041. Stuck

The Coming Storm

"Well, isn't this the biggest goddamn cliché?" House said with disgust as he poked the lift buttons with his cane.

"House, leave it alone," Wilson said wearily from where he was sitting with his back against the rear wall of the lift. "We're stuck. Pushing the buttons isn't going to do anything. They'll get us out as soon as possible."

"Define as soon as possible," House asked sourly as he continued prodding at the buttons.

"The guy said it'd probably be a couple of hours," Wilson said patiently. "House, stop poking at the buttons and come sit down. They're working as fast as they can."

House stopped poking the buttons but he didn't move. "Couple of hours," he said in an odd tone.

"Yeah," Wilson replied. "A couple of hours, at least."

"That's…going to be a problem," House replied.

"Why?"

House pulled a small orange bottle out of his pocket and tossed it at Wilson. It didn't make a sound when the younger man caught it.

"Because I picked up the wrong bottle."

Wilson looked down at the empty bottle in his hands then back up at House.

"How long since your last?" he asked carefully.

"Couple of hours," House replied in a neutral voice.

Wilson winced and put the bottle down on the floor. "Come and sit down. It'll be better if you stay off your leg."

House scowled at the unresponsive buttons then limped over to where Wilson was sitting and slowly, awkwardly lowered himself to the floor. Once he was sitting he started tapping the end of his cane on the floor in agitation. Wilson sighed and placed one hand on House's thigh.

"You'll be fine," he said calmly.

House glared at him briefly. "I would have been fine if you and Cuddy hadn't thought up that little detox trick. Now I know what's going to happen."

Wilson's eyes widened momentarily. "You knew?" he asked tentatively.

House scowled. "Of course I knew. Cuddy wouldn't have the balls to come up with that idea on her own."

"Then…why?" Wilson asked, not sure exactly what answer he was looking for.

He was surprised when House gave him a look of mixed irritation, exasperation and affection.

"Because I thought you were wrong," he admitted ruefully. "Intellectually I was half-convinced you were right but I still thought you were wrong. If that makes any sense."

"Sort of," Wilson replied, feeling a little stunned.

"In the end it wasn't the withdrawal that was the problem," House continued thoughtfully, staring at the closed doors of the lift. His cane-tapping had stopped and one hand was resting on his thigh bare millimetres from Wilson's. "It was the pain. Taking away the pills meant that the pain was…there. All the time. No relief."

Wilson was silent; it was rare for House to get in one of his more candid moods and since this candid mood seemed to coincide with answers Wilson had so desperately wanted, he wasn't willing to rock the boat. All he did was slide his hand forward so that his fingers were resting on top of House's. The other man's hand twitched underneath his then stilled, accepting the touch.

"Had to find ways of thinking around the pain," House mused. "The gating mechanism the body has was the first that came to mind and it did work, just didn't last long enough. That and the pain wasn't quite enough after the first rush to overcome the leg." He turned his head and gave Wilson one of the more honest and open looks Wilson had ever seen, particularly since the infarction. "I'm not addicted to drugs because I like getting high. If that was the case, I wouldn't be taking Vicodin. I'd have gone for morphine or one of the derivatives. I'm addicted to drugs because I like thinking. When the pain is the only thing I can concentrate on, I can't think. If I can't think, patients die."

Wilson stared back then swallowed. "Why are you telling me this now?"

House snorted. "Why not? You want to know and if this drags on for too long you're going to get an up close and personal viewpoint of the whole thing."

"After last time, I'm not sure I want it," Wilson murmured, feeling guilt wash over him.

"After the last time, I'm damn sure I don't want it," House snapped in reply.

Wilson was silent then he gave a mirthless laugh. "I…honestly don't know what to say. Or do."

House sighed then shifted until his shoulder was resting against Wilson's. He then turned his hand over so that their fingers entwined slightly.

"Neither do I," he said.