CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Perceptions

Wilson enters the bedroom with an air of resignation; he's still not comfortable with the idea of sharing his nightmare with House. But as he nears the bedside, he sees that he's gotten an unexpected reprieve; House has fallen asleep.

Wilson is glad that House has been able to return to sleep so quickly, gladder still that telling House about his dream can wait. On the other hand, he's curious about what House has to say; what was going on in his friend's mind that would cause him to speak aloud about hitting Wilson? Well, that would have to wait too. He leaves the room quietly, and returns to the kitchen, where Cuddy is still hard at work.

"Will you go lie down now?" he asks her. "Trust me, don't much feel like sleeping after that experience."

Cuddy sits. "What experience? What'd you dream about? Might help to talk it out."

After considering it for a minute, Wilson decides that Cuddy might be right; sharing the nightmare might help to dilute the horrifying details of having to watch House destroy his leg, might give the pictures in his mind less power.

He starts out hesitantly. When he reaches the part when House picked up the pestle, Cuddy sees his eyes go unfocused, and she knows he's back there, reliving the awful scene. She reaches across the table and takes his hand. He seems unaware of it as he continues speaking, but as he concludes the story, she realizes that he's now gripping her hand tightly. When he turns his head to look at her, the dregs of his terror and helplessness are still in his eyes.

Cuddy chooses her next words very carefully. "I'd like it if you'd call Dr. Dickinson, discuss this with him. And… I want to speak with him when you're finished. Please."

Wilson closes his eyes briefly, and then nods. "I'll do that first thing in the morning."

"No," Cuddy says gently. "You'll do it now," she says, as she hands him the phone. "You said he told you to call day or night, and I think this warrants taking him up on that. You'll do it now," she repeats.

Wilson knows she's right. "Will you stay?" he asks her. "Save me from having to repeat the conversation to you later," he says, as he pulls out Dick's card and punches the number in.

"Of course, if you want me to," Cuddy says.

Dickinson answers on the fifth ring; Wilson can tell immediately that he's awakened him. But Dick's voice is warm; he sounds happy to hear from Wilson, even in the middle of the night. Wilson quickly relaxes into the conversation as he relates the events of the evening, and by the time he's done giving the details, he admits to himself that he's starting to feel better.

"Sounds as if your concern for that left leg goes pretty deep," Dickinson tells him. "Are you worried that Dr. House might be exaggerating the pain, or using these new problems to escape dealing with the old ones?"

"No!" Wilson answers, shocked. He's a little angry that Dick would even suggest such things. "I'm absolutely certain there's no exaggeration; he may actually be underplaying it. And I've already told you, House has been responding very well to the loss of the breakthrough pain."

"I only ask because your dream indicates that you may have some concerns that Dr. House is capable of harming himself physically, or that he might indeed be having problems with a different perception of himself. James, I'm gonna suggest to you again that you stop putting off that conversation with him. And I'm concerned about you, too. Your nightmare, being alone and unable to call for help during the ordeal… it indicates the degree of responsibility you feel towards his health, his recovery."

"I'll talk to him. I'm realizing the importance of that conversation. Maybe I shouldn't have put it off; needs to be done, doesn't it? Not just yet, though. I know it's important; time's just not right, with this new stuff going on. And I'm fine, Dick. Nothing a couple of nights' sleep won't cure. Once we have a diagnosis on the leg, things should settle down around here; I just have to hang in. But I appreciate your take on all this; sorry I woke you. Talking with you really seems to help."

Cuddy can tell that Wilson is getting ready to wrap up the conversation, so she indicates that she'd like the phone. Wilson quirks his mouth in a 'not necessary' gesture, but says to Dick, "My boss, Lisa Cuddy, is here with me, Dick. She'd like to speak with you."

When Dickinson asks him for the standard permissions, Wilson looks over at Cuddy, and doesn't hesitate in his answer. "She's listened to the voice file, and she's heard my end of the conversation tonight. You've got my permission to speak openly with her." Then he hands the phone to Cuddy, and listens as she describes her concerns.

Cuddy doesn't tell Dick anything that surprises Wilson, but Wilson feels she's far too concerned about his state of mind. And he's sorry that she's apparently so worried about him, along with everything else she has to worry about. But when she begins to discuss Wilson's lack of sleep and reluctance to take a break from caring for House, Wilson starts shaking his head at her. She very deliberately turns her back to him, and continues speaking. Now she's asking Dick's opinion about a mild tranquilizer—and Wilson's certain she isn't asking for House.

"Not necessary," Wilson interrupts Cuddy. "Not interested." Cuddy ignores him, thanks Dick for his time and his opinions, and then hangs up the phone. Then she turns to regard Wilson.

"Here's how it's gonna be," Cuddy says, looking Wilson right in the eye. "Lorazepam, 0.5 milligrams during the day, as necessary—but at least one dose. And one milligram at night." As Wilson opens his mouth to protest, Cuddy says forcefully, "Don't even think of trying to interrupt me."

Wilson sighs, and sits down to hear her out.

"You need to sleep, and your stress levels are dangerously high. So you'll do this. If not, I'll have no choice but to tell House what all this is doing to you."

Wilson's pretty certain she's bluffing—but not completely certain. "You wouldn't risk upsetting him like that," he says, tentatively.

"Don't bet on it," Cuddy responds. "At those doses, the Ativan won't knock you out, won't keep you from hearing House if he needs you. It'll just… take the edge off, make all this a little easier. And that'll enable you to go on being there for House."

"You'd really tell him if I refuse?"

"In a heartbeat." Cuddy's eyes are determined, and Wilson's starting to think this isn't a bluff.

Wilson begins to feel trapped, and anxious at feeling out of control, and he has a sudden rush of empathy for House. This must be how he feels when we don't consult him or— worse—just blatantly ignore what he wants. Think I might be a little more sensitive in the future. For now, House, I'm with ya, buddy; this stinks!

Wilson's eyes meet Cuddy's; she can clearly read the resentment in his. "You aren't playing fair," Wilson tells her almost coldly. "You've left me no choice but to agree, and you know it. You win." He breaks eye contact. "I'm gonna go check on him, maybe sit there a while." He leaves the kitchen before Cuddy can respond.

In House's room, Wilson's pleased to see that House remains asleep, and looks comfortable. Wilson lowers himself wearily into the chair, and whispers to the sleeping man, "Sorry about the morphine thing. Just had the tables turned on me; it's not fun, is it? But I did what I had to do; guess that's how Cuddy feels too. Sure, I'll forgive her—in a little while. Hope you'll forgive me, too." He rests his head against the back of the chair, and allows himself to drift off. This time, his sleep is dreamless.