lot of research here discussing management of chronic pain, and how long-term opioid use for pain management sharply differs from addiction. In fact, according to some of this research, the initial charge of driving under the influence of narcotics is somewhat unfounded."

"How's that?"

"Well, the warning for prescription hydrocodone states that patients should not drive until they know how the medication affects them. Having taken it for years, House would know full well how it affects him, and the fact that he hasn't had many accidents or moving violations during that time supports that he wasn't really doing anything wrong. It depends on the DA assigned to this, but there's a good chance that just bringing up these issues, the controversy and possibility of bringing in the American with Disabilities Act, and the detective's personal vendetta, will be enough to get the charges dropped. I'll know more tomorrow after I find out more about the case against him, but there's some solid defense here," she said gesturing to the binder.

"Good, that's good," Wilson said, attempting a smile, but having it fall flat.

"What'd the file tell you?"

"Everything I ever wanted to know about House's pain and its management, but now sort of wish I didn't."

"If this proceeds to trial, I'm definitely going to need all the details. It's not necessary at the moment though. I'm hoping the violation of rights and ADA will be enough to keep this from going much further. Realistically, without your testimony most of this stuff is circumstantial and they'll be hard-pressed to find a jury that'll want to put away a pain patient, a doctor no less, for using necessary, prescribed medication."

"Yeah, any chance you've got something in your magic bag of tricks to help me get my prescribing privileges and access to my accounts back?"

"I'll see what I can do. It might take a few days though. I don't usually work criminal cases."
"Thanks."

She smiled in response. They looked over at the dozing man before them, both overcome with caring and protectiveness. Stacy reached over and touched his arm.

"Greg," she said as she brushed his shirt sleeve.

He winced a bit as he started from the touch, but quickly recovered opening his eyes and pulling out the left ear bud.

"So, what's the verdict?"

"I think you have a pretty solid case. I'm going to find out more about who's in charge of your case on the other side, but I'd be surprised if this makes it to a courtroom."

House nodded.

"I'll know more in the morning. It's getting late, so I'm going to head out, but I'll be in touch," she said rising from her seat.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"De nada," she replied, stopping to look into his eyes for a few moments before packing up her things and putting on her coat.

"I'll walk you out," Wilson quickly offered.

"He's having a bad day isn't he?" Stacy asked before leaving.

"He's had better," Wilson replied, knowing exactly what she meant. In the months after the infarction, it had been a question commonly exchanged between them.

"Drive safely and have a good night," he said as they lingered in the doorway.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow morning. Goodnight."

Wilson leaned back against the door trying to gather his bearings after Stacy left. Making sense of everything held in the file was going to take time. It was a lot of information to take in all at once. He shook himself out of his revelry as he heard the TV volume being raised. He knew he was going to have to go back and face House.

He stalled a bit taking his time clearing away the coffee cups and things. "You want anything to eat or drink?" he asked as he headed for the kitchen.

A small shake of House's head was his only response. House was anxious. He wasn't used to feeling so exposed. Wilson knew, and that could not be changed. He tried to focus on the TV taking comfort in the fact that things were at least looking up on the legal front.

Wilson came back and plopped down on the couch, suddenly weary. "So," he said unable to maintain the tenuous silence.

"So. Now, you know," House said slowly.