027. Cane

The Things We Miss

House sat hunched over in the chair behind his desk and stared darkly at the cane in his hands. His team had tried to speak to him about their current patient when he'd walked in but he'd fobbed them off with acerbic, bordering on harsh, words and taken refuge in his office. He'd been in no mood for their eagerness, their concern, them in general. All he'd wanted to do was hide in his office and lick his real and metaphorical wounds.

He'd been walking past Cuddy's office after serving his time in the purgatory the hospital liked to call the clinic and he'd inadvertently overheard the conversation going on within. It was the voices that had caught his attention first; Cuddy, Stacy and Wilson. Then the topic of conversation had become clear and he'd felt like all of his breath had been sucked out of his lungs.

"Come on, James," Stacy had been saying, her voice full of amused wheedling. "With you we've got three and I'm sure we can rustle up a fourth."

"I don't know, Stacy," Wilson had said reluctantly and House could almost see him rubbing the back of his neck. "I haven't played in a long time."

"Playing tennis is like riding a bike, you never really forget," Cuddy had then said calmly.

That was the phrase that had figuratively punched House in the stomach. Because once they would not have had to 'rustle up a fourth'. Once he would have been that fourth. He couldn't remember the number of times he and Stacy had played tennis with Wilson and Cuddy. That was how he'd met Lisa Cuddy; Stacy had gone looking for someone to replace their usual fourth and found Cuddy. The four of them had from thereon spent many evenings playing friendly if rather competitive games, always best of three sets. He and Stacy playing Cuddy and Wilson. He and Cuddy trouncing Wilson and Stacy. He and Wilson beating and be beaten by Stacy and Cuddy.

He'd limped away as fast as he could after that statement, not wanting to hear any more of the conversation. Not wanting to be reminded of what he'd lost.

He stared down at the cane that was the absolute constant in his life and scowled. He'd lost more than some muscle tissue and a pain-free life with the infarction. He'd lost Stacy though admittedly that was mostly his fault. But he'd also lost almost everything he'd considered fun in his life. Golf, tennis, sculling, running, lacrosse. He'd always been active, always been a good sportsman. The first things he'd thrown out after he gotten home from the hospital was everything from that side of his life. Stacy had already taken all of her things and he'd quickly gotten rid of his golf clubs, his racquets, his scull, everything. Everything that was a reminder of what he'd lost.

His lips thinned as bitterness overwhelmed him. So they were going to take up their tennis nights again. They were going to go back to what had been normal, going back to their lives. And where was he supposed to fit in with all of this? He felt tears well in his eyes and he forced them back with a grimace and a scowl. In a harsh, convulsive move he flung the cane that he both needed and hated across the room, listening to it clatter against the glass and almost wishing for the glass to shatter.

He didn't see his team flinch at the sudden noise and exchange glances in the other room. Nor did he see Wilson standing outside his office, watching him with worry as he had been doing for the last ten minutes. The first that he knew of the younger man's presence was when he spoke.

"Something wrong?" Wilson asked calmly as he leaned over and picked up the cane.

House didn't answer, merely shot Wilson a dark look that had the oncologist raising his eyebrows.

Wilson sighed and walked over, leaning the cane against the desk. "Well, if you ever feel like telling me you know where I am."

He turned and headed for the door.

"Taking up tennis again, are you?" House snarled bitterly, stopping Wilson in his tracks.

Wilson closed his eyes briefly then shoved his hands in his pockets. He turned around and faced House, taking care to keep his face neutral.

"You heard?"

House gave him a scornful look that answered that question very clearly.

"Pity you didn't stick around to hear the rest then," Wilson continued. "You might have heard me say no."

"Why?" House's tone was still bitter, trenchant.

Wilson was silent for a long moment. "Because it wouldn't be any fun without you. That was why I played." He gave a snort of wry amusement. "I actually don't really like tennis that much. But you made it fun. Especially when we paired up against the girls. They could get Roger Federer to be the fourth and it still wouldn't be any fun."

House's expression was startled as he looked at Wilson. "But I used to mock you relentlessly."

Wilson grinned. "Yeah but you did it with style. It was…friendly mocking, not condescending or nasty or anything. It was funny even if it was at my expense."

House gave him a small smile then sobered as he picked up his cane. "I miss it."

"I know," Wilson replied softly.

"That's…why I bought the bike," House said quietly. "The guy at the shop pointed it out. My leg doesn't matter, I can still ride. My leg…stops me from doing a lot of things but it doesn't stop me doing this. Feels like I got part of me back."

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced as he tried to find something to say.

"Take me for a ride," he blurted before he could really think about it.

House gave him a startled look. "I thought it was dangerous?"

Wilson shrugged. "It is. Take me for a ride."

A slow smile grew on House's face and he pushed himself to his feet, reaching for his leather jacket. His eyes lit up and he tossed the helmet in Wilson's direction.

"Take off the lab coat and the tie," he ordered, his face alight with anticipation. "I'm taking James for a ride, not Dr Wilson."

Wilson stripped off his lab coat and pulled off his tie, wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into. Then he looked over and saw the look of anticipation and delight on House's face and decided it was well worth it.